Women, Rites, and Ritual Objects in Premodern Japan 9004368191, 9789004368194

Table of contents :
‎Contents
‎Prologue (Ruch)
‎List of Figures and Tables
‎Figures
‎Tables
‎List of Contributors
‎Introduction (Gerhart)
‎Women
‎Rites
‎Ritual Objects
‎Approaches
‎References
‎Part 1. Rituals Related to the Household and Childbirth
‎Chapter 1. Women and “Moving House” Rituals in Mid-Heian Japan (Gerhart)
‎Chapter 2. Devising the Esoteric Rituals for Women: Fertility and the Demon Mother in the Gushi nintai sanshō himitsu hōshū (Andreeva)
‎Chapter 3. Taira no Tokushi’s Birth of Emperor Antoku (Gunji)
‎Part 2. Women and Buddhist Rituals and Icons
‎Chapter 4. A Female Deity as the Focus of a Buddhist Ritual: Kichijō Keka at Hōryūji (Pradel)
‎Chapter 5. The Relic and the Jewel: An Eleventh-Century Miniature Bronze Pagoda to Hold the Bones of a Young Queen (Glassman)
‎Chapter 6. Connecting Kannon to Women Through Print (Fowler)
‎Part 3. Buddhist Women and Death Memorials
‎Chapter 7. Commemorating Life and Death: The Memorial Culture Surrounding the Rinzai Zen Nun Mugai Nyodai (Fister)
‎Chapter 8. Of Surplices and Certificates: Tracing Mugai Nyodai’s Kesa (Bethe)
‎Part 4. Female Patronage, Portraits, and Rituals
‎Chapter 9. Retired Empress and Buddhist Patron: Higashisanjō-in Donates a Set of Icon Curtains in the Illustrated Legends of Ishiyamadera Handscroll (Morrissey)
‎Chapter 10. Life After Death: The Intersection of Patron and Subject in the Portrait of Jōkō-in (Self)
‎Index

Citation preview

Women, Rites, and Ritual Objects in Premodern Japan

Brill’s Japanese Studies Library Edited by Joshua Mostow (Managing Editor) Caroline Rose Kate Wildman Nakai

volume 63

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/bjsl

Women, Rites, and Ritual Objects in Premodern Japan Edited by

Karen M. Gerhart

LEIDEN | BOSTON

Cover illustration: Portrait of Jōkō-in, Edo period, hanging scroll, ink and color on silk, 119.5 x 51.5 cm, Jōkōji (now in the collection of the Fukui Prefecture Wakasa History Museum). Source: Edo Tōkyō Hakubutsukan, Gō: Himetachi no sengoku: 2011 NHK taiga dorama tokubetsuten (Tokyo: NHK, 2011), p. 104. The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available online at http://catalog.loc.gov

Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill‑typeface. ISSN 0925-6512 ISBN 978-90-04-37011-1 (hardback) ISBN 978-90-04-36819-4 (e-book) Copyright 2018 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Hes & De Graaf, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Rodopi, Brill Sense and Hotei Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

Contents Prologue vii Barbara Ruch List of Figures and Tables xviii List of Contributors xxi Introduction 1 Karen M. Gerhart

Part 1 Rituals Related to the Household and Childbirth 1

Women and “Moving House” Rituals in Mid-Heian Japan 21 Karen M. Gerhart

2

Devising the Esoteric Rituals for Women: Fertility and the Demon Mother in the Gushi nintai sanshō himitsu hōshū 53 Anna Andreeva

3

Taira no Tokushi’s Birth of Emperor Antoku 89 Naoko Gunji

Part 2 Women and Buddhist Rituals and Icons 4

A Female Deity as the Focus of a Buddhist Ritual: Kichijō Keka at Hōryūji 141 Chari Pradel

5

The Relic and the Jewel: An Eleventh-Century Miniature Bronze Pagoda to Hold the Bones of a Young Queen 182 Hank Glassman

6

Connecting Kannon to Women Through Print 221 Sherry Fowler

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Part 3 Buddhist Women and Death Memorials 7

Commemorating Life and Death: The Memorial Culture Surrounding the Rinzai Zen Nun Mugai Nyodai 269 Patricia Fister

8

Of Surplices and Certificates: Tracing Mugai Nyodai’s Kesa Monica Bethe

304

Part 4 Female Patronage, Portraits, and Rituals 9

Retired Empress and Buddhist Patron: Higashisanjō-in Donates a Set of Icon Curtains in the Illustrated Legends of Ishiyamadera Handscroll 343 Elizabeth Morrissey

10

Life After Death: The Intersection of Patron and Subject in the Portrait of Jōkō-in 369 Elizabeth Self Index

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Prologue Barbara Ruch

Rituals are organic, rooted in some deep human need. The forms they take evolve through time, and depend on the soil in which they grow—from isolated and thin, to lush and abundant. Ritual practices bloom in isolation or expand in collaborative fashion: self-comforting; family-nourishing; community-building; nation-protecting; even reflective of a longing among all of us on earth for calm and comfort. There is a deep psychological truth about rites and rituals. People need rhythm and structure that enables them to drive steadily through unpredictable lives; to keep their minds from fraying off into anxiety or even into the madness that can occur just from living in an unreliable world in unreliable conditions. This truism appears on all levels of the human spectrum, from those engaged in the grinding struggle to survive to those quite literally dying of affluent boredom. Ritual in the final analysis is the behavior of women and men, and therefore without a doubt, one way or another, gender plays a role. As the centuries pass, learned gender behavior slithers and slides with fashion as cultures change. Some general gender differentiations, however, stand out. Wherever you look in history, in cultures, East or West, men were enamored of rituals with swords and imbued them with sacred powers. Women, kept out of sight, are harder to observe, but you can be sure it was not a woman who first conceived of the ritual of standing half-naked outside under the freezing assault of a pounding sacred waterfall viewed as purifying, no matter how convinced she had become by monks that inherently her female nature was polluted. Ritual icons, too, sometimes clearly reflect the gender of their makers, even when totally unintended. Contrast the lively deities and Bodhisattvas in the thousands hacked from logs by the now famous seventeenth-century monk Enkū with the thousands of miniature Kannon statues molded by hand from fragrant, carefully dried, then powdered Japanese anise (shikimi) leaves on each of which seventeenth-century Abbess Shōzan Gen’yō had first calligraphed the name of the Bodhisattva Kannon. There are no examples yet found by which we could reverse this particular kind of observation. Ritual objects are mono, material substance, corporeal objects that exist outside oneself. As accoutrements to rituals they are transformed by human behavior into objects of potency and efficacy, which are indispensably precious. They are the vehicles that transport into behavior itself the inherent powers that are

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the wonder of it all. In English, to describe something as an “object” is so very “objective,” as opposed to the unique intricacies of the “subjective.” Each ritual object, however, is imbued with imposed meanings that are subjective in the extreme. Once we have become acquainted with the sutras, studied the pedantic writings of preachers who had an agenda, plowed through the diaries of officials who had opinions, and have enjoyed those marvelous wefts and warps of stories woven poetically into the tapestries of premodern Japanese fiction, we are still faced with the solid materiality of ritual objects, figures, paintings, housewares, tools, all manner of things that exist, inseparable, from culture and faith, and that constituted “life” as it was lived. It would be a miracle, even as we look at them with empathy, were our senses able to perceive today the same living spirits that took up residence in such objects when they belonged to their premodern users. But I am a believer in miracles—especially those that result from unbiased effort. And who better to guide us deep into a sampling of just such rites and rituals than the art historian Karen Gerhart and her team of scholars, who have ventured, in this study, Women, Rites, and Ritual Objects in Premodern Japan, far beyond artist, artisan, and technique, and have plunged into the essential meanings attributed to the premodern Japanese material world itself and the cultural role of the women who reckoned with it. One thing is for sure. We can stop assuming the men were in charge of everything.

∵ The history of academic culture influences greatly the research subjects that scholars choose to study (or avoid). We have to face the fact that there must always continue to be a rectification of past biases and errors of fact. Of timely importance right now is the challenge of transforming academic culture itself to include all genders as essential components of knowledge. Since the beginning of time it has been men studying men; history was the history of men. It has been largely the artists who broke ranks. In Japan, Lady Murasaki Shikibu used a rather uninteresting “hero,” Hikaru Genji, as a foil to reveal what Virginia Woolf, astounded to meet another major woman writer from a thousand years earlier, called Murasaki’s method: “the medium of women’s minds.” It is hardly the indisputable focus of the “male gaze” of the Heian courtier that is so fascinating. (What else is new?) It is how well Murasaki perceived the impact of that gaze on the women who were its object, and how profoundly she understood and could describe how each woman in her own way was physically and psychologically affected by it.

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In academia, however, there has been another kind of “male gaze;” one which focuses on what male scholars considered worth looking at. Their gaze has been largely on a “canon” of male achievements, long since established by others of their own gender. Contrary to its elite and elegant reputation, a “canon” is an intimidating force employed not as an invitation but as a warning—it renders a pioneering mentality unnecessary. There is pressure to keep one’s coloring within the lines. Canonical work becomes increasingly lapidary; the byproduct is a pruning that maims. The erasure of the celebrated singer Otomae (1086–1169) from our Western textbooks is a case in point. I could not believe my eyes when the brandnew Cambridge History of Japanese Literature excised her name in its description of the remarkable anthology of her songs, the Ryōjin hishō, and explicitly expressed doubt about her very existence. This, despite the fact that she has been known since the 1940s, and recently a dozen or more scholarly studies by Wakita Haruko, Ueki Tomoko, Okimoto Yukiko, and others have researched the life of this remarkable woman. Her repertoire of more than five-hundred revelatory songs, runs from secular party songs to liturgical songs for shrine and temple occasions. This young girl who, it was written, had a voice like an angel, was adopted into a sisterhood of female kugutsume from Aohaka, proud of their vocal lineage and repertories. Ultimately Otomae became a famed imayō singer in the capital, a woman whose remarkable style made Retired Emperor Goshirakawa, a passionate practitioner of vocal arts since childhood, commit to re-learning his entire repertoire of songs under her by-then elderly tutelage. The greatly revered (and rightly so) Japanese literary historian Konishi Jin’ichi (1915–2007) was one of the few scholars of Otomae’s songs back in the 1940s and 1950s, and one of the rare scholars translated into English. For that purpose, however, he greatly pruned his source base and his syllabic analysis, which others now simply copy, propagating an erroneous understanding of Otomae’s songs. He also propagated the usual male condemnation of “female morals.” Today, before our very eyes, the male gaze of Western scholars is now reverting to the man who loved her songs and wrote them down. It is all about Retired Emperor Goshirakawa. Vigilance watching for this kind of genderized switching and backsliding is the only thing I can recommend. We have surely passed that stage where the superb quality of the Tale of Genji made men doubt Murasaki Shikibu could have written it. It must have been her father or the great Michinaga! The impulse to just pass on predecessors’ opinions is also a serious problem in academia. Kugutsu is a classification of great mystery about which no one has ever, for centuries now, been able to (or bothered to) clarify. Somewhere in the murky past it may have meant “puppeteer.” There is not a shred of evidence,

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however, that the kugutsume, Otomae, the esteemed imayō singer of Ryōjin hishō fame, was ever a puppeteer. Yet that word kugutsu, and the female form kugutsume are left wide open to “assume” as one will. Distressingly, to this very day, “puppeteer” is the label copied by Western college professors, and it is not the only term to be locked into an outdated, or inaccurate, meaning by centuries of uncritical use. No matter how you finesse it, there is no way one can interpret the English word “prostitute” in a favorable way. Yet thanks to men like Ōe no Masafusa, who penned his interest in the sexual activities of women entertainers in his various late eleventh-century opinion pieces, unattached women, meaning not under a man’s care but independently employed, have all been labeled “prostitutes.” Such male opinion has permeated the records of a thousand years and still gives off that same characteristic male aroma. Even in our twenty-first century all such unattached self-employed premodern Japanese women in the performing arts of music, dance, and so on are labeled prostitutes. Yūjo = prostitute; asobi = prostitute; miko = prostitute; kugutsume = prostitute; shirabyōshi = prostitute. Until very recently in our own day, the word prostitute was only of the female gender. Zeami, a focus of a monumental amount of scholarly attention, although likewise sexually involved with his male patrons, has, for example, never been labeled with the “p” word in the pursuit of his art. As Mary Beard has written in her Women and Power (2017), “When it comes to silencing women, Western culture has had thousands of years of practice.” She speaks out of her own expertise in the world of ancient Greece and Rome where the mechanism men used most widely against women was “to dismiss them,” and “to refuse to take them seriously.” Young Telemachus tells his mother Penelope to be quiet and go to her room. He’ll do the talking. Why is it, I ask myself, do I find the same mechanism not only among the men who were the citizens of premodern Japan, but alive and well in the technique of far too many male Japanese studies academics writing in English yesterday and today? Mary Beard also documents a method used in the ancient Western world to mute women where rapers would cut out the tongue of the woman raped so as to avoid the “she said” part. Today this is much on our minds. We have, however, “more civilized,” non-disclosure clauses and bank checks to achieve the muting effect. In the Heian period we do not really know how the muting was achieved, but to “refuse to take the women seriously” was clearly a method in use. There is a glorious scene, however, in the late Muromachi story, Kachō Fūgetsu, when shamaness Fūgetsu goes into a trance and is possessed by the spirit of Suetsumuhana; and that lady, who had been ill-used by Genji, is given voice to have her full say. It is a marvelous episode of exposure and venting.

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∵ We must not deceive ourselves. Scholarship very much belongs to the date it was written and packaged. We tend to think it has no expiration date. But it certainly does. Early historians, almost to a man, displayed undisguised contempt for Japanese “primitive superstitions” as manifest in their rites and rituals, which defied the scholars’ then-held supreme standard of Judeo-Christian beliefs. Ivan Morris in the 1960s in his brilliant classic World of the Shining Prince aimed at countering such bias by trying to filter Japanese beliefs into separate chapters, so as to better validate Japanese “religion” and soften the take on “superstitions,” but in the end his two chapters displayed a certain fusion and he could not escape his heritage. He states, however, that far more than Confucian thought, it was the vast complex of beliefs related to yin-yang and the five elements that most impacted Heian daily life. But it never would have occurred to him that women would have agency therein. For context and perspective, I offer here some views from what seems just yesterday, but is a heritage of which we must always remain conscious. With this little bit of “modern” history may the reader better appreciate how revolutionary the present book is, and gain a sense of what the challenge means that faces us all as we strive to remodel the culture of academia to the point where all genders are rendered natural, obvious, and worthy subjects of historical study.

∵ The year was 1986. The place was Kyoto. With the firm backing of Prime Minister Nakasone Yasuhiro and the Ministry of Education an unprecedented new cultural research center was soon to be launched once building construction had been completed. Having been invited to consult and if possible suggest a menu of new research initiatives, I found myself in their temporary headquarters seated at a large seminar table with other Japanese academics and some scholars from abroad. At a time when educational institutions all too often retained disciplinary walls and moats as isolating as medieval fiefs, the very “idea” of this new research center—the kind so often found in the sciences—promised a critical mass of multinational, multidisciplinary collaborators whose insights could make breathtaking breakthroughs possible. When it was my turn, I suggested “Imperial Buddhist Convents, ignored and untouched for centuries, most of which are right here in Kyoto, would be a perfect fit. The storehouses of these abbess and nuns are filled with unstudied documents, letters, daily records, literary works, imperial gifts of paintings, sculptures, textiles, and so on. They are ideally situated to become the focus of a

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research initiative, and your Center is ideally conceptualized to undertake such a project.” An awkward silence reigned. Eyes were averted, and lips pursed. The point of this story, and its relevance to this superb book by Karen Gerhart and her chosen collaborators, is what happened next. At day’s end, in the van taking a dozen or so of us to the station, a Japanese gentleman scholar seated next to me leaned over and said quietly into my ear, “You see, you have to understand, men are embarrassed (hazukashii, he said) to study about women.” I was speechless. I wondered if there was something wrong with me that I had never been embarrassed to study about men. It certainly gave me pause. At university in premodern Japanese studies, I realized, there was nothing at that time to study BUT men! Emperors; aristocratic power manipulators; warriors; religious men who studied Chinese Buddhism and invented their own brands of it; Confucian thinkers; courtier poets and painters. Clearly the genius of women writers such as Murasaki Shikibu and cohorts could not be, and was not ignored, but what they wrote was essentially “niched.” It was for pleasure; it was “wild words and fancy phrases.” Men could take pleasure in it and become connoisseurs for the fun of it. But the women in it were praised for their knowledge of a male-recognized canon of Chinese and Japanese poetry. Kyoto in 1986 was not an anomaly. Another revelatory comment entered my ears in 1989. The place was Columbia University, New York City. It was at one of those rash “if I don’t do it, no one will” sort of events. With lots of help, I held the first ever Workshop on Women and Buddhism in Japanese Culture open to scholars from anywhere at all in any field at all, and I was surprised by how many came, even from Japan. I invited my most senior colleague in Asian thought to offer opening words. I froze when he did so by scoffing at the trivial, unnecessary topic at hand. Two women scholars stood up and walked out on him. On that occasion one of today’s foremost scholars of Buddhism, who of course was then still very young, took me aside and told me how risky it was in America to study nuns; a “career-killer” was the term he used. He told me that he (and several others he knew) had been warned that Women and Buddhism in a university was a specialty no one felt necessary or wanted, and that if he was hoping for an academic post in America in religion, he should choose anything but women. I was prepared for his comment to end in a reprimand as well. Instead, with liquid-filled eyes, he expressed effusively his thankfulness for this public validation of the worthiness of the topic. Context is everything. Its relevance for scholarship is monumental. Newer generations cannot conceive of the fact that in my era as a student there was not a single woman professor in the field of premodern Japanese literature, nor in Buddhism. The students around me were all male. And in art, the only women I knew of were collector-connoisseurs. In the 1950s and 1960s in graduate school,

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where, thanks to the Ford Foundation, I was one of the fortunate ones to get a crème-de-la-crème graduate education, my mentors were all highly revered men, the specialists of that era, on literary “canon”; on Chinese and Japanese Buddhism; on Confucianism; and on “masterpieces” of art. They lectured with assuredness and confidence in the wholeness, the completeness of the knowledge they dispensed. As a result, after entering the fold myself, to my shame, I spent years trying to do the same. After years of teaching, my shock at discovering the stunningly powerful thirteenth-century chinsō statue of a likewise stunningly powerful Zen Abbess named Mugai Nyodai is hard to convey in this present day and age where such women are now taken for granted. I had never once read or heard the word “nun” in seminars on China and Japan no matter the discipline. In literature, nuns appeared simply as women no longer edible, fallen from the tree of this life—hoping for something better in the next. The lectures I heard were the “processed food” of academia dispensed in the 1950s–1960s, and I was the hungry fool gulping it all down. Now, out in the real world, after the hard work of learning, what must I unlearn, I thought? Abbess Mugai Nyodai’s inlaid crystal eyes refused to release my own.

∵ “Unheeded Voices, Winked at Lives”—that is the chapter title that long ago in the 1980s I gave my contribution to a Venice, Italy conference book, Rethinking Japan. I liked it because it sounded colloquial, not pompously academic. The words, however, really did reflect my assessment of premodern Japanese women as they appeared (or were absent) in the scholarly writing of the time. I used it again in The Cambridge History of Japan. Truth be told, I did not like to repeat myself. Redundancy is for the unimaginative, I believed. A good male friend, however, whom I respect, had written to me saying, “The men won’t ever really hear you the first time. It’s not what they expect. They don’t have a file folder for it in their brains, so it doesn’t register. The second time around it will seem they’ve somehow heard it before, and they may (or may not) bookmark it to think about later. It’s not their accustomed take on things, because they just don’t think seriously about women one way or the other. It usually takes a third time, or a fourth, before it penetrates enough to have an illuminating effect. You just have to keep repeating.” The phrase first floated into my head after an incident in the 1970s. I had become excited to discover the existence of a profession of itinerant medieval women known as Kumano bikuni, for whom there was an abundance of primary source materials: their ritual objects of small portable hanging scrolls

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containing a rich array of painted images; their feather-tipped pointers (some still preserved) used in their ritual performances of etoki in homes and on the roadside; and the paper talismans they distributed. Also, there were multiple paintings showing them in action. These Kumano bikuni were mentioned everywhere in premodern Japanese sources, yet in those days, no manner of talk or text about them interested Western male scholars, who were then focused wholly on male leaders in the monasteries and in the court—the male history of a predominantly male Japan. One day a revered and supportive historian friend greeted me saying, “Hello there, Barbara, how are your Kumano bikinis coming along?” No, that’s not a typo. It was well-meant male humor using an image I think no woman would ever have thought up. I knew he was an ally and not being dismissive of me; but he was revealing one of those male verbal winks at a research subject about women who were neither politically nor economically significant and therefore were merely amusing. So much has changed in these recent decades. Japanese male scholars are no longer “embarrassed” to study—well, maybe still not women—but are at least not hesitant to study nuns and empresses and female deities. Western male scholars no longer fear for their tenure or future careers if choosing research on subjects related to the female side of Japanese history. Yet it seems just yesterday that a Buddhologist at a major Ivy League university refused to allow Mugai Nyodai and the Five Mountain Zen Convent Association to be the subject of a doctoral dissertation because “probably there are no primary sources on such nuns.” Really? What is the scholarly term for “probably”?! Dear Reader, you will have the pleasure of meeting Abbess Mugai Nyodai in this book in two wonderful chapters by Monica Bethe and Patricia Fister. Deep as their studies are, they represent only a fraction of what there is to know about this woman and her extraordinary influences. If my spotlight here has been largely on the traditional male-made culture of academia, I cannot exonerate the women who took pride in being a product of it and ended up colluding with it. An eminent woman sociologist whose personal (and moral) dislike of privileged and isolated Japanese aristocratic women, who were her research subjects, let her aversion to that “social class” cast a veil of contempt over her writing that covered en masse even the most wonderful of living people. There were occasionally other blips. In the late 1990s, nearing retirement from teaching, I once suggested passing on to a younger female Japanese literature colleague a pair of substantially wide-open graduate seminars I had been teaching on Major Japanese Women Writers (premodern; then modern). I was surprised by the unexpected response. “I don’t do women. I do theory.” On what planet, I wondered.

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∵ Not a historian of art or religion myself, for a half a century and more I have embraced Japanese literature and cultural history and found that by default I could not do my work without delving as much as possible into beliefs and faiths that energized premodern writers and calligraphers who made the books and scrolls I studied, and seeking to understand the intent of their illustrators, whose brushes ranged from those of dazzling professionals to the dabbles of amateurs at play. So migrating back and forth among the separate territories of literature, painting, folklore, history, religion, performing arts, craftsmen and preachers, I learned amazing things. I learned that books and scrolls can be powerful ritual objects without ever being read. Some were dipped in water, which was then drunk so as to absorb the book’s power. With my own eyes I saw a huge set of scrolls depicting the life of Shōtoku Taishi encased in a box as large as a coffin brought in yearly ritual procession from within a temple storehouse to a spot outside where the container was held aloft by each end so that devout believers could walk single-file under it to receive into their bodies the radiating power of the concealed scrolls. These were functions of books and scrolls beyond anything I was ever taught or imagined. And now from this very book you hold in your hands I learned amazing new things. Too many to list: revelations that indicate how bent by bias our academic world is. Truth to tell, can you think of a male scholar, prior to our very recent decades, willing to take up research on curtains, as Elizabeth Morrissey does, in her exploration of the profoundly significant patronage and process of Higashisanjō-in’s handling of her donation of curtains to enclose the most sacred icon of Ishiyamadera—a central feature of one of Japan’s great treasures, Ishiyamadera engi, that no one had ever touched on before? Or to produce work illuminating the actions that women took on behalf of their own salvation, as Sherry Fowler and Elizabeth Self, in their respective examinations of women’s pilgrimage activities and patronage of portraiture, do? Can you think of an early male scholar who would devote his studies to meticulously reconstructing childbirth rituals, as Naoko Gunji has, or to exploring burial rites for women, as Hank Glassman has, or to elucidating the cultic practices surrounding important female deities like Kariteimo and Kichijōten, as Anna Andreeva and Chari Pradel have done. Karen Gerhart’s revolutionary look into the role of women’s involvement in the yin-yang world view of Heian Japan is eye-opening. For the past one hundred years and more, not once has a scholar ever perceived their importance in such a topic. For me personally, it is mirrors that now have me in thrall since reading this book. Karen Gerhart has discovered that when moving to a new

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residence in the early eleventh century, the principal wife rode in an ox cart through the front gate holding a bronze mirror facing outward in front of her chest to ward off polluting powers. This opens up a topic of great significance regarding women’s roles in yin-yang for all of us in Japanese studies, but specifically it impels me, as it should, to take another look at mirrors. A glittering reflective mirror lured Amaterasu Ōmikami out of hiding according to earliest sources, and of course it is one of the three imperial regalia along with sword and jewel. But mirrors remain a great mystery. Endlessly intriguing, mirrors took on different nuances than they originally held in China and, of course, were so much more than objects for personal grooming. They were potent symbols of power and could house the gods. They amaze, as Sei Shōnagon tells it, when a lady facing inward at her grooming mirror sees a dog outside in the garden behind her, though wholly out of her line of vision. How could that be possible? And Genji, departing to Suma, assures Murasaki no Ue that, though parted, they will be able to see each other’s faces whenever they look in their mirrors since their respective images somehow remain contained in the mirrors’ surface where they were once reflected. Casper Henderson in his book, A New Map of Wonders, tells of medieval European pilgrims who would hold up mirrors to holy relics in distant lands and then, home again, would show off the mirrors believing that, even if the images had vanished, the mirrors had absorbed the relics’ powers. I cannot help but see psychological continuity in our own century as tourists gather selfie images in their smartphones in front of cultural “icons,” buildings, and even dinner plates. In the 1960s the influential Japanese philosopher Watsuji Tetsurō discussed bells that do not sound (dōtaku), spears that cannot serve as weapons (dōhoko), and mirrors (kagami) that do not reflect. Some mirrors reflect light. Some instead absorb it. Those that absorb house deities. Did I not see at the very end of the Ishiyamadera scrolls a mirror standing alone in a vast empty residential room right next to a man busy writing his petitions to the deities? Why in the world is it the only piece of furniture in the whole room? The mirror in the late medieval story Kachō Fūgetsu, mentioned above, about two shamanesses who gave the story its title, is of great and intriguing significance. We learn from the mouths of the women themselves that they use their divining mirror only to resolve the most important problems; for lesser tasks they summon spirits simply by twanging their summoning bows. The mirror that they bring with them contains great accumulated powers due to their long experience using it, they explain, and “its powers are without limit and can call up humans living or dead, gods, or even animals.” A mirror appears in Otomae’s songs, as well as in the name of a Zen convent in

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Kyoto, related to Abbess Mugai Nyodai. Mirrors are everywhere. Their ubiquitous nature is perhaps the reason why we have taken them so for granted and then passed on without examining their context, myriad functions, and unique ritual powers in premodern Japan, well before the Edo period fascination with “magic mirrors.” One of the outstanding aspects of this pathbreaking book is the way it cherishes the complexity of human beliefs and the daily life objects that are a part of it all. For the reader there will surely be something profound that resonates with you—unforgettable—and that you will carry away with you—new light on your own path.

List of Figures and Tables Figures 1.1 1.2 1.3 1.4 1.5 1.6 2.1 3.1 3.2 3.3 3.4 3.5 3.6 4.1 4.2 4.3 4.4 4.5 4.6 4.7 4.8 5.1 5.2a 5.2b 5.3 5.4 5.5a 5.5b

Examples of seventy-two-star talismans from Japan and China 27 Kamo Michihira’s house-moving order 28 Five metal dishes 33 Clay stove and rice steamer 34 Round bronze mirror with 8 triagrams and 12 branches 39 Nine-step pattern of henbai 43 Kariteimo 79 Abbreviated genealogy of the Taira and related emperors 93 Birth scene of Emperor Antoku, Heike monogatari emaki 107 Diagram of the main building of the Izumi mansion at the time of Tokushi’s labor 108 Detail of Fig. 3.3 111 Diagram of the Kujaku ritual in the western double-bay corridor of the Izumi mansion before Tokushi’s labor 116 Birth scene of Prince Hikohohodemi’s wife, Hikohohodemi-no-mikoto emaki 123 Icons on the altar-platform of the Golden Hall at Hōryūji 143 Kichijōten 144 Bishamonten 145 Kichijōten 151 Kichijōten 152 Icons decorated for Kichijō keka 171 Bishamonten with an empowering stick and a post with a goō hōin 172 Goō hōin or stamped paper talisman from Kichijō keka 175 View of the gilt bronze gorintō at Konomiya Shrine with a rendering of Kenshi’s reliquary based on it 184 Gorin as a meditation framework 189 Gorin as a meditation framework 190 Gilt bronze gorintō with the lotus-shaped bronze base and rock crystal cintamani reliquary contained inside 192 Rock crystal gorintō of Amidaji; bronze gorintō of Jōdoji; and Naitō’s conjectural diagram, proportional to Gien’s specifications 193 Gien’s report on Kenshi’s reliquary 195 Gien’s annotated drawing of Kenshi’s reliquary with translation by the author 196

list of figures and tables 5.6 5.7 6.1 6.2 6.3 6.4 6.5 6.6 6.7 6.8 6.9 6.10 6.11 6.12 7.1a 7.1b 7.2 7.3 7.4 7.5 7.6 7.7 7.8 7.9 8.1 8.2 8.3 8.4 8.5 8.6 8.7 8.8 8.9 8.10

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Roof tile from Hosshōji 206 Detail of lid of black bronze storied box created to hold the Heike nōkyō 212 Kūkai in a storm, Okadera section of Kannon reijōki zue 230 Utagawa Kunisada and Utagawa Hiroshige II, Okadera in Kannon reigenki 232 Okadera section of Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon rishōki 234 Utagawa Kunisada and Utagawa Hiroshige II, Mimurotoji in Kannon reigenki 235 Mimurotoji section of Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon rishōki 239 Utagawa Kuniyoshi, Kahada mura kojo from the series Kokon honchō meijo hyaku den 240 Mimurotoji section of Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon rishōki zue 243 Mimurotoji section of Kannon reijōki zue 244 Utagawa Kunisada and Utagawa Hiroshige II, Kannonji in Kannon reigenki 246 Eleven-Headed Kannon pilgrimage print from Nakayamadera 252 Eleven-Headed Kannon sculpture 254 Eleven-Headed Kannon wearing a haraobi 259 Portrait sculpture of Mugai Nyodai 272 Detail of fig. 7.1a 273 Waka poem by Mugai Nyodai 277 Portrait sculpture of Mugai Nyodai 280 Portrait sculpture of Mugai Nyodai 282 Portrait of Mugai Nyodai 285 Portrait of Mugai Nyodai 286 Portrait of Chiyono [Mugai Nyodai] by Hakuin Ekaku 293 Portrait of Mugai Nyodai by Nakami 295 Portrait of Mugai Nyodai by Imei Shukei 296 Nine-panel yellow kesa stored in a box labeled “Mugai Nyodai’s kesa” 305 “Transmission Succession for the Buddhist Robe” 310 Lineage of Phase One Keiaiji abbesses 311 Lineage of Phase Two Keiaiji abbesses 313 Lineage of Phase Three Keiaiji abbesses 315 Inscription inside of the lid of Nyodai’s kesa box 319 Sketch identifying the parts of a Rinzai Zen nine-panel kesa 321 Detail of the peony pattern on the bands of the yellow kesa 328 Magnification of the weave structure on the yellow kesa 329 Magnification of the plain weave structure of the lining in the yellow kesa 330

xx 8.11 8.12 8.13 8.14 9.1 9.2 9.3 9.4 9.5 9.6 9.7 9.8 9.9 9.10 10.1 10.2 10.3 10.4 10.5 10.6 10.7

list of figures and tables Magnification of the satin weave structure of the fabric used for the fields in the yellow kesa 331 Dark brown, bast fiber twenty-five panel kesa associated with Mugai Nyodai 333 Magnification of the plain weave structure of the brown kesa 334 Detail of the sewing on the brown kesa 335 Ox cart of Higashisanjō-in enters the grounds of Ishiyamadera, Ishiyamadera engi e 356 Higashisanjō-in offers curtains in the main hall of Ishiyamadera, Ishiyamadera engi e 356 Boxes containing donations, from the scene of emperor En’yū’s Pilgrimage, Ishiyamadera engi e 357 Tani Bunchō, Ishiyamadera engi e (detail) 357 Curtains presented by Higashisanjō-in, Ishiyamadera engi 360 Kichō curtain stand from the scene of Murasaki Shikibu’s pilgrimage, Ishiyamadera engi e 360 Chōdai curtain platform in the house of Fujiwara no Tadazane, Kasuga gongen genki e, 361 The icon of Nyoirin Kannon enshrined in a white-curtained hut, Ishiyamadera engi e 362 Rituals performed for emperor Goichijō, Ishiyamadera engi e 363 Aizen offerings initiated under Emperor Fushimi, Ishiyamadera engi e 363 Portrait of Jōkō-in 370 Asai and Kyōgoku family tree 374 Portrait of Tokugawa Ieyasu 381 Portrait of Matsu no Maru [Kyōgoku Tatsuko] 382 Portrait of Tokugawa Hidetada 390 Portrait of Asai Nagamasa 393 Portrait of Oda Nobunaga 394

Tables 1.3 4.1 8.1

The five elements of early Japanese cosmology 31 Schedule of services at Hōryūji from January 7 to January 14 169 Five different types of patterned 3-end gauze weave structures 324

List of Contributors Anna Andreeva is a research fellow at the Heidelberg Centre for Transcultural Studies at the University of Heidelberg where she is currently working on her second monograph on the cultural history of childbirth in Japan, as well as another project on “Buddhism, Medicine, and Gender in the 10th–16th century Japan.” She has worked as a postdoctoral and research fellow at Harvard, Cambridge, the International Research Center for Japanese Studies (Kyoto), the Max Planck Institute for the History of Science (Berlin), and the International Consortium for Research in the Humanities at the University of Erlangen-Nürnberg. In 2016– 2017, she served as interim chair of Japanese History at the Faculty of East Asian Studies, Ruhr-Universität-Bochum. Monica Bethe is Director of the Medieval Japanese Studies Institute in Kyoto, Japan. She is a world-renown authority on Japanese textiles and has contributed essays to numerous books and exhibition catalogues, including The Preservation of Religious Textiles, Textieldag gehouden in de Koninklijke Bibliotheek in Den Haag (Stichting Textielcommissie Nederlands/Jaarboek, 2005), Amamonzeki, A Hidden Heritage: Treasures of the Japanese Imperial Convents (Sankei Shinbunsha, 2009), and Transmitting Robes, Linking Minds: The World of Buddhist Kasaya (Kyoto National Museum, 2010). Patricia Fister is Professor at the International Research Center for Japanese Studies in Kyoto. She began focusing her research on Japanese women artists after completing her doctorate at the University of Kansas in Japanese art history. In 1988, with support from the National Endowment of the Arts, she curated the world’s first exhibition devoted to Japanese women artists from 1600–1900 (Spencer Museum of Art), and in 1994 she brought this subject to the attention of Japanese readers with her book Kinsei no josei gakatachi: Bijutsu to jendā (Japanese Women Artists of the Kinsei Era: Art and Gender). Since moving to Japan, she has been involved in organizing two exhibitions featuring Buddhist art by women: Art by Buddhist Nuns: Treasures from the Imperial Convents of Japan (Nomura Art Museum, Kyoto, 2003) and Amamonzeki, A Hidden Heritage: Treasures of the Japanese Imperial Convents (University of Art Museum, Tokyo University of the Arts, 2009). Her current research continues to revolve around the art, history, and culture connected with Japan’s remaining Buddhist imperial convents.

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Sherry Fowler is Professor in the Department of Art History at the University of Kansas. Her scholarly interests range from ninth-century Buddhist sculpture to nineteenthcentury Japanese prints. Her publications include the books Murōji: Rearranging Art and History at a Japanese Buddhist Temple (University of Hawai‘i Press, 2005) and Accounts and Images of Six Kannon in Japan (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2016). She is currently researching the relationship between Japanese prints and pilgrimage practices as well as the changing perceptions of Buddhist temple bells. Karen M. Gerhart is Professor of Japanese Art History in the Department of the History of Art and Architecture in the Dietrich School of Arts and Sciences at the University of Pittsburgh. Her current research explores Japanese medieval women, art, and ritual, and her publications include The Eyes of Power: Art and Early Tokugawa Authority (University of Hawai‘i Press, 1999) and The Material Culture of Death in Medieval Japan (University of Hawai‘i Press, 2009). Hank Glassman is the Janet and Henry Ritchotte ’85 Professor of Asian Studies and Associate Professor of East Asian Languages and Cultures at Haverford College in Pennsylvania. His scholarly work focuses on religious culture in medieval Japan. Glassman has published on the iconology and cult of the bodhisattva Jizō, as well as on gender and family history. His current project examines the history of the stone grave monuments known as gorintō. Naoko Gunji is an independent scholar. Her primary research interests lie in the cultural, social, political, and religious functions of Japanese premodern art. Her current research centers on visual representations of the Tale of the Heike, Emperor Antoku’s mortuary temple Amidaji, and premodern rites of passage. Her recent publications include “The Ritual Narration of Mortuary Art: The Illustrated Story of Emperor Antoku and Its Etoki at Amidaji,” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies (Fall 2013), “Horrified Victors: Spirit Pacification of Taira Losers,” in Mikael Adolphson and Anne Commons, eds., The Ise Taira in Action and Memory (University of Hawai‘i Press, 2015), and “Heike Paintings in the Early Edo Period: Edification and Ideology for Elite Men and Women,” Archives of Asian Art (April 2017).

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Elizabeth Morrissey is currently ABD in the Department of the History of Art and Architecture in the Dietrich School of Arts and Sciences at the University of Pittsburgh and expects to receive her PhD in May 2018. Her dissertation, “Memorializing Imperial Power Through Ritual in the Illustrated Legends of Ishiyamadera Handscroll,” explores the depiction of esoteric Buddhist rituals in illustrated handscrolls. Chari Pradel is Professor in the Department of Art at California State Polytechnic University, Pomona. Her research focuses on Japanese religious art, especially Buddhist art, and she has published numerous articles about art works associated with Prince Shōtoku (574–622). Her book, Fabricating the Tenjukoku Shūchō Mandara and Prince Shōtoku’s Afterlives (Brill, 2016), reconstructs the history of the assemblage of embroidered textiles fragments, known as Tenjukoku Shūchō Mandara, and its changing significance and perception over the centuries. Elizabeth Self is currently Visiting Assistant Professor at the University of Pittsburgh, specializing in the study of women and artistic patronage in early modern Japan. She received her PhD in art history from the University of Pittsburgh in 2017, with a dissertation on the patronage associated with the three Asai sisters of seventeenth-century Japan. Her article, “Fit for a Shogun’s Wife: The Two Seventeenth-Century Mausolea for Sūgen-in,” was recently published in Japan Review (November 2017).

Introduction Karen M. Gerhart

In the spring of 2015, the contributors to this volume came together for a workshop at the University of Pittsburgh to present papers and discuss the intersection of women, rites, and ritual objects in Japan’s premodern period.1 We were extremely fortunate to have had Barbara Ruch join us and are most grateful to her for posing many thoughtful questions during the discussion period. The result is this work—a multidisciplinary examination of rituals featuring women, in which significant attention is paid to objects produced for and utilized in these rites as a lens through which larger cultural concerns, such as gender politics, the female body, class, and materiality, and the importance of objects as active participants in rituals, are explored. The ten chapters of this volume encounter women, rites, and objects in many new and interactive ways and constitute a pioneering attempt to combine ritual and gendered analysis with the study of objects. While scholars to date have examined many forms of ritual, the multifaceted topic of Japanese women, rites, and objects in the premodern period has received little attention; indeed, no single monograph has been published on the subject in either Japanese or English. There has been, however, a significant body of research in the past decade on birth rituals, which, by their very nature, include women, objects, and rituals.2 This volume seeks to expand our understanding of the roles women played in rituals, how particular rituals were carried out, what types of implements or icons accompanied them, and how various ritual objects were used. The ten chapters in this volume explore a rich and diverse complement of rites that were performed by and for women over a thousand-year-period, including rituals conducted for women, women’s participation in rituals, women as patrons of rituals, and female deities as the focus of rituals, as well as an in-depth examination of the types of objects used in these rites. As many of the objects we discuss either no longer exist or have been removed from their ritual contexts and relegated to museums, we seek to provide a fuller understanding of their original uses. Among the general topics covered are women and their association with particular objects in yin-

1 In this volume, “premodern” is defined as pre-1900. 2 See for example, Tonomura, “Birth-giving and Avoidance Taboo”; Uchida, Mikkyō no bijutsu; Hotate, Chūsei no ai to jūzoku; Noaki, “Kiso hajime no iro”; Saitō, Kodomo to chūseishi.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2018 | doi: 10.1163/9789004368194_002

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yang rituals, rituals and objects related to motherhood and childbirth, women and Buddhist rituals and icons, death and memorial rituals and objects, and the role of female patronage in commissioning objects and rituals. In covering three distinct topics—women, rites, and ritual objects—the contributors have endeavored to address all three to the fullest extent possible.

Women Writing on the histories of women began much later in Japan than in the West, as it was not until the 1970s that a body of research on the sexual division of labor was undertaken in Japan. This was followed by almost two decades of attention on traditional female spheres of influence, such as motherhood and childbirth. In 1977, Barbara Ruch introduced the neglected Muromachiera women known as Kumano nuns and their ritual activities, but the first concerted English-language scholarship on Japanese women would not appear until the 1980s, most of it dealing with conditions affecting women after 1600.3 Research on women in earlier periods was widely neglected in traditional scholarship in favor of their more powerful fathers and husbands until the late 1990s, and book-length publications are still relatively few in number.4 The relative paucity of published research on women in premodern Japan confirms that the challenges scholars face in writing women’s histories remain significant today. Much of the responsibility for this dearth rests with the unevenness of the primary sources and the difficulty of accessing their arcane language, but a contributing factor is the lack of writing by premodern women themselves about

3 Ruch, “Medieval Jongleurs and the Making of a National Literature.” Comprehensive multivolume sets on women in Japanese history include, Nihon joseishi, vols. 1–5; Nihon josei seikatsushi, vols. 1–5; and Wakita, Bosei o tou, vols. 1–2. In English, see Gender and Japanese History, vols. 1–2. Single-volume publications in English include: Yonemoto, The Problem of Women in Early Modern Japan; Ambros, Women in Japanese Religions; Gender and Power in the Japanese Visual Field; Tonomura, Walthall, and Wakita, eds., Women and Class in Japanese History; Bernstein, ed., Recreating Japanese Women; and Fister, Japanese Women Artists. These publications include essays on women in both premodern and modern Japan. 4 Many of the publications focus on women and Buddhism. See for example Ruch, ed., Engendering Faith, Graybill, ed., Days of Discipline and Grace; Fister, Art by Buddhist Nuns; Fister and Bethe, eds., Amamonzeki; and Meeks, Hokkeji and the Reemergence of Female Monastic Orders.

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their ritual activities. In their research, many of the authors in this volume have, of necessity, relied on primary sources that mention women but were written by men, a methodology that requires caution, or at least comment. Although most elite women in premodern Japan were literate and could read and write, they tended not to write in detail about ritual events, even those in which they themselves participated. Women regularly documented what they saw and heard during certain ceremonies in accounts about their daily lives, but did not note specifics. In contrast to their male counterparts, their descriptions, therefore, do not address such details as how many Buddhist monks or yin-yang masters attended a birth, or the number or type of purifications that were performed before entering a new residence, or how and when portraits were venerated during memorial services for their loved ones. It may be that this lacuna exists in women’s writing because women were simply not interested in these details but, in some cases, it is likely they did not have access to the ritual precedents. In Japan, while men initiated and were in charge of most major ritual events, and most official ritual practitioners, namely Buddhist priests and yin-yang masters, were male, from at least the seventh century, women played significant roles as shamans in local cults, early female sovereigns, notably Suiko 推古天皇 (r. 592–628), Kōgyoku-Saimei (594–661; ruled as Kōgyoku 皇極天皇, 642–645; ruled as Saimei 斉明天皇, 655–661), Jitō 持統天皇 (r. 690–697), and KōkenShōtoku (718–770; ruled as Kōken 孝謙天皇, 749–758; ruled as Shōtoku 称徳 天皇, 764–770) were active supporters of Buddhism, and elite women, such as Agata no Inukai Tachibana no Michiyo 県犬養橘三千代 (d. 733), became nuns and both generated and engaged in temple rituals. Women at court participated in most court rituals, albeit usually seated behind bamboo blinds or in separate rooms. Although they were invisible to the male participants, their presence was known, giving women agency and effectively bringing them into the public sphere and making it possible for their participation to be recorded. Women also presided over more intimate ceremonies, sponsored icons and offerings, engaged in relic worship, and were responsible for much of the local cult activity in later periods. Scholars today are beginning to turn their attention to the involvement of women in such activities. Although there are obvious drawbacks to using sources written by men to discuss the ritual lives of women, it is crucial to bring to light the ritual activities in which women were involved but about which they did not write. Only in rare examples when women were highly educated and well connected, of elite social status, or held official positions, like the female cleric Mugai Nyodai 無 外如大 (1223–1298) who founded an imperial convent, or the poet and writer Nun Abutsu 阿仏尼 (1225–1283), is significant documentation by women likely

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to have been preserved. Thus, to ignore primary sources authored by men is tantamount to relegating most women in premodern Japan to continued obscurity in history. Interest in women as both the subjects and objects of rituals has increased significantly across disciplines and geographies since the late 1980s. Western scholars have published widely on premodern ritual practices that involved women,5 and some attention has been devoted to the topic in China,6 but most of the research in English specifically on women and rituals in Japan has been conducted by anthropologists working on Japan’s modern period.7 This may be because before the modern era women in Japan were largely excluded from the public sphere where ritual rules were created, and from other areas, such as politics, laws, commerce, and (public) art, making the documentary and material evidence that would allow us to evaluate their involvement hard to come by. The exception to this statement is the study of women involved in Buddhist ritual practices, which has seen many English-language publications, such as the special issue of Japanese Journal of Religious Studies, “Women and Religion in Japan” (1983), edited by Nakamura Kyoko, and Barbara Ruch’s fieldaltering volume, Engendering Faith: Women and Buddhism in Premodern Japan (2002), which includes essays by specialists of premodern Japanese literature, art history, Buddhist studies, and history. Although not specifically focused on women and rituals, the tome includes twenty essays, all of which revolve around women and many of which are related to Buddhist rituals. That project inspired a ground-breaking exhibition in 2009 of nearly two hundred treasures owned by Japanese imperial Buddhist convents that was organized by a team of scholars associated with the Tokyo University of the Arts and the Medieval Japanese Studies Institute, with major work done by Patricia Fister and Monica Bethe. The exhibition highlighted both everyday and ritual objects made and used by nuns and was accompanied by a catalog that included in-depth articles by specialists.8 By broadening our investigation to include non-Buddhist rituals and to highlight the important role of the ritual objects themselves, the

5 Among the major contributions are Connelly, Portrait of a Priestess; Goff, Citizen Bacchae; Sered, Priestess, Mother, Sacred Sister; and Lefkowitz and Fant, Women in Greece and Rome. 6 For English publications on premodern Chinese women and rituals, see Zito, “Ritualizing li”; Waltner, “A Princess Comes of Age”; Choo, Historicized Ritual and Ritualized History. 7 See, for example, Traphagan, The Practice of Concern; Edwards, Modern Japan through its Weddings; Kawano, “Gender, Liminality and Ritual in Japan”; Martinez, The Worlds of Japanese Popular Culture; van Bremen and Martinez, eds., Ceremony and Ritual in Japan; and Lindsey, Fertility and Pleasure. 8 Fister and Bethe, eds., Amamonzeki.

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contributors to this volume, most of whom are art historians, seek to deepen and expand upon the research of these scholars and to offer further evidence that women in premodern Japan constructed a vivid presence in the rituals performed for the major events in their lives and in relation to a wide range of beliefs and practices.

Rites Ritual studies, as a locus of a scholarly, multidisciplinary conversation, has been thriving since the 1970s, as evidenced by the rich, textured, and vibrant works on ritual theory by scholars such as Stanley Tambiah, Catherine Bell, Jonathan Z. Smith, and Tom Driver, to name a few representative examples. Our volume does not aim to construct a grand theory on ritual or propose comprehensive taxonomies. Rather, the essays in this collection address one specific area that is still not well researched in ritual studies—ritualizing among women and rites dealing with the female gender. As cultural performances, rituals require performers and audiences, visuals and objects. Thus, the ritualized events in this volume are inextricably connected to performativity, visuality, and materiality. In their essays, the authors use the term “ritual” broadly, as a series of actions performed according to a prescribed order as part of a solemn ceremony related to a religion, belief, or practice. Related terms, such as “rite” and “ceremony,” are also used throughout, but are intended to convey the same meaning. While the essays examine case studies of particular rituals, the volume is not intended to address ritual practice by Japanese women as a whole. Although most rituals can be accessed through ritual manuals, such texts can tell us only how the steps should be performed. Because, in this volume, we are interested in the practice of rituals, our information comes from a broad range of sources, including court records and diaries, yin-yang orders, Buddhist stories, temple and convent records, sutras, and medical texts, as well as from what can be gleaned from a myriad of ritualized objects themselves, including mundane objects, painted and sculpted portraits, contact relics, illustrated stories about icons and rituals, and prints of icons. There is much discussion among anthropologists today about what distinguishes “private” and “public” rituals. As a type, the rituals studied in this volume are public in the sense that they involve women belonging to or acting as part of a defined group, and because the unseen presences that require them— various spirits, ancestors, demons, or deities—are identified.9 Most impor9 Seligman et al., Ritual and Its Consequences, p. 65.

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tantly, however, they fall under the rubric of public rituals because they are visible to others. While they differ greatly in scale from state rituals organized by a central governing body, such as state funerals and temple dedications, the rituals discussed herein, are nonetheless concerned with similar cultural concerns, such as separation, taboos, succession (heirs), gender differences, and power relationships. Rituals in which women took active roles (beyond prayer or simply being present) in premodern Japan have been inadequately studied, and new examples are presented in this volume. We know now that women played essential roles in the yin-yang ritual of “moving house,” performed when court families moved to new residences in the Heian period (Chap. 1). As representatives of essential “yin” energy, women and girls performed ritual actions of purification with fire and water and carried “yin” symbols like the mirror (metal) as a counterbalance to the “yang” of the male participants and objects with “yang” energy. Thus, the complex “moving house” ritual could not achieve cosmic balance or efficacy without the involvement of women. Another ritual in which women were prime players was that of gyakushu 逆修, whereby they enacted their own memorial rites before death (Chap. 10). Their actions, which involved offering incense and prayers before their own painted or sculpted portraits, were designed to increase merit for their afterlife. The ritual allowed women (and men), who had no remaining family or children to conduct the necessary memorial rites, to accomplish this prophylactically prior to their demise. In many cases of gyakushu, the woman was also the patron of her own memorial portrait (meaning she ordered and paid for it), thereby making her both an actor in her own death rituals and an agent behind them, providing her with an opportunity to influence her own posthumous identity. Many rituals were performed on behalf of women. A long series of rites connected to women’s fertility, pregnancy, and childbirth were performed with the woman’s physical body as their object. The woman’s body was given such extravagant ritual attention at the time of birth because the physical changes it underwent were profoundly disturbing. The rituals that accompanied each change may be seen as attempts to exert some control over the process. Intended to ensure a safe delivery for mother and baby, rituals also marked the passage of the woman’s body from one state to another—from conception to pregnancy to birth. (Chap. 3). The initial rituals along this journey were designed to induce a woman to conceive. Typically performed by members of the woman’s natal family, they symbolized the family’s support for her separation and transition to a new phase of life. As the pregnancy continued, Buddhist monks and medical doctors took on the role of protecting the mother and unborn child through incantations of mantra and dhāraṇī (mystic Bud-

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dhist incantations), exorcisms, and the reading of sutras, thereby wrapping the woman in a protective ritual cocoon and further removing her from her natal family and her old life. As the time of birth neared, yin-yang masters joined in with ritual purifications, diviners performed divinations and created theurgic talismans, while potent esoteric Buddhist rituals, such as the Kujaku 孔雀 and Shichibutsu Yakushi 七仏薬師 rituals, continued during and after the birth to protect both mother and child in their new and vulnerable state. Throughout the process of birth, the focus of the progressively intense ritual activity was the woman’s body—preparing it, purifying it, and protecting it. Women who desired to become pregnant could also take action themselves by making offerings and prayers to special Buddhist and Hindu-Buddhist deities who were believed to have powers to facilitate pregnancies and to protect pregnant women. From at least the tenth century, women had access to instructions on how to produce such protective deities, what ritual actions to take, and how certain medical prescriptions could enable them to conceive and have a successful pregnancy (Chap. 2). In later periods, images of such protective deities were mass printed and distributed to women along pilgrimage routes as a means of encouraging women to develop karmic bonds with temple icons. Women were able to receive benefit, even if the icon itself could not be viewed, through prayer and somatic contact—either by holding the paper close or ingesting it (Chap. 6). Transitions through death were also marked with a plethora of special rituals that denoted the stages of the separation of the deceased from the living at death.10 Generally, immediate family members, usually children and spouses, were responsible for offering incense on behalf of the deceased on regular death anniversaries, extending through at least the third year. In the case of esteemed public figures, however, such offering rites sometimes continued for many centuries and could involve elaborate ceremonies of immense size and significance (Chap. 7). The visual and liturgical focal point of such memorial rites was the venerable “body” of the deceased in the form of a portrait (sculptural or painted), but it was also possible for a woman’s body itself to become an object of worship by means of special treatment and rituals, as in the case of the cremated remains of an eleventh century royal woman, Fujiwara no Kenshi 藤原賢子 (1057–1084), which were enshrined inside a special reliquary (Chap. 5). Physical objects that were not the body but had touched the body,

10

See van Gennep, The Rites of Passage, p. 3.

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such as clothing or other objects closely associated with the deceased, might function as contact relics to enable mourners to “touch” the physical presence of the deceased (Chap. 8). Women of rank and means in premodern Japan had enormous public impact in the sponsoring of large-scale Buddhist rituals, often accompanied by notable donations of vestments and land. One of the most powerful early female patrons in Japan was the eighth-century female emperor Kōken-Shōtoku, who first supported a special ritual dedicated to a female Hindu-Buddhist deity that was intended to address a nationwide famine (Chap. 4). Imperial consorts and mothers of emperors also made significant offerings to temples to have rituals conducted as acts of personal devotion for their own healing or that of a husband or child, to avert illnesses, to aid conception and protect pregnancies, and as offerings for a good rebirth (Chap. 9).

Ritual Objects Ritual is an activity that cannot be fully studied in isolation from its fuller context; it is defined by the society that practices it and the social and material contexts that form its background. The objects used in rituals are “co-actors” in the ritual performance and by no means static in meaning; rather, they become activated through the prescribed actions and transformed into a source of social power for those who participate in them.11 While art historians have studied objects by style and type, and historians often use objects selectively as handmaidens of social and cultural history, material objects themselves are seldom considered as the focus of or essential ingredients in rituals. The authors here are concerned with the ritual lives of objects, accessible through records of ritual in texts, ritual implements themselves, and illustrations of rituals, and engage with them as vital components of ritual performances. Indeed, some objects seem to function as visible forms of primordial powers that require no additional ritual enhancement, such as the elements of water and fire and the bronze mirrors (metal) carried by young girls and women in the “moving house” ritual. These elements were symbolic of essential yin-yang energy needed for cosmic balance, and from prehistoric times were embodiments of purification and protection (Chap. 1). Rituals could also imbue objects with a mystical potency that could bring efficacy to the ritual or to an individual conducting the ritual. In this way, mundane items, such as cloth maternity

11

Kyriakidis, The Archaeology of Ritual.

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sashes or talismanic medicines, like ox bezoar (dried gallstones of oxen), could aid women during childbirth, becoming more than just their physical essence through special “empowerment rituals” (kaji 加持) and incantations of mantra and dhāraṇī performed by high-ranking Buddhist prelates (Chap. 3). Other objects used in rituals gained their empowerment through proximity to sacred sources. Talismans (goō hōin 牛王宝印) printed with representations of icons, for example, could derive potency from being placed on or around Buddhist icons on an altar during rituals (Chap. 4). In later centuries, the need for proximity to sacredness evolved considerably to the point that printed talismans with only marginal proximity to the sacred source and lacking “empowering” rituals were credited with great healing power. Even paper votive cards (ofuda お札), imprinted with certain features of a special icon, were believed to help Buddhist pilgrims establish a connection (kechien 結縁) to the icon, even without seeing the actual image or standing in its presence. Possessing such a votive, or better yet ingesting it, was believed to improve health and aid women in having safe deliveries. As the print passed through the body, it further strengthened the connection between the image and the woman who ingested it, highlighting its powerful somatic properties (Chap. 6). Objects once owned by great prelates or temple founders could become “contact relics,” whereby their religious power was generated from the individual who had owned them. Painted and sculptural portraits of Zen figures could become “empowered” through special rituals, and also by gifting and transferal, to keep the memory of the deceased alive throughout many centuries (Chaps. 7, 10). Special objects, such as transmission robes (den-e 伝衣), might be prized above all because they held the power to authenticate its possessor as being next in line in the transmission of the dharma lineage, but their real power lay in their original physical closeness to an individual of extraordinary spirituality (Chap. 8). Objects could even endow other objects with power. Sword-shaped empowering sticks (kaji jō 加持杖), carved from branches of the lacquer tree, could provide divine protection if held by monks in special rituals (Chap. 4). Bodies, too, we learn, are physical objects that could be empowered through rituals and cremation, becoming relics for enshrinement and veneration. This was the case of an imperial consort, Fujiwara no Kenshi, whose remains were treated as Buddha relics—enclosed inside a gilt bronze pagoda, placed within a stone casket, and buried beneath a temple altar (Chap. 5).

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Approaches There were many questions that had to be sorted through in the organization of this volume. To start, it was necessary to consider what types of rituals women participated in and why, as well as the status of the women involved. Many of the essays revolve around rituals surrounding two pivotal events in the lives of all humans—birth and death—and most highlight the impact of Buddhist rituals in the lives of women. Several chapters, however, serve to expand our understanding of the types of ritual activities in which women and/or female deities participated, including a ritual dictated by yin-yang ritual specialists and practices, a Buddhist ritual performed to augment ceremonies dedicated to kami deities in the hopes of solving famine at the time, a female deity that became an object important to maternity cults, and woodblock prints for ritual practices to aid with pregnancy. Because it proved very difficult, indeed, to access the ritual interactions of non-elite women in very early periods, the great majority of the essays focus on court women and members of the military elite. As yet, little can be documented about the ritual activities of women of lower status much before the seventeenth century, leaving a gaping hole in our research on and understanding of the ritual practices of these women, one that hopefully in the future other scholars will begin to fill. The volume is divided into four parts—Section I Rituals Related to the Household and Childbirth, Section II Women and Buddhist Rituals and Icons, Section III Buddhist Women and Death Memorials, and Section IV Female Patronage, Portraits, and Rituals—each comprised of related essays documenting the ways in which women participated in rituals and the objects they used. The first section, Rituals Related to the Household and Childbirth, includes three essays that examine the most common types of rituals in which women participated—those involving their own living spaces and their own bodies.12 Karen Gerhart’s chapter, “Women and “Moving House” Rituals in Mid-Heian Japan,” explores the special rites ordained by yin-yang masters (onmyōji 陰陽 師) to purify newly built or reconstructed residential palaces for the elite in the

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Surprisingly, little is written about marriage rituals, events in which women obviously participated, perhaps because the rituals were minimal and marital unions relatively fluid throughout most of Japan’s pre-modern period. The definitive work in English on Japanese traditional marriages, written nearly fifty years ago, is William H. McCullough’s “Japanese Marriage Institutions in the Heian Period.” For more recent research, see Wakita, “Marriage and Property in Premodern Japan”; Tonomura, “Women and Inheritance in Japan’s Early Warrior Society”; and Fukutō, “Mikkayo no mochigi no seiritsu to henyō”.

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ninth through eleventh centuries. As empty buildings were believed to hold potential dangers from wandering spirits, no noble family in the mid-Heian period would have considered moving their household without such protective rituals. Gerhart examines a special order (ishi sahō kamon 移徙作法勘文) written by the yin-yang specialist Kamo no Michihira 賀茂道平 (active 11th century) that prescribes the steps for Inner Palace Minister Fujiwara no Morozane’s 藤原師実 (1042–1101) move to his palace Kazan’in 花山院 on the third day of the seventh month, 1063. By focusing on the specific roles women played and the special ritual objects they employed, Gerhart provides us with proof that, although they did not write about them, women played crucial roles in yin-yang rituals. The two following chapters in the section look broadly at multifarious official and unofficial rituals performed by Buddhist priests, yin-yang masters, and other religious practitioners to protect women’s bodies (and the child) during pregnancy and birth. The chapters work together to present a picture of how birth rituals evolved over time and demonstrate the impact of a multiplicity of beliefs, fueled by continental medical knowledge, on royal births in the Heian period. In “Devising Esoteric Rituals for Women: Fertility and the Demon Mother in the Gushi nintai sanshō himitsu hōshū,” Anna Andreeva examines a text that is likely the earliest handbook in Japan to bring together knowledge of how women’s bodies work. The chapter provides insight into how Buddhist knowledge dealing with women’s bodies and women’s health was constructed, and how it became the cornerstone of esoteric rituals for safe pregnancy and childbirth in Heian- and Kamakura-period Japan. Andreeva engages with Indian and Chinese Buddhist embryological and apotropaic discourses in relation to pregnancy and childbirth by focusing on Buddhist rituals for women that featured the female esoteric deity, Kariteimo 訶梨帝母 (Sk. Hārītī) who was also known as Kishimo 鬼子母, the Demon Mother. In “Taira no Tokushi’s Birth of Emperor Antoku,” Naoko Gunji provides a detailed case study of the rites performed on behalf of Taira no Tokushi 平 徳子 (1155–1213), queen-consort of Emperor Takakura 高倉天皇 (1161–1181; r. 1168–1180), prior to, during, and after the birth of their son and future emperor Antoku 安徳天皇 (1179–1185; r. 1180–1185). Relying primarily on Sankaiki, a record kept by Nakayama Tadachika 中山忠親 (1131–1195), provisional head of the principal consort’s household, Gunji reconstructs the ritual process and domestic setting of parturition rites in great detail, including the specifics of the birthing room, the various ritual actions performed during the birth and the numbers and types of ritual specialists involved, and the use of empowered objects throughout the process. The innumerable layers of rituals performed

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for the safe birth of a royal heir also underline the significance of ritual performances in solidifying political alliances in the tumultuous late twelfth century. Section Two, Women and Buddhist Rituals and Icons, comprises three essays that foreground Buddhist images and their importance to women of various classes over a broad span of time. Each examines different ways that temples attempted to neutralize the traditional hindrances faced by female Buddhist believers. Among the methods discussed are creating opportunities for women to improve their karma, achieving benefits from acts of Buddhist piety through the worship of female images, and changes in burial practices that allowed for novel ways for women to be buried within temple precincts. Chari Pradel’s chapter, “A Female Deity as the Focus of a Buddhist Ritual: Kichijō keka at Hōryūji,” investigates the origins in Japan of Kichijō keka 吉祥 悔過, a special ritual of repentance, and its early performance at Hōryūji’s 法 隆寺 Golden Hall (Kondō 金堂). The essay describes the ritual program and the role of the female Kichijōten 吉祥天 deity and other Buddhist sculptures in the Golden Hall and traces the origins of this ritual to the reign of a female emperor. Her research suggests that the ceremony at Hōryūji was established and first performed under Kōken-Shōtoku, with support from nuns and female devotees of the Nara period, to address a famine that devastated Japan in the second half of the eighth century. Hank Glassman’s chapter, “The Relic and the Jewel: An Eleventh-Century Miniature Bronze Pagoda to Hold the Bones of a Young Queen,” investigates the processing and enshrinement of an eleventh-century women’s bones. The author focuses on an object known only through records—a miniature “fiveelements pagoda” or gorintō 五輪塔 that has remained buried for over four centuries. Even today, the reliquary, said to hold the cremated remains of Fujiwara no Kenshi, queen-consort of Retired Emperor Shirakawa 白河法皇 (1053–1129; r. 1073–1087) and mother of the future emperor Horikawa 堀川天皇 (1079–1107; r. 1087–1107), lies buried under the altar of the Enkōin 円光院 chapel at the imperial temple of Daigoji 醍醐寺, where it serves as the center of a rite known as Sonshō darani 尊勝陀羅尼. Glassman argues that this particular form of veneration of Kenshi’s relics signifies the establishment of a new royal lineage with a female apical ancestor. In “Connecting Kannon to Women Through Print,” Sherry Fowler considers the role that woodblock prints, including printed texts and images of female protagonists in miracle tales, icons with female gender, and printed votives for ritual practices to aid pregnant women, played in mediating the female pilgrimage experience along the Saigoku Kannon pilgrimage route during the seventeenth to nineteenth centuries. With an in-depth analysis of women-targeted

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prints produced at four temples—Rokkakudō 六角堂, Okadera 岡寺, Mimurotoji 三室戸寺, and Nakayamadera 中山寺—Fowler proposes that temples constructed such stories and images as a complement to their more traditional stories to attract more women as pilgrims and devotees. Buddhist death memorials involve elaborate rituals intertwined closely with objects once owned by or otherwise connected to the deceased or specially made and offered on their behalf. Section Three, Buddhist Women and Death Memorials, comprises two essays that focus on sacred objects and their importance for memorial services, both those performed by and on behalf of women. Each offered object that is examined, whether made of wood or woven fabric, functions as a contact relic and retains a potent personal and emotional link to the deceased. Patricia Fister and Monica Bethe explore two different ritual aspects related to the pre-eminent Rinzai Zen Buddhist nun Mugai Nyodai. Fister’s chapter, “Commemorating Life and Death: The Memorial Culture Surrounding the Rinzai Zen Nun Mugai Nyodai,” examines the elaborate memorial ceremonies that have been held for Nyodai for over eight hundred years, using material objects, both painted and sculptural, and temple documents preserved at three Kyoto imperial convents, Daishōji 大聖寺, Hōkyōji 宝鏡寺, and Hōjiin 宝慈院 and at two other temples connected with Nyodai, Shinnyoji 真如寺 and Shōkenji 松見寺. The extraordinary longevity of these ceremonies speaks to Nyodai’s continuing importance in religious and cultural history, and Fister provides a thorough examination of how rituals and icons have established and transformed her legacy in the centuries following her death. Monica Bethe, in “Of Surplices and Certificates: Tracing Mugai Nyodai’s Kesa,” investigates the migration of two nine-paneled woven prelate’s surplices (kesa 袈裟) believed to have been Mugai’s, drawing on both historical documents and the material and weave of the surplices themselves. Bethe’s painstaking work helps us to understand the textile history of these eight-hundredyear-old vestments, as well as the importance of their authentication, their power as contact relics, and the rituals associated with them. As fragile objects believed to have once been worn by Mugai, both kesa retain deep personal value for nuns from several convents who consider Mugai their spiritual founder. Placing the robes, their documentation, and related rites within a broader social context sheds light on the evolving conditions affecting women’s Buddhist institutions from the thirteenth through twentieth centuries. In the final section, Female Patronage, Portraits, and Rituals, two essays closely examine issues of female patronage—one an early eleventh-century empress-dowager who gifted silk curtains to an imperially-supported temple, and the other a painted memorial portrait of a highly connected early

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seventeenth-century nun. Both exemplify the difficulties inherent in finding and interpreting premodern documents and images that allow us to confirm the female identity of a patron. In “Retired Empress and Buddhist Patron: Higashisanjō-in Donates a Set of Ritual Curtains in the Illustrated Legends of Ishiyamadera Handscroll,” Elizabeth Morrissey investigates the role of Higashisanjō-in’s 東三条院 (Fujiwara no Senshi 藤原詮子, 962–1002) patronage of the rituals performed at Ishiyamadera 石山寺 in 1001 when she donated a special set of cloth curtains (michō no katabira 御帳の帷) for the temple’s famous “secret image” (hibutsu 御帳の 帷), a Nyoirin Kannon 如意輪観音. Morrissey argues that this donation reflects both Higashisanjō-in’s elite status and her identity as one of the temple’s most powerful patrons. The donation of this curtain, probably one Higashisanjō-in herself used at the imperial palace, is recorded visually in the Ishiyamadera engi e 石山寺縁起絵, providing a unique example of the type of personal objects elite women donated and underscoring the secular origins of an offering that takes on deep religious significance after donation. Elizabeth Self’s chapter, “Life After Death: The Intersection of Patron and Subject in the Portrait of Jōkō-in,” explores an exquisitely painted portrait of an elite seventeenth-century warrior class woman who married a high-ranking daimyo but failed to produce any children. Self argues that the visual and written evidence strongly suggests that Jōkō-in 常高院 (1570–1633) commissioned her own portrait for memorial rituals, known as gyakushu, that she performed for herself in order to accumulate merit while still alive because she did not have an heir. Through a close visual examination of the way in which Jōkō-in is depicted in the portrait, Self concludes that she is shown not as the wife of her husband, Kyōgoku Takatsugu 京極高次 (1560–1609)—as is often stated— but as a member of her natal family, the Asai 浅井. She proposes that Jōkō-in should be understood not as a passive portrait subject, but as an active patron and an agent in the ultimate shaping of her own identity through this portrait.

References Secondary Sources Amamonzeki, A Hidden Heritage: Treasures of the Japanese Imperial Convents. Edited by Patricia Fister and Monica Bethe. Tokyo: Sankei Shinbunsha, 2009. Ambros, Barbara. Women in Japanese Religions. New York: New York University Press, 2015. Days of Discipline and Grace: Treasures from the Imperial Buddhist Convents of Kyoto.

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Edited by Marybeth Graybill et al. New York: Institute for Medieval Japanese Studies, 1998. Choo, Jessey Jiun-Chyi. “Historicized Ritual and Ritualized History—Women’s Lifecycle in Late Medieval China (600–1000AD).” PhD diss., Princeton University, 2009. Connelly, Joan Breton. Portrait of a Priestess: Women and Ritual in Ancient Greece. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2007. Edwards, Walter. Modern Japan Through its Weddings: Gender, Person, and Society in Ritual Portrayal. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1990. Fister, Patricia. Japanese Women Artists, 1600–1900. Lawrence: Spencer Museum of Art, 1988. Fister, Patricia. Art by Buddhist Nuns: Treasures from the Imperial Convents of Japan. New York: Institute for Medieval Japanese Studies, 2003. Fukutō Sanae 服藤早苗. “Mikkayo no mochigi no seiritsu to henyō 三日夜餅儀の成立 と変容.” In Onna to kodomo no ōchōshi: kōkyū, girei, en 女と子どもの王朝史: 後宮・ 儀礼・縁, ed. Fukutō Sanae, pp. 167–200. Bungaku no ekkyō 文学の越境 13. Tokyo: Shinwasha, 2007. Gender and Japanese History. 2 vols. Edited by Haruko Wakita, Anne Bouchy, and Chizuko Ueno. Osaka: Osaka University Press, 1999. Gender and Power in the Japanese Visual Field. Edited by Joshua S. Mostow, Norman Bryson, and Maribeth Graybill. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2003. Goff, Barbara E. Citizen Bacchae: Women’s Ritual Practice in Ancient Greece. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2004. Hotate Michihisa 保立道久. Chūsei no ai to jūzoku: emaki no naka no nikutai 中世の愛 と従属：絵卷の中の肉体. Tokyo: Heibonsha, 1986. Kawano, Satsuki. “Gender, Liminality and Ritual in Japan: Divination Among Single Tokyo Women.” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 9 (1995), pp. 65–94. Kyriakidis, Evangelos. The Archaeology of Ritual. Los Angeles: Cotson Institute of Archaeology, University of California-Los Angeles, 2007. Lefkowitz, Mary R. and Maureen B. Fant, Women in Greece and Rome. Toronto/Sarasota: Samuel-Stevens, 1977. Lindsey, William R. Fertility and Pleasure: Ritual and Sexual Values in Tokugawa Japan. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2007. Martinez, Dolores et al. The Worlds of Japanese Popular Culture: Gender, Shifting Boundaries and Global Cultures. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998. McCullough, William H. “Japanese Marriage Institutions in the Heian Period.” Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 27 (1967), pp. 103–167. Meeks, Lori. Hokkeji and the Reemergence of Female Monastic Orders in Premodern Japan. Studies in East Asian Buddhism 23. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2010. Nakamura, Kyoko, ed. “Women and Religion in Japan.” Special issue, Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 10:2–3 (1983).

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Nihon josei seikatsushi 日本女性生活史. 5 vols. Compiled by Joseishi Sōgō Kenkyūkai 女性史総合研究会. Tokyo: Tokyo Daigaku Kenkyūkai, 1990. Nihon joseishi 日本女性史. 5 vols. Edited by Wakita Haruko 脇田晴子, Hayashi Reiko 林玲子, and Nagahara Kazuko 永原和子. Tokyo: Yōshikawa Kōbunkan, 1987. Noaki Takako 野秋多華子. “Kiso hajime no iro: Heian kizoku no kodomo kan 著衣始 の色： 平安貴族の子ども観.” In Onna to kodomo no ōchōshi: kōkyū, girei, en, ed. Fukutō Sanae, pp. 201–223. Bungaku no ekkyō 13. Tokyo: Shinwasha, 2007. Recreating Japanese Women, 1600–1945. Edited by Gail Lee Bernstein. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991. Ruch, Barbara. “Medieval Jongleurs and the Making of a National Literature.” In Japan in the Muromachi Age, ed. John W. Hall and Toyoda Takashi, pp. 279–309. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1977. Ruch, Barbara, ed. Engendering Faith: Women and Buddhism in Premodern Japan. Ann Arbor: Center for Japanese Studies, The University of Michigan, 2002. Saitō Ken’ichi 斉藤研一. Kodomo no chūseishi 子どもの中世史. Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 2012. Seligman, Adam B. et al. Ritual and Its Consequences: An Essay on the Limits of Sincerity. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008. Sered, Susan Starr. Priestess, Mother, Sacred Sister: Religions Dominated by Women. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994. Tonomura, Hitomi. “Women and Inheritance in Japan’s Early Warrior Society.” Comparative Studies in Society and History 32 (July 1990), pp. 592–623. Tonomura, Hitomi. “Birth-giving and Avoidance Taboo: Women’s Body versus the Historiography of Ubuya.” Japan Review 19 (2007), pp. 3–45. Traphagan, John W. The Practice of Concern: Ritual, Well-Being, and Aging in Rural Japan. Durham: Carolina Academic Press, 2004. Uchida Keiichi 内田啓一. Mikkyō no bijutsu: shuhō jōju ni kotaeru hotoketachi 密教の美 術: 修法成就にこたえる仏たち. Tokyo: Tokyo Bijutsu, 2008. van Bremen, Jan and D.P. Martinez, eds. Ceremony and Ritual in Japan: Religious Practices in an Industrialized Society. London: Routledge, 2011. van Gennep, Arnold. The Rites of Passage. Translated by M.B. Vizedom and G.I. Caffee. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1960. Wakita Haruko 脇田晴子. Bosei o tou: rekishiteki hensen 母性を問う: 歴史的変遷. 2 vols. Kyoto: Jinbun Shoin, 1985. Wakita Haruko. “Marriage and Property in Premodern Japan from the Perspective of Women’s History.” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 10 (Winter 1984), pp. 77–99. Waltner, Ann. “A Princess Comes of Age: Gender, Life-Cycle and Royal Ritual in Song Dynasty China.” In Medieval and Early Modern Ritual: Formalized Behavior in Europe, China and Japan, ed. Joelle Rollo-Koster, pp. 35–56. Leiden: Brill, 2002. Women and Class in Japanese History. Edited by Hitomi Tonomura, Anne Walthall, and

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Haruko Wakita. Ann Arbor: Center for Japanese Studies, The University of Michigan, 1999. Yonemoto, Marcia. The Problem of Women in Early Modern Japan. Oakland: University of California Press, 2016. Zito, Angelo. “Ritualizing li: Implications for Studying Power and Gender.” positions 1:2 (1993), pp. 321–348.

part 1 Rituals Related to the Household and Childbirth

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chapter 1

Women and “Moving House” Rituals in Mid-Heian Japan Karen M. Gerhart*

Introduction The mid-Heian period (10th–11th centuries) marks the apogee of yin-yang practice (onmyōdō, also on’yōdō 陰陽道) among court aristocrats and coincides with the lifetime of Japan’s best-known yin-yang master (onmyōji 陰陽師), Abe no Seimei 安倍晴明 (921–1005).1 While many scholarly publications have addressed yin-yang practices, none has focused on the active participation of women in such rites.2 My essay seeks to discover the role of women in the com* I would like to express my gratitude to Yui Suzuki, who began this project with me, for her vision for this volume, to Barbara Ruch, who generated considerable energy for its publication and offered assistances great and small, to Sarah Blick and Katheryn Linduff, who both offered wonderful suggestions and unstinting support, and to the two anonymous reviewers, who provided helpful comments and insights. I am deeply thankful for the cooperation and support of all of the volume’s contributors, and in particular for Naoko Gunji’s and Anna Andreeva’s careful reading of my chapter. I would also like to thank my copy editor, Sara Sumpter, who remained calm in the face of chaos and handled all details with great precision and good cheer. Finally, I owe a deep debt of gratitude to the Toshiba Foundation for funding the 2015 workshop that enabled the contributors to present their papers and have fruitful discussions, and to the Japan Endowments and the Asian Studies Center at the University of Pittsburgh, who have generously and consistently supported my research and publications. 1 Onmyōji were religious practitioners and should be distinguished from scholar-officials, called onmyō hakase 陰陽博士, who were responsible for the training of the next generation of onmyōji. Shigeta, “Onmyōdō and the Aristocratic Culture,” p. 67. In this essay, I use the term yin-yang to refer to a system that correlates categories of the human world, such as historical changes and the sociopolitical order, with categories of the cosmos, such as time, space, heavenly bodies, and natural phenomena. See Wang, Cosmology and Political Culture, p. 2. 2 For general publications on yin-yang practices in Japanese, see Hayashi and Koike, Onmyōdō no kōgi; Masuo, “Onmyōdō no keisei to dōkyō”; Murayama, Nihon onmyōdō shi sōsetsu; Nakamura, Nihon onmyōdōsho no kenkyū; Onmyōdō sōsho; Shigeta, Heian kizoku to onmyōdō; Suzuki, Onmyōdō; and Yamashita, Heian jidai no shūkyō bunka to onmyōdō. In English, see

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2018 | doi: 10.1163/9789004368194_003

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plex set of rituals known as shintaku ishi (新宅移徙)3 that were prescribed by yin-yang masters when aristocratic households moved to new residences in the Heian period.

Onmyōdō “The Way of Yin and Yang” Onmyōdō, often translated “the way of yin and yang,” is best defined by what it is not; it did not function as a religion in the Heian period, nor was it synonymous with an organized form of religious Daoism that was popular in China. Rather, onmyōdō developed in Japan as a unique, albeit unsystematic body of knowledge, that reflects a synthesis of selective samples of Confucianism, Daoism, ancient Chinese concepts of yin-yang and five elements, Chinese folk beliefs, and Buddhism that were transmitted to Japan piecemeal by way of trade missions from the continent and Buddhist specialists from Paekche on the Korean peninsula during the sixth and seventh centuries.4 In the Nara period (710–794), under the auspices of the Yin-Yang Bureau (onmyōryō 陰陽寮) that was established as part of a male-dominated government system (ritsuryōsei 律令制) imported from China, rituals associated with onmyōdō took the form of divinations and prognostications to protect the royal body of the emperor and the capital city from spirits, fires, and diseases.5 By the

Faure and Iyanaga, eds., “The Way of Yin and Yang”; Hayashi and Hayek, eds., “Onmyōdō in Japanese History”; Ooms, “Yin-Yang’s Changing Clientele”; Shigeta, “Onmyōdō and the Aristocratic Culture of Everyday Life”; and Miura, “Onmyōdō divination techniques.” See also Michael Como’s discussion of female immortals, goddesses, and cultic goddess centers in ancient Japan. “Daoist deities in Ancient Japan,” pp. 24–36. 3 “移徙” is also read watamashi. 4 The five elements system (gogyō 五行) refers to the fivefold correlative cosmology called wuxing in China that describes interactions between a wide array of natural and celestial phenomena. For more on the development of onmyōdō in Japan, see Miura, “Onmyōdō divination techniques;” Faure and Iyanaga, eds., “The Way of Yin and Yang”; and Ooms, Imperial Politics and Symbolics and “Yin-Yang’s Changing Clientele.” The interactions between Buddhism and local traditions in China and India led to the absorption of many Daoist ideas and deities into Buddhist texts that then were transmitted to the Korean peninsula and to Japan. Como, “Daoist Deities in Ancient Japan,” p. 26; and Bialock, Eccentric Spaces, p. 99. 5 This focus on the body of the ruler was encouraged by Chinese Daoist ideas of the human body as a microcosm of the cosmic world, but as David Bialock has noted, such concepts were part of a “hybrid cultural assemblage” of quasi-Daoist and yin-yang knowledge brought together to legitimize the current ruler, the court, and the royal tradition. Bialock, Eccentric Spaces, p. 13.

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mid-Heian period, however, members of the royal court demanded a broader range of apotropaic rituals to keep them safe in their daily lives from the unpredictable spirits that inhabited their world, and yin-yang masters became more like tradesmen serving their increased demands.6 To meet the needs of these individuals, many new yin-yang rituals were formulated between the tenth and eleventh centuries, and numerous records document their performance in court society, notably Fujiwara no Sanesuke’s 藤原実資 (957–1046) Shōyūki 小右記, Fujiwara no Michinaga’s 藤原道長 (966– 1028) Midō kanpaku-ki 御堂関白記, Fujiwara no Yukinari’s 藤原行成 (972– 1027) Gonki 権記, Minamoto no Tsuneyori’s 源経頼 (985–1039) Sakeiki 左軽記, and Fujiwara no Sukefusa’s 藤原資房 (1007–1057) Shunki 春記. These diarists, high-ranking courtiers all, offer ample proof that contemporary yin-yang masters were called upon regularly to perform divinations in the capital that were designed to avoid angering deities in the eight directions (katatagae 方違え), rituals to purify bodies and places (harae 祓), and rituals to propitiate a myriad of deities, like the earth god (dokujin 土公神; also read tsuchigimi no kami; Ch. tugong shen) and the household cooking stove god (kamadogami 竃神). The tenth and eleventh centuries are also a time when women writers flourished in Japan—most notable among their works are Fujiwara no Michitsuna’s mother’s 藤原道綱母 (ca. 935–995), Kagerō nikki 蜻蛉日記, Sei Shōnagon’s 清 少納言 (966–1025) Makura no sōshi 枕草子, Murasaki Shikibu’s 紫式部 (ca. 973 or 978–1014 or 1025) Genji monogatari 源氏物語 and Murasaki Shikibu nikki 紫 式部日記, Izumi Shikibu’s 和泉式部 (b. ca. 978) Izumi Shikibu nikki 和泉式部日 記, and Sugawara no Takasue’s daughter’s 菅原孝標女 (1008–1059?) Sarashina nikki 更級日記.7 It is curious, then, that in an age of literature by illustrious female authors who recorded the minutest details of their lives these women did not make more than vague references to yin-yang practices in their writings. None names any yin-yang master, nor offers specifics about any particular ritual, including the rituals that accompanied moves to new residences.8 This

6 Spirits, generically termed “things” モノ in Japanese, can be ghosts and demons (kijin 鬼神), deities (kami 神), or specific gods, such as the earth deity (dokujin, also dokōjin 土公神) or the kitchen stove god (kamadogami 竃神). See Shigeta, “Onmyōdō and the Aristocratic Culture,” pp. 68–69; Miura, “Onmyōdō divination techniques,” p. 85. 7 Personal names for these female writers are not known because women throughout most of medieval Japan were identified in records as the “daughter or wife or mother of X” or by their titles rather than their given names. 8 Shigeta proposes that because women writers mentioned moving to new residences without using the phrase “shintaku ishi,” scholars who later analyzed these texts treated the moves

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suggests that Heian-period women had a general knowledge of yin-yang practices, but chose to portray them in their writings as part of the larger fabric of daily life. They did not write about ritual specifics, such as how many yin-yang masters were required to purify a building, the number or type of purifications that were performed before entering a new residence, or who participated and what steps were taken by the participants. It may be that this lacuna exists in women’s writing because women were simply not interested in such details, but in many cases they may not have had access to them. Whether their failure to report these particulars can be attributed to literary choices, to their writing in kana rather than kanji, or to a lack of detailed knowledge of yin-yang rituals is unclear and begs further study. The result, however, is that other than their adherence to directional taboos and general awareness of such rituals during births, we have little proof from their writings that women were active participants in yin-yang rituals. “Moving to a New Residence” While other chapters in this volume discuss the important role of yin-yang rituals and women practitioners in the birth process, this essay will examine a little-known set of ritual steps prescribed by a yin-yang master when an aristocratic household moved to a new residence.9 While many scholars in Japan have included the “moving house” ritual in their broader studies of yin-yang practices, only one article to date has examined shintaku ishi in depth, and English-language scholarship on the topic is negligible.10 English translations of Heian-period literature, such as A Tale of Flowering Fortunes (Eiga monogatari 栄花物語) and The Tale of Genji (Genji monogatari), generally do not treat such moves as rituals at all, conveying to the reader only that so-and-so moved to a new residence. Furthermore, while it is easy to see the roots of some components of Japan’s “moving house” rituals in Chinese religious and folk beliefs,

9

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as simple changes of residence. “Heian kizoku no shintaku ishi,” p. 72 and Heian kizoku to onmyōdō, p. 9. See Naoko Gunji’s (Chapter 3) discussion of yin-yang based ritual activities held during royal pregnancies, labor, and after birth, in which women were, in some cases, also active participants. Many scholars in Japan have also written about birth rituals, see for example Nakamura, Ōchō no fūzoku to bungaku; Nishiguchi, “Ōchō bukkyō ni okeru nyonin kyūsai no ronri,” pp. 129–167; Nakajima, “Inseiki no shussan,” pp. 2–25; and Inamoto, “Egakareta shussan,” pp. 109–164. For article on shintaku ishi, see Shigeta, “Heian kizoku no shintaku ishi,” pp. 71–89. Shintaku ishi is also discussed by scholars who work on other yin-yang rituals, such as Kosaka Shinji. See “Onmyōdō no henbai ni tsuite.”

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there is nothing in China that exactly parallels the ritual performances that surrounded moving to a new residence in Heian-period Japan. “Moving house” was common for elite households at this time because the Japanese tradition of building with wood meant that old residences regularly succumbed to fires, earthquakes, typhoons, and general decay, and new residences had to be built often. There were also many geomantic reasons that might necessitate a move to a new residence, such as when a yin-yang specialist recommended a move to a more auspicious location to remedy certain illnesses or misfortunes that plagued a family. Thus, every elite woman probably experienced a move at least once during her lifetime, and as Heian-period court women spent a great majority of their time inside their residences, events involving these spaces would have directly affected them. Moving one’s residence was not just a matter of packing up one’s household belongings and transporting them to a new site. When Heian-period aristocrats moved to a new palace or a newly renovated one, the event was accompanied by a series of ritual actions performed by selected members of the household, both males and females. Under the direction and close observation of a yinyang master, a special “order for moving” (ishi sahō kamon 移徙作法勘文) was written out to instruct the family on the correct procedure for the process, including when, where, and how the move was to transpire, and who was to be involved. The precision of these steps and the necessity to adhere to a strict order transforms the actions into a ritual, although one limited to immediate members of the family and the household, and one lacking public celebratory elements. Shintaku ishi was also a ritual of great complexity that required a specialist who understood the dangers involved and could take actions to counter them. No noble family in the mid-Heian period would have considered moving their household without employing a yin-yang master, for it was his job to ascertain that all potential problems, such as finding a fortuitous day for the move and making the proper offerings to the household gods, were correctly planned for and successfully accomplished.11 The first action taken by the yin-yang master would have been to divine an auspicious day (kichijitsu 吉日) and, later, a time for the move.12 While the day 11

12

In 1005, for example, when Fujiwara no Michinaga moved to his new Higashi Sanjō Palace 東三条院 he dared not enter it until the yin-yang master arrived. He and the others had to wait in front of the main gate for Abe no Seimei to come and perform a special ceremony before they could go inside. DNS 2:5, Kankō 寛弘 2 (1005).2.10 (p. 323); also DNS 2:5, Kankō 2 (1005).2.12 (p. 324). The ceremony is also referred to as shintaku no rei 新宅礼 and shintaku no gi 新宅儀 in records. Others, such as Buddhist priests who were masters of astrology (sukuyōshi 宿曜師), or Confucian scholars who had knowledge of ancient practices might also be consulted.

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for the move was determined well in advance by divination and consideration of the calendar to allow the family sufficient time to make preparations, the exact time was usually chosen on the morning of the move and the rituals generally took place at the end of the chosen day, usually between 7 p.m. and 1 a.m.13 Before the owner could move into his new residence and several days before the official rituals began, the space needed to be cleaned. House cleaning was most often done by prisoners (gokushū 獄囚). For example, when the courtier Fujiwara no Michinaga moved into his new Higashi Sanjō Palace in 1005, prisoners were sent in advance to thoroughly clean the newly constructed buildings.14 This undesirable job required forced labor because empty buildings were believed to hold potential dangers caused by menacing wandering spirits. It was also customary for the yin-yang master to send a house-protecting talisman to the new residence before the ceremony. For example, when Fujiwara no Sanesuke, moved to his Ono no Miya Palace 小野宮 in 1019, Abe no Seimei’s eldest son and the director of the Yin-Yang Bureau (onmyō no kami 陰 陽頭), Abe no Yoshihira 安倍吉平 (954–1027), sent a protective seventy-twostar (shichijūni seichin 七十二星鎮) talisman ( jufu 呪符) to be placed on top of a crossbeam in the new residential hall, or shinden 寝殿 (fig. 1.1).15 There are few details in early records about the exact form or contents of the talismans written for this purpose—they may have been written on paper or cast of clay or metal—but all were believed to have had apotropaic powers.16 Typically talismans were produced for any event that required protection from demonic spirits, such as when a royal consort moved to another residence to give birth. Such talismans protected those involved with childbirth and safeguarded residences against fires. In all of these circumstances, the problematic spirits were

13 14

15 16

Shigeta, “Heian kizoku no shintaku ishi,” p. 76. DNS 2:5, Kankō 2 (1005).2.4 (pp. 323–324). Although house cleaning seems to have regularly been done by prisoners, few records mention them in relation to shintaku ishi. It may be that the cleaning was ordered for this move because Michinaga had just received an imperial edict of appointment (nairan no senji 内覧の宣旨). See also Sekiguchi, “Kodai no seisō,” pp. 16–27. DNS 2:15, Kannin 寛仁 3 (1019).12.21 (p. 100). See also Mizuguchi, “Abe no Yoshihira,” pp. 143–158. Mizuguchi suggests that a Song dynasty bronze talisman discovered in a home in Iwata in Osaka Prefecture (see fig. 1.1) is an example of the type of amulet ( fu 符) that Yoshihira may have used to produce such seventy-two-star talismans to protect residences. Mizoguchi, “Abe no Yoshihira,” pp. 156–157.

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figure 1.1 Left: Seventy-two-star talisman from China, 10th–13th c., bronze; Right: Seventy-two-star talisman from Kyoto, 18th c., paper Source: Kaii o baikaisuru mono [ Ajia yūgaku 187] (Tokyo: Bensei Shuppan, 2015), pp. 144, 156

thought to have attached themselves to the buildings in which the events took place, making them dangerous for others to enter.17 A number of “orders for moving” written by yin-yang masters have been preserved and are useful in helping us understand what the moving rituals generally entailed and who was involved. One such order was written by the yin-yang specialist Kamo no Michihira 賀茂道平 (active 11th century) for Inner Palace Minister Fujiwara no Morozane’s 藤原師実 (1042–1101) move to his new residence, Kazan’in 花山院, on the third day of the seventh month of 1063 (Kōhei 康平 6) (fig. 1.2).18 The order is comprised of five parts that outline the following: 1) prescribed order for the family to enter the residence; 2) etiquette after entering; 3) etiquette for the next morning; 4) etiquette for the following two mornings; and 5) taboos for the first three nights in residence.

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For example, Abe no Yoshihira made two talismans to protect the residence of Fujiwara no Kanetaka 藤原兼隆 (985–1053) when Emperor Goichijō’s 後一条天皇 (1008–1036; r. 1016–1036) queen consort Fujiwara no Ishi 藤原威子 (1000–1036) moved there to give birth in the ninth month of 1026. DNS 2:23, Manju 万寿 3 (1026).9.2 (p. 162). The text of Kamo no Michihira’s order is reproduced in several places: Kokushi daijiten (online) under watamashi; Ruijūzōyō shō, pp. 157–158; and Shigeta, Heian kizoku to onmyōdō, pp. 17–19. See also the National Diet Library Digital Collections database, accessed April 26, 2018. http://dl.ndl.go.jp/info:ndljp/pid/2589666/8.

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figure 1.2 Kamo Michihira’s house-moving order Source: Ruijūzōyō shō, Kōhei 6 (1063).7.3, national diet library digital collections

The first section lists the order in which the members of the household and certain of their possessions were to enter the new residence for the first time.19 Michihira’s order contains ten prescriptions in this section that dictate that approximately thirteen people, including several females, should bring nine types of household objects into the new living space.20 I will analyze the information presented in Michihira’s document, discuss the general meaning of the objects brought into the residence and their deeper symbolic contributions, and examine more fully the role of women and the specific objects they carried during the rituals. 19

20

The western gate is specified in the ishi sahō kamon written by Kamo no Michihira. As shinden-style residences were normally south-facing with gardens on the south side, the main gate to the compound was either on the east or west; here the western gate was the main gate. As plurals are not distinguished in Japanese, the exact number of people or objects cannot be determined.

women and “moving house” rituals in mid-heian japan

I a) b) c) d) e) f) g) h) i) j)

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Order for Entering the Residence two young girls (dōjo or dōnyo 童女)21 enter carrying water and fire a yellow ox (ameushi/kōgyū 黄牛) is led inside two attendants carry gold/metal vessels (kon hōki 金宝器) on a tray with handles two attendants carry [clay] stove(s) (kama 釜) filled with five [types of] grains (uncooked) the head of the household (ie no osa/kachō 家長) enters22 an attendant carries a horse saddle (kura 鞍) on his shoulders male heirs and grandsons follow two attendants bear boxes (hako 箱) filled with bast fiber cloth (nuno 布) two attendants carry jars (kame 瓶) or rice steamers (koshiki 甑) filled with five grains (cooked) the female head of the household (ie no haha/kabo 家母)23 enters after the others

All of the objects that were brought from the old residence into the new one on this first day are related to the five elements (gogyō 五行)—wood, fire, earth, metal, water—that form the notion of a mutually arising order or cycle of fundamental forces in Chinese Daoism, confirming a close connection between Japanese yin-yang rituals and that ancient Chinese system. Wood, represented by wooden boxes (h), trays (c), torches (a), and cloth (h), serves as fuel that gives rise to fire, which cooks grains (i) and creates ash, giving rise to earth. Earth is represented by earthenware oven(s) (d), ceramic jars or clay steamers (i), and uncooked grains (d) that are grown in the earth, and the ox (b) that plows the earth. Metals, represented by the golden or metal objects (c), are contained within the earth and give rise to water (a), which collects as dew on the metal. The water in turn nourishes plants and trees (wood), and the cycle is completed. The participants and objects also signify either yin or yang forces, with the females in the procession (a, j) as yin elements and the males as yang (e, g). Some of the objects, like the saddle (f) of wood, iron, cloth, and leather

21 22

23

The two girls who carry the water and fire are also sometimes called suika dōjō 水火童女. Although this order does not mention how this person was dressed, other records (see for example, Shunki, Chōkyū 長久 1 (1040).12.10), tell us that both he and his heir wore ceremonial court robes (shōzoku 装束) and carried wooden ceremonial tablets (shaku 笏), in Shigeta, Heian kizoku to onmyōdō, p. 29. Refers to the legal wife (of the male householder).

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may represent several elements—wood, metal, and earth—but also may have been included for other symbolic reasons unrelated to the five elements, which I will discuss below. a Two Young Girls Carrying Water and Fire The order recommended for the household members’ entry into the new residence is significant. Two young girls are the first to cross the threshold, and the primary wife of the householder enters last, bookending a procession comprised of men and boys. The two young girls, their pre-pubescence symbolizing purity, are the first to enter because they carry the most essential purifying and protective elements—water and fire.24 Water and fire were critical elements for cooking, an activity closely identified with women, who were responsible for providing sustenance for the family. Although Michihira’s order does not specify how the fire and water were to be used, an earlier record describing Emperor Murakami’s 村上天皇 (926–967; r. 946–967) move to his new palace, Reizei’in 冷泉院, in 960 (Tentoku 天徳 4.11.4) tells us that four young girls participated in that move—one carried a light made of tightly twisted paper or cloth soaked in oil (shishoku 脂燭), one carried water in a large round wooden container with a spout (hanzō 楾), and two girls led in the oxen. The water was carried up onto the outer veranda (sunoko 簀子) of the palace and was left near the curtains (michō 御帳) until the fourth day when it was taken to the royal kitchen (mizushidokoro 御厨子所). The fire was used to lite torches or oil lamps in the four corners inside the room. They remained lit throughout the first three nights and, on the fourth day, the fire was transferred to the kitchen and used to cook the first grains in the new residence.25 Both the water and fire were brought from the old residence, and these purifying elements were thought to ward off troublesome specters (reibutsu 霊物) that might have occupied the new structure while it was empty before being used to cook the grain offerings for the other household kami. Although Murakami was an emperor and, thus, likely required a slightly expanded protocol (four dōjo rather than two), the basic actions remained the same in Michihira’s order, written one hundred years later.

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The emphasis on young girls is similar to the requirement for young girls (usually around age fourteen) to be appointed for their purity as priestess at the Grand Shrine of Ise. See Ellwood, “The Saigū,” pp. 35–60. DNS 1:10, Tentoku 4 (960).11.4 (p. 791).

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women and “moving house” rituals in mid-heian japan table 1.1

The five elements of early Japanese cosmology (gogyō 五行)

Colors Directions Seasons

Wood yang

Fire yang

Blue/green East Spring

Red South Summer

Animal gods Dragon Domestic animals Dog Fruits Japanese plum (sumomo 李)

Earth neutral

Yellow Center All (1/5 of each season) Bird no symbol Sheep Ox Apricot Chinese date (anzu 杏) (natsume 棗)

Metal yin

Water yin

White West Autumn

Black North Winter

Tiger Chicken Peach (momo 桃)

Tortoise Deer Japanese chestnut (kuri 栗)

Source: Author

b A Yellow Ox is Led Inside Michihira’s order is specific about the type of ox to be used for this ritual. Not just any ox would do, but an ox of a particular color was required. But what purpose did the ox serve and why was its color important? According to a 1032 passage in Sakeiki, the ox was needed to pacify dokujin, the deity believed to inhabit the earth.26 The yin-yang master stipulated an ox of a special golden brown or yellow color, because that color correlates with the “earth” element in the five phases of Chinese cosmology; the ox itself is the animal most closely associated with the earth element because it plows the earth (table 1.1). The “earth” also represents the “center” of the universe and in the five phases system encompasses a portion of each of the four seasons (time), specifically a period of about eighteen days (doyō 土用) at the end of each season.27 As the earth underlies everything, dokujin occupied different spaces of the residence at different times of the year, moving in rhythm with the seasons—residing under the kitchen stove in the spring, under the gate in the summer, under the well in autumn, and under the garden in winter. It was forbidden to undertake construction or repairs in the area inhabited by the earth deity, and he affected the directions that corresponded to the points with which he was associated at 26 27

DNS 2:902 Chōgen 5 (1032).4.4 in (p. 75). In Buddhism the honji 本地 (true Buddha form) of this deity was Fugen Bosatsu 普賢菩薩 (Sk. Samantabhadra). The eighteen days at the end of each season make up seventy-two days, which is in effect another “season.” Entry for “doyō” in Koji ruien, Japan Knowledge database, accessed April 17, 2018.

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any given time. Thus, the earth deity had all-encompassing power over the lives of the residence’s inhabitants, affecting their movement through both time and space. Although Michihira’s eleventh-century order does not clarify who led in the yellow ox, other records tell us that the person was most often a courtier of the fifth rank. By the mid-Heian period, there was already a long tradition of using oxen for such “moving-in” rituals dating back to the 794 move of Emperor Kanmu 桓武天皇 (737–806; r. 781–806) to the new imperial capital in Kyoto. For that move, ten boys (oguna 童男) led in ten yellow oxen. The first time young girls are recorded to have filled the role of leading in the oxen was in 877, when Emperor Yōzei 陽成天皇 (868–949; r. 876–884) moved to his new Jijūden 仁寿 殿.28 For that shintaku ishi ceremony, four young girls (dōjo yonin 童女四人) participated, with two of the girls responsible for leading two yellow oxen into the garden while the other two brought in the water and fire.29 These examples suggest that shintaku ishi, as practiced by the aristocracy in the middle of the Heian period, stemmed from earlier ritual practices employed for the moves of sovereigns. They also show us that there seems to have been changes in the specifics of the ritual over time. When and why the role of leading in the oxen shifted from boys to girls, then back to male attendants, needs further research.30 But why was it important that dokujin be pacified when moving into a new residence? In the normal construction of a house, digging into the earth to set the pillars was seen as violating the earth (hando 犯土) and the home of the deity who lived there.31 Earth-quelling rites appear in early Japanese texts, such as the eighth-century Nihon shoki 日本書紀 and Shoku Nihongi 続日本 紀, where we are told that yin-yang masters were sent to divine appropriate locations for the construction of the early Fujiwara, Nara, and Heian capitals. Heian courtiers continued to hold the belief that if dokujin were angered, the displeased spirit was capable of casting a curse (tatari 祟) that could result in serious illness.32 A fear of curses pervaded the lives of Heian-period court aris-

28 29 30 31

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The Jijūden, located immediately behind the Shishinden 紫宸殿, served as the emperor’s living quarters at this time. Kosaka, “Onmyōdō no henbai,” p. 123; and Shigeta, Heian kizoku to onmyōdō, p. 69. I am grateful to Naoko Gunji for bringing this information to my attention. The Heian period definition of whether the earth had been violated sufficiently to elicit a curse was very precise and depended on how deep the hole was dug, whether the dirt was replaced, etc. For more on hando, see Shigeta, Heian kizoku to onmyōdō, pp. 58–62. For example, Fujiwara no Sanesuke writes that dokujin put a curse on Minamoto no Toshikata 源俊賢 (960–1027) that caused his entire lower body to swell in a very painful

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figure 1.3 Five metal (sahari) dishes, 4 × 27 cm, Shōsōin south storehouse Source: Yoneda Yūsuke, Shōsōin hōmotsu to Heian jidai: wafūka e no michi (Kyoto: Tankōsha, 2000), p. 107

tocrats, who attributed illnesses and plagues, as well as other uncontrollable incidents, such as fires and floods, to human actions believed to have angered one or more of the gods. That the actions of an individual could directly affect the favor or disfavor of these deities indicates that a very personal relationship was believed to exist between humans and gods at this time. Thus, for Heian aristocrats it was of utmost importance to pacify dokujin through the presence of (and food offerings made to) the yellow ox in order to calm the earth god and lessen the chances of a curse.33 c Two Attendants Carry Gold/Metal Vessels on a Tray with Handles Little has been written about these gold or metal vessels, what types of objects they might be, or what they were intended to signify. Wealthy court families at this time typically used plates and bowls made of sahari 佐波理 (also written 胡銅器 or 響銅), a metal compound comprised of about 80 % copper with small amounts of tin, lead, and zinc, and also vessels made of silver, for banquets and for food offerings (fig. 1.3).34 On one level, such metal objects were representative of the family’s possessions and worldly wealth but, on the ritual level, they fulfilled the requirement for metal as one of the five elements.

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way; DNS 2:24, Manju 4 (1027).6.5 (p. 113). In 1026, the diviner Kamo no Morimichi 賀茂守 道 (986–1030) performed purification rituals for the Grand Empress Kenshi (Fujiwara no Kenshi 藤原妍子, 994–1027) for an illness he believed was probably caused by the earth deity. A Tale of Flowering Fortunes, vol. 2, p. 730. There is no evidence that the ox was sacrificed, as sometimes the ameushi was “borrowed” from another courtier for the “moving-in” ceremony. Yoneda, Shōsōin hōmotsu to Heian jidai, p. 104.

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figure 1.4 Clay stove (kama) and rice steamer (koshiki), late 6th c., Tokyo National Museum Source: E-Museum, Object #J-21439 _ J-21440

d

Two Attendants Carry [Clay] Stove(s) Filled with Five [Types of] Grains (Uncooked) Because two attendants are specified, it is likely that two cooking stoves were brought into the new house, both filled with uncooked grains representing both the real and symbolic source of the household’s life in the new residence. Although there is some variation in the types of grains listed in various records, typically rice, soybeans, sesame seeds, millet, and barley were used. While cooking in clay pots set into fire pits was practiced in Japan as early as the Jōmon period (ca. 10,000BCE), cooking on moveable clay stoves, formed so that fire could be placed in the hollow interior and a pot set upon it, was an innovation brought from the Korean peninsula in the late sixth century CE, and was probably the type of portable stove that was brought to Morozane’s new home (fig. 1.4). The cooking stove deity or hearth god, although likely a concept imported directly through Korea, had ancient roots in Chinese folk beliefs, where it functioned as a god of fire and a household god, much in the same way as it came to be understood in Japan. It is easy to imagine, therefore, that a good relationship with the god of the cooking stove, was of utmost importance to the

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family’s welfare because it affected every meal the family ate. Because of the cooking stove’s life-sustaining role, it was feared that angering its kami could lead to illness and even death. Indeed, numerous chroniclers at the time wrote about illnesses caused by curses they themselves or those around them experienced that were believed to be connected to the cooking stove god, while curses by other household deities are seldom noted.35 For example, in Fujiwara no Michinaga’s eleventh-century Midō kanpaku-ki, the yin-yang master Abe no Yoshihira (a son of Abe no Seimei) names the cooking stove kami as the cause of Michinaga’s oldest daughter Shōshi’s 彰子 (988–1074) illness. Michinaga was thus instructed to order a special purification ritual, misogi harae 禊 祓, be performed to counter the curse of this troublesome cooking stove deity.36 In another example, Fujiwara no Sanesuke, author of Shōyūki, ordered Kamo no Morimichi 賀茂守道 (986–1030), a yin-yang master of another school, to divine (bokusen 卜占) the cause of an illness that was plaguing him. Morimichi proclaimed the cause to be a curse put on Sanesuke by his own cooking stove kami.37 The cooking stove god was, in fact, symbolic of the entire cycle of life and death in early Japan. The early twentieth-century folklorist Yanagita Kunio, in his seminal work, Senzo no hanashi 先祖の話, suggested a theory whereby the corpses of deceased family members were taken to the mountains and left to become spirits. These spirits of deceased ancestors, in order to best look after the needs of their descendants, came to populate different spaces, first as mountain kami who looked after their descendants in their villages below, then as kami of the fields to help them grow grains, and finally as kami of the house (cooking stove) to help cook them. In sum, the cooking stove god was the householder’s own ancestor spirits, housed in the kitchen stove. When the householder died, therefore, the clay stove was taken from the residence to the mountains and left there to join the other ancestors.38 From mid-to-late Heian period sources, we know that there were often two cooking stoves in aristocratic residences—one held the male householder’s ancestor spirits and the other his primary wife’s.39 This suggests another reason to suspect that two

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No one type of illness seems to have been associated with the curse of the cooking stove god. The misogi ritual involved prayers to the kami and ablutions to wash away the pollution caused by the curse. DNS 2:7, Chōwa 調和 2 (1013).4.11 (p. 784). DNS 2:24, Manju 4 (1027).3.5 (pp. 4–5). See examples in Taiki 台記, Hōgen 保元 1 (1156).7.2, and Hyōhanki 兵範記, Kyūju 久寿 2 (1155).5.21, in Shigeta, Heian kizoku to onmyōdō, pp. 47–48. Hyōhanki reports that Fujiwara no Tadamichi’s 藤原忠通 (1097–1164) clay stove was posi-

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clay stoves were carried into Morozane’s Kazan’in residence; it also speaks to the importance of the primary wife within the household and the equality accorded her ancestral spirits. e The Head of the Household Enters f An Attendant Carries a Horse Saddle on His Shoulders g Male Heirs and Grandsons Follow The male head of the household, a horse saddle, and the householder’s sons and grandsons occupy the middle section of the moving-in procession, following after the ox that placated the powerful earth god and the cooking stove that held the kami that protected the household.40 Indeed, many horse saddles and tack from the eleventh and twelfth centuries are today preserved in Japanese museum collections, suggesting that horses were highly valued throughout Japan’s early history. Horses were particularly prized possessions in Heian-period Japan as symbols of their owner’s wealth and status.41 A government bureau, the Imperial Stable (uma no tsukasa 馬寮), was charged with breeding and caring for the imperial horses, which were used by imperial messengers, given as gifts to Shinto shrines and senior nobles, and included in parades at annual ceremonies.42 We get some idea of just how many horses a prominent mid-Heian period courtier might have owned from Fujiwara no Yorimichi’s 藤原頼道 (992–1074) account, in which he tells us that he gave over one hundred horses to his sons when he disposed of his father’s (Michinaga) estate after his death.43 As horses played roles in many major festivals and New Year’s celebrations and were used as gifts and for entertainment, the saddle (or tack) in the ritual represents not only the householder’s wealth, but his ability to perform multifarious ritual functions.44 Positioning this equipment between

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tioned east of his wife’s and his wife’s west of her husband’s. Since kami were usually faced south for worship, the male stove was on the right (east) and the female on the left (west). Shigeta, Heian kizoku to onmyōdō, pp. 48–49. While the usual translation for “kura” is “saddle,” an older meaning, “horse tack,” is also possible. I am grateful for Naoko Gunji pointing out this alternative meaning to me. For more on the roles horses played in early Japan, see Como, “Daoist deities in Ancient Japan,” pp. 24–36. A Tale of Flowering Fortunes, vol. 2, p. 816. A Tale of Flowering Fortunes, vol. 2, p. 772. In the Heian period, horses were offered and paraded in numerous Shinto rituals, including the Kasuga Festival, Ōharano Festival, Sono and Kara festivals, and Kamo Festival. For the nanuka no sechie 七日の節会 on the seventh day of the New Year, twenty-one horses were led through the courtyard of the Burakuin 豊楽院. A Tale of Flowering Fortunes, vol. 1, pp. 382–383. A cream-colored horse with a handsome saddle was presented by

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the head of the household and his male heirs serves as a visual confirmation of the personal possessions that would someday pass from him to his progeny, and also of the ritual responsibilities that they would also take on. h Two Attendants Bear Boxes Filled with Bast Fiber Cloth As discussed above, both the boxes and cloth represent the element of “wood,” as bast fibers come from the inner bark of various plants, both cultivated and wild.45 The fibers are processed for use in high-quality textiles, which are often associated with women, sewing, and dyeing, but which also had other important uses in early Japan. For example, strips of bast fiber cloth were offered to the kami, precursors, perhaps, of today’s gohei 御幣 (ritual staff with paper streamers), and this type of cloth was also a valuable commodity that was used as taxes and gifts for services throughout the Heian period. Records from the mid-eighth century on document both robes and rolls of bast fiber being used as payment to onmyōji for quelling rituals.46 In the context of the “moving in” ritual, the boxes of cloth represent the primary wife’s worldly possessions and wealth, functioning in the ritual as the saddle/tack did for the male family members. It is also possible that the material in the box(es), or at least some of it, was designated as payment to the yin-yang master for helping the family accomplish a trouble-free move.

45

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Fujiwara no Michinaga as a gift to Retired Emperor Kazan 花山天皇 (968–1008; r. 984– 986) in 1006; the governor of Michinoku presented ten black horses. A Tale of Flowering Fortunes, vol. 1, p. 258, and vol. 2, p. 578, respectively. See, for example, a description of the horse races viewed by the emperor and members of the royal family at Kayanoin 茅野院 in 1024. A Tale of Flowering Fortunes, vol. 2, pp. 631–639. In the tenth-century Engishiki 延喜式 (Documents of the Engi era), the word for bast fiber—nuno 布—referred only to cloth woven of wild materials. Dusenbury, “A Wisteria Grain Bag,” pp. 259–270. I am grateful to Monica Bethe for alerting me to the special meanings of the term “nuno” in the Heian period. The term “sōkin saihaku” 繒錦綵帛, which also includes silks and silk brocades, is used in Ruijū zatsuyō, p. 158. For an example of a robe as payment for rituals, see Zōji zōmotsu seiyōchō 造寺雑物請 用帳, Tenpyō Hōji 天平宝字 5 (761) in DNK 25:321; for rolls of cloth, see Hōsha issaikyō shokoku sakuge 奉写一切経所告朔解, Hōki 宝亀 1 (770).9.21 in DNK 6:89, cited in Masuo, “Chinese Religion and the Formation of Onmyōdō,” pp. 28–29. Anna Andreeva discusses robes and textiles given to onmyōji by royal consorts as gifts after births in her translation of Kōgū osan tōjitsu shidai 后宮御産当日次第 in Salguero, ed., Buddhism and Medicine, pp. 336–350.

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i

Two Attendants Carry in Jars or Steamers Filled with Five Grains (Cooked)47 j The Female Head of the Household Enters after the Others Only three females participated in the ceremony documented by Kamo no Michihira—two young girls, who entered first carrying water and fire, and the official wife of the householder, who was last to enter. While this particular “moving order” simply states that the wife was the last person in the procession to pass through the gate and gives no further details, other contemporary sources tell us that the wife generally rode through the gate in an ox cart holding a mirror in front of her chest.48 When the wife rode out of her old residence, she held the mirror, facing outward, in front of her chest to ward off pollution as she made her way to the new residence. After arriving at the new residence, when it came time to eat or drink, she then carefully placed the mirror inside the curtained sleeping area.49 Mirrors were common possessions of both elite men and women at this time. They were used for daily cosmetic purposes, were written about in their diaries, and are preserved today in museums (fig. 1.5).50 The mirror, with its ability to reflect, had long been a powerful ancient symbol of protection. In China, many mirrors from as early as the Warring States period (475–221BCE) had cosmological designs illustrating the correlations between yin and yang and directional, seasonal, and chronological systems cast onto their backs. And while these early mirrors cannot appropriately be called “Daoist,” their decorations gave visual form to ideas that would develop into Daoist principles, such as the five phases and the animal divinities of the four directions.51 When bronze mirrors were transported to Japan via the Korean peninsula in the early centuries of the new millennium, they became powerful tools in the hands of ritual specialists who placed them on and around buried corpses for protection in the afterlife. Mirrors also became inextricably interwoven with kami beliefs in Japan, where, in Japan’s earliest records, they gave birth to deities, were hung on tree branches as kami offerings, and

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Different sources use different terms to refer to the objects used in this portion of the ritual. Ruijū zatsuyō shō, p. 158 uses koshiki, a clay steamer for cooking grains. DNS 2:12, Kannin 1 (1017).11.10 (p. 375). Ruijū zatsuyō shō, p. 158. Kosaka, “Onmyōdō no henbai,” p. 125. See for example Minister of the Right Fujiwara no Morosuke’s (908–960) account of his daily morning rituals in Kujō-dono yuikai 九条殿遺誡, wherein he wrote that upon awakening he immediately intoned the name of his personal star, looked at his face in a mirror, then cleaned his teeth with a toothpick and washed his face. Goshima, “Kizoku no kurashi,” p. 111. See examples in Little and Eichman, Taoism and the Arts of China, p. 140, nos. 15–17.

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figure 1.5 Round bronze mirror with 8 triagrams and 12 branches, 4.3×59.4cm, 52.8kg, Shōsōin south storehouse Source: Yoneda Yūsuke, Shōsōin hōmotsu to Heian jidai: wafūka e no michi (Kyoto: Tankōsha, 2000), p. 62

served as special forms ( yorishiro 依代) into which divine spirits, like Amaterasu Ōmikami 天照大御神, could descend.52 Mirrors were also reproduced on many clay haniwa of the Kofun period (3rd–6th centuries), especially on figures dressed as rulers and ritual specialists. Those haniwa represented powerful individuals who presumably carried mirrors on their person during graveside rituals to reflect troublesome spirits and, at the same time, to protect the holder. But what was the role of mirrors in Heian-period yin-yang ceremonies?

52

In one story, Izanagi no Mikoto produces two deities who are to rule the world from a white-copper mirror. Nihongi, vol. 1, pp. 20, 43, 47.

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Although we know very little about how mirrors were used in Japanese yinyang rituals, we know a great deal about the use of mirrors for Daoist rituals in Tang China (7th–10th centuries) and later. Since there are many close correlations between Tang-period Daoism and the development of the yin-yang system in Japan around the same time, we can assume that their basic uses for visualization, transmission, and internal alchemy practices were continued to some degree. In Chinese Daoist rituals, mirrors were often paired with swords, lamps, and water basins to subjugate demons.53 In the house-moving ritual discussed above, although swords were not one of the objects brought into the new residence, the mirror and two other spirit-cleansing tools—water and fire—were, and women handled all three during the ritual.54 In China, it was believed that mirrors could reveal the true form of demons, whose shape-changing abilities could easily fool humans, and mirrors inscribed with demon-quelling talismans were used to protect against such danger.55 In a new residence where serious efforts were taken to purge disruptive demons and spirits living within, the mirror would have been useful in monitoring that the purification of the space was achieved. Although the precise meaning of the mirror in the house-moving ritual is not spelled out in the ritual texts, it was surely representative of the wife’s possessions, much as the horse equipment represented the husband’s, and was an object imbued with magical properties that was used to quell demons and protect the residents. Thus, the three females in this ritual carried objects that had special quelling and protective powers that were believed to be essential in purifying the new buildings and making them safe. These objects and the positions the women occupied in the procession—entering first and last—were deliberate. In addition to their use in cooking, the grains were used as offerings to the household kami, the water was intended to act as a purifying agent in the residence, the fires lit inside the halls were intended to ward off troublesome specters lurking within. The mirror, at the end, was used to ascertain that no demons remained. There were, of course, small variations in the moving-in ritual that were dictated by circumstances. For example, in some records, the daughters or granddaughters of the householder were ordered to enter the residence after the primary wife, providing even greater symmetry within the procession, as

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Huang, Picturing the True Form, p. 221. There is however, a strong link between swords and mirrors in Japan’s archaeological record where the two objects were found buried together in elite graves for over a thousand years (Yayoi through Kofun periods). Huang, Picturing the True Form, pp. 221–229.

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male heirs and grandsons generally followed after the male head of the household.56 That female descendants are not mentioned in Michihira’s “moving order” probably suggests that Fujiwara no Morozane did not have any daughters or granddaughters at the time. II Upon Entering the Residence The second section of Kamo no Michihira’s special “order for moving” carefully instructs the participants on what to do and where to sit and place the objects upon entering the new residence. This section of instructions is an integral part of the “moving in” ritual. a) b) c) d)

the water, fire, metal objects, horse equipment, and box(es) are placed in the shinden the oven(s) and jar(s) with grains are put in the cooking area (ōidokoro 大炊所)57 the ox is tied up in the garden58 the head of the household [and wife] sit in the south side of the main living quarters, taste the five fruits (goka 五菓), and drink sake

Thus, everything was to be placed in its proper location—cooking items in the kitchen, ox in the garden, and all other objects in the main living area, including the head of the household himself and his primary wife.59 Michihira’s order provides an abbreviated outline of the proceedings in this section but does not explain what happened next in any detail. A section of Shōyūki by Fujiwara no Sanesuke, however, is more forthcoming about the ritual actions that he performed when he moved to his new residence, Ono no Miya, in 1019 (about fifty years earlier than Michihira’s move).60 According to Sanesuke’s account, after grain offerings were made by a house attendant, Koremune no Takashige 惟 宗貴重 (active 11th century) made offerings at the West Middle Gate, and the onmyōji, Abe no Yoshihira, uttered an incantation and performed a spirit purifi-

56 57 58 59

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In vol. 8 (Gishiki reki shintaku ishi 儀式新宅移徙) of Nichū reki 二中歴, a thirteenvolume Kamakura-period encyclopedia, cited in Shigeta, Heian kizoku to onmyōdō, p. 21. The cooking area was generally connected to the north side of the main living quarters. A small shelter was usually built, or a tent was put up in the garden for the ox, and remained there for three nights. Shigeta, Heian kizoku to onmyōdō, p. 22. Michihira’s order does not mention a wife, but other examples tell us that both the male and female heads of the household sit in the southern part of the hall, eat the five fruits, and drink sake. Ruijū zatsuyō shō, p. 158. DNS 2:15, Kannin 3 (1019).12.21 (pp. 98–102).

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cation ritual (henbai 反閇) by treading on the ground in a prescribed manner.61 The ox was led in through the West Gate by Sanesuke’s personal attendant, followed by two courtiers of the fifth rank carrying pine torches, then Sanesuke himself entered. Everyone lined up in the same order in the south garden facing the southern steps of the shinden. Yoshihira repeated the protection incantation and departed. Sanesuke then entered the hall, took his seat, and tasted of the five fruits, which included fresh chestnuts (namaguri 生栗), dried chestnuts (kachiguri 搗栗) acorns of the Japanese emperor oak (kashiwa 柏), dried jujube/Chinese dates (hoshi natsume 干棗), and mandarin oranges (tachibana 橘).62 In other examples, the householder’s wife and his sons and daughters also participated.63 It appears, then, that the initial action taken by the head of the household on that first night was to partake of a ritual meal. The five fruits enumerated in Sanesuke’s diary were those most readily available in winter months (his move was in the twelfth month), but jujube, a kind of Chinese date (natsume 棗), Japanese plums (sumomo 李), chestnuts (kuri 栗), apricots (anzu 杏), and peaches (momo 桃) were more common in other seasons. Nichū reki 二中歴, a thirteen-volume Kamakura period encyclopedia, also lists citrus fruits (kōji 柑子), persimmons (kaki 柿), and Asian pears (nashi 梨). Thus, the types of fruit used seem not to have been set and depended on seasonal availability.64 The henbai ritual performed by Yoshihira for this event is similar to a Chinese Daoist ritual dance called bugang 歩綱, which has even earlier pre-Daoist roots in a dance form called the “Pace of Yu” (Ch. yubu, Jp. uho 禹歩) that can be traced back to the Warring States period in China (fig. 1.6). In the “Pace of Yu,” the ritual specialist visualizes walking through the seven stars of the Big Dipper, dragging one foot behind him in imitation of the limp of Emperor Yu.65 In 61

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The henbai ritual was probably performed to rid Ono no Miya of spirits that had taken up residence there while Sanesuke was away living at his adopted father’s palace. This ritual may have been first performed by Abe no Seimei to protect emperors when they moved. For more on henbai, see Kosaka, “Onmyōdō no henbai,” pp. 117–147. The “eating” and “drinking” that took place during rituals were actions that may have entailed only putting food and drink to the lips. This “tasting” part of the ritual may be a later reenactment of an ancient ritual for occupying a place (senkyo girei 占拠儀礼) that appears in Harima no kuni fudoki 播磨国風土記, cited in Shigeta, Heian kizoku to onmyōdō, p. 24. Other sources suggest the fruits were actually eaten; Ruijū zatsuyō shō, p. 158. Shigeta, “Heian kizoku no shintaku ishi,” p. 82. Cited in Shigeta, Heian kizoku to onmyōdō, p. 23. According to Chinese mythology, Emperor Yu was a model ruler (and founder of the Xia dynasty) who could regulate nature by walking through the world. In this ritual dance, a

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figure 1.6 Nine-step pattern of henbai Source: Toyoshima Yasukuni, Zusetsu Nihon jujutsu zensho (Tokyo: Harashobo, 1998) p. 178

China, as in Japan, this ritual pacing was performed to exorcize demons and troublesome spirits as well as to demarcate and purify a particular space.66

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priest impersonates both Yu, by pacing the boundaries of the terrestrial world, and the god Taiyi, by pacing the heavens. Anderson, “The Practice of Bugang,” pp. 16–17. See also Little and Eickman, Taoism and the Arts of China, fig. 52, p. 200. Henbai rituals performed by the Abe and Kamo practitioners included incantations and hand gestures similar to those used by esoteric Buddhist practitioners. Masuo, “Chinese Religion and the Formation of Onmyōdō,” p. 40. Shigeta cites records that suggest that the ritual was performed in the tenth century to protect travelers embarking on dangerous journeys. Shigeta, “Onmyōdō and the Aristocratic Culture of Everyday Life,” p. 72. Henbai is also a ritual foot movement performed for purification in Noh drama.

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III The Next Morning The third section provides instructions on the order of events for the first morning: a)

offerings are made to the kami of the gates, doors, well, cooking stove, shinden, garden, and privy; at this time, the cooked five grains in the jars [or steamers] are offered to the kami

The morning after the family entered the new residence, the cooked grains that had been carried from the old to the new residence were offered to the various kami that occupy the house—the kami of the gate, doors, well, cooking stove, shinden, garden, and privy. As a group, the household kami are often called yakatsukami/takushin 宅神 or iegami 家神. Six of the household gods enumerated in Michihira’s special order are the same as the six household spirits ( jiazhai liushen 家宅六神) of Chinese popular religion; the seventh, the god of the shinden, seems to be unique to Japan.67 IV The Following Two Mornings A variation of these instructions is repeated the following two mornings: a)

offerings are made to the kami of the gates, doors, well, cooking oven, shinden, garden, and privy; at this time the uncooked five grains in the oven are cooked with the fire and water that were brought in by the two young girls, and offered to the kami

The same household kami receive grain offerings again on the following two mornings after entry, but the uncooked grains brought to the residence inside the cooking stove were prepared for these offerings. Water that had been carried by the young girl in the procession was added to the uncooked grains, the cooking stove was lit with the torch that had been carried by the other girl, and the grains were cooked and offered to all the household gods. At this point, we might pause to think about why it was so important to appease the kami of gates, doors, well, cooking stove, shinden, garden, and privy. What did these particular kami control that the residents feared?

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One of the earliest references to the stove god in China appears in Soushen ji 捜神記, written by a Jin court historian during the Jin dynasty (265–420). Little and Eichman, Taoism and the Arts of China, p. 262.

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The kami of gates and doors needed special propitiation because these structures controlled outsiders and prevented unfriendly spirits from entering the compound and the individual buildings. Wells, cooking stoves, and privies were essential to the everyday life of the household and, therefore, these kami were accorded offerings and respect. Wells, cooking stoves, and privies also had openings into the earth, which might allow uncontrolled water, fire, and earth spirits access to the residents unless properly appeased. Furthermore, the cooking stove kami was thought to be particularly dangerous if it did not receive proper offerings because its curse could cause illnesses.68 The four-walled shinden itself surrounded the important members of the household, requiring that its kami be pacified and encouraged to protect the occupants, while the kami of the garden, which linked all these important areas, needed pacification to be in harmony with the residents. Furthermore, the powerful earth deity, dokujin, was active throughout all of these openings at various times of the season. The act of making grain offerings to the household kami was an important means to enlist their good will and protection, which, in turn, assured that those within would have good fortune and good health. There is some physical evidence that other types of offerings were also made to the household kami. For example, ceramic plates with ink writing have been found in wells at residences from the early Heian period. It is believed that such plates were thrown into the newly dug wells to appease the water (suijin 水神) and earth gods. A yin-yang master would write the names of the kami and each of the five directions and recite incantations requesting that the water never run dry and the earth permit the well hole to be dug. The plate would then be thrown into the well hole as an offering.69 Such offerings, however, are not noted in Michihira’s order and were likely not part of the “moving in” ritual. V Taboos for Three Nights The last section of Kamo no Michihira’s order for Fujiwara no Morozane’s move to Kazan’in outlines the taboos that were in place for the first three nights that the family spent in the new residence: a) b) c)

no killing no lamenting the privy cannot be used

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As was the case in the aforementioned illness of Michinaga’s oldest daughter Shōshi, which was said by Abe no Yoshihira to have been caused by the cooking stove kami. See DNS 2:7, Chōwa 2 (1031).4.11 (p. 784). The writing on one plate reads: “中央土公水神王、 西方土公水神王、 東方土公水

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no slander [bad words] no music no punishments should be meted out no high places should be climbed no deep places should be viewed the unfilial should not come in contact with others Buddhist priests should not enter the residence

Many of the above taboos also applied to other court ceremonies in the midHeian period—in particular, the taboos of no killing, no mourning, no music, no punishments, and the prohibition against the presence of Buddhist priests, who were believed to cause defilement for those preparing to participate in kami festivals. The taboo against using the privy was obviously to avoid offending the kami of the privy; avoiding deep places may have been intended to avoid offending the kami of the well; and avoiding high places may refer to rooftops. The taboos against slander and meeting those who are unfilial may have been general taboos at this time. Thus, the taboos in place during shintaku ishi were those typically followed during national and local kami festivals, and the ritual of making offerings to the household deities at the new residence was essentially treated as a private kami festival for Fujiwara no Morozane’s household kami. Although Buddhist priests were not permitted to enter the new residence during this initial three-day period or to participate in any of the rituals, they still played an important role in the move. Buddhist monks might perform several types of rituals that lasted a number of days prior to the beginning of the shintaku ishi, notably tendoku 転読 recitations (a practice of reading only several lines of a text to stand for the whole) of the Benevolent Kings Sutra (Ninnō gyō 仁王經) or a ritual with Fudō 不動 (Sk. Acala) as the principal deity that was intended to secure the peace of the nation (Fudō anchin (kokka) hō 不動安鎮(国家)法). In 1005, for example, the Tendai monk Keien 慶円 (944– 1019), chanted (unnamed) sutras prior to Michinaga’s move to his Higashi Sanjō Palace, and in 1017, the Tendai priest, Shinyo 心譽 (971–1029), along with twelve other monks, chanted the Benevolent Kings Sutra prior to Fujiwara no Michinaga’s move to his adopted father’s residence at Nijō.70 In 1019, Fujiwara no Sanesuke’s move to his new Ono no Miya Palace was preceded by five monks

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神王、 南方土公水神王,” or “water and earth god-king of the center, west, east, and south.” Abe no Seimei to onmyōdō ten, fig. 58, p. 63. For more details about the rituals associated with wells, see Mizuno, “Chinisai no shūhen,” pp. 225–236. DNS 2:5, Kankō 2 (1005).2.2 (p. 320) and DNS 2:12, Kannin 1 (1017).10.29 (p. 318).

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chanting the Benevolent Kings Sutra at the shinden, twice every day beginning on the eighth day of the twelfth month until the “moving-in” ceremony took place on the twenty-first.71 Other esoteric Buddhist rituals that fall under the category of jiten hō 地天法 were used for subduing dokujin when building foundations were dug or offerings were made to the earth god.72 Thus, the Heian courtier had multiple ritual options and was likely to use as many of them as he believed viable or could afford to assure that he and his household would be kept safe in their new home.

Conclusion In sum, when Heian-period aristocrats moved to a new residence they encountered many frightening and potentially dangerous active spirits—different specters that inhabited empty buildings, family household gods upset by their relocation, and the ever-present earth god upon whose domain buildings rested and violated. People feared these spirits because they believed they could bring illness and harm if not properly treated. The careful ritual program devised by the yin-yang master was intended to mitigate the dangers of entering a new residence by neutralizing the spirits with offerings and precise ritual steps. The moving-in ritual involved only the core family—the male and female heads of a larger extended family that often included several other wives and children—and the gods of the core family’s household. There is no mention of secondary wives or concubines participating in the rituals, and it is not clear if only the children of the primary wife or all children of the male householder participated. The recorded participation of only the primary wife, however, emphasizes an important point—that the household gods of her natal family were “married” to those of her husband’s, and that it was both their household kami who needed to be settled and appeased for the family to thrive in the new home. The primary wife’s participation in the ritual, therefore, served to underline her position within the household hierarchy and to distinguish her position from that of her husband’s other wives. While the yin-yang master himself performed active and important components of the moving-in ceremony, such as creating talismans against spirits and fires and performing acts of making offerings and ritualized foot stamping, the female participants in the procession also performed crucial protective

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DNS 2:15, Kannin 3 (1017).12.21 (p. 98). Masuo, “Chinese Religion and the Formation of Onmyōdō,” p. 31.

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actions, such as providing water, lighting the torches and the cooking stove to purify and drive specters out of the house, leading the yellow ox into the garden to calm the volatile earth god (in some early examples), and transporting the mirror to protect the residence and ultimately to confirm that the space was cleared of harmful entities. Prepubescent girls undertook the most dangerous tasks of entering first to purify the space with water and fire and to light the stove to cook the grains that would provide offerings for the other deities. They presumably entered first because it was thought that their youth and purity would afford them sufficient protection to counteract any dangers encountered during their tasks.73 If we read the sub-text of the order, we may also assume that it was the women who cooked the grains and made the offerings to the household deities. Of the core family members, the only male who performed any ritual action was the head of the household himself, through his tasting of the five fruits and drinking of rice wine; but even in this action, he was accompanied (in most records) by the female head of the household. Thus, the role of women in the “moving house” ritual was an essential one of purifying, pacifying, and protecting, a role more significant than the male householder’s. The role of women was also crucial in shintaku ishi because of their most fundamental yin nature, without which the activities of yang (male) would not be effective. Thus, the ritual procession into the new residence could not achieve cosmic balance without the empowering force of women. It is because women controlled half of the cosmic power that they had the ability to take on the major responsibilities of managing households and appeasing the household gods through offerings, a powerful role that it was believed kept their families alive and well. It seems, then, given women’s active participation and significant role in shintaku ishi, there should be a body of evidence in women’s writing for their involvement in the house-moving ritual; but that is not the case. Women in the mid-Heian period often wrote about the effects that angry household deities had on their daily lives, but they did not mention making offerings to them or actively participating in yin-yang rituals to pacify them.74 Women took note of 73

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The role of young girls may also be viewed as similar to that of young boys (dōji 童子) in Buddhist rituals—mediators between earth and heaven, this world and the next, human and deity. I am grateful to Naoko Gunji for this suggestion. For example, at the end of the ninth month of 972, we are told by Fujiwara no Michitsuna’s mother that she had to vacate her residence because the earth god had been violated and was angry. Kagerō nikki, Tenroku 天禄 3 (972).9 (end of month), in Shigeta, Heian kizoku to onmyōdō, p. 62.

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the inconveniences caused by directional taboos, illnesses generated by curses, the frightening appearances of specters in empty buildings and during births and deaths, but they did not relay any specifics about the house-moving ritual or their participation in it. Nonetheless, because we have ritual orders for shintaku ishi written by yin-yang masters, along with records by male court diarists, we have proof that women did participate in the rituals of moving to a new residence and that their roles were critical to the move’s success. In order to better understand what this knowledge contributes to the bigger picture of the ritual lives of women in the Heian period, and how it fits with the commonly held Buddhist notion of women’s essential impurity at this time, requires further research on the involvement of women in yin-yang rituals.

References Primary Sources DNK = Dai Nihon komonjo 大日本古文書. Ed. Tōkyō Daigaku Shiryō Hensanjo 東京大 学資料編纂所. Tōkyō Daigaku Shuppankai, 1901–1940. DNS = Dai Nihon shiryō 大日本資料. Ed. Tōkyō Daigaku Shiryō Hensanjo. Tōkyō Daigaku Shuppankai, 1901–. Ruijūzōyō shō 類聚雑要抄. Vol. 16 of Gunsho ruijū 群書類従. Tokyo: Keizai Zasshisha, 1901.

Secondary Sources A Tale of Flowering Fortunes: Annals of Japanese Aristocratic Life in the Heian Period. 2 vols. Translated, with an introduction and notes, by William H. and Helen Craig McCullough. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1980. Abe no Seimei to onmyōdō ten 安倍晴明と陰陽道展. Compiled and edited by Kyoto Bunka Hakubutsukan 編集京都都文化博物館. Osaka: Yomiuri Shinbunsha, 2003. Anderson, Paul. “The Practice of Bugang.” Cahiers d’Extrême-Asie 5 (1989), pp. 15– 53. Andreeva, Anna. “Childbirth in Early Medieval Japan: Ritual Economies and Medical Emergencies in Procedures during the Day of the Royal Consorts Labor.” In Buddhism and Medicine: An Anthology, ed. C. Pierce Salguero, pp. 336–350. New York: Columbia University Press, 2017. Bialock, David T. Eccentric Spaces, Hidden Histories: Narrative, Ritual, and Royal Authority from The Chronicles of Japan to The Tale of the Heike. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2007. Como, Michael. “Daoist deities in Ancient Japan: Household deities, Jade Women and popular religious practice.” In Daoism in Japan: Chinese traditions and their influ-

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Masuo Shin’ichirō 増尾伸一郎. “Onmyōdō no keisei to dōkyō 陰陽道の形成と道教.” In Onmyōdō no kōgi, ed. Hayashi Makoto and Koike Jun’ichi, pp. 23–41. Kyoto: Sagano Shoin, 2002. Miura Kunio. “Onmyōdō divination techniques and Daoism.” In Daoism in Japan: Chinese traditions and their influence on Japanese religious culture, ed. Jeffrey L. Richey, pp. 83–102. Routledge Studies in Taoism. NewYork: Routledge, 2015. Mizuguchi Motoki 水口幹記. “Abe no Yoshihira ga okutta ‘shichijūni seichin’ 安倍吉平 が送った「七十二星鎮」.” Ajia yūgaku アジア遊学 187 (2015), pp. 143–158. Mizuno Masayoshi 水野正好. “Chinisai no shūhen 鎮井祭の周辺”. In Tokuron, pp. 225– 236. Vol. 4 of Omyōdō sōsho, ed. Murayama Shūichi et al. Tokyo: Meicho Shuppan, 1993. Murayama Shūichi 村山修一. Nihon onmyōdō shi sōsetsu 日本陰陽道史総説. Tokyo: Hanawa Shobō, 1985. Nakajima Wakako 中島和歌子. “Inseiki no shussan: Tsūka girei to hakka 院政期の出 産—通過儀礼と八卦.” Fūzoku 風俗 32: 2 (1993), pp. 2–25. Nakamura Shōhachi 中村璋八. Nihon onmyōdōsho no kenkyū 日本陰陽道書の研究. Tokyo: Kyūko Shoin, 2000. Nakamura Yoshio 中村義雄. Ōchō no fūzoku to bungaku 王朝の風俗と文学. Hanawa Sensho 塙選書 22. Tokyo: Hanawa Shobō, 1979. Nihongi: Chronicles of Japan from the Earliest Times to A.D.697. 2 vols. Translated by W.G. Aston. Rutland: Charles E. Tuttle Co., 1972. Nishiguchi Junko 西口順子. “Ōchō bukkyō ni okeru nyonin kyūsai no ronri” 王朝仏教に おける女人救済の論理. In Sei to mibun: jakusha, haisha no seisei to hiun 性と身分： 弱者・敗者の聖性と悲運, ed. Miyata Noboru 宮田登, pp. 129–167. Taikei bukkyō to Nihonjin 大系仏教と日本人 8. Tokyo: Shunjūsha, 1989. Onmyōdō sōsho. 4 vols. Edited by Murayama Shūichi et al. Tokyo: Meicho Shuppan, 1993. Ooms, Herman. “Yin-Yang’s Changing Clientele, 600–800.” Cahiers d’Extrême-Asie 21 (2012), pp. 21–41. Ooms, Herman. Imperial Politics and Symbolics in Ancient Japan: The Tenmu Dynasty, 650–800. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2009. Richey, Jeffrey L. Daoism in Japan: Chinese traditions and their influence on Japanese religious culture. Routledge Studies in Taoism. New York: Routledge, 2015. Ruiju zatsuyō shō sashizukan 類聚雑要抄指図巻. Edited by Kawamoto Shigeo 川本重 雄 and Kozumi Kazuko 小泉和子. Tokyo: Chūō Kōron Bijutsu Shuppan, 1998. Saitō Hideki 斎藤英喜. Onmyōdō no kamigami 陰陽道の神々. Bukkyō Daigaku yōryō bunka sōsho 佛教大学鷹陵文化叢書 17. Kyoto: Shibunkaku Shuppan, 2012. Salguero, C. Pierce, ed. Buddhism and Medicine: An Anthology. New York: Columbia University Press, 2017. Sekiguchi Akira 関口明. “Kodai no seisō to tokei 古代の清掃と徒刑.” Nihon rekishi 日 本歴史 412 (1982), pp. 16–27.

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Shigeta Shin’ichi. “Onmyōdō and the Aristocratic Culture of Everyday Life in Heian Japan.” Cahiers d’Extrême-Asie 21 (2012), pp. 66–77. Shigeta Shin’ichi 重田信一. Heian kizoku to onmyōdō: Abe no Seimei no rekishi minzoku gaku 平安貴族と陰陽道—安倍晴明の歴史民俗学. Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunko, 2005. Shigeta Shin’ichi 重田信一. “Heian kizoku no shintaku ishi 平安貴族の新宅移徙.” Bunka 文化 57:1–4 (Spring-Winter, 1993–1994), pp. 71–89. Suzuki Ikkei 鈴木一馨. Onmyōdō 陰陽道. Tokyo: Kōdansha, 2002. Toyoshima Yasukuni 豊島泰国. Zusetsu Nihon jujutsu zensho 図説日本呪術全書. Tokyo: Harashobo, 1998. Wang, Aihe. Cosmology and Political Culture in Early China. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. Yamashita Katsuaki 山下克明. Heian jidai no shūkyō bunka to onmyōdō 平安時代の宗 教文化と陰陽道. 3rd edition. Tokyo: Iwata Shoten, 2002. Yoneda Yūsuke 米田雄介. Shōsōin hōmotsu to Heian jidai: wafūka e no michi 正倉院宝 物と平安時代：和風化への道. Kyoto: Tankōsha, 2000.

chapter 2

Devising the Esoteric Rituals for Women: Fertility and the Demon Mother in the Gushi nintai sanshō himitsu hōshū Anna Andreeva*

Introduction The inner workings of the female body, including fertility, pregnancy, and childbirth, were important themes for noble women in Heian- (974–1185) and Kamakura-period (1185–1333) Japan. Daughters from aristocratic families who hoped to marry high-ranking courtiers or become the ruling emperor’s lovers had to take special care of their wellbeing and health. Becoming pregnant, carrying a child to term, and giving birth to an heir was paramount to one’s successful position as an imperial consort, a noble courtier’s primary wife, or as a concubine. In many cases, these women hailed from leading politically active families who were set to benefit from their daughters’ close position to the rulers. Thus, it is hard to deny the existence of the filial motives and pressures that could prompt these women to take certain care of their own health. But how could women know what exactly was happening inside their bodies? How could they protect their unborn children from harmful influences caused by malevolent spirits, protect themselves from birth complications, or insure that they gave birth to the male infant that was often most desirable in their elite society? An undated collection titled Gushi nintai sanshō himitsu hōshū 求子妊胎産 生秘密法集 (Collection of secret methods on seeking offspring, pregnancy, and childbirth, undated; hereafter referred to as Gushi nintai hōshū) casts light on a variety of subjects dealing with women’s reproductive health, materia medica, and esoteric Buddhist rituals focused on conjuring a pregnancy and ensuring

* The final stages of research and writing of this article have been accomplished under the auspices of the independent research project “Buddhism, Medicine, and Gender in the 10th– 16th century Japan: toward a transcultural history of women’s health in premodern East Asia,” sponsored by the German Research Council (DFG) and based at the Heidelberg Centre for Transcultural Studies, University of Heidelberg (Germany).

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2018 | doi: 10.1163/9789004368194_004

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safe labor.1 Consisting of five short chapters and forty-three individual quotations, this collection is remarkable not only in that it provides crucial information on conception, embryological development, and birth to women, but also in that it may be the first such Japanese Buddhist text of its kind. In addition to medical advice and information about physiological processes, Gushi nintai hōshū also introduces the cult of an important esoteric deity, Kariteimo 訶 梨帝母 (Sk. Hārītī, alt. Ch. Guizi mu, Jp. Kishimo 鬼子母, Demon Mother), for worship by noble women and their families. The compilation of Gushi nintai hōshū is attributed to the ninth-century Tendai monk Annen 安然 (841?–889?), who was known for his work on systematizing esoteric Buddhist teachings in Heian Japan. Admittedly, the provenance of this work, and an account of it in Japanese history, is not easy to ascertain. However, it is highly likely that it was written if not by Annen himself, then by someone close to him, perhaps, one of his followers or his understudy.2 Within the Japanese early medieval Buddhist scholarly milieu, Gushi nintai hōshū was certainly perceived as a source written by Annen; by the mid-twelfth century it was being transmitted within the Tendai temple milieu under his name. Furthermore, as we shall see, late twelfth-century scholar-monks based at Shingon temples were also aware of this collection and Annen’s links to its production. If the date of its compilation could indeed be traced to the late ninth century, Gushi nintai hōshū would be Japan’s earliest Buddhist handbook on childbirth and women’s health, and the earliest volume to collate crucial knowledge on how women’s bodies work and provide practical advice on dealing with issues of women’s reproductive health to the elite aristocratic clients in Heian Japan. In that case, Gushi nintai hōshū would have to be understood as a work which encapsulated pre-existing Buddhist knowledge about conception, embryology, and childbirth and introduced it to the Japanese audience some decades before Japan’s earliest surviving medical compendium that has several

1 Published in Nihon daizōkyō, vol. 43, pp. 191–198. My warmest thanks to Professor Itō Satoshi of Ibaraki Daigaku for bringing this source to my attention during the symposium on Japanese Buddhism organized by Professor Sueki Fumihiko at Nichibunken (Kyoto), in March 2015, and again, for his feedback on my presentation of this material during the fifteenth meeting of the European Association of Japanese Studies in Lisbon, Portugal, August 2017. I have briefly introduced this collection in Andreeva, “Explaining Conception to Women.” 2 Groner, “Annen, Tankei, Henjō, and Monastic Discipline in the Tendai School,” 151–152 briefly describes the very few disciples that Annen had. At least two of them were either of noble blood or managed to climb to clerical heights: Genjō 玄静 (active ca. 904) was a former minister at court of Emperor Seiwa 清和天皇, (850–880, r. 858–876) until taking the tonsure in 879, and Son’i 尊意 (866–940) became one of the top Tendai clerics (Tendai zasu 天台座主).

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volumes on women’s health, Tanba no Yasuyori’s 丹波康頼 (912–995) Ishinpō 醫心方 (Essentials of medicine, ca. 984).3 In addition to Buddhist theories about the origins of life, Gushi nintai hōshū also casts light on a wide array of ritual strategies, deities, and Buddhist scriptures that were to become the basis for esoteric rituals for safe pregnancy and childbirth that were practiced at the court during the Heian and Kamakura periods and long after Annen’s time. For example, the Buddhist knowledge on conception, gestation, childbirth, and other relevant topics vital to women’s health that first appeared in this seminal work was incorporated almost in its entirety into a later medico-religious reference book dealing with women’s reproductive health: the two-fascicle handwritten manuscript entitled Sanshō ruijūshō 産生類従抄 (Encyclopedia of childbirth, ca. 1312–1318). This impressive medieval document was preserved at Shōmyōji 称名寺 and is now kept at the Kanazawa Bunko archive near present-day Yokohama; together with another scroll called Sanpishō 産秘抄 (Secret notes on childbirth, colophon 1224, copied ca. 1304), these manuscripts constituted a part of the Shōmyōji temple library established in the thirteenth century by the Hōjō 北条, the most powerful warrior family of medieval Kamakura. I have argued elsewhere that the Sanshō ruijūshō and Sanpishō probably constituted one special set and were most likely copied at Shōmyōji for the benefit of elite warrior women, that is, the wives, daughters, and sisters of Kamakura shoguns hailing from the Hōjō and Adachi 安達 clans.4 Although the fourteenth-century Sanshō ruijūshō rediscovered recently at Kanazawa Bunko does not mention Annen by name, from its contents it is abundantly clear that its early precursor, Gushi nintai hōshū, was valued within the Japanese Buddhist milieu for the reason that it contained expert knowledge which allowed practicioners to make political connections to elite patrons. This knowledge had been preserved, copied, and transmitted along the lines of esoteric temple networks, predominantly those with direct links to Japan’s imperial house and prominent aristocratic families, including, most likely, the Fujiwara. Moreover, a preliminary study of the medieval court records such as Osan oinori mokuroku 御産御祈目録 (List of rituals for royal childbirths) written between 1118 and 1337, Kōgū osan tōjitsu shidai 后宮御産当日次第 (Procedures

3 For the English translation of the relevant passage from the Ishinpō, see Andreeva and Steavu, “Introduction,” pp. 28–29. I discuss the topic of embryology in medieval Japanese Buddhist texts in Andreeva, “Explaining Conception to Women,” pp. 183–191. 4 I introduce these manuscripts in detail elsewhere. Andreeva, “Explaining Conception to Women.”

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During the Day of the Royal Consort’s Labor, ca. 1177–1181), and Osan buruiki 御 産部類記 (Miscellaneous records of royal childbirths, 1118–1119), suggests that the ritual protocol adopted by Buddhist temples and performed at the request of the imperial court and aristocratic households from which the royal consorts hailed, may have been at least partially constructed on the basis of Gushi nintai hōshū (and thus, possibly, Annen’s groundbreaking work).5 Thus, this short collection emerges as one of the most significant sources that cast light on the cultures of childbirth in the noble households of Heian and Kamakura Japan. It provides possibly the earliest precursor and a much-needed juxtaposition to the medical sources of the same periods, such as Tanba no Yasuyori’s Ishinpō, Kajiwara Shōzen’s 梶原性全 (1265–1337) Ton’ishō 頓醫鈔 (Compendium of a humble physician, 1303) and Man’anpō 萬安方 (Myriad of relief prescriptions, 1327), and a cluster of other later texts that were based on Buddhist, medical, and divinatory knowledge.6 As mentioned before, one of the particular contributions that Gushi nintai himitsu hōshū made to the Japanese Buddhist approach to childbirth and women’s health during the Heian period was to introduce early Buddhist embryological discourses, and terminology inherent in the Chinese translations of Indian-language Buddhist scriptures, into Japan’s local medico-religious and apotropaic practices dealing with fertility, pregnancy, and childbirth. It also presented information on Āyurvedic plant-based formulas thought to cure women’s illnesses and Buddhist rituals for noble women that featured a specific esoteric deity, Kariteimo. In this chapter, I will argue that the Gushi nintai hōshū (perhaps, with Annen’s help) introduced Kariteimo as a powerful cultic figure capable of alleviating female infertility to the aristocratic women of Heian Japan for the first time.

5 An annotated English translation and a separate chapter analyzing Osan oinori mokuroku are currently in progress and will be published elsewhere. For an abbreviated English translation of Kōgū osan tōjitsu shidai, see Andreeva, “Childbirth in Early Medieval Japan.” 6 Study of the Ishinpō in Western languages has slowed down in the past decades, but recent interest in the history of Japanese medicine is likely to revive this field. For an early translation of selected Ishinpō volumes, see Hsia, Geertsma, and Veith, The Essentials of Medicine in Ancient China and Japan; for the modern Japanese annotated edition, see Maki, Ishinpō; for further discussions of this source in relation to women’s health, see Lee, “Wet Nurses in Early Imperial China,” “Gender and Medicine in Tang China,” “Childbirth in Early Imperial China,” and “Ishinpō and Its Excerpts from Chanjing”; Triplett, “For Mothers and Sisters”; and Khan, “Early Japan and the Continental Medical Literary Tradition.” The works of Kajiwara Shōzen and their historic significance have been addressed in Goble, “Kajiwara Shōzen and the Medical Silk Road” and Confluences of Medicine in Medieval Japan, respectively.

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Kariteimo was originally the Hindu deity Hārītī, who appeared in Indianlanguage Buddhist sources, such as the Vinaya, as a wrathful female yaksha (Sk. yakṣa, Jp. yasha 夜叉) who, while being a loving mother to her own five hundred demon-children, stole and ate other people’s vital energy and offspring until she was converted by the Buddha to keep the five precepts and protect the Buddhist teachings.7 After several scriptures describing the imagery, mythological background, and rituals featuring this deity were imported from Tang China, Hārītī, “dressed in the Japanese garb,” became the object of an important maternity cult in premodern Japan. Gushi nintai hōshū is certainly one of the most significant and perhaps, the earliest example of that. Having been adopted by non-elite Buddhist movements during the medieval period, Kariteimo, or Kishimo 鬼子母 as she is better known in Nichiren Buddhism, was transformed from a demon ogress who devoured children into a popular Buddhist deity who was the object of a well-known domestic cult and was invoked in esoteric rituals sponsored by the aristocracy. Images of Kariteimo in simple and affordable woodblock prints were produced for mass consumption in early modern Japan;8 the “humble materiality” of these prints was a perfect fit for the everyday lives and religious needs of commoner women during the Edo (1600–1868) and Meiji (1868–1912) periods.9 Even to this day, Kariteimo is assumed to protect not only newborn children but also women in labor. Returning to Gushi nintai hōshū and its role in the histories of “women, rites, and ritual objects” in premodern Japan, the contents of this important collection prompt a further series of difficult, but necessary questions. For instance: if Annen was indeed its author, how and why did he assemble the Buddhist theories related to childbirth and women’s health, and for whom was this collection of ritual references compiled? Due to the well-attested lack of reliable sources on Annen’s life or the precise compilation date of the aforementioned

7 Iyanaga Nobumi has discussed a similar class of female ogresses, the ḍākinī (Jp. dakini 荼枳 尼), of whom Hārītī was a leader. His discussion has shown that Annen was certainly aware of the powers of Hārītī and her mythological links to the ḍākinī. See Iyanaga, “‘Human Yellow’ and Magical Power,” pp. 349–356. 8 See Sherry Fowler’s chapter on Edo-period woodblock prints for the Thirty-Three Kannon pilgrimage for women in the present volume. 9 I use the expression “humble materiality” in parallel to the term “modest materialities”, which was recently introduced by the Japanese medieval Buddhist art historian, Caroline Hirasawa (Sophia University, Tokyo) at the workshop she organized for the Sainsbury Institute for the Study of Japanese Arts and Cultures in Norwich, United Kingdom, “From the Ephemeral to the Eternal: Modest Materialities of the Sacred in Japan” (held on July 2, 2015).

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collection, the present chapter can only address these questions with a degree of speculation. Nevertheless, by proposing plausible or hypothetical answers, I hope to begin confronting a much bigger question: what contributions did Japanese Buddhist scholars, especially of esoteric persuasion, make to the history of women’s everyday life in premodern Japan? This essay will introduce Gushi nintai hōshū and its contents to the Western reader, first by focusing on the figure of Annen, his possible links to the compilation of this source, and how these links were understood within the Japanese Buddhist scholarly milieu. In addition, the first part of this essay will briefly outline the structure of Gushi nintai hōshū and, focusing on the political situation of the imperial court during the 850–900s, it will propose a theory of who the possible beneficiaries of Gushi nintai hōshū’s compilation may have been. In its second part, the essay will investigate which kinds of Buddhist knowledge focusing on women’s bodies and health were presented within this collection to elite noble patrons in Heian Japan, with a particular emphasis on the medicoreligious innovations that the Gushi nintai hōshū offered. Of special interest will be the introduction of the aforementioned Āyurvedic formulas and the Hārītī cult to noble Japanese women as well as specific visual sources that cast light on how this deity may have been worshipped by aristocratic women in Heian Japan, particularly in the context of doubts about their reproductive health. By investigating these issues, the current essay will bring to the light aspects of Japanese Buddhism and women’s history that have never been extensively discussed before and urgently require further analysis.

Annen, Tendai Esoteric Knowledge, and the Gushi nintai hōshū Annen is a figure who is at once well acknowledged in the premodern religious sources and obscured by the shadows of history. He is well known to scholars of Japanese Buddhism, who have so far linked his historical contributions to the formation of both Tendai and Shingon’s esoteric traditions and, more broadly, to the historical acculturations of Buddhism in Heian Japan.10 On the other hand, the breadth and the impact of his scholarship on later Buddhist trends and movements, such as medieval esotericism and kami worship, while broadly acknowledged, is still not sufficiently well understood in precise detail. That

10

See Groner, “Annen, Tankei, Henjō, and Monastic Discipline in the Tendai School”; Misaki, Taimitsu no kenkyū; Sueki, Heian shoki bukkyō shisō no kenkyū; Stone, Original Enlightenment; and Dolce and Mano, “Godai’in Annen.”

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the scarcely available information about his upbringing and major life events comes from later hagiographic sources only complicates matters. If his own admissions are to be trusted, Annen may have been a descendant from the same family as the founder of the Japanese Tendai school, Saichō 最澄 (767–822), who hailed from the Omi Province, north of the Heian capital (present-day Kyoto).11 Born in the eighth year of 841, the young boy took the tonsure at Mt. Hiei, the abode of Japan’s main Tendai monastery.12 Annen’s own records and his hagiographies also describe him as receiving the tutorship of another prominent monk, Ennin 円仁 (794–864), although some modern scholars have expressed certain reservations about it.13 Ennin was one of Saichō’s closest disciples who studied Tiantai 天台 (Tendai) and esoteric Buddhism (mikkyō 密教) in Tang China from 838 to 847; if the young Annen were indeed his student, he would have entered his discipleship with Ennin not long after the latter returned to Japan on board a Korean merchant’s vessel.14 Upon his return, Ennin was granted the high prelate’s title of Tendai zasu 天台座主, and became a prominent clerical figure on Mt. Hiei. From 850 onward, he administered the Buddhist precepts and esoteric consecrations to the Japanese rulers, Emperor Montoku 文徳天皇 (827–858, r. 850– 858) and to his son, Emperor Seiwa 清和天皇 (850–880, r. 858–876), as well as to the imperial dowager, Masako (or Shōshi) Naishinnō 正子内親王 (810–879). Ennin was thus considered one of the forerunners in merging the doctrines of Tiantai with esoteric Buddhism; this amalgamation of teachings and rituals became known in modern scholarship under the term taimitsu 台密 (lit. 11

12 13

14

Annen mentioned this in his work, Kyōji jōron 教時諍論 (An argument on the timing of teachings). A medieval collection of Japanese monks’ biographies, Genkō shakusho 元亨釋書 (vol. 4), compiled in 1332 by the Rinzai Zen monk Kokan Shiren 虎関師錬 (1278–1346) of Kyoto, repeats the same information. See Mochizuki, Bukkyō daijiten, vol. 1, pp. 90–91; and Groner, “Annen, Tankei, Henjō, and Monastic Discipline in the Tendai School,” p. 131, n. 6. On the calculation of Annen’s supposed life dates, see Groner, “Annen, Tankei, Henjō, and Monastic Discipline in the Tendai School,” p. 131, n. 5, and pp. 150–152. Annen stated in his Kyōji jōron that he was a disciple of Ennin (Groner, “Annen, Tankei, Henjō, and Monastic Discipline in the Tendai School,” p. 132). On this point, see also Dolce and Mano, “Godai’in Annen,” p. 769. Ennin’s records of his sojourn in Tang China have survived in the form of a personal diary, Nittō guhō junrei kōki 入唐求法巡礼行記 (Records of pilgrimage in search of the Dharma upon entering the Tang kingdom). On Ennin’s contact with Chinese Buddhist monks, see Reischauer, Ennin’s Travel in Tang China; and Chen Jinhua, Crossfire, pp. 133–137. See, also, an outline of the links between Ennin, Enchin, and Annen in Groner, “Annen, Tankei, Henjō, and Monastic Discipline in the Tendai School,” pp. 131–134.

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“Tendai esotericism”).15 Annen may have indeed trained with this prominent monk, but the linking of the two figures could have also been reinforced later, due to the respective significance of both within the Tendai Buddhist milieu. Following other masters, Annen continued to study Tiantai doctrines and esoteric Buddhism, then still an emerging tradition in Japan.16 In 877, after completing a series of necessary ritual initiations and training, Annen was granted the title of “Dharma Lantern” (hōtō 法燈). It seems that in the same year he received permission from the government to study in China as a part of a team led by Genshō 玄昭 (846–917), another disciple of Ennin. However, at present there is little evidence to confirm that Annen ever accomplished such a journey. In fact, a Kamakura-period source, an iconographic collection of Tendai esoteric scriptures and rituals, the Asabashō 阿娑縛抄 (ca. 1275), edited and compiled by the monk Shōchō 承澄 (1205–1282), relates that after obtaining official permission, Annen was ready to follow the others on board the ship departing for China, but at the last moment changed his mind and returned to Mt. Hiei. Annen’s companion who decided to travel was later attacked by pirates.17 Other sources, including Taizōkai daihō taijuki 胎蔵界大法對受記 (Record of the face-to-face transmission of the grand rite of Garbhadhātu [Womb Mandala], T 2390), that have been attributed to Annen, suggest that he may indeed have travelled to China.18 However, as noted by Japanese Buddhism scholar Mochizuki Shinkō, if Annen did study at Chinese Buddhist temples, it would have been clear from his other personal records who the Chinese mas-

15 16

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18

On Ennin’s contributions to the development of the Tendai school in Heian Japan and, particularly, its esoteric tradition, see Misaki, Taimitsu no kenkyū, pp. 382–424. Other important figures in Annen’s monastic education are briefly mentioned in Groner, “Annen, Tankei, Henjō, and Monastic Discipline in the Tendai School,” pp. 131–136, and Dolce and Mano, “Godai’in Annen,” p. 769. Asabashō, fasc. 195; and Myōshōtō ryakuden 明匠等略伝 (Short biographies of famous teachers). See Taishō shinshū daizōkyō, Zuzō (hereafter cited as TZ), no. 3190. The aforementioned record also relates, that upon his return to Mt. Hiei, Annen continued to study there with Genshō, as he was the only available teacher of Tendai teachings in Japan at that time. See also Groner, “Annen, Tankei, Henjō, and Monastic Discipline in the Tendai School,” pp. 136–138. See for example, the opening sentence of Taizōkai daihō taijuki: “Annen, Jōgan jūhachi nen nigatsu ni nittō no koto ari 安然以貞觀十八年二月有入唐事” (“Annen went to China on the second month of the eighteenth year of the Jōgan era”). Taishō shinshū daizōkyō, vol. 75, no. 2390, lines 54a07 (hereafter cited with the following format: T 2390 75: 54a07). Mochizuki also cites other sources. See Mochizuki, Bukkyō daijiten, vol. 1, p. 91. See also a discussion of this text in other contexts by Misaki, Taimitsu no kenkyū, pp. 265–314, and Chen Jinhua, “The Formation of Early Esoteric Buddhism in Japan,” pp. 169–183.

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ters from whom he did receive esoteric initiations and scholastic instructions were. Instead, such important details seem to be lacking completely from the sources related both to Annen’s life and scholarship.19 It is therefore assumed that Annen received his esoteric initiations and transmissions on Sanskrit syllables (shittan 悉曇) from Japanese monks, such as Dōkai 道海 (dates unknown), Henjō 遍昭 (817–890), Tankei 湛契 (dates unknown), and others, although he may have had personal access to the oral transmissions and records of Japanese monks who went to Tang China and studied with esoteric masters there.20 Of these, Henjō, a Buddhist monk of noble blood with personal links to the crown prince Tsuneyasu 常康 (later Emperor Yōzei 陽成天皇, 868–949, r. 876–884) and Emperor Kōkō 光孝天皇 (830–887, r. 884–887), seemed to have a special relationship to Annen, as he is the one who conferred the all-important rank of esoteric master (denbō ajari 伝法阿闍梨) on Annen in 884.21 Before Annen’s death, in or after 889, he managed to compile over a hundred records—many of which fused Tiantai and esoteric teachings—commented on Indian and Chinese scriptures, laid out important ritual procedures, and combined Buddhist knowledge on doctrinal, ritual, and historical matters into separate reference handbooks.22 These accomplishments had become well recognized within the scholastic divisions of Tendai and Shingon esoteric temples by the medieval period. Prominent among those accomplishments were Annen’s records of receiving ritual transmissions on the Taizōkai 胎蔵界 (Womb mandala), Kongōkai 金剛界 (Diamond mandala), Soshitsuji 蘇悉地 (Sk. Susiddhi), the rituals dedicated to the deities Yakushi 薬師 (Sk. Bhaiṣajyaguru) and Fudō 不動 (Sk. Acala), and one of the earliest Japanese commentaries on the Yugikyō 瑜祇経 (Ch. Yuqia yuqi jing, the “Yogin Sutra,” T 867), among many others.23 The latter, along

19 20

21 22

23

Mochizuki, Bukkyō daijiten, vol. 1, p. 91. Groner, “Annen, Tankei, Henjō, and Monastic Discipline in the Tendai School,” pp. 131–136. For a detailed study of interactions of Japanese monks with the Tang masters, see Chen Jinhua, Crossfire. Groner, “Annen, Tankei, Henjō, and Monastic Discipline in the Tendai School,” p. 148. Annen’s biography, especially his relationship with another important Buddhist monk, Henjō (817–890), is further discussed in Groner, “Annen, Tankei, Henjō, and Monastic Discipline in the Tendai School,” pp. 138–152. Groner notes that after Henjō’s death in 890, Annen’s name “virtually disappears from historical records” (p. 139). For a doctrinal discussion of Annen’s works on major esoteric scriptures and rituals, including the Yugikyō, see Dolce and Mano, “Godai’in Annen.” On the significance of the medieval Yugikyō commentaries in Japanese Buddhism, see Dolce, “The Embryonic Generation of the Perfect Body.”

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with the Mahāvairocana sūtra (Ch. Dari jing, Jp. Dainichikyō 大日経, T 848) and several other sutras, would subsequently become one of the pivotal scriptures of the Japanese esoteric tradition. It is among these intensely focused scholastic writings that one suddenly finds the women-oriented medico-religious compendium, Gushi nintai sanshō himitsu hōshū, or Gushi nintai hōshū. It consists of the five following chapters.24 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

Methods for Desiring Male and Female [Children], thirteen items (Danjo hosshimotomuru no hō 欲求男女法); Methods for Conceiving and Protecting the Fetus in the Womb, six items (Kainin gotai no hō 懐妊護胎法); Methods for Saving [Mothers and Children] from Birth Complications, twenty items (Sannan gusei no hō 救濟産難法); Methods for Protecting the Infant, four items (Eigai shugo no hō 守護嬰 孩法); Method for Turning Female into Male (Tennyo seinan no hō 轉女成男法).

This collection includes forty-three individual quotations which can be further identified through scriptures included in the modern Taishō canon (Taishō shinshū daizōkyō 大正新修大蔵経). It explains the processes of conception, gestation, and birth using knowledge recorded in a variety of Buddhist scriptures, including those translated into Chinese mostly during the Western (265– 317) and Eastern Jin (317–420), Eastern Wei (538–541), Sui (581–618), and Tang (618–907) periods. The first chapter, one of the two longest in the Gushi nintai hōshū, tackles the issue of female infertility. This topic is placed at the very beginning of the collection, which underscores its importance, particularly, for the aristocratic patrons and noble women who were the most likely beneficiaries of Buddhist knowledge on women’s health that the Gushi nintai hōshū encompassed. This chapter includes quotations from the Chinese translations of Mañjuśrī mūlakalpa, namely, its ninth chapter, translated by the Chinese monk Yijing 義浄 (Jp. Gijō, 635–713) as well as several dhāraṇī scriptures, translated respectively by the North Indian monk Maṇicinta (Ch. Bao Siwei, Jp. Hōshiyui 宝思 惟, active ca. 694), another famous translator-monastic, Prajñā (Ch. Bozhe, Jp. Hannya 般若, active ca. 800), and one of the most prominent translators of 24

I have previously briefly introduced this text and analyzed its partial inclusion into the Sanshō ruijūshō, an early fourteenth-century Buddhist compendium on women’s health found in the Kanazawa Bunko. See Andreeva “Explaining Conception to Women,” pp. 191– 196.

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esoteric scriptures, Amoghavajra (Ch. Bukong, Jp. Fukū 不空, 705–774), along with smaller citations from other well- and less known Buddhist sutras. One of the key scriptures featured in the first chapter of the Gushi nintai hōshū is one that focuses on Hārītī, which was also translated from Sanskrit into Chinese by Amoghavajra. This particular sutra quotation, as along with the excerpts from the ninth chapter of the Mañjuśrī mūlakalpa that are included in the first chapter of the Gushi nintai hōshū, will be discussed in more detail below.25 The second chapter of Gushi nintai hōshū cites passages from the Chinese translations of the Yogācārabhūmi (Ch. Xiuxing daodijing, Jp. Shūgyō dōjikyō 修 行道地経, T 606)26 and the so-called “Sutra of Five Kings” (Ch. Wuwang jing, Jp. Goōkyō 五王経, T 523). These respective fragments explain to the Japanese audience that pregnancy usually lasts about thirty-eight weeks and briefly describe the sensations experienced by both the developing fetus and the expectant mother. The third chapter includes a fragment from the “Sutra on Contemplating the Correct Dharma” (Sk. Saddharma smṛty upasthāna sūtra, Ch. Zhengfanian chu jing, Jp. Shōbō nenjo kyō 正法念處経, T 721), that also deals with issues of fetal gestation. Here, perhaps for the very first time in Heian Japan, Gushi nintai hōshū uses the Sanskrit terms kalala (kararan 歌羅蘭; one of the first stages of an embryo’s gestation, sometimes even pre-conception) and antarābhava (Ch. zhongyin, Jp. chūin 中陰, or Ch. zhongyou, Jp. chūu 中有; “the intermediate being”) to explain the origination of life and the emergence of embryo, specifi-

25

26

The aforementioned scriptures from which the first chapter of the Gushi nintai hōshū quotations were sourced include: a) the “Sutra of One-Syllable King of Spells from Bodhisattva Mañjuśrī’s Spell Store” (Manjushiri bosatsu juzō chū ichiji juō kyō 曼殊師利菩薩呪藏中 一字呪王経, T 1182), translated by Yijing; b) the “Sutra of Great Dhārāṇī and One-Syllable Mind Spells in the Midst of the Last Age of the Dharma” (Dai darani mappō chū ichiji shinju kyō 大陀羅尼末法中一字心呪経, T 956) and the “Sutra on the Great Dhārāṇī and Divine Spells on Following the Demand and Immediately Achieving, as Told by the Buddha” (Bussetsu zuikyū sokutoku daidarani shinju kyō 仏説随求即得大陀羅尼神咒 経, T 1154), both translated by Maṇicinta; c) the “Great Sutra on Following the Demand” (Daizuikyūkyō 大随求経, T 1553), translated by Amoghavajra; d) the “Sutra on the Dhārāṇī for Building the Stupa and Prolonging Life” (Zōtō enmyō darani kyō 造塔延命陀羅尼経, T 1026), translated by Prajñā; and e) The “Sutra of Hārītī’s Mantras” (Kariteimo shingonkyō 訶利帝母眞言経, T 1261), translated by Amoghavajra. This last scripture will be discussed again shortly. Of several known translations of this important Buddhist treatise, the Gushi nintai hōshū uses the Chinese translation by Dharmarakṣa of the Western Jin, ca. 284. For details, see Andreeva, “Explaining Conception to Women,” pp. 194–195.

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cally in the context of pregnancy and women’s health.27 The third chapter also quotes a verse from the “Short Sutra on Discerning Karmic Retribution” (Bunbetsu gōhō ryaku kyō 分別御報略経, T 723), which emphasizes the role of noble women as compassionate mothers. Elsewhere, Gushi nintai hōshū indicates a special intention to seek out the rituals for getting pregnant (kainin no hō 懐 妊法) aimed at royal consorts (tenshi nyonin 天子女人).28 The first and fifth chapters refer to the methods of changing the unborn child’s gender in utero. The latter invokes the rite of “turning female into male” (tennyo seinan no hō 轉 女成男法) and borrows a lengthy quotation from the “Sutra on Transforming the Woman’s Body” (Tennyoshin gyō 轉女身経, T 564), discussing why women’s bodies must be transformed into men’s bodies.29 This chapter’s reference to the “Dhārāṇī Sutra of One-Thousand Arm [Kannon]” (Senju darani kyō 千手陀羅 尼経, T 1058?) is particularly reminiscent of the Indian rite for producing male offspring and called Puṃsavana Karma (“Quickening Sacrament”), which may have been known both in Indian and Chinese medical lore.30 Observing the vast body of works left by Annen or attributed to him, it is evident that the Gushi nintai hōshū was compiled for the benefit of elite noble women of childbearing age. It was the result of a life-long, painstaking study of a new corpus of Buddhist scriptures, ritual manuals, collections of spells, and incantations (also known as dhāraṇī), arriving from Tang China and personal editorial decisions as to what kind of knowledge, materia medica, drug prescriptions, and ritual actions described in the Chinese translations of Buddhist scriptures would be most efficacious for treating infertility, safeguarding pregnancy and the unborn child’s life, and treating women’s conditions which could be an issue in Heian Japan. To the historian’s eye, this short collection in one fascicle stands out sharply among Annen’s other writings that are dedicated to doctrinal matters or ritual protocol. These would usually have been studied and practiced within a celibate male monastic environment, such as the ninth-century Mt. Hiei, or other temples and private monastic retreats. Indeed, the lack of reliable sources

27 28

29 30

See Andreeva, “Explaining Conception to Women,” p. 185–186. For a partial English translation of this verse, see again Andreeva, “Explaining Conception to Women,” p. 196. The second chapter of Gushi nintai hōshū opens with a quotation from the “Ritual Manual of the Ever-Winning Prince” (Saishō taishi giki 最勝太子儀軌, T 1247), which contains the statement about the “rituals for getting pregnant” for royal consorts. For a recent discussion of the significance of this and similarly titled scriptures in Heian Japan, see Blair, “Mothers of the Buddhas.” For a detailed discussion of the Indian and Chinese understandings of this rite, see Chen Ming, “Zhuan Nü Wei Nan.”

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regarding Annen’s life makes it difficult to ascertain whether he was in fact the author of this collection. However, at least one helpful clue comes from a later historical source, written in 1154 by Jōnen 静然 (dates unknown), the Tendai monk from the esoteric temple Mudōji 無動寺, also on Mt. Hiei.31 In the nineteenth fascicle of his Gyōrinshō 行林抄 (Compendium on walking in the forest, T 2409), Jōnen, who, like Annen, also specialized in the study of taimitsu, discussed the names of fifteen demons, thought to aggravate both gestating fetuses and their mothers, who are mentioned in the so-called Dōji kyō 童子経 (Sutra of Child Attendants).32 He traced these names and the specific incantation linked to these demonic figures to “the rituals for conception and pregnancy by venerable Annen” (Annen wajō no Gushi nintai hōshū no naka 安 然和尚求子胎妊法之中).33 Indeed, this particular issue is discussed in the third chapter of Gushi nintai hōshū,34 which focuses on the potential complications that may arise during childbirth: demonic possession of fetus by the aforementioned fifteen demons, a protracted labor, and specific kinds of pain. This chapter, the longest of all, provides recipes for both remedial prescriptions and ritual actions that must be administered to alleviate these symptoms. The aforementioned 1154 record by Jōnen thus gives credibility to the theory that Gushi nintai hōshū was authored by Annen; or at least that it was thought so within his own Tendai school by the mid-twelfth century. So far, this is the one of the clues that allows us to link Annen to this important collection of Buddhist knowledge about women’s health and to date its compilation, at least provisionally, back to the late ninth century.35 Although Jōnen’s early medieval testament is thus far only one of the few voices that offer clues about the historicity of Gushi nintai hōshū, the circumstances in which it may have been compiled must nevertheless be questioned further. The Buddhist canon is generally replete with references to the issue of

31

32 33 34 35

This temple, founded in the ninth century by the monk Sōō 相応 (831–918), was particularly famed for its ritual practice of kaihōgyō 回峰行, a form of Tendai mountain austericism. For more on this issue, see Rhodes, “The Kaihōgyō Practice of Mt. Hiei.” Possibly, Tongzi jing niansong fa (Jp. Dōjikyō nenju hō 童子経念誦法, Method of Recitation of the Sutra on the Dhāraṇī for Protecting Children, T 1028B). T 2409, 154c18–20. Gushi nintai hōshū, pp. 194–197. I have briefly mentioned this point in Andreeva, “Explaining Conception to Women”, p. 191, n. 63. Another clue, dealing with the ritual image of Kariteimo described in the Gushi nintai hōshū and its transmission within the twelfth-century esoteric Buddhist milieu will be discussed in the next sections.

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“seeking children” (Ch. quanzi, Jp. gushi or motomego 求子), but for a ninthcentury Buddhist scholar working at a time when Tendai’s esoteric tradition was still being established, it must have taken an intense period of research and study before such a short but dense and practically oriented compendium could be created.36 Again, due to the lack of sources about Annen’s personal life, one must temporarily resort to an educated guess and propose that by compiling this specific work, he or a group of scholar-monks close to him were answering a call from a certain patron, a person wishing to forge close links to the Tendai monastic establishments, on Mt. Hiei or elsewhere. Given that the credentials of the Tendai school and its reputation for healing elite clients was rising at court, such patrons would be increasingly motivated to seek help from the Tendai milieu, including its most productive scholars.37 It is possible that Gushi nintai hōshū may have been compiled by Annen after an earlier source or a specific call from a patron, or further revised and edited in the decades following Annen’s death by his followers or disciples and thus came to be transmitted historically within the Tendai school under his name.38 The creation of the Gushi nintai hōshū may have also been stimulated by a certain political situation in the late ninth-century Heian capital and a sense

36

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A search on the SAT database reveals at least 123 examples of the term gushi (seeking children) occurring in the Buddhist scriptures and commentaries included in the Taishō canon. These sources range from the Āgama sutras and Abhidharmic works, to Chinese commentaries on the Lotus Sutra, dhāraṇī collections, and medieval Japanese compilations. It is difficult to say which works exactly would have been available to the author. Nevertheless, the point is that he must have taken considerable time to search through the available literature, much of which had been brought to Japan by his predecessors who travelled to Tang China. Medical sources, such as Tanba no Yasuyori’s Ishinpō also includes sub-chapters on “seeking children”, which often cite lost Sui and Tang period Chinese medical works, such as Dongxuanzi 洞玄子 (Master Dongxuan). Chen Ming, “Zhuan Nü Wei Nan,” p. 317. The aforementioned monk Sōō (see note 31) was called several times to provide curative powers to the members of the imperial family, court ladies, and other monks between 862 and 903. Rhodes, “The Kaihōgyō Practice of Mt. Hiei,” p. 189, citing Hiramatsu, Kaihōgyō no shisōteki haikei, pp. 18–19. As already mentioned by Paul Groner, two such candidates could have been the former minister-turned monk Genjō who took the tonsure after the abdication of Emperor Seiwa (former Prince Korehito 惟仁親王) in 879 (and presumably maintained his previous links with the imperial court), or the more successful in the monastic career Sōn’i 尊位 (866– 940) who eventually became the thirteenth Tendai zasu and in this capacity was also summoned to the court to perform esoteric rituals for his elite clients. Groner, “Annen, Tankei, Henjō, and Monastic Discipline in the Tendai School,” p. 152.

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of competitiveness within the Tendai milieu and between the Tendai and the Shingon schools, whose influence was also steadily rising at court.39 In this case, one would hope to encounter cases of similarly oriented compendiums or medico-ritual collections dealing with childbirth and women’s health compiled within Shingon temples, including Tōji 東寺, Kajūji 勧修寺, and later Ninnaji 仁和寺, or on Mt. Kōya (present-day Wakayama Prefecture). However, at present, perhaps due to historical reasons or to Ono and Hirosawa Shingon temples’ internal traditions of recording (or not) their own secret transmissions, any complete thematic collections originating within the Shingon milieu that would be comparable to the alleged date, the overall character, and contents of Gushi nintai hōshū, have not yet been found.40

Who Could be the Possible Patrons? Surveying the political situation at court between the 850s and 930s, it is plausible that the Gushi nintai hōshū was written in the aftermath of a specific set of circumstances that prompted its appearance. The 850s were a time when Japan’s imperial court experienced a dynastic crisis and was gripped by an intensifying rivalry between several political factions, protecting the interests of at least two imperial princes: Koretaka 惟喬親王 (844–897), the first-born son of Emperor Montoku, and his younger half-brother Korehito 惟仁親王 (850–887). Although Koretaka was already a young child, in 850, Montoku’s consort Akirakeiko (also read Meishi 明子, 829–900; later known as Somedono no kisaki 染殿后), gave birth to Korehito; this was the year when Montoku himself officially ascended the throne. Akirakeiko’s father, the powerful courtier Fujiwara no Yoshifusa 藤原良房 (804–872), managed to arrange for Montoku’s

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To this end, see Abe, The Weaving of Mantra; and Chen Jinhua, Crossfire. As mentioned previously, there are indications that medico-ritual writings were compiled within the medieval Shingon scholastic milieu, either at Jison’in 慈尊院, a small temple at the foot of Mt. Kōya, which was dedicated to Kūkai’s 空海 (774–835) mother, or at another temple of the same name, a sub-temple of Kajūji in Kyoto. The currently available manuscripts, including Kanazawa Bunko’s copy of Sanpishō, which was produced at Jison’in, often mention elite Shingon temples, such as Tōji. See again Andreeva, “Explaining Conception to Women.” Short ritual formulas for protecting pregnant women were known in the Shingon milieu from esoteric scriptures brought from Tang China. I partially investigate this topic in relation to the rituals of “empowering the pregnancy sash” (ninsha no obi no kaji 妊者帯加持) in Andreeva, “Empowering the Pregnancy Sash in Medieval Japan” (forthcoming).

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first son to be moved out of the way and for his own grandson Korehito to be nominated the crown prince and rightful successor to Montoku. From the years 857 to 859, Yoshifusa became the first minister of state (daijō daijin 太政大臣; Chancellor of the Realm) and then the regent (sesshō 摂政) to Korehito, who in 858 ascended the throne as Emperor Seiwa, after Montoku’s abdication. Yoshifusa thus became the first of the whole Fujiwara family to climb such heights, while his grandson was the first of Japan’s ruling emperors to ascend the throne as a nine-year old child. The age of the Fujiwara regents and their grandsons, the infant emperors, was thus about to begin. Therefore, the political advantages of the new ruling system called for the improved strategies of assuring the timely (or rather, well-timed) and successful birth of a male royal offspring and for assuring the reproductive health of the Fujiwara daughters who could or did become imperial consorts. This may have initiated a special attention toward the skills of Buddhist monks who had knowledge of ritual technologies for stimulating conception and ensuring safe pregnancy and birth. The Buddhist scriptures, particularly of esoteric kind brought to Japan from Tang China in the previous decades, contained an impressive number of scattered references to such rites, incantations, talismans, and apotropaic actions. It would then be up to the Japanese Buddhist scholars to accumulate, sort, edit, and collate such valuable information into a use-ready compendium. In this light, the suggestion that the monk Shinga 真雅 (801–879), the younger brother of the Shingon school founder Kūkai 空海 (774–835), may have performed rituals for the safe labor of Yoshifusa’s daughter Akirakeiko in 850 appears as highly interesting. If that indeed happened, it is not yet clear which ritual protocol he had followed and how exactly it was designed; however, Shinga’s knowledge of the esoteric Nyoirin Kannon ritual (Nyoirin Kannon hō 如意輪観音法) could offer at least one clue.41 But it seems that the Tendai clerics were also trying to enter this particular ritual ground that created special relations between the imperial court and esoteric ritual knowledge holders. As noted earlier by Paul Groner, eighteen years later, in 868 it was Annen’s very own preceptor and semi-patron monk Henjō, who was asked to perform esoteric rites for Emperor Seiwa’s wife, Fujiwara no Takako 藤原高子 (842–910). One particular goal of those rituals was to ensure that the unborn child was

41

According to the thirty-fifth chapter of Sandai jitsuroku 三代実録 (901) and the second chapter of Ōe no Masafusa’s 大江匡房 (1041–1111) collection of tales Gōdanshō 江談抄 (ca. 1104–1116), Shinga served as Korehito’s protector-monk (gojisō 御持僧) during his birth and long after. Mikkyō daijiten, p. 1244.

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definitely a boy.42 This may have created special expertise, circumstances, and impetus for the subsequent compilation of the Gushi nintai hōshū and inclusion of the rites “to convert female [fetus] into male” (tennyo seinan no hō) into its last chapter. Annen, who must have kept a close relationship with Henjō after his esoteric ordination in 884 and before Henjō’s death in 889, would have been an ideal figure to have initiated or contributed to such a compilation. Moreover, a few decades later in 903, the Tendai monk Sōō 相応 (831–918), the founder of Mudōji, was said to lead prayers and rituals for the safe labor of Emperor Daigo’s 醍醐天皇 (884–930, r. 897–930) pregnant consort when she had a complicated childbirth.43 Thus, one could say that, by the early tenth century, Tendai clerics had certainly succeeded in performing esoteric rituals for safe pregnancy and childbirth on a par with those of their Shingon rivals. Within that context, the Gushi nintai hōshū—attributed to Annen and transmitted within the Tendai scholarly milieu—therefore must have played a significant role in such a historic rapprochement of the Tendai temples, the Fujiwara clan, and Japan’s imperial family. The consort, whose difficult labor was overseen by the Mudōji founder Sōō was Fujiwara no Onshi (also read Fujiwara no Yasuko 藤原穏子, 885–954), the daughter of regent (kanpaku 関白) Fujiwara no Mototsune 藤原基経 (836–891) and the sister of Tokihira 時平 (871–909). Mototsune, himself an adopted son of the aforementioned Fujiwara no Yoshifusa (who was actually his uncle), was granted the titles of daijō daijin and the head minister of the Department of State (daijōkan 太政官) in 880 and was the first to receive the new title of kanpaku in 884. One could say that, following in the steps of his politically ambitious uncle, Mototsune had invented this new elite position in order to consolidate his power as the actual governor of Japan, when the ruling Emperor Uda 宇多 (867–931, r. 887–897) was still fifteen years old. Significantly for this essay’s argument and the history of Gushi nintai hōshū, Mototsune appeared to have personally known Annen; a record of their contact in 889 has become the last official account of Annen’s existence.44 If the Gushi nintai hōshū indeed was compiled during the latter half of the ninth century, the circumstances surrounding its creation could not have been more pressing and urgent. Its special contents, which had been painstakingly sought out from theological and scholarly Buddhist literature and brought

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Groner, “Annen, Tankei, Henjō, and Monastic Discipline in the Tendai School,” p. 142. See again Rhodes, “The Kaihōgyō Practice of Mt. Hiei,” p. 189, citing Hiramatsu, Kaihōgyō no shisōteki haikei, pp. 18–19. Groner, “Annen, Tankei, Henjō, and Monastic Discipline in the Tendai School,” pp. 150–151.

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together by a diligent scholar-monk, would have been in high demand, both within the highest ranks of the Tendai clergy and among elite royal and aristocratic patrons. In 897, Emperor Uda abdicated in favour of his own son, Prince Atsuhito 敦仁親王 (Emperor Daigo); in 900, he took the tonsure to spend the rest of his years at Ninnaji, a Buddhist temple that was founded at Uda’s own request to be his monastic abode. With Uda’s abdication and subsequent retirement from worldly matters, all the attention and political intrigues of the court must have been focused on his young successor, the adolescent Emperor Daigo, who in 897 would have been only thirteen years old. Mototsune’s daughter Onshi was only twelve years old when Prince Atsuhito ascended the throne and became the ruling emperor. Four years later in 901, after a series of cunning moves by her brother Tokihira, she emerged as an imperial consort to the seventeen-year old ruler. This was a tumultuous year in Japanese history. Motivated by political rivalry, Tokihira brought up charges against the courtier, poet, and statesman Sugawara no Michizane 菅原道真 (845–903), who had long served both emperors Uda and Daigo. Deemed a threat to the rising political power of the Fujiwara, Michizane was exiled to Daizaifu in 901, where he died two years later. In the following decades, a series of calamities and epidemics that ensued prompted the court to seek measures for posthumously appeasing the violent spirit of Michizane: this threatening situation was finally resolved in the mid-tenth century, when Michizane’s spirit was installed as a chief divinity of the Kitano Shrine 北野天満宮, Kitano Tenjin 北野天神.45 In 903, Onshi gave birth to her first child, Prince Yasuakira 保明親王 (903– 923), who was subsequently nominated to follow Emperor Daigo in the line of royal succession. However, due to his father Daigo’s unusually long rule, Yasuakira was unable to ascend the throne. Onshi later succeeded in “giving birth,” or perhaps (more likely) becoming an adoptive mother to two further crown princes, the future emperors Suzaku 朱雀天皇 (923–952, r. 930–946) and Murakami 村上天皇 (926–967, r. 946–967), at the age of thirty-eight and forty-one respectively. Looking at this set of circumstances from a modern perspective, one could imagine the kind of pressure that the adult Onshi may have experienced from her surroundings, or perhaps from certain political considerations of her own and her family that were simmering in the background. To complicate matters further, she was not Emperor Daigo’s only spouse. During his long reign, the emperor had been linked to many consorts and concubines,

45

Borgen, Sugawara no Michizane and the Early Heian Court.

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as he fathered thirty-six sons and daughters.46 It is possible that the maternal grandfathers of these children could also be involved in indirectly encouraging or directly sponsoring the Tendai scholars (if not Annen personally) to produce a medico-ritual handbook focusing on women’s health. The very fact that Gushi nintai hōshū had survived throughout centuries as a copied manuscript attests to the importance of its contents. It suggests that people within the Buddhist milieu had cautiously invested time and resources in the continuous but strictly regulated replication and preservation of this work, either penned by Annen or those close to him, precisely due to the focused demand for this particular type of medico-religious knowledge by different factions of the imperial court. Thus, it is likely that the compilation of the Gushi nintai hōshū was requested by proxies acting on behalf of someone like Fujiwara no Yoshifusa, Mototsune, or Tokihira, or another interested party who was vying for the attention of the ruling emperor during the late ninth to early tenth centuries. Although more precise details are still needed, the span between the last decades of the ninth century and early decades of the tenth, that is, between the 850s and 930s, may have been the period when Gushi nintai hōshū was first drafted, edited, revised, and completed. It is during these decades that one may search for clues as to who the possible patrons and beneficiaries of Annen’s, or his similarly accomplished colleagues’, focused effort could have been. From this point on, it may be surmised that the emergence of esoteric rituals for conception and safe childbirth for imperial consorts came to be viewed by the court as particularly desirable, and it is not surprising that such knowledge would be highly sought after by the imperial court and, particularly, by the consort’s maternal relatives, that is, the Fujiwara.

Quelling Infertility in Heian Japan Unless other ninth- to tenth-century sources from the esoteric temple milieu provide new details, it appears that Tendai scholar-monks (including Annen) were the first to systematically introduce Buddhist knowledge regarding fertility, conception, gestation, and childbirth to the medico-ritual discourse on

46

Given the scarce diet of Heian aristocrats and the imperial house, namely, the lack of protein (since meat was mostly considered taboo and thus its intake was limited), it has long been doubted whether the young imperial princes and rulers could be so prolific. In principle, given the political pressures at court, the issue of fertility of both noble men and women must have remained of utmost importance.

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women’s health that was developing in Heian Japan. If so, such innovation came at least several decades (if not a hundred of years) before Japan’s earliest medical collection, the Ishinpō, was compiled by the court physician Tanba no Yasuyori and presented to the emperor in 984.47 If we assume that Annen, or one of his associate or successors, researched and compiled Gushi nintai hōshū for the benefit of elite noble women such as Fujiwara no Onshi, the content of the collection’s opening chapter assumes a very special significance.48 As mentioned before, this first chapter, entitled “Rituals for Desiring Male and Female [Children],” is dedicated to an extremely important topic: overcoming female infertility. It consists of thirteen excerpts procured from Chinese translations of Buddhist sutras and ritual manuals that had arrived in Japan in the previous decades. If we assume that Annen or his successor were able to study relatively new esoteric scriptures and transmissions recently imported by other Tendai monks from Tang China, the vital medico-religious information included in his Gushi nintai hōshū must have been put together as the latest and most effective means to provide solutions to the extremely unpleasant and stressful problems which could pose a danger to the imperial consort and by extension, to the political fortunes of her family. How could such problems be overcome? Quoting Yijing’s Chinese translation of the ninth chapter of Mañjuśrī mūlakalpa, one of the earliest extant Indian esoteric scriptures, Gushi nintai hōshū provides the following advice: The “One-Syllable Spell Inside the Womb”49 among the spells of Bodhisattva Mañjuśrī [Ch. Wenshu, Jp. Monju 文殊 or Manjushiri bosatsu 曼 47

48

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As mentioned previously, for an annotated English translation of the selected volumes, see Hsia, Geertsma, and Veith, The Essentials of Medicine in Ancient China and Japan; for the modern Japanese edition, see Maki, Ishinpō. For recent research in English, see note 7 in this essay. Usually, premodern Buddhist (and other) works were compiled beginning with the most important subject. If that indeed is the case, Annen’s work may have been written precisely with the intention to provide all pertinent information on how to cure infertility. The following quotation is a passage from a partial Chinese translation of Mañjuśrī mūlakalpa, one of the earliest extant Indian esoteric scriptures, focusing on a deity of transcendental wisdom Mañjuśrī (Ch. Wenshu, Jp. Monju 文殊 or Manjushiri bosatsu 曼殊 室利菩薩). Mañjuśrī was also considered to be a divine Buddha-mother, hence its association with conception. Abbreviated here as [Manjushiri] zōchū ichiji no ju 蔵中一字 咒 (T 1182), the ninth chapter of Mañjuśrī mūlakalpa (full title, Jp. Manjushiri bosatsu ju zōchū ichiji juō kyō 曼殊師利菩薩呪蔵中一字呪王経, “Sutra of the One Syllable King of Spells, from Bodhisattva Mañjuśrī’s Spell Store,” T 1182) was translated by the Chinese monk Yijing, one of the prominent translators of esoteric texts. Although another transla-

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殊室利菩薩] says: “If there is a virgin [Ch. shinu, Jp. sekijo or umazume 石女, “barren woman”]50 who has not given birth, the method to seek a

male or female [child], is [the following]. In response, take a root of the aśvagandhamūla plant51 [asetsu kenda no ne 阿説健陀根] and ghee [so 酥; (sic. 蘇)].52 Simmer and crush them into pulp [ jukusen shi, kore wo utte, sui ni rei su 熟煎擣之令碎]. Add milk of a yellow ox [Ch. huangniu, Jp. ameuji, ōgyū, or kōgyū 黄牛]53 and proclaim the incantation twentyfive times. Wait until the maiden’s body is pure, and order her to drink this medicine. Wives will abhor transgressions with other men; husbands will abhor transgressions with other women. Even those who have not [conceived] for a long time, will become pregnant [haramu 娠].”54 Several crucial details are notable in the aforementioned prescription against female infertility. Not only does this passage quote an important Indian Bud-

50

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tion of this chapter by Maṇicinta (which had almost no segments referring to Āyurvedic treatments; Ōtsuka, “Mañjuśrīmūlakalpa daikyū shō no seiritsu”) does exist, the currently quoted passage derives from Yijing’s version (T 1182 20:0781c05–15). The whole passage subsequently reappeared in the fourteenth-century Sanshō ruijūshō, which incorporated the ninth-century Gushi nintai hōshū almost in its entirety. See Andreeva, “Explaining Conception to Women.” In the modern Chinese context, this compound means “virgin.” The Matthews ChineseEnglish dictionary gives a meaning of “barren.” In Japanese, this compound corresponds to “barren, infertile woman; one who cannot bear children.” This must be an Indian plant used in the Āurvedic medicine. Gushi nintai hōshū copies from Chinese translations of the Buddhist scriptures, thus “embedding” the Indian plants into the context of ninth-century Japan. For the Sanskrit term and the discussion of the Mañjuśrī mūlakalpa’s ninth chapter, including the links between Āyurvedic knowledge and esoteric practices in seventh-century India, see Ōtsuka, “Mañjuśrīmūlakalpa daikyū shō no seiritsu.” In the modern edition of Gushi nintai hōshū this character actually appears as “perilla mint” (so 蘇), a plant group which includes the so-called “purple mint” (shiso 紫蘇), wellknown in Japan and used often in Japanese cuisine. However, in the Chinese translations of Buddhist sutras, including the aforementioned Mañjuśrī mūlakalpa, the key binding ingredient of plant-based medicine is most certainly “ghee” (a clarified butter, or varieties of milk cheese curd). At this point, it is not possible to state with certainty when such a significant substitution of characters occurred. A kind of a light brown or yellow-colored ox which is bred in Myanmar, Thailand, China, Taiwan, and Japan, for miscellaneous farming and transportation tasks. This type of “yellow ox” was often designated for use in the court rituals, for example, the yin-yang ritual explored in Karen Gerhart’s contribution to the present volume. Gushi nintai hōshū, p. 191.

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dhist source with its specific materia medica prescription formula for creating a potent concoction and instructions on how it should be administered to women of child-bearing age, but it also specifies the effects of these medicoreligious actions on the reproductive processes, both in biological and social terms. The method is said to induce both fertility and fidelity, thus benefiting conjugal relations. Additionally, the excerpts from the ninth chapter of the Mañjuśrī mūlakalpa, translated by Yijing, play an important role in the first chapter of the Gushi nintai hōshū because they contain recipes for Āyurvedic plant-based medicines thought to aid conception that were previously unknown in Japan. The prescriptions introduced in this text featured certain Indian plants, such as the socalled “aśvagandhamūla root”55 that had no known substitutes in Heian Japan, as well as more readily recognized substances, such as ghee or curd (so 酥, often written as 蘇), “milk of a yellow ox,” “solid honey” (sekimitsu 石蜜), or “feathers from a peacock’s tail” (kujaku no o 孔雀尾). Containing specific incantations and spells, the same quotation from Yijing’s translation of Mañjuśrī mūlakalpa also proposed basic directions for diagnosing the causes of infertility in women. Such diagnostics were presented as follows: Some women [have their] threads cut and have no children. [Some are] past thirty-five years or those of old age [many years]. Some detest prayers. Some have various diseases as a cause. Some have other afflictions. Some consume poisonous medicines.56 [They] meet evil karmic bonds and therefore have no offspring.57 As mentioned before in this essay’s introduction, it merits yet another reminder that if Gushi nintai hōshū was indeed compiled during the late ninth century, these formulas and diagnostics would have been presented by Buddhist scholar-monks for use by Japanese aristocracy almost a hundred years before

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The Sanskrit transliteration is according to Ōtsuka, “Mañjuśrīmūlakalpa daikyū shō no seiritsu,” p. 104. Elsewhere in the Chinese translation of T 1182, quoted in the third chapter of Gushi nintai hōshū on birth complications, a similar root plant (Sk. āṭaruṣakamūla, Jp. atarushi no ne 阿吒留灑根), was equated to the root of the Chinese jujube tree (goshitsu no ne 牛膝根), thus assuring a more useful link to the materia medica available in Heian Japan. Gushi nintai hōshū, p. 194. This phrase may be a subtle Buddhist critique of the Daoist practice of ingesting certain elixirs and concoctions which was known in Chinese medicine. Gushi nintai hōshū, p. 191.

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Tanba no Yasuyori’s 984 Ishinpō;58 this Buddhist knowledge contained formulas and diagnostics that derived from both the Āyurvedic and esoteric ritual healing practices that were known in seventh-century India and became incorporated into selected Chinese translations of early Indian esoteric scriptures, such as Mañjuśrī mūlakalpa.59 These prescriptions, despite the lack of a precise name for their addressee, almost perfectly fit the situation in which the imperial consort Fujiwara no Onshi may have found herself during her late thirties, years after the birth of her first male child in 903.60 With her royal spouse courting many other women at the same time, could she have wondered what rituals she might sponsor to prevent him from dallying with other court ladies? Could a dedicated Buddhist scholar-monk, versed in the latest esoteric ritual manuals from Tang China, provide a cure for such maladies? In fact, Gushi nintai hōshū gave the most detailed advice on what a woman in this condition should do. If elite Fujiwara women were indeed beneficiaries of this work, this collection may offer a glimpse into the intense and repetitive ritual activities that daughters of the Fujiwara clan and imperial consorts, along with their families, may have sponsored or even potentially been involved in when trying to assure their own readiness to give birth to an imperial heir. If a wife desires male or female [offspring], intone this spell one million times.61 Burn Chinese eaglewood incense [Ch. chen xiang 沈水, Jp. jinsuikō 沈水香] as an offering [kuyō 供養]. Starting from the first day of the twelfth month and until the fifteenth day, make offerings inside the practice hall and provide alms [sai 齋; “pure meals”] for thirty-seven monks. 58

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Ishinpō identified infertility causes for both genders and offered prescriptive formulas for their treatment that do not overlap with the contents of Gushi nintai hōshū, which focuses solely on female infertility. Although one of the composite drugs for women contained jujube, an ingredient mentioned in the Buddhist prescriptions for women’s infertility described above, overall the Ishinpō’s formulas are more complex, and its segments on infertility were sourced mostly from Sui- and Tang-Chinese medical treatises and different texts produced by or attributed to the Buddhist figures. Maki, Ishinpō, vol. 24, pp. 1–29 (especially p. 14). This topic requires a separate treatment and shall not be discussed further here. Ōtsuka, “Mañjuśrīmūlakalpa daikyū shō no seiritsu,” pp. 108–109. If her own conditions could not allow her to have more children, one could argue that the forty-something Onshi must have been an adoptive mother to the two infants from younger surrogate mothers, and thus able to preserve the dignity of the Fujiwara family at court. The text says “one hundred of ten thousand times.”

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This woman should burn incense and recite the spell three times each day. Having made a wish in her mind, [she should then] ask for a male or female [offspring]. On the eve of the fifteenth day, on the [night] hour of the Boar,62 take sesame oil [sic: Ch. niao youma 鳥油麻; probably a mistake for niao mayou 烏麻油] and add ghee [sic: so 蘇, perilla mint].63 Intone the spell one time and burn one round [of the mixture]. Do it a full one hundred times. That night, during the hour of Ox,64 [you will] approximately reach the limit. A bodhisattva [will manifest itself] in some form and [you] will know [that is to say, a bodhisattva will reveal a sign]. If this wife invokes her wish in her mind, it will be granted promptly. Constantly burn incense in front of the Buddha image and recite this spell. [All] will be achieved.65 These particular prescriptions are strictly of a ritual nature. The aforementioned passage does not make it entirely clear who is to perform the spell chanting in each particular case: the Buddhist monks performing rituals on behalf of the woman, the woman herself, or both—perhaps at separate locations, at home and at the temple. If it is a woman wishing to conceive a child, then she should be able to count her own chanting of mantras endlessly; she

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From 9:00 p.m. to 11:00 p.m. Assuming both Gushi nintai hōshū and the original sutra text mean “sesame oil” in the first clause, the original sutra line (T 956.328c18–19) reads: “take sesame oil and mix it with ghee” (tori goma wo totte, so wo motte, kore wo wa su 取烏油麻以酥和之), whereas the Gushi nintai hōshū’s modern Nihon daizōkyō edition says: “take sesame oil and mix it with perilla [mint] (tori no goma wo totte, so wo motte, kore wo wa su 取烏油麻以蘇和之)”. This is either a persistent mistake that manifested itself only in the modern edition, or an intentional substitution of certain Indian ingredients (ghee) frequently used in Āyurvedic medicine with East Asian herbs (shiso) that grew in premodern times. From 2:00 a.m. to 4:00 a.m. Gushi nintai hōshū, pp. 191–192. This segment from the first chapter cites the so-called “Great Dhārāṇī Sutra” (Dai darani kyō 大陀羅尼経). From this brief title, it is unclear which sutra exactly is cited, as there are several with similar titles. The aforementioned spell occurs in the “Sutra of Great Dhārāṇī, the One-Syllable Heart Spell for the Last Age of the Dharma” (T 956), translated by Maṇicinta; the above translation of Gushi nintai hōshū largely follows the original sutra passage from T 956.0318c14–22, with insignificant alterations. The fourteenth-century Sanshō ruijūshō which, as noted before, had incorporated the Gushi nintai hōshū almost in its entirety, gives another sutra’s title for this particular quotation, the Zuikyū darani kyō 随求陀羅尼経. That is likely to be Fuhen kōmyō seijō shijō nyoi hōin shin munō shō daimyōō daizuikyū darani kyō 普遍光明清淨熾盛如意寶 印心無能勝大明王大隨求陀羅尼経 (T 1153), translated by Amoghavajra.

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should possess enough mental strength and concentration to be able to conjure up divine images of Buddhist deities in her own mind; and she should be able to persevere with her worship. On the material side, she should be wealthy enough to provide meals for thirty-seven monastics and be able to afford buying expensive incense and other, perhaps, less expensive items. It may be her family, especially her father and male relatives, who commissioned such rites on their daughter and sibling’s behalf.66 These instructions also imply that the woman involved in such goal-oriented ritual activities should also be able to receive guidance from a specially trained Buddhist master; otherwise how would she know the exact contents of spells and procedures for performing the appropriate rituals? Given the material provisions and necessary commitments involved, this anonymous piece of advice thus implies that its possible user was a wealthy woman of noble descent. Other segments of Gushi nintai hōshū (for example, the story of the “Merciful King” included in the first chapter) certainly support this proposition.67 Presenting the many quotations from the authoritative Buddhist scriptures that offer solutions, relief, and consolation to pregnant noble women and their families, Gushi nintai hōshū thus promises that if these prescriptions and new-for-Japan kinds of worship are followed successfully, the pregnant women “will always give birth to a male [child] … [their] wombs [taizō 胎蔵] and the conceived embryos will be tranquil, their days and months of pregnancy will be filled with content, their childbirth will be easy … and the Great Brahma of India will grant [them] wisdom.”68

Introducing the Demon Mother But what deity or bodhisattva was to be invoked in the Buddhist rituals to quell infertility of noble women that the first chapter of Gushi nintai hōshū has described above? One of the most significant innovations that made an impact on later Japanese Buddhist practices and that can be traced to this collection is a presentation of the cultic figure of Kariteimo (fig. 2.1). A transcultural deity previously known in Gandhara and Nepal, Kariteimo was an East Asian Bud66

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A preliminary study of Japanese medieval court records, such as Kōgū osan tōjitsu shidai (Andreeva, “Childbirth in Early Medieval Japan”), Osan oinori mokuroku, and Osan buruiki, suggests that the male relatives of imperial consorts were actively involved in sponsoring the esoteric Buddhist rituals for safe pregnancy and childbirth. See note 84 below. Gushi nintai hōshū, p. 192.

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dhist reformulation of the Hindu divinity Hārītī. In China and Japan, this figure also became known under the name of Kishimo (lit. the “Demon Child’s Mother”). In Buddhist scriptures, such as the Vinaya, Hārītī was described as a demonic goddess who had five hundred children, and who, in order to feed them, abducted the children of others. In order to teach Hārītī about the nature of the pain that she was causing to other parents, Buddha Śākyamuni hid one of her own offspring under a begging bowl. Upon realizing what a horrible thing she had done, Hārītī converted to Buddhism and became a protector of Buddhist teachings.69 In the Gushi nintai hōshū, this fierce deity appears to be of paramount importance to pregnant women. This collection extolls her power and efficaciousness in regards to the distressing conditions of female infertility which could be caused by the imbalance of foundational elements, the invasion of demons, a bad karmic debt, old age, or a woman’s own physical handicaps. It also provides the most detailed instructions on how to produce a ritual image of Hārītī and how to best worship her. The “Mantra of Hārītī” [Kariteimo shingon 訶利帝母真言, T 1261]70 says: “If a woman cannot have a male or female [child], or what is in her womb [taichū 胎中, “the fetus”] falls [daraku 墮落, “spontaneously aborts”], [the pregnancy is] incomplete and interrupted [Ch. queduan, Jp. ketsudan 缺 断], and she cannot harvest [what is due], all adheres to the four elements [shidai 四大] [in her body]71 that cannot align in harmony. Or, [it is due 69

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See, for example, the seventh chapter of the “Vinaya, Miscellaneous Things” (Konpon setsu issaiu binaya zatsuji 根本説一切有毘那耶雑事, esp. T 1451.361c23–363b08). According to the Digital Dictionary of Buddhism, this story also appears in a short scripture entitled “Secret Dhāraṇī Rite of the Immovable Messenger” (Ch. Budong shizhe tuoluoni mimi fa 不動使者陀羅尼秘密法, T 1202). Charles Muller et al., Digital Dictionary of Buddhism, http://www.buddhism‑dict.net/, entry on Kishimojin 鬼子母神, by Dan Lusthaus, accessed September 12, 2017. Kariteimo shingon kyō 訶利帝母眞言経 (Sutra of Hārītī’s Mantras, T 1261), translated by the Indian monk Amoghavajra. This scripture is mentioned in the Kaiyuan catalogue of Buddhist scriptures brought to China, the Jōgan catalogue (976–978) of scriptures brought to Japan, and in the already mentioned 1154 Tendai compendium Gyōrinshō (T 2409) under the title of Kariteimo shingon hō 訶梨帝母真言法 (Rite of Hārītī’s mantras). It was one of the sources for the iconography of this deity in Japan and was also included in the Shingon compendium of ritual imagery, Kakuzenshō 覚禅鈔 (ca. 1198), and the Tendai collection, Asabashō. This topic will be discussed further shortly. The four elements in the Indian Āyurvedic medicine, that is earth, water, fire, wind, that make up the human body.

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figure 2.1 Kariteimo Source: Kakuzenshō, ca. 1198, TZ vol. 6, no. 350, p. 464

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to] the demons [kijin 鬼神] [who conjure] many obstacles and difficulties [shōnan 鄣難, 障難]. Or, this is a retribution [for] a karmic bond [innen 因縁], [as a result of which she is] not suited [to have] male or female [children]. In response, take white silk [silk gauze or cotton, Ch. die, Jp. jō 氎], [the size of] one elbow [Ch. yizhou, Jp. icchū 一肘], or one “plucking hand” [Ch. yi zhaishou, Jp. icchakushu, tsumamite 一搩手, “distance between the big and middle fingers of one hand”], or five sun long.72 Follow [your] mind [on whether it should be] large or small. Draw [Ch. hua, Jp. ga 畫] Hārītī [Kariteimo]. Make [her] a heavenly maiden [tennyo 天女] of a pure golden color. Her body is depicted in a celestial robe [ten’e 天衣], and her headdress is [made of] garlands. She sits upright on a pedestal, with her both legs down. Near her legs, draw two children. They stand upright on both sides of her pedestal. On the top of her each knee sits a child. She cradles another child in her left palm. In her right hand, she holds an auspicious fruit [Ch. jixianghua 吉祥菓, Jp. kichijōka, “fruit of good fortune”].73 The painter [Ch. huashi, Jp. gashi 畫師] [must] accordingly receive the eight [pure] precepts [hakkai 八戒].74 Do not use leather glue [Ch. pijiao, Jp. hikō or nikawa 皮膠]75 [to mix] ornamental colors. [When] the portrait is ready, clean and tidy the room. Scrape and wipe in a strict order. Using the incense, create [draw] a one-direction [flat] altar [hōdan wo tsukuru 作方壇], and paint [it]. Place the image on the altar. Take various flowers and scatter them on top of the altar. Prepare sweet and delicate food and drink, milk gruel [Ch. rumi, Jp. nyūbi 乳糜], or fermented millet [rakuhan 酪飯], as well as many fruits and purified scented water [aka kōsui 閼伽香水]. Burn the Chinese eaglewood incense and make an offering [to the deity]. The deity’s face should face the west. Hold [the image] and recite incantations [while] facing the east. Facing the deity, intone its name three times each day. Each time recite [incantations] one thousand times. Start on the fifth day of the new moon. First, recite [incantations] one hundred thousand times [ jūman 十萬]. Afterwards, offer the recitations [while] facing the deity. Whatever [you] ask, all will be perfectly fulfilled. Also, [there is] a method [ritual]. If a woman wishes to beget a male or female [child], after menstruation [gekkei 月経], [she should] take a 72 73 74 75

Five sun (gosun 五寸) is around 15 cm. Usually, Kariteimo is depicted holding a pomegranate (zakuro 柘榴). The eight pure precepts (hachisaikai 八斎戒) for laypersons. Gelatinous glue made of animal skins and bones, of chestnut brown or dark brown color.

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bath [sōyoku 澡浴]. Take the milk of a yellow ox, where the mother and the calf are of the same color. Pour one measure [Ch. yisheng, Jp. isshō 一升]76 into a silver vessel [ginki 銀器] and stir this milk with the “noname” finger of the right hand. Recite the mantra [shingon 真言; of the deity Kariteimo] and empower [the mixture] [kaji 加持] one thousand eighty times. Afterwards, take a dose [of milk]. Within seven days, [you will] conceive [lit., “obtain an embryo”].”77 This long passage gives the most concrete information on the worship of Hārītī that ought to be commissioned and conducted by women who wish to conceive a child that we have for the case of Heian Japan. Although these instructions are partially aimed at the Buddhist priest making the ritual offerings and reciting numerous incantations or the artisan preparing the Hārītī image, the rest of the advice is clearly aimed at noble women who wish to worship this deity in the privacy of their own homes and thus ensure their own fertility. Similar to the already discussed Āyurvedic prescriptions against female infertility from the ninth chapter of Mañjuśrī mūlakalpa, this long passage in the Gushi nintai hōshū offers additional details of possible causes for such a predicament. It was obviously deemed important that women knew what exactly could cause the undesirable condition of infertility as well as spontaneous abortions: elemental imbalances (according to the Indic views of the body), demons, or unfortunate karmic bonds and pre-existing conditions. Another striking addition to the “women-only” knowledge is Gushi nintai hōshū’s advice on how to maintain monthly hygiene in the aftermath of menstruation, how to calculate one’s own peak of fertility (within seven days of the last period), and how to ritually manipulate it. This intimate knowledge, of course, was not invented by celibate male Buddhist monks; it was recorded within Indian Buddhist scriptures from the words of other, more “experienced women” (perhaps, older females who had already experienced pregnancy and labor) and reincorporated by male Buddhist scholars and translators in India, China, and eventually Japan into medico-religious recipes for women.78 As a result of these long-term processes of cultural translation and transmission across distant lands, some of these recipes were included into the Gushi nintai hōshū and served noble women in Heian and Kamakura Japan. 76 77 78

A unit of capacity equivalent to one liter. Gushi nintai hōshū, p. 193; the original sutra quote derives from Amoghavajra’s translation of Kariteimo shingon kyō, T 1261.289c03–289c22. On the “experienced women” and narratives of conception, gestation, and labor in Sanskrit Āyurvedic sources, see Selby, “Narratives of Conception, Gestation, and Labour.”

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These ritual and medico-religious prescriptions against infertility required a commissioning of a hand-drawn image of a golden Kariteimo accompanied by five children, to which the numerous incantations and offerings ought to be made. Although the Gushi nintai hōshū describes such an image in minute detail, based on instructions found in the Chinese sutra translation, it is not certain whether Japanese images of Kariteimo from the late ninth- or tenth century that could be linked to the compilation of the Gushi nintai hōshū have survived. The aforementioned Gyōrinshō, the ritual compendium penned by the Tendai monk Jōnen, incorporates quotes and references to the Gushi nintai hōshū, linking its compilation to the ninth-century Tendai scholar Annen. However, it does not contain any images and mentions only a drawing of Kariteimo surrounded by seven children, without any further iconographic detail.79 Instead, it is an iconographic treatise from another corner of the esoteric temple milieu, the Kakuzenshō 覚禅鈔, compiled in 1198 by the Shingon scholar-monk Kakuzen, which has preserved an image of Kariteimo used in the rituals of the Ono lineage of Shingon for their elite clients (kuge no oinori 公家 御祈) that fits most closely with both the Gushi nintai hōshū’s and the original sutra’s description of this deity (see fig. 2.1).80 This image is described in the Kakuzenshō as that of a heavenly deity of golden color, dressed in robes and wearing a headdress of garlands; sitting on a pedestal with her right leg hanging down;81 two children stand on the sides of her pedestal, another two sit on her lap, and one more child is cradled in her right arm; in the left arm, Kariteimo holds the “auspicious fruit.” And although the Kakuzenshō states that some of the information on the iconographic and ritual description of 79

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Gyōrinshō by Jōnen (ca. 1154, T 2409.9b22). Other colored images and wooden sculptures survive in Japanese Shingon and Tendai temples, such as Daigoji 醍醐寺 and Miidera 三井寺, but those look different in comparison to the abovementioned Gushi nintai hōshū description, featuring the different number of children held by and surrounding Kariteimo: one or two. Other iconographic descriptions, for example, included in the later Tendai ritual and iconographic compendiums, such as Asabashō (ca. 1278) and Keiranshūyōshū 渓嵐拾葉集 (ca. 1348, T 2410.645a8–28), bear some similarities to Gushi nintai hōshū, but include seven or nine children and often, two female attendants. Depending on the source, the color of Kariteimo also varies: from black/blue, to white and crimson, to gold. The Gushi nintai hōshū description above, perhaps, the earliest of its kind, clearly states that it should be a deity of golden color with five children. Kakuzenshō, TZ, vol. 5, entry on Kariteimo, pp. 458–472; for the description of Kariteimo with five children, see p. 461; for image no. 350, see p. 464. This is the only deviation from the original sutra and the Gushi nintai hōshū, in both of which Kariteimo is described as hanging down both legs from the pedestal. See the English translation quoted above.

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Kariteimo was derived from oral transmissions (kuden 口伝) by the Shingon founder Kūkai,82 elsewhere it explicitly refers to the iconographic descriptions of the Kariteimo image by Annen.83 The abundance of transmissions and iconographic sources implies the historic multiplicity and diversity of the Kariteimo cult in Heian and Kamakura Japan, and yet, this reference to Annen in a twelfth-century iconographic compendium produced within the Shingon school serves as another important reminder of his links to the compilation of the Gushi nintai hōshū and the earliest example of the Kariteimo cult and iconography introduced to noble women in Heian Japan. It is notable that in the Gushi nintai hōshū, Kariteimo is described as a female figure of golden color. This detail corresponds with a mention in the same collection of an Indian legend about a royal mother with golden breasts full of milk, ready to nurture kingly offspring.84 Evidently, the personalized worship of the formerly demonic divinity perceived in Heian Japan as a decisive force guarding female physical health and promising successful conception of “embryo princes” was supposed to take place in the private settings of noblewomen’s quarters. As mentioned before, such ritual appeals to Kariteimo would have been accompanied by offerings of “sweet and delicate food, many fruits, perfumed water, incense, and flowers.” It was a worship of a fierce, but fair and protective, divine womanly figure by other women who relied on the power of this deity to grant a new life and to resolve many potentially disruptive women’s health issues. Moreover, esoteric rituals invoking Kariteimo and conducted mostly by high-ranking clerics or priests from Tendai temples were sponsored by the royal consort’s family during the twelfth century onward. For example, Osan oinori mokuroku, the court protocols detailing the prayers and rites performed for the

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Kakuzenshō, TZ, vol. 5, p. 470. Namely, in the discussion of a pedestal on which Kariteimo sits. Kakuzenshō, TZ, vol. 5, p. 471. Gushi nintai hōshū, p. 192. The first chapter relates a story about a merciful king, his mother, and the king’s quest for a child, along with a talisman prescription to fight infertility. This story was recorded in one of Amoghavajra’s sutra translations, Bussetsu zuikyū sokutoku daijizai darani jinju kyō (T 1154) and appeared in the aforementioned mid-twelfth century Gyōrinshō: “In this vast country [India] there was a king called Jiminshu 慈愍手 (Merciful Hand). When this king was first born, his right hand was already stretched in order to reach his mother’s breast (Ch. nai, Jp. dai 嬭). Both of his mother’s breasts turned golden in color. Milk was flowing out of them. From the inside of that hand, he was able to produce immeasurable rare treasures and provide alms for the lives of his various subjects. Due to this karmic bond (innen 因縁), he was called ‘Merciful Hand.’”

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benefit of a pregnant consort and her unborn child, relate that the offerings to Hārītī (kariteimo ku 訶梨帝母供) took place during the twelfth century at least five times. The first three times, in 1124, 1126, and 1127, coincided with the respective labors of Taikenmon-in 待賢門院 (1101–1145), the consort of Emperor Toba 鳥羽 (1103–1156; r. 1107–1123); the child born to her and Toba in 1127 was later proclaimed Emperor Goshirakawa 後白河天皇 (1127–1192, r. 1155–1158).85 Offerings to Hārītī were also included in the already extensive ritual programs sponsored by the court in 1129 (again for Taikenmon-in) and in 1195 (for Gishūmon-in 宜秋 門院, who was also known as Kujō Taeko or Ninshi 九条任子, 1173–1239).86 This rite and offerings to the deity and the fifteen demons thought to cause malignant interferences during the labor continued to be performed for pregnant imperial consorts exclusively by Tendai clerics throughout the thirteenth and during the early years of the fourteenth century.87

Conclusion Although much further work and analysis is required to fully understand the contents of, and interpersonal and intertextual relations emerging from, the Gushi nintai sanshō himitsu hōshū, it is possible to propose a few theories about the date and purpose of its compilation. These findings are currently based on an analysis of only the first chapter of this concise work. This handbook may have been created in the late ninth or early tenth century. Later sources written by esoteric Buddhist scholars in twelfth- and thirteenth-century Japan suggest that the Gushi nintai hōshū was written by the Tendai monk Annen in the late ninth century. Given the contents of this work, it is plausible that it was written for the benefit of Heian-period royal consorts. Such a description could fit Fujiwara no Onshi, a primary wife of Emperor Daigo, or other daughters of the politically savvy Fujiwara statesmen who sought to consolidate their grip over the institution of imperial rule as chancellors and regents. In doing so, the Gushi nintai hōshū offered several

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Tenji 天治 (1124).05, Daiji 大治 1 (1126).05, and Daiji 2 (1127). Osan oinori mokuroku, pp. 473–477. Daiji 4 (1129).05 and Kenkyū 建久 6 (1195).03.15. Osan oinori mokuroku, pp. 473–477. Gishūmon-in was the daughter of Kujō Kanezane 九条兼実 (1149–1207) and a consort of Emperor Gotoba 後鳥羽天皇 (1180–1239, r. 1183–1198). In 1195, she gave birth to her daughter Shōshi Naishinnō 昇子内親王 (d. 1211) who also became imperial consort and was known under the name of Shunkamon-in 春華門院. Osan oinori mokuroku, pp. 477–505.

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important innovations, the effects of which are still being assessed in the context of medieval and early modern Japan. For example, in addition to advice on the appropriate ritual actions and medical prescriptions to be used for conception and during pregnancy and labor, this handbook introduced the worship of the esoteric female deity Hārītī for personal veneration by noble women, and perhaps, more specifically, Fujiwara daughters and imperial consorts. It is therefore likely that from the early tenth century on, imagery of this deity became increasingly embedded in the context of the everyday lives of noble women in Heian and Kamakura Japan. More evidence to that effect emerges also from court protocols outlining the ritual programs conducted on behalf of the court during the pregnancy and labor of imperial consorts during the twelfth century and later. Gushi nintai hōshū thus may be credited with introducing the new templates for esoteric rituals for women that helped to manipulate their fertility and protect their unborn children. As will be argued in future research, such innovations formed the basis for the creation of an impressive ritual protocol for safe pregnancy and childbirth that would be employed for the benefit of royal consorts at court during the period of 1118 to 1337.

References Primary Sources Asabashō 阿娑縛抄. Shōchō 承澄 (1205–1280). Dai Nihon bukkyō zensho 大日本仏教全 書, vols. 58–60. Tokyo: Suzuki Gakujutsu Zaidan, 1971. Gushi nintai sanshō himitsu hōshū 求子妊胎産生秘密法集. Attributed to Annen 安然 (841?–889?). Vol. 43 of Nihon daizōkyō 日本大蔵経, ed. Matsumoto Bunzaburō 松本 文三朗 and Nakano Tatsue 中野達恵, pp. 191–198. Tokyo: Suzuki Gakujutsu Zaidan, 1975. Ishinpō 醫心方 (Essentials of medicine, ca. 984). Tanba no Yasuyori 丹波康頼 (912– 995). In Ishinpō: Maki Sachiko zen’yaku seikai 醫心方: 槙佐知子全訳精解. Annotated by Maki Sachiko 槙佐知子. Tokyo: Chikuma Shobō, 1993. Kōgū osan tōjitsu shidai 后宮御産当日次第. Vol. 33:2 of Zoku gunsho ruijū 続群書類 従, ed. Hanawa Hokinoichi 塙保己一, pp. 542–549. Tokyo: Zoku Gunsho Ruijū Kanseikai, 1934. Osan buruiki 御産部類記. Vol. 33:2 of Zoku gunsho ruijū, ed. Hanawa Hokinoichi, pp. 506–529. Tokyo: Zoku Gunsho Ruijū Kanseikai, 1934. Osan oinori mokuroku 御産御祈目録. Vol. 33:2 of Zoku gunsho ruijū, ed. Hanawa Hokinoichi, pp. 472–505. Tokyo: Zoku Gunsho Ruijū Kanseikai, 1934. Sanpishō 産秘抄. Kanazawa Bunko, MS 249-15 and 255-04.

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Sanshō ruijūshō 産生類従抄. Kanazawa Bunko, MS 5-3-1. T = Taishō shinshū daizōkyō 大正新脩大蔵経. 100 vols. Ed. Takakusu Junjirō 高楠順次 郎. Tokyo: Taishō Issaikyō Kankōkai and Daizō Shuppan, 1924–1932. Online version: SAT Daizōkyō Text Database (SAT 大正新修大蔵経テキストデータベース). University of Tokyo. http://21dzk.l.u‑tokyo.ac.jp/SAT/index_en.html. TZ = Taishō shinshū daizōkyō zuzō 大正新脩大蔵経. 12 vols. Tokyo: Taishō Issaikyō Kankōkai, 1933–1935. Online version: SAT Taishōzō Image Database (SAT 大正蔵図 像 DB). University of Tokyo. https://dzkimgs.l.u‑tokyo.ac.jp/SATi/images.php.

Secondary Sources Abé, Ryūichi. The Weaving of Mantra: Kūkai and the Construction of Esoteric Buddhist Discourse. New York: Columbia University Press, 1999. Andreeva, Anna. “Childbirth in Early Medieval Japan: Ritual Economies and Medical Emergencies in Procedures During the Day of the Royal Consort’s Labor.” In Buddhism and Medicine: An Anthology, ed. C. Pierce Salguero, pp. 336–350. New York: Columbia University Press, 2017. Andreeva, Anna. “Explaining Conception to Women? Buddhist Embryological Knowledge in the Sanshō ruijūshō 産生類聚抄 (Encyclopedia of Childbirth, ca. 1318).” “Buddhism and Medicine,” ed. C. Pierce Salguero. Special issue, Asian Medicine: Tradition and Modernity 12:1–2 (2017), pp. 170–202. Andreeva, Anna. “Empowering the Pregnancy Sash (ninsha no obi no kaji) in Medieval Japan.” In Buddhism and Healing in Medieval East Asia, ed. Pierce C. Salguero. Forthcoming. Andreeva, Anna and Dominic Steavu. “Introduction: Backdrops and Parallels to Embryological Discourse and Reproductive Imagery in East Asian Religions.” In Transforming the Void: Embryological Discourse and Reproductive Imagery in East Asian Religions, ed. Anna Andreeva and Dominic Steavu, pp. 1–52. Leiden: Brill, 2016. Blair, Heather. “Mothers of the Buddhas: The Sutra on Transforming Women into Buddhas (Bussetsu Tennyo Jōbutsu Kyō).” Monumenta Nipponica 71:2 (2016), pp. 263–293. Borgen, Robert. Sugawara no Michizane and the Early Heian Court. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1986. Chen, Jinhua. “The Formation of Early Esoteric Buddhism in Japan: A Study of Three Japanese Esoteric Apocrypha.” PhD diss., McMaster University, 1997. Chen, Jinhua. Crossfire: Shingon-Tendai Strife as Seen in Two Twelfth-Century Polemics, with Special References to Their Background in Tang China. Tokyo: The International Institute for Buddhist Studies, 2010. Chen, Ming. “Zhuan Nü Wei Nan, Turning Female to Male: An Indian Influence on Chinese Gynecology?” Asian Medicine: Tradition and Modernity 1:2 (2005), pp. 315–334. Dolce, Lucia. “The Embryonic Generation of the Perfect Body: Ritual Embryology from Japanese Tantric Sources.” In Transforming the Void: Embryological Discourse

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and Reproductive Imagery in East Asian Religions, ed. Anna Andreeva and Dominic Steavu, pp. 253–310. Leiden: Brill, 2016. Dolce, Lucia and Shinya Mano. “Godai’in Annen.” In Esoteric Buddhism and the Tantras in East Asia, ed. Charles D. Orzech, Henrik H. Sørensen, and Richard K. Payne, pp. 768–775. Leiden: Brill, 2011. Goble, Andrew E. “Kajiwara Shōzen (1265–1337) and the Medical Silk Road: Chinese and Arabic Influences on Early Medieval Japanese Medicine.” In Tools of Culture: Japan’s Cultural, Intellectual, Medical, and Technological Contacts in East Asia, 1000–1500s, ed. Andrew Goble, Kenneth Robinson, and Haruko Wakabayashi, pp. 231–257. Ann Arbor: Association of Asian Studies, 2009. Goble, Andrew E. Confluences of Medicine in Medieval Japan: Buddhist Healing, Chinese Knowledge, Islamic Formulas, and Wounds of War. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2011. Groner, Paul. “Annen, Tankei, Henjō, and Monastic Discipline in the Tendai School: The Background of the Futsū jubosatsukai kōshaku.” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 14:2–3 (1987), pp. 129–159. Hiramatsu Chōkū 平松澄空. Kaihōgyō no shisōteki haikei 回峰行の思想的背景. Tokyo: Miyosha, 1982. Hsia, Emil C., Robert H. Geertsma, and Ilsa Veith, eds. The Essentials of Medicine in Ancient China and Japan. Yasuyori Tamba’s Ishimpō. Leiden: Brill, 1986. Iyanaga, Nobumi. “‘Human Yellow’ and Magical Power in Japanese Medieval Tantrism and Culture.” In Transforming the Void: Embryological Discourse and Reproductive Imagery in East Asian Religions, ed. Anna Andreeva and Dominic Steavu, pp. 344– 419. Leiden: Brill, 2016. Khan, Mohammed Abdul Mujeeb. “Early Japan and the Continental Medical Literary Tradition. Tanba no Yasuyori’s Conceptualization of Medicine in Ishinpō.” PhD diss., University of Cambridge, 2016. Lee, Jen-der. “Wet Nurses in Early Imperial China.” Nan Nü 2:1 (2000), pp. 1–39. Lee, Jen-der. “Gender and Medicine in Tang China.” Asia Major 16:2 (2003), pp. 1–32. Lee, Jen-der. “Childbirth in Early Imperial China.” Translated by Sabine Wilms, Nan Nü 7:2 (2005), 216–286. Lee, Jen-der. “Ishinpo and Its Excerpts from Chanjing: A Japanese Medical Text as a Source for Chinese Women’s History.” In Overt and Covert Treasures: Essays on the Sources for Chinese Women’s History, ed. Clara Wing-chung Ho, pp. 185–215. Hong Kong: Chinese University Press, 2012. Lusthaus, Dan. “Kishimojin 鬼子母神,” in Digital Dictionary of Buddhism, ed. Charles Muller et al. http://www.buddhism‑dict.net/, accessed September 12, 2017. Mikkyō daijiten 密教大辞典. 6 vols. Edited by Mikkyō Daijiten Hensankai 密教大辞典 編纂会. Revised edition, ed. Mikkyō Daijiten Saikan Iinkai 密教学会内密教大辞典 再刊委員会. Kyoto: Hōzōkan, 1968–1970. Reduced size reprint, 10th edition. 2007.

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Misaki Ryōshū 三崎良周. Taimitsu no kenkyū 台密の研究. Tokyo: Sōbunsha, 1988. Mochizuki Shinkō 望月信享, ed. Bukkyō daijiten 仏教大辞典. Tokyo: Bukkyō Daijiten Hakkōjo, 1931–1937. Ōtsuka Shigetoshi 大塚恵俊. “Mañjuśrīmūlakalpa daikyū shō no seiritsu ni tsuite Mañjuśrīmūlakalpa 第 9 章の成立について.” Taishō daigaku daigakuin kenkyū ronshū 大 正大学大学院研究論集 35 (2011), pp. 102–109. Reischauer, Edwin O. Ennin’s Travel in Tang China. New York: The Ronald Press Company, 1955. Rhodes, Robert F. “The Kaihōgyō Practice of Mt. Hiei.” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 14:2–3 (1987), pp. 185–202. Selby, Martha Ann. “Narratives of Conception, Gestation, and Labour in Sanskrit Āyurvedic Texts.” Asian Medicine 1:2 (2005), pp. 254–275. Stone, Jacqueline I. Original Enlightenment and the Transformation of Medieval Japanese Buddhism. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 1999. Sueki Fumihiko 末木文美士. Heian shoki bukkyō shisō no kenkyū: Annen no shisō keisei wo chūshin to shite 平安初期仏教思想の研究： 安然の思想形成を中心として. Tokyo: Shunjūsha, 1995. Triplett, Katja. “For Mothers and Sisters: Care of the Reproductive Female Body in the Medico-Religious World of Early and Medieval Japan.” “Childbirth and Women’s Healthcare Across Cultures,” ed. Anna Andreeva, Erica Couto-Ferreira, and Susanne Töpfer. Special issue, Dynamis, Acta Hispanica ad Medicinae Scientiarumque Historiam Illustrandam 34:2 (2014), pp. 337–356.

chapter 3

Taira no Tokushi’s Birth of Emperor Antoku Naoko Gunji*

Introduction Royal births were critical events for the imperial family and court. Ensuring a safe birth required over hundreds of rituals performed by numerous specialists spanning a long period. It also involved the use of sumptuous and empowered objects: clothes, accessories, talismans, medicines, and even the royal body itself. This chapter will examine a series of rituals associated with an imperial consort’s delivery of a prince in the late Heian period (794–1185). The woman under discussion in this chapter is Taira no Tokushi 平徳子 (also known as Kenreimon-in 建礼門院; 1155–1213?), the principal consort of Emperor Takakura 高倉天皇 (1161–1181; r. 1168–1180), and the baby is the future Emperor Antoku 安徳天皇 (1178–1185; r. 1180–1185). Childbirths and birth rituals in premodern Japan have been studied through perspectives of diverse disciplines. Literature specialists have examined childbirths and rituals thereof as a rite of passage in the life of a mother and of a child.1 Rituals to pray for the conception of a child and for a safe delivery involved Buddhist rituals and yin-yang practices, which have received much investigation by scholars of religious studies.2 Medicine, though it was not entirely separable from Buddhist and yin-yang rituals, played an important part in childbirth, too, as has been shown by historians’ research on early medical manuals such as the tenth-century Ishinpō 医心方 (Essentials of medicine).3 Art historians have analyzed birth scenes depicted in picture scrolls and identified types of objects used in labor and birth rituals.4 All this scholarship has

* I would like to express my deepest gratitude to Karen Gerhart for the opportunity to present this essay at the workshop on which this volume is based and for her advice and encouragement. Grateful acknowledgement also goes to Anna Andreeva, Kōhei Kishida, the participants of the workshop, and the two anonymous referees. 1 Nakamura Yoshio, Ōchō no fūzoku to bungaku; Saeki Shin’ichi, Kenreimon’in to iu higeki. 2 See, for example, Nishiguchi, “Ōchō bukkyō”; and Nakajima, “Inseiki no shussan.” 3 Shinmura, Shussan to seishoku kan no rekishi; Katsuura, “Kodai, chūsei zenki shussan girei.” 4 Inamoto, “Egakareta shussan”; Suzuki, “Possessions and the Possessed.” It must be noted that

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2018 | doi: 10.1163/9789004368194_005

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suggested that those rituals were for ensuring the safety of the mother, the newborn, and those involved in the pregnancy and labor. Nevertheless, behind the pursuit of these effects were often various sponsors with different intentions, adding nuanced significance to the rituals, practices, and objects involved. This nuance was particularly critical with imperial childbirths, since multifarious ritual activities were held in both private and public functions during the pregnancy, the labor, and after the birth. To make clear the significance of birth rituals, practices, and objects, one needs to carefully examine the circumstances and contexts of the childbirths as well. This chapter is among the first works—and is the most extensive one—to study childbirths and birth rituals in premodern Japan against the backdrop of their contexts.5 The case that this chapter investigates, Tokushi’s birth of Antoku, is useful in this sort of contextual study, because the rituals performed for Tokushi and Antoku are recorded in detail in several primary sources.6 In particular, Nakayama Tadachika 中山忠親 (1131–1195), who was the provisional head of the principal consort’s household (chūgū gon no daibu 中宮権大夫), left the most thorough account in his diary, Sankaiki 山槐記.7 Thanks to these

these depictions are not necessarily historically accurate, for several reasons. One is that different moments of childbirth are depicted in the same pictorial composition, which obscures the actual process and setting of birth and its rituals. The visual device can be misleading, too: for instance, depictions of the interior of the birthroom either from the above with no ceiling depicted or from the front with no wall depicted have led some scholars to maintain that the labor could be seen from outside the room, but primary sources tell us that this was historically not the case with labor in elite families. Another reason is that many depictions are not based on historical records but on tales such as Heike monogatari 平家物語 (The Tale of the Heike, see footnote 6 below). In that respect, many literature specialists’ studies of childbirth are also based on tales and hence need additional assessment regarding historical accuracy. 5 Hirama Mitsuko examined the contexts of some of the imperial birth rituals to reveal their nuanced significance as an official rite primarily for the sake of the consort as a member of the imperial family. Hirama, “Heian jidai no shussan girei ni kansuru ichikōsatsu.” 6 Tokushi’s childbirth scenes are described in the quasi-historical chronicle Heike monogatari, and often depicted in visual arts (e.g., emaki, albums, screens, ukiyo-e, etc.) based on it. Although this chronicle provides valuable information about Tokushi’s labor, I will use it merely as supplemental material and with great caution, since it often modifies or even contradicts what the primary sources record. The visual representations will be treated similarly. The earliest surviving works depicting Tokushi’s delivery date to the sixteenth century. My analysis of these illustrations comparing them to primary sources reveals that none of them depicts the birth event with a high degree of accuracy. 7 The Sankaiki entries cited in this chapter can be found in Zōho shiryō taisei, vol. 27, except

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records, there have been a few studies of of these rituals: Maki Sachiko’s brief essay compared Tokushi’s birth rituals in Heike monogatari to Ishinpō.8 Using courtiers’ journals such as Sankaiki and Kujō Kanezane’s 九条兼実 (1149–1207) Gyokuyō 玉葉, Morimoto Sensuke has analyzed various rituals to counter pollution (kegare 穢れ) in Tokushi’s case, and Saeki Shin’ichi has described her delivery as a rite of passage.9 The most detailed description so far of the delivery process has been given by Katsuura Reiko, who has in particular examined the role that physicians and medical sources played in Tokushi’s parturition.10 These works have made significant contributions to the study of Tokushi’s childbirth and thereby to the study of childbirths in general, but they are focused either on a specific ritual or on the role of practitioners of a specific denomination (Buddhist monks, yin-yang masters, or physicians). This chapter will provide the first systematic study of the long series of rituals performed for Tokushi. I will outline the process of Tokushi’s childbirth, from before the pregnancy through after the birth, with a focus on a handful of major, milestone rituals. Past scholarship in childbirths and birth rituals tended to be devoted to, for instance, a powerful politician’s intentions behind the birth, or a subset of rituals performed by specialists of a particular religious denomination such as Buddhism. This tendency often pushed into the background the various roles of women in childbirths and birth rituals. As this chapter will reveal, a sizable range of rituals were performed by both men and women, and certain roles in these rituals had to be assumed exclusively by women. The record in Sankaiki is an exceptional guide to reconstructing who played which roles in

8 9 10

for entries from the seventh through ninth months of 1178; Zōho shiryō taisei omits these months, so I rely instead on the online database of Kokuritsu Rekishi Minzoku Hakubutsukan (hereafter referred to as the Rekihaku database). Tokushi’s childbearing is reported in several primary sources, but how their authors acquired the information they recorded requires careful consideration. Diarists combined what they saw, what they heard, and what they learned from written precedents and manuals on rituals. For example, the birthing chamber was a confined space from which men were normally excluded, so Sankaiki’s information of things inside the chamber must have come from other people, such as ladies-in-waiting who attended Tokushi or ritualists who crossed the gendered boundary. Needless to say, as is almost always the case with courtiers’ diaries in premodern Japan, it is hard to grasp what Tokushi herself thought during the travails of childbirth. Maki, “Heike monogatari no henjō nanshi no hō.” Note again (cf. footnote 6) that Heike monogatari does not always describe historical events accurately. Morimoto, “Tennō no shussan kūkan”; Saeki Shin’ichi, Kenreimon’in to iu higeki. Katsuura, “Kodai, chūsei zenki shussan girei.”

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what rituals, and this information will demonstrate many facets of childbirths in premodern Japan. Extracting additional evidence from Sankaiki, as well as Heike monogatari and other sources, I will show that the choice, arrangement, and design of the rituals, and even such details as who paid for which ritual objects, reflected the desire and political intentions of both the imperial house and Tokushi’s parental family.

Brief Background on Tokushi and Her Family Taira no Tokushi was the eldest daughter of Taira no Kiyomori 平清盛 (1118– 1181) and Taira no Tokiko 平時子 (d. 1185) (see fig. 3.1 for an abbreviated genealogy).11 Kiyomori was the head of one of the most powerful clans in the late Heian period, the Taira (or Heike). Through her mother, Tokushi was also a cousin of Emperor Takakura. In 1171, Kiyomori and the father of Takakura, Retired Emperor Goshirakawa 後白河法皇 (1127–1192; r. 1155–1158), negotiated a marriage between Tokushi and Takakura to strengthen the alliance between their factions. Tokushi became an adopted daughter of Goshirakawa and then married Takakura as his consort (nyōgo 女御) when she was seventeen and was promoted to the rank of principal consort (chūgū 中宮) two months later (in 1172).12 After seven years of marriage, in 1178, she gave birth to Prince Tokihito 言 仁親王, the soon-to-be Emperor Antoku. This birth is the primary subject of my chapter. Just a year and a half later, in 1180, when the toddler prince succeeded to the throne, Tokushi became a kokumo 国母 (mother of a reigning emperor), reaching the highest status for women in the court. In the following year, however, Takakura and Kiyomori died within a short time of each other, and the Taira clan began its decline. It was only four years later that the clan perished in a battle, along with Tokushi’s only son, Tokihito, and her mother Tokiko. Tokushi was among the very few members of her family who survived.13

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Kiyomori had other daughters before Tokushi, but Tokushi was the first between Kiyomori and Tokiko. I use the traditional Japanese way of counting age. After the birth of Prince Tokihito, the Taira established hegemony in the court governance and reached the zenith of their power, yet they did not enjoy it long. In 1183, an army of Minamoto 源 warriors led by Kiso Yoshinaka 木曽義仲 (also known as Minamoto no Yoshinaka, 1154–1184) proceeded to the capital. Unable to hold out, the Taira members fled westward to safer places, taking Tokushi and Tokihito with them. In 1185, the Taira were destroyed in the final battle of the Genpei War in Dannoura, the sea off the

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figure 3.1 Abbreviated genealogy of the Taira and related emperors Source: Author

The rise and fall of her family is dramatically recounted in the semi-historical chronicle, Heike monogatari. Tokushi is probably more familiar to us as Kenreimon-in, the name that was given to her in 1181 when she became a nyoin 女院 (retired consort). Her son Tokihito is much better known by his posthumous name, Emperor Antoku. Nevertheless, I will refer to them by the names contemporary with (or closest to) the events I discuss.14

14

coast of present-day Shimonoseki, giving way to the rise of the Minamoto government in Kamakura. The child emperor and numerous Taira members perished in this sea during this battle. The name Tokihito was given to the child about a month after his birth at the occasion of granting him the title of imperial prince (shinnō senge 親王宣下). Primary sources refer to Tokushi and Tokihito most frequently by common nouns, such as as “chūgū (principal consort)” and “ōji 皇子 (prince).”

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Rituals for Pregnancy and Early Stages of Pregnancy To Kiyomori and the Taira, it was crucial for Tokushi to give birth to a prince (and preferably the first prince). In the Heian court, being a maternal grandfather to a reigning emperor was often a source of enormous influence and power. Kiyomori wanted this, too, because it would allow him to “handle state affairs in his own way.”15 To this end, since their daughter’s marriage in 1171, Tokushi’s parents continually prayed that she would conceive a male heir soon. Having an heir was also paramount for Emperor Takakura, so he ordered prayers for the birth of a prince to be made at several shrines. Giving birth to a male heir was also crucial for Tokushi’s position as well, for being not only a daughter of a powerful politician but a mother to an emperor would establish her position and authority in her own right.16 Nevertheless, these wishes were not easily fulfilled, taking a full seven years to be realized. In the meantime, although Tokushi was a principle consort at the top of the hierarchy of Emperor Takakura’s ladies, Takakura also had two other daughters with ladies of much lower ranks. One of these favorites, Kogō-no-tsubone 小督局 (b. 1157), gave birth to a princess in 1177. Worsening relations between Kiyomori and Goshirakawa also meant that Kiyomori desperately needed a prince to be born to Takakura. Kiyomori and his family were getting impatient, and when he found that his wife Tokiko’s one hundred days of prayer at Hie Shrine 日吉社 on Mt. Hiei for her daughter’s conception was ineffective, in 1178, he himself started to make monthly pilgrimages to his clan’s tutelary shrine, Itsukushima Jinja 厳島神社. It took him only sixty days and two pilgrimages before Tokushi’s pregnancy was confirmed on the twenty-fourth day of the fifth month, 1178; she was twenty-four years old. Once her pregnancy was confirmed, numerous rituals were performed to provide Tokushi with a range of spiritual comfort and support. In the early stage of her pregnancy, those rituals tended to be performed under the private sponsorship of her family and close relatives. Soon after the official announcement of Tokushi’s pregnancy, an imperial messenger was dispatched to Itsukushima Shrine to pray for Tokushi’s safe delivery.17 Although imperial, this dispatch probably had more of the personal character of a private dedication by Takakura than the official character of a state ritual. It was Taira no Shigehira 平

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Gukanshō, pp. 242–244. Brown and Ishida, The Future and the Past, p. 122. For Tokushi’s status, authority, and role as a kokumo, see Kuriyama, Chūsei ōke no seiritsu to insei, pp. 187–209. I will also elaborate on these issues later in this chapter. Sankaiki, Jishō 治承 2 (1178).6.17 (vol. 27, pp. 128–129).

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重衡 (1157–1185)—assistant head of the principal consort’s household (chūgū no suke 中宮亮) and Tokushi’s own younger brother—who was chosen as the

messenger on this occasion. This seems to have been a special arrangement, because Sankaiki records that there was an inquiry about precedents for someone of Shigehira’s rank to serve as a messenger for such an occasion. It was also unprecedented to send an imperial messenger to Itsukushima Shrine, but it was probably done due to the belief that the deities of the shrine had answered Kiyomori’s prayer for Tokushi’s conception, and that they would protect and sustain her pregnancy.18 It was also part of Kiyomori’s project to promote this shrine. Other rituals were also commissioned. For instance, a Senju Kannon 千手 観音 (Thousand-Armed Kannon) ritual was started by the monk Zengen 全玄 (1113–1193) under the sponsorship of Tokushi’s mother, Tokiko.19 A week later, Tokiko requested two more rituals: a One-Thousand Purification rite (sendo harai 千度祓) by ten yin-yang masters (onmyōji 陰陽師); and a Yakushi ritual (Yakushi hō 薬師法, Medicine Buddha ritual) by the monk Jitsuzen 実全 (or 実詮; 1140/1141–1221). These rituals were performed away from the Imperial palace.20 The next day, Tokushi made offerings at Rokkakudō 六角堂 to a statue of Nyoirin Kannon 如意輪観音 (Kannon with a wish-fulfilling jewel and a wheel) that was produced under her patronage.21 It is important to stress that these rituals, at the early stages of pregnancy, assumed a rather private as opposed to public character, in the sense that Tokushi’s family members commissioned and arranged them through their own decisions, funding, and connections, rather than under the authority of the imperial court.

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Another imperial messenger was dispatched to the same shrine in the following year to thank the deities there for Tokushi’s safe delivery. Sankaiki, Jishō 3 (1179).3.26 (vol. 27, p. 240). It was not recorded when the ritual concluded. Sankaiki, Jishō 2 (1178).6.19 (vol. 27, p. 133). They were performed at a lodging of one of Tokushi’s imperial guards. As to why the Imperial palace was not chosen for the rituals, the author of Sankaiki merely speculates that it was probably due to some habakari 憚り (reasons for avoidance or reservation), but does not explicitly states what they could be. Sankaiki, Jishō 2 (1178).6.26 (vol. 27, p. 134). Sankaiki, Jishō 2 (1178).6.27 (vol. 27, p. 135).

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Ceremony of Donning a Maternity Sash Rituals concerning childbearing tended to become more official as the pregnancy progressed. The first of the more official rituals was usually the elaborate ceremony of donning a maternity sash (chakutai no gi 着帯の儀), which was supposed to take place in the fifth month of pregnancy.22 It was customary in the medieval period for an expectant mother’s family or close relatives to prepare a sash, which her husband then tied around her stomach. The father claimed his paternity by performing the task of wrapping the sash. The sash had practical functions of warming the stomach and securing the baby’s position within the womb during pregnancy, but wearing the sash was also believed to have religious functions of securing a safe delivery and affecting the sex of the unborn child. Sankaiki meticulously records Tokushi’s sash-donning ceremony on the twenty-eighth day of the sixth month.23 Prior to the ceremony, her younger brother Shigehira presented her with a new lacquer box decorated with auspicious motifs of crane and pine to store the sash. A sash of soft silk (neriginu 練絹) of 1 jō 2 shaku (approx. 364cm) was prepared by her elder brother, Taira no Munemori 平宗盛 (1147–1185). Senior secretary of the principal consort’s household (chūgū no daijō 中宮大進), Taira no Motochika 平基親 (b. 1151), left the consort’s palace carrying the lacquer box and visited Munemori’s residence to receive the sash. The sash was put into the box and brought back to the consort’s palace for her to view.24 After Tokushi viewed the sash, Motochika delivered it to the former provisional primary prelate (saki no gon no sōjō 前権僧正) Kenkaku 憲覚 (d. 1178) of Onjōji 園城寺, who performed an empowerment ritual (kaji 加持) to conse-

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On the first day of the sixth month, about a week after the official announcement of Tokushi’s pregnancy, it was determined that the sash-donning ceremony would be held on 6.28. Sankaiki, Jishō 2 (1178).6.1 (vol. 27, pp. 124–125). Sankaiki, Jishō 2 (1178).6.28 (vol. 27, pp. 135–140). Tokushi would later also view furnishing items for childbirth when they were delivered to her at the Izumi mansion (Izumi-dono 泉殿), the residence of her older brother, Shigemori 重盛 (1138–1179), discussed below. These acts of viewing delivered goods could have various aspects of significance. One was to approve, if not inspect, the delivered goods as the client. Another was that the convention dictated that a consort should view the items before they were sent to an empowerment ritual (kaji 加持)—perhaps the viewing signified turning the items into her personal belongings before the empowerment. It should therefore be stressed that the viewer actively engaged in the rite of viewing.

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crate the maternity sash.25 The sash was then returned to Motochika along with two objects. First, three baby five-needle pine trees with the roots still attached (nebiki no komatsu 根引きの小松), which symbolized longevity, were bound with a cord and placed on the sash. Second, a Dōji kyō 童子経 (Sutra of Child Attendants) scroll was tied with five-colored yarn and also put into the box with the sash.26 Copying the sutra and dedicating the copy was completed within that single day, under the supervision of Munemori. The Dōji kyō was thought to be efficacious, not only in granting children and easy delivery, but also in protecting children by eliminating phobias and illness.27 The sash-donning ceremony was held at the daily-life palace (hinoomashi 昼御座) of the Imperial Palace Complex (kan’in 閑院). It was sponsored and attended primarily by Tokushi’s natal family, their close associates, staff members of her household, and her husband Emperor Takakura. Takakura, the father of the baby, was invited behind the bamboo blind where Tokushi alone was present. He sat to her left, indicating his wishes for a male heir. The side on which a husband sits in relation to his wife was believed to influence the sex of the baby (the left for a boy and the right for a girl). Takakura then took the sash from the lacquer box, wrapped it around her belly, starting from Tokushi’s left side, and tied it in the double-looped bow (morowana 諸輪奈) fashion. Then, the chief court physician (tenyaku no kami 典薬頭), Wake no Yasushige 和気定 成 (1123–1188), brought pills of herbal medicine called senshōshi 仙沼子. This herb was said to grow in swamps where immortals lived and was thought to be effective in aiding a safe delivery. A female attendant to Tokushi received the pills in the waiting room and sewed them onto the left side of the sash. Taira no Tokitada 平時忠 (1127/1130–1189), the head of the principal consort’s household

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According to Kujō Kanezane’s diary Gyokuyō, the imperial princely monk (hosshinnō 法親 王) Shukaku 守覚 (1150–1202) was a candidate for performing the empowerment ritual, but Kenkaku was selected instead. Gyokuyō, Jishō 2 (1178).6.28 (vol. 3, p. 354). According to Sankaiki, the reason Kenkaku was selected despite his old age was that he had conducted the same ritual for Emperor Takakura’s mother, which had resulted in the birth of a future emperor. Dōji kyō is an abbreviation of Goshodōji darani kyō 護諸童子陀羅尼経 (Dhāraṇī sutra of various protective child attendants). For the benefits of the Dōji kyō, see Asabashō, vol. 59, p. 296. According to Sansōki ruijū 三僧記類聚, a Shingon document written by Zenkaku 禅覚 (1174–1220) of Ninnaji 仁和 寺, after the sash-donning ceremony the woman always carried a copy of the sutra within the sash, and after her delivery, the copy was hung from the neck of the child until the age of fifteen for divine protection. See Kobayashi, “Dōji kyō hō oyobi dōji kyō mandara,” pp. 10–12; Nishiguchi, “Ōchō bukkyō,” p. 148.

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(chūgū no daibu 中宮大夫) and a maternal uncle of Tokushi, then provided her with a memorandum regarding medicines and taboos during pregnancy.28 This was written in kana script, indicating that it was intended to be read by her and/or her attendants. The content of the memorandum is not known, but it probably included instructions on how to take various medical remedies, how to behave, what to eat or drink, etc., so that Tokushi could safely deliver a male child.29 The sash-donning ceremony marked the start of a series of rituals. At Tokushi’s request, the ceremony was accompanied by a royal purification (gokei 御 禊) performed by the court diviner (miyaji 宮主) and a ritual of purification (oharai 御祓) by yin-yang masters and senior staff in her household. These two purification rites would be repeated every day from that day on, since it was important for the expectant mother, the unborn baby, and those who attended them to be rid of any contamination that might harm them. Moreover, for the protection of the mother and baby and for a safe delivery, two Buddhist esoteric rituals were performed by the eminent monk Teiki 禎喜 (1099–1183),30 under the sponsorship of Tokushi, near the Imperial palace where the sash-donning ceremony took place. The first ceremony was the ritual of Kariteimo 訶梨帝母 (Sk. Hārītī) and the second the ritual of the Fifteen Child Attendants ( jūgo dōji 十五童子); the two were often performed in conjunction.31 As I will mention

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Tokitada was promoted from provisional head to head of the principal consort’s household on the twenty-sixth day of the seventh month, 1178; Nakayama Tadachika was appointed provisional head on the same day. These appointments took place soon after Fujiwara no Takasue 藤原隆季 (1127–1185) resigned from this position due to the death of his daughter. Takasue was a close relative of Kiyomori, and had been appointed as head of Tokushi’s household when she became Takakura’s principal consort. Katsuura, “Kodai, chūsei zenki shussan girei,” pp. 10–11. He was a protector monk (gojisō 護持僧) for Emperor Takakura. He also served as the head (bettō 別当) of prestigious temples, including Tōji 東寺 and Tōdaiji 東大寺. Myth says that Kariteimo was originally an evil deity who devoured children, but that Buddhist teachings transformed her into a benevolent deity of pregnancy, easy childbirth, and child-raising. She is usually portrayed as a mother holding a baby in her left arm and a pomegranate (which symbolizes fertility) in her right. See Kakuzenshō, vol. 56, pp. 44– 57. The ritual of the Fifteen Child Attendants here is another name for the Dōji kyō ritual. As mentioned, an offering of sutra copying was made earlier in the same day. The main icon of this ritual is a Dōji kyō mandara 童子経曼荼羅, which depicts Kendatsuba 乾闥 婆, a tutelary deity of children, at the center, surrounded by fifteen demons and fifteen children. Kakuzenshō, vol. 54, pp. 74–82. In this ritual, the Dōji kyō is recited one hundred eight times, and five-colored yarn is bound one hundred eight times. Every time the sutra is recited, the yarn is bound, symbolizing the binding of fifteen demons.

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later, Teiki would perform these rituals for Tokushi several times, first on the day of the sash-donning ceremony and later immediately after Tokushi’s delivery.32 It is worth mentioning that the paintings that served as the main icons for these two rituals were produced by Buddhist artists at the same place and on the same day as the rituals on the day of the sash-donning ceremony.33 This hasty production of the paintings, even though the rituals had been carefully arranged and prepared, had special significance, as I will discuss later.34 Taira family members and their close associates also commissioned many other rites for the protection of Tokushi and the baby and for a safe delivery. The most prominent sponsor was Tokushi’s mother, Tokiko. At her request, twelve shrines and fourteen temples in and near Kyoto were assigned to perform rituals, primarily sutra recitations.35 In addition, she commissioned esteemed monks to perform a number of other rituals.36 Since the ceremony involved officials of the principal consort’s household, it was, in some sense, a semiofficial event—but Tokiko’s sponsorship suggests that the ceremony was more of a private, family matter for the Taira.

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Teiki did not attend the Izumi mansion during Tokushi’s labor, but he performed the same rituals at the same location as he had on the day of the sash-donning ceremony. The Buddhist painter Raigen 頼源 (d. 1183) and his assistants made the paintings. Silk for the paintings was provided by Tokiko. Miscellaneous details of the rituals of Kariteimo and the Fifteen Child Attendants were arranged by Tokushi’s brother Shigemori and his wife Ano-onkata 彼御方 (dates unknown). As we will see, Ano-onkata also played an important role right after Prince Tokihito was born. On the basis of his own observations, Kobayashi Taichirō has pointed out that several paintings on these subjects appear to have been done in haste. Kobayashi, “Dōji-kyō hō oyobi dōji-kyō mandara,” pp. 23–24. For example, offerings were presented at Ise shrines 伊勢神宮 three times a month. At Iwashimizu Hachiman Shrine 石清水八幡宮, monks recited the Daihannya kyō 大般若 経 (Sutra of Great Perfection of Wisdom) and Kannon gyō 観音経 (Kannon Sutra). They also intoned the Kōmyō shingon 光明真言 (mantra of light) every day for one hundred days. Among them were the Big Dipper ritual (Hokuto hō 北斗法), Yakushi ritual, Two-altar ritual of Shō Kannon (Shō Kannon nidan 聖観音二壇), Thousand-Armed Kannon ritual (Senju hō 千手法), and Eleven-Headed Kannon ritual ( Jūichimen ku 十一面供).

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Rituals in Preparation of Childbirth Pregnancy and childbirth in the medieval period were perilous for women, who often died during these events or from complications afterwards.37 Pregnant women were considered vulnerable to mononoke 物怪 or 物気 (evil spirits and forces), and the discomfort of pregnancy and difficulty in delivery were often attributed to these spirits. Consequently, the protection of childbearing women from mononoke was crucial throughout pregnancy and childbirth. Indeed, when pregnant, Tokushi frequently experienced discomfort suspected to be caused by mononoke. Eminent Buddhist monks performed rituals to expel the spirits from her body and to transfer them to the body of a medium.38 As we will see, mononoke continued to be a major concern from which to safeguard Tokushi and her child during and after her confinement. The fear of mononoke, in fact, did not only concern the mother and baby. Mononoke were considered dangerous and transmittable. This is why, when the pregnant Tokushi was unwell at the Imperial palace, Emperor Takakura had to hurriedly leave the palace, for fear that mononoke might infect him. Once he evacuated the residence, Buddhist monks held a ritual for exorcising mononoke.39 Yet Tokushi suffered from mononoke again several days later, and Takakura temporarily moved to a different place to avoid possible contagion.40 It was crucial for him to avoid mononoke because damaging the “jewel body” (gyokutai 玉体) of a reigning emperor meant a serious disruption in the social and cosmological order. The dangers of pregnancy and labor offered another reason for rituals. Due to the risk of premature deaths, pregnant women needed divine protection not only in this world but also in the next. Hence women often took religious precepts ( jukai 受戒) during pregnancy. This does not mean “a formal entry

37 38

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The high rate of maternal mortality and its causes in the Heian period are briefly discussed in Sugitatsu, Osan no rekishi, pp. 66–67. Although primary sources (e.g., Sankaiki, Gyokuyō, Osan oinori mokuroku 御産御祈目録, and Gukanshō 愚管抄) do not specify the type of mononoke, Heike monogatari identifies them as the onryō 怨霊 (vengeful spirits) of victims of political intrigues defeated by her parental family. Sankaiki, Jishō 2 (1178).i.6.11 (vol. 27, p. 142). One may wonder why ritualists did not start the ritual until the emperor left the palace. They probably waited because they were afraid that any evil spirits that would be removed from Tokushi’s body might be transmitted not to a medium but to Takakura by mistake. Sankaiki, Jishō 2 (1178).i.6.17 (vol. 27, pp. 143–144).

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into the religious life,” but rather constitutes “a religious act to form kechien 結 縁, or karmic bonds” with Buddhist deities.41 Women about to give birth prepared themselves for possible premature death by receiving this precept as a prerequisite to salvation. This was because death without right-mindfulness or religious acts in advance would make it difficult for them to be reborn in paradise. Thus, Tokushi took religious precepts on the sixteenth day of the seventh month from one of the most prestigious monks of the time, the imperial princely monk (hosshinnō 法親王) Shukaku 守覚 (1150–1202).42 As I will discuss, Shukaku, another son of Retired Emperor Goshirakawa and a brother of Emperor Takakura, played a central role in various esoteric Buddhist rituals for Tokushi’s safe delivery, most notably in the Kujaku ritual (Kujaku kyō hō 孔雀 経法; Peacock Wisdom King Sutra ritual). On the other hand, in addition to protecting the mother and baby and saving the delivery from harm, protection from the birth itself was needed; because childbirth was believed to cause pollution and defilement that could harm people, rituals and arrangements had to be made to purify or manage the pollution. Hence, it was customary that imperial and aristocratic women returned to their parental homes to give birth, not just to rely on their parents for assistance, but also to keep the emperor and other court members from the pollution of childbirth; thus, not just the expecting mother but all those involved in the pollution confined themselves. In particular, imperial consorts avoided giving birth at the Imperial palace, where the royal body of the reigning emperor was present and kami rituals (kamigoto 神事) were performed, to prevent the pollution from harming the emperor or the kami. For the same reason, the reigning emperor did not attend in the birthroom where his consort was confined. He instead waited at the Imperial palace for news. Accordingly, on the twenty-eighth day of the seventh month, Tokushi withdrew from the Inner palace (dairi 内裏) of the Imperial Palace Complex to the Izumi mansion (Izumi-dono 泉殿) in the Rokuhara district, the residence of her eldest brother Taira no Shigemori 平重盛 (1138–1179).43 Since Kiyomori had taken Buddhist vows and moved to Fukuhara, Shigemori had inherited the

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Meeks, “Reconfiguring Ritual Authenticity,” pp. 54–55. Sankaiki, Jishō 2 (1178).7.16 (Rekihaku database). Sankaiki, Jishō 2 (1178).7.28 (Rekihaku database). The mansion was named after a fountain in its east corridor. Before Tokushi moved there, senior staff of her household inspected whether the ambulant deity daishōgun 大将軍 (great general) happened to be in the direction of the mansion. Because it was not, the mansion was approved as a birthing place.

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Izumi mansion from him and acted as the head of the Taira family in Kyoto and as Tokushi’s surrogate father. Soon after Tokushi moved to the Izumi mansion, a new set of furniture for the birthing room was brought from the Imperial palace to the mansion (8.8).44 Selected court envoys, senior nobles, and courtiers were followed by servants and guards in a solemn procession toward the Izumi mansion. The accoutrements were brought into the mansion, and Tokushi was shown several key furnishing items, including a white-curtained sleeping platform, a folding screen, a royal seat (cushion), a white cloth screen, and a straw mat. Tokushi’s household had also ordered smaller items that were to be used in the birth rituals three months later, such as wooden barrels and lamps, and Tokushi viewed them as well.45 It appears that the viewing of the objects that were to be used was an essential part of this event, similar to her viewing the sash before it was empowered and worn. In addition, Buddhist images and sutras were produced, to be used in rituals for a safe delivery. For example, the production of images of Shichibutsu Yakushi 七仏薬師, a standard icon of rituals for childbirth, started on the second day of the eighth month under the sponsorship of Tokiko.46 On the tenth day of the tenth month, Taira no Tsunemori 平経盛 (1124–1185) had a life-sized statue of Fudō Myōō 不動明王 made for the child’s safe delivery.47 On the fifteenth day of the tenth month, five statues of bodhisattvas were produced and ten copies of the Ninnō gyo 仁王経 (Benevolent Kings Sutra) were made, under the sponsorship of Taira no Norimori 平教盛 (1128–1185).48 On the twentyseventh day of the tenth month, Shigemori commissioned life-sized sculptures of Six Kannon (roku kannon 六観音).49 The majority of the ritual icons and paraphernalia were requested by Tokushi’s family and relatives.

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45 46 47 48 49

On each occasion of imperial or aristocratic childbirth, this set of furniture was newly created, but discarded after the birth. As documentary evidence and a few surviving works show, folding screens were covered with pieces of white twilled silk cloth on which auspicious motifs, such as pine and bamboo trees, cranes, and turtles, were depicted in white. As I will argue, the disposal of the furniture is related to the similar treatment of other ritual objects made specifically for childbirth. The small barrels, called oshioke 押桶, would be used to contain various objects in the rituals (discussed below). Sankaiki, Jishō 2 (1178).8.2 (Rekihaku database). Inson 院尊 (1120–1198), the head of the prestigious In school (Inpa 院派) of sculpture, was commissioned to make the images. Sankaiki, Jishō 2 (1178).10.10 (vol. 27, pp. 146–148). Sankaiki, Jishō 2 (1178).10.15 (vol. 27, p. 149). Sankaiki, Jishō 2 (1178).10.27 (vol. 27, pp. 155–157). There are six manifestations of Kan-

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In addition to the protection of the mother and baby, there was another element vital for Tokushi’s family—namely, producing a male heir so that Kiyomori would be the grandfather of the next reigning emperor.50 Generally, among the rituals for having a baby boy, perhaps the best known is the Ususama ritual (ususama hō 烏枢沙摩法). According to one of the most important compendia of Tendai esoteric rituals, Asabashō 阿娑縛抄, the main icon of this ritual is Ususama Myōō 烏枢沙摩明王, who possesses the power to purify all sorts of defilements, in particular, pollution from corpses, blood of animals, and bleeding from childbirth.51 The Ususama ritual was conducted by monks of Enryakuji 延暦寺 (in most cases, the chief abbot of the Tendai school), and was aimed at eliminating calamities, increasing benefits, subjugating evil spirits, and promising fertility. It was, moreover, known as a ritual to affect the sex of a fetus by transforming a female into a male. Asabashō claims that the Ususama ritual is essential for expectant imperial consorts and lists the births of imperial princes as the successful results of the ritual.52 Tokushi’s family must have been well aware of the benefits of this rite. Under the commission of her family and relatives, the monk En’un 円雲 (dates unknown) of Enryakuji performed the Ususama ritual for Tokushi on twentieth day of the ninth month and again on the twenty-third day.53

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non: Shō 聖 (sacred), Senju 千手 (thousand-armed), Batō 馬頭 (horse-headed), Jūichimen 十一面 (eleven-headed), Nyoirin 如意輪 (jewel-holding), and Juntei 准胝 (Buddha mother). They are believed to save sentient beings of the six realms of transmigration (rokudō 六道). See Fowler, “Travels of the Daihōonji Six Kannon,” pp. 186–192. Emperor Takakura also needed a male offspring. So, before Tokushi’s pregnancy was confirmed, he ordered the monk Bōkaku 房覚 (dates unknown) of Onjōji to pray for the birth of a prince. Bōkaku made pilgrimages to Ise and Kumano 熊野 shrines twice, and his disciple prayed to deities at Usa Hachimangū 宇佐八幡宮. As we will see, Bōkaku served as one of the genja 験者 (ritual practitioners who specialized in spirit possession) at Tokushi’s parturition. I will expand on how a male heir would help the Taira and Takakura in the penultimate section of this chapter. Asabashō, vol. 60, p. 103. Asabashō, vol. 59, pp. 231–239. Sankaiki, Jishō 2 (1178).9.20, 23 (Rekihaku database). The Ususama ritual on 9.20 was performed as one of the four altar rituals—the other three were One-Syllable Golden Wheel ritual (Ichiji kinrin hō 一字金輪法), Venerable Buddha-Eye ritual (Butsugen hō 仏眼法), and Vajra Child Attendants ritual (Kongō dōji hō 金剛童子法), all of which were performed by distinguished monks. The Sankaiki entry for the twenty-third says that the Ususama ritual was held from the twentieth day, suggesting that the ritual continued from the twentieth through the twenty-third and perhaps longer.

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One month before Tokushi’s labor, in the tenth month of the year, more rituals were conducted almost daily, because Tokushi was expected to give birth around the end of that month.54 One of the most important of these rituals took place on the first day of the month, the day on which Tokushi symbolically rented from the directional deities the piece of land where the delivery room was located.55 As mentioned, as childbirth, specifically, bleeding and the placenta (ena 胞衣) from childbirth, were believed to pollute, it was necessary to ask the directional deities to vacate the place in advance (on the first day of the due month) to avoid contamination. On behalf of Tokushi, the chief court physician affixed a document of the lease contract (shakuchi mon 借地文) to the tie beam of the northern wall of the main building of the birthroom. This document functioned as a talisman for setting a boundary around the birthing room that would prevent the childbirth pollution from leaking outside, while protecting the mother and child inside from wrathful deities that might try to intrude.

Tokushi’s Childbirth: Labor Starts Tokushi began to show signs of labor before dawn on the twelfth day of the eleventh month.56 Around the Hour of the Tiger (4:00 a.m.), Taira no Tokitada, the head of the principal consort’s household and an uncle of Tokushi, sent messengers to his staff and other members of the Taira family. Nakayama Tadachika, the author of Sankaiki and the provisional head of the principal consort’s household, reported immediately to the Izumi mansion, where he joined Shigehira and other young Taira family members who served Tokushi. In addition, Tadachika’s colleagues in the principal consort’s household hurried off to the mansion. Among them was the senior secretary, Motochika. Senior nobles and courtiers also began to congregate in the mansion.57 Eminent Buddhist monks and yin-yang masters were summoned to attend at the mansion.

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The Sankaiki entry for the seventeenth day of the ninth month states that Tokushi’s childbirth would be in the following month. Sankaiki, Jishō 2 (1178).9.17 (Rekihaku database). Sankaiki, Jishō 2 (1178).10.1 (vol. 27, p. 145). The following account of Tokushi’s birth is found in Sankaiki, Jishō 2 (1178).11.12 (vol. 27, pp. 160–177). Kujō Kanezane, minister of the right, was informed of the labor by a messenger at the Hour of the Dragon (about 8:00 a.m.), and arrived at the Izumi mansion at the Hour of the Snake (about 10 a.m.). Gyokuyō, Jishō 2 (1178).11.12 (vol. 4, p. 38).

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In addition, Retired Emperor Goshirakawa paid a secret visit to the mansion to pray for Tokushi (his adopted daughter and daughter-in-law) and his grandchild. Furnishings were arranged in haste to create the birthing room in the main building of the Izumi mansion. Motochika’s staff set up the white furnishings that had been newly made and brought into the mansion three months earlier. The white-curtained platform was assembled, and the set of white curtains was hung from the upper tie beams on the four sides of the chamber. Two straw cushion mats with white edges were set up to be used as a sort of birthing stool and pillow, and around the mats white-cloth dividing screens and white folding screens were erected. Nearby, many wooden barrels were arranged on the floor of the birthing chamber. Some barrels contained earthenware vessels (for the vessel-breaking ritual), rice (for the rice-sprinkling ritual) and other objects, but others were empty and to be used for the disposal of the placenta. Women in immediate attendance on Tokushi were dressed in white robes. Tokushi, in a blue maternity gown and white skirt, proceeded to her seat in the birthing room, where she sat facing the auspicious direction. All of these furnishings and clothes, except Tokushi’s robe, were pure white, a color intended to purify the space. The color for her gown, blue, was chosen because it was deemed propitious by the yin-yang masters. Seats for courtiers and ritual practitioners were placed on the floor. The types and locations of their seats were carefully arranged, according partly to the ranks and ritual roles of the participants, but also considering their needs for avoiding the defilement of childbirth. Mats with kōraiberi 高麗縁 were for highranking monks and courtiers in the main building of the mansion, and mats with borders of purple cloth were placed on the wood slat veranda (sunoko 簀 子) on the eastern side of the south corridor for the yin-yang practitioners.58 Monks were seated near the birthing room, since they were better able to cope with the defilement, whereas yin-yang masters had to avoid the defilement by all means.

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Kōraiberi refers to a special binding decorated with stylized motifs of flowers (e.g., chrysanthemums) or clouds embroidered on white twilled cloth for the edges of tatami mats. Tatami with kōraiberi were normally reserved for high-ranking people (e.g., imperial princes, ministers, and senior courtiers). The colors of tatami borders were also determined by court ranks. For example, purple was reserved for monks, scholars, and those above the fourth and fifth ranks. Ying-yang practitioners were assigned purple probably due to their ranks (prominent yin-yang practitioners in the late Heian period often had the fourth rank) or perhaps because they were regarded as scholars.

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At the time of Tokushi’s confinement, prayers for a safe delivery played an extremely important role. They were offered not only at the Izumi mansion, but also at numerous temples and shrines in and around the capital. Messengers charged with reciting sutras were dispatched to forty-one shrines and seventyfour temples.59 This is almost five times more than the number of shrines and temples assigned to perform rituals on the day of the sash-donning ceremony, which indicates the significance of the birth as a national matter. While sutras were being recited at the temples and shrines, Shigemori had a dozen horses led outside the west gate of the mansion, to be dedicated to select shrines (Ise 伊勢, Iwashimizu 石清水, Kamo 賀茂, Matsuo 松尾, Hirano 平野, Inari 稲荷, Kasuga 春日, Hie, and Itsukushima). This dedication of horses followed the precedent of the most influential mid-Heian-period regent, Fujiwara no Michinaga 藤原 道長 (966–1028), for the birth of one of his daughters.60

Rituals during Tokushi’s Labor The details of Tokushi’s labor are described in Heike monogatari and depicted in several illustrations of it. A notable example is Heike monogatari emaki 平家物語絵巻 (Illustrated handscrolls of the Tale of the Heike) in the collection of Hayashibara Art Museum, an extensive set of picture scrolls from the seventeenth century. It exhibits various scenes from the birth event, giving us a fairly good idea of the setting, rituals, ritual paraphernalia, and participants in the event (fig. 3.2).61 It should be noted, however, that Heike mono-

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To these religious institutions, Kiyomori and Tokiko dedicated a large amount of white cloth. This was when Fujiwara no Shōshi 藤原彰子 (988–1074), the principal consort of Emperor Ichijō 一条天皇 (980–1011; r. 986–1011), gave birth in 1008. Komatsu, ed., Heike monogatari emaki, pp. 32–49. The scenes include the following: courtiers gather at the Ike mansion (where Tokushi’s labor took place according to Heike monogatari); offerings to deities are dispatched from the mansion toward their temples and shrines; Shigemori brings various gifts including twelve horses to the mansion; many senior nobles and courtiers arrive at the mansion; Buddhist monks perform the Kujaku ritual; Kiyomori and his wife wait anxiously for the birth; Goshirakawa recites a sutra besides the birthing room; many Buddhist monks perform esoteric rituals; yin-yang masters perform a purification ritual with white streamers; Shigehira reports a safe delivery of a baby boy to other Taira members; Kiyomori cries for joy; Shigemori presents ninety-nine coins to the newborn; and so on. Many of these are recorded in Sankaiki as well, albeit with slight difference in detail, as will be seen below.

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figure 3.2 Birth scene of Emperor Antoku, Heike monogatari emaki, 17th c. Source: Tosa Sasuke, Hayashibara Bitjusukan shozō Heike monogatari emaki, ed. Sakurai Yōko (Okayama: Hayashibara Bijutsukan, 1992), scroll 3; p. 27

gatari and its illustrations are not necessarily accurate, when checked against historical records. For example, Heike monogatari says that the delivery took place in the Ike mansion (Ike-dono 池殿), the residence of one of Kiyomori’s brothers, whereas, in reality, Tokushi gave birth in the Izumi mansion. It is therefore crucial to examine primary sources for what went on in the birth event. Sankaiki provides a detailed description of the birth event that includes diagrams of the rooms and seats in the Izumi mansion on the day of Tokushi’s labor (Figs. 3.3, 3.4).62 In this mansion, the core (moya 母屋) of the main shindenstyle building had an unusual structure, divided into north and south areas by sliding door partitions (narabido 並戸). This unusual partitioning, in addition to the relatively small size of the mansion itself, did not leave enough space for the usual arrangement and furnishings of the delivery or birthing room (the room was called gosho 御所, which normally refers to a palace but here it is used in the literal sense of a “place” for a noble person). Therefore, an ad hoc

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Sankaiki, Jishō 2 (1178).11.12 (vol. 27, pp. 162–163). Ōta Seiroku has meticulously analyzed the diagrams in Sankaiki illustrating the Izumi mansion. In reading and analyzing the diagrams and accounts in Sankaiki, I also rely on Ōta’s interpretation. Ōta, Shinden zukuri no kenkyū, pp. 605–613.

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figure 3.3 Diagram of the main building of the Izumi mansion at the time of Tokushi’s labor on the twelfth day of the eleventh month, 1178 Source: Nakayama Tadachika, Sankaiki, Zōho shiryō taisei, vol. 26, ed. Zōho shiryō taisei kankōkai (Kyoto: Rinsen Shoten, 1965), pp. 162–163

arrangement and simplified furnishings were created, and a delivery room surrounded by white curtains (michō 御帳) was set up in the north and innermost area of the interior of the building. The chief Tendai abbot (Tendai zasu 天台座主), the imperial princely monk Kakukai 覚快 (or zasu no miya 座主宮, Goshirakawa’s brother: 1131–1181), was seated to the left (east) of the birthing room, accompanied by attendant

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monk(s), and one of Goshirakawa’s sons, the imperial princely monk Shukaku of Ninnaji 仁和寺, was seated to the right (west) of the birthing room.63

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It is not certain what rituals Kakukai and Shukaku performed near Tokushi. Sankaiki does not provide information about Kakukai’s actions in the Izumi mansion, but it says that Shukaku brought a peacock feather and a single-pronged vajra when he attended Tokushi. It goes on to say that a sutra was put on the desk in front of Shukaku and that his accompanying monks recited sutras in the tendoku 転読 [abridged] fashion. From these pieces of information we can gather that Shukaku conducted the recitation of the Kujaku kyō 孔雀経 (Peacock Sutra) with the vajra in his hand. It is likely that Kakukai also recited a

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Between the birthing room and Kakukai was Jitsuzen, who acted as one of the genja 験者 (ritual practitioners who specialized in spirit possession),64 and next to him was seated a spirit medium (monotsuke 物付), to whom mononoke were to be transferred. The other four genja, Gōzen 豪禅 (dates unknown),65 Bōkaku 房覚 (dates unknown), Shōun 昌雲 (dates unknown), and Shungyō 俊 堯 (1118–1186), were positioned in front of the birthing room, also accompanied by mediums. These genja were all eminent esoteric Buddhist monks of Enryakuji or Onjōji, and two of them would later serve the baby Prince Tokihito as gojisō 護持僧 (monks who performed prayers for the well-being of sovereign and state) after Tokihito’s succession to the throne. They had performed rituals for Tokushi in the earlier stages of her pregnancy, both to exorcize mononoke and to pray for a safe birth. In particular, Jitsuzen was renowned as a genja, and he had frequently performed rituals of exorcism during Tokushi’s pregnancy; this probably explains why he was positioned separately from the other monks. Although it is unusual to have five genja attend a birth, they were probably called in as an extra precaution in case Tokushi had difficulty in labor. Ryōkō 良 弘 (b. 1142), a notable monk of Tōji 東寺 (who would also become a gojisō of Tokihito), was seated next to the genja. In Sankaiki, he is called a Shingon master (shingonshi 真言師)—an esoteric Buddhist monk who performed a Shingon practice of empowerment and healing through the incantation of mantras and dhāraṇī (esoteric magic spells). Retired Emperor Goshirakawa contributed prayers for Tokushi and the baby through not only his patronage of rituals but also his active participation in the rituals. He had already performed several rites for Tokushi earlier in her pregnancy, such as a rite to protect her body (goshinhō 護身法). On the day of the labor, upon his discreet arrival at the Izumi mansion, he encouraged monks to pray louder for a safe childbirth, and he performed a ritual of empower-

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sutra—possibly the Yakushi kyō, since he was also in charge of the Shichibutsu Yakushi ritual in the Ike mansion. As Morimoto Sensuke has shown, Yugi kyō kuketsu 瑜祇経口決 (oral transmission of the Yugi Sutra) defines “genja” as practitioners who mastered the rite of āveśa (Abisha hō 阿尾 捨法). The Sanskrit term āveśa means “possession.” Morimoto notes that prayers of possession ( yori kitō 憑祈祷) were officially transmitted only within the Tendai school, so most genja before the Kamakura period were Tendai monks. The rite of āveśa was not transmitted in the Shingon school, since it was an oral transmission from the Tendai monk Ennin 円仁 (794–864). Morimoto, “Tennō no shussan kūkan,” p. 233. Indeed, genja at Tokushi’s childbirth were all Tendai monks. At first, four of the genja, Jitsuzen, Bōkaku, Shōun, and Shungyō, were called upon to serve at Tokushi’s childbirth, but since “four” was considered an unpropitious number, Gōzen was summoned to join them by the order of Retired Emperor Goshirakawa.

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figure 3.4 Detail of fig. 3.3 (expanded) Source: Author

ment himself. Goshirakawa had not been assigned a seat in the ritual area, and Sankaiki lacks information on where he ended up sitting, but he most probably presided over rituals in the inner area of the main building of the mansion.66

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It is probable that Goshirakawa turned up uninvited, as suggested by several facts: his visit

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According to Heike monogatari, he was seated close to the birthing room, that is, near the genja, and he incanted the Senju kyō 千手経 (Thousand-Armed Kannon Sutra) with prayer beads in his hands, to exorcize evil spirits from Tokushi.67 Goshirakawa’s devotion to Buddhism was distinctive among retired emperors, as he received the “Abhiseka (initiation ritual) of the Dharma Transmission (denpō kanjō 伝法灌頂)” earlier in the year of Tokushi’s childbearing. In contrast to Goshirakawa’s active participation in rituals, Kiyomori’s contributions were made mostly through his sponsorship of various types of rituals, commissioning and offering rewards to practitioners, as well as preparing material objects such as medicines.68 No surviving documents record that he performed rituals himself for Tokushi.69 Shigemori, who assumed many of his father’s roles as the Taira chieftain, did not perform rituals for Tokushi’s safe delivery either. Thus, Goshirakawa made a rather striking contribution to the childbirth event.70 I will discuss the political significance of Goshirakawa’s involvement in Tokushi’s childbirth later.

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was a secret; Sankaiki shows no seat for him; as Sankaiki and Gyokuyō suggest, it was on this day that the regent approved Goshirakawa’s visit to the Izumi mansion. According to Heike monogatari, Goshirakawa appeared in the Izumi mansion “on his way” to Ima Kumano Shrine 今熊野神社 (or 新熊野神社), and he left for the shrine right after the birth of Tokihito (yet “on his way” here is rather unnatural, since Goshirakawa’s residence and the Ima Kumano Shrine were close to each other, while the Izumi mansion was farther away). If he, in fact, participated in the childbirth event uninvited, his intention behind doing so and the Taira’s behind not inviting him are both significant. See the final section of this chapter for Goshirakawa’s political situation. Heike monogatari, p. 198; McCullough, trans., The Tale of the Heike, p. 102. Kiyomori’s contributions are comparable to those of other maternal fathers in the aristocracy. The most notable example is Fujiwara no Michinaga, who married his three daughters to emperors. For example, for his eldest daughter Shōshi’s birth, Murasaki Shikibu 紫式部 (ca. 973 or 978–1014 or 1025) records that Michinaga gave instructions in a loud voice to ladies-in-waiting, monks, and others attending the childbirth, but that he did not perform rites himself; Murasaki shikibu nikki, Kankō 寛弘 (1008).9.10 (pp. 130–137). Heike monogatari even goes on to say that, during Tokushi’s difficult labor, Kiyomori and his wife Tokiko just “sat stupefied with anxiety, their hands on their breasts,” saying “What’s happened? What’s gone wrong?” Heike monogatari, p. 198; McCullough, trans., The Tale of the Heike, p. 101. Goshirakawa’s patronage and practice of rituals for Tokushi’s childbirth were not so unusual among the retired emperors of the insei 院政 period (1086–1192), which included the cloistered governments of Retired Emperors Shirakawa 白河法皇 (1053–1129; r. 1073– 1087), Toba 鳥羽法皇 (1103–1156; r. 1107–1123), and Goshirakawa. The most striking case of a retired emperor attending the birth scene of a consort is the labor of Fujiwara no Shōshi 藤原璋子 (1101–1145), Toba’s principal consort. It is reported that Shirakawa was wit-

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At the south-west corner of the main chamber, a white-curtained raised platform (michōdai 御帳台) of almost the same size as the birthing room was set up for use as the baby’s bedchamber. The newborn was transferred to this bedchamber after being given milk, as we will see shortly. The south roofed veranda (hisashi 庇) was occupied by four rows of two tatami mats. On each mat, two or three ajari 阿闍梨 (esoteric Buddhist masters) took seats. Some of the accompanying monks of these ajari masters were seated behind their masters and others were in the east corridor (or gallery) of the mansion, although their mats are not shown in the diagram. The ajari masters assumed various ritual roles, and some of them were allowed near the birthroom. For instance, Zengen read aloud Tokushi’s vows to various deities from behind the bamboo blinds where genja were seated in the main building.71 Ryūken 隆賢 (dates unknown) empowered ox bezoar (goō 牛黄) with incantations to Juntei Kannon 准胝観音 and brought it into the birthing room.72 This empowered ox bezoar was usually ground and mixed with purified water to form a solution that would be symbolically applied to the mother’s vagina in prayer for a safe delivery. Ox bezoars were said to remove evil spirits from the body, and also to assure an easy childbirth.73 In the case of Tokushi, the solution was applied to her stomach by her lady-in-waiting. The monks did not stay in the same locations throughout childbirth, but moved around depending on the ritual needs. Eight yin-yang masters took seats on a wood-slatted platform attached to the south veranda and performed a ritual of purification. Eight eight-legged tables were set up in front of the masters and tied to the rail of the veranda with strings made of twisted paper (kamiyori or koyori 紙捻).74 The court diviner, seated on a thin mat (hizatsuki 軾) that was laid on the ground in the courtyard near the south stairs, performed a royal divination and purification. It is worth noting that these rituals of purification were always performed outside the central room of the building on surrounding verandas or in the courtyard, based on

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nessed in the birthing room among the ladies-in-waiting assisting Shōshi’s labor. Chōshūki, Gen’ei 元永 2 (1119).5.28 (vol. 16, p. 136). Tokushi vowed to deities that she would go on a pilgrimage to Iwashimizu, Hirano, and Hie shrines in return for a successful birth. Ox bezoars, or calculus bovis, are dried and yellowish gallstones of oxen. Medical uses of ox bezoars in China and Japan, as well as their use in empowerment rites, are discussed in Strickmann, Chinese Magical Medicine, pp. 185–186. See the entry for “goō kaji” in Mikkyō daijiten, vol. 2, p. 559. It is unclear whether it was common to tie tables to a rail in rituals of this type. It may have been an ad hoc measure for stabilizing the tables because it was windy on the day Tokihito was born.

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the belief that the defilement and impurity from childbirth could be avoided in open-air spaces. Indeed, when Tokushi’s delivery was concluded with the expulsion of the placenta, which was a powerful source of defilement, courtiers who were seated on the western corridor of the Izumi mansion were asked to stand up and step down to the outside of the building.75 Yin-yang masters and court diviners also needed to take extra precautions to avoid pollution due to their specialization in purification rituals. The western veranda surrounding the inner part of the building was divided into a south and north space by a freestanding partition (tsuitate shōji 衝立障 子). South of the partition, four tatami mats were set out for assistant monks of the imperial princely monk Shukaku. North of the partition, one tatami mat was for the regent (kanpaku 関白) Fujiwara no Motofusa 藤原基房 (1144–1230); this seat, not directly adjacent to the birthing room, was carefully placed so Motofusa could avoid childbirth pollution. In fact, it was particularly crucial for high-ranking courtiers to avoid pollution on this day, since the harvest festival (niiname-e 新嘗会), one of the important annual court rituals, was scheduled six days later.76 The western double-bay corridor ( futamunerō 二棟廊), which extended from the main building, was used as a ceremonial hall for the Kujaku ritual. This rite, led by Shukaku,77 was initially planned to be completed within a period of 75

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As Morimoto Sensuke has pointed out, acts of stepping down to the outside of the building (or failures thereof) were recorded in accounts of royal childbirth. For instance, there was an unfortunate case after a consort of Retired Emperor Kameyama 亀山法皇 (1249– 1305; r. 1260–1274) gave birth, when senior nobles and courtiers failed to descend to the outside of the building, following Kameyama’s judgment that they did not need to. As a result, they were all contaminated by the childbirth pollution. Kinhira-kō ki, Kengen 乾 元 2 (1303).5.9 (vol. 3, p. 117). As Morimoto has also shown, the court diviner’s presence was seen only in cases of imperial and aristocratic childbirth in the eleventh and twelfth centuries. Their absence from childbirth later on can be accounted for by their affiliation with the Council of Kami Affairs ( jingikan 神祇官), whose staff needed to be free from pollution. Morimoto, “Tennō no shussan kūkan,” pp. 240–243. Kujō Kanezane expressed his concern over pollution and the harvest festival. Gyokuyō, Jishō 2 (1178).11.12 (vol. 4, pp. 39–40). Shukaku’s accompanying monks, all from Ninnaji, performed other rituals in the same ceremonial hall on the twenty-fifth day of the tenth month. For example, Kakuzei 覚成 (1126–1196) performed the goma altar ritual (gomadan 護摩壇), along with the ElevenHeaded Kannon ritual. Moreover, Kengō 兼毫 (1119–1189) held the Sonshō ritual (Sonshō hō 尊勝法) and Jitsunin 実任 (dates unknown) performed the Enmei ritual (Enmei hō 延命法, life-prolonging ritual). At the time of Tokushi’s confinement, Kakuzei held the Kujaku ritual on behalf of Shukaku, who needed to be next to the birthing room to attend to Tokushi. Kakuzei was also responsible for the goma ritual at the same time.

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seven days starting from the twenty-fifth day of the tenth month,78 but was extended for another ten days, so that it would conclude with Tokushi’s childbirth.79 This ritual was often performed for rainmaking and averting calamities, but in this context, it was aimed, in particular, at a safe birth in the imperial family.80 Concurrently with the Kujaku ritual at the Izumi mansion, the Shichibutsu Yakushi ritual (Shichibutsu Yakushi hō 七仏薬師法; Seven Medicine Buddhas ritual) was performed in the Ike mansion, the residence of Kiyomori’s brother, Taira no Yorimori 平頼盛 (1133–1186). The imperial princely monk Kakukai, the chief abbot of Tendai, was in charge of this ritual (although some time after it began he left for the Izumi mansion and other monks presumably took over). The greatest number of Shichibutsu Yakushi rituals performed in the late Heian period for the safe labor of imperial consorts were performed by successive chief abbots of the Tendai school; so Kakukai, as the principal practitioner of this ritual, was a natural appointment on this occasion. The Izumi and Ike mansions stood close to each other; the former was situated about one chō 町 (approx. 109m.) to the north of the latter. The smaller Izumi mansion was supplemented by the neighboring Ike mansion in accommodating the two major esoteric Buddhist rituals, quite a standard pair of rituals for imperial childbirth. Both Shukaku and Kakukai were powerful Buddhist figures at that time, and the two rituals led by them were certainly central components of a multitude of rituals for Tokushi’s safe childbirth. The religious efficacy of the rituals by the two masters was believed to increase spiritual aid

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Sankaiki, Jishō 2 (1178).10.25 (vol. 27, pp. 152–155). The diagram of the arrangement for this Kujaku ritual in the Izumi mansion shows a goma altar in the middle of the corridor (fig. 3.5). Other altars, one for Shōten 聖天 (the elephant god) and another for the Twelve Deva Kings ( jūniten 十二天), were installed to the left of the goma altar; and a great altar (daidan 大壇) to the right. In front of the great altar, an image of Kujaku Myōō, most likely in the format of a painting, served as the main icon of the ritual. The proceedings of this performance of the Kujaku ritual, which Shukaku recorded himself, are among a vast amount of fascicles kept in Ninnnaji. Only catalog information of these proceedings is available in Abe and Yamazaki, Shukaku hōshinnō to Ninnaji goryū, pp. 460–462. The Kujaku ritual gradually became monopolized by the Hirosawa branch of Shingon, to which Shukaku belonged. Indeed, Shukaku even publicized it as “Hirosawa’s great secret ritual without equal (Kujaku kyō hō wa Hirosawa no musō no daihihō nari 孔雀経法は広 沢の無双の大秘法なり).” It is not surprising that he received the commission to perform the Kujaku ritual for this important event. For the Kujaku ritual, see Kakuzenshō, vol. 55, pp. 187–199.

figure 3.5 Diagram of the Kujaku ritual in the western double-bay corridor of the Izumi mansion on the twenty-fifth day of the tenth month, 1178 Source: Nakayama Tadachika, Sankaiki, Zōho shiryō taisei, vol. 26, ed. Zōho shiryō taisei kankōkai (Kyoto: Rinsen Shoten, 1965), p. 153

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to Tokushi. For this reason, they also had their seats next to the birthing room as mentioned earlier, so, while they were in attendance on Tokushi at her delivery, other monks took charge of the Kujaku and Shichibutsu Yakushi rituals on their behalf.81 The fishing pavilion (tsuridono 釣殿), located to the south of the middle gate in the Izumi mansion, was filled with Buddhist monks and senior nobles. The monks recited sutras, such as the Daihannya kyō 大般若経 (Sutra of Great Perfection of Wisdom), Hoke kyō 法華経 (Lotus Sutra), Saishō kyō 最勝経 (Sutra of Sovereign Kings), Yakushi kyō 薬師経 (Yakushi Sutra), Kannon gyō 観音経 (Kannon Sutra), Senju kyō, and Jumyō kyō 寿命経 (Longevity Sutra), to aid Tokushi’s safe delivery. For example, Kannon gyō promises that a woman who wishes to give birth to a male child will bear a son, and that a woman who wishes to give birth to a female child will be granted one, “if she offers obeisance and alms to” the Kannon.82 Senju kyō recounts that when a woman has a difficult labor due to the obstruction of demons and ghosts, the sincere chanting of dhāraṇī of the Thousand-Armed Kannon will divert the demons and ghosts from her, and she will have easy birth.83 These sutras were, therefore, perfectly suited for Tokushi’s situation. Moreover, sculptures of Buddhist deities—five life-sized statues of an Eleven-Headed Kannon, Fudō Myōō, Six-Syllable Myōō 六字明王, Yakushi Buddha, and another Fudō Myōō—were carved on-site in the fishing pavilion and then used to pray for Tokushi’s safe delivery.84 The production of these images,

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Sankaiki reports that the Shichibutsu Yakushi ritual was completed after Tokushi’s delivery, suggesting that the ritual continued in Kakukai’s absence from the Ike mansion, after he had left for the Izumi mansion at the Hour of the Rabbit (about 6:00 a.m.). Yet Tadachika, the author of Sankaiki, makes no mention of other monks replacing Kakukai to continue the ritual. Probably he had no information on what took place in the Ike mansion after Kakukai left, because Tadachika was at the Izumi mansion. By contrast, Sankaiki reports on the replacement of monks for the Kujaku ritual at the Izumi mansion. Kakuzei, who was in charge of the goma ritual, was a brother of Tadachika, which also helps to explain how Tadachika likely obtained this detailed information about the Kujaku ritual. It is therefore reasonable to assume that other monks took over Kakukai’s role in the Shichibutsu Yakushi ritual while he was outside the birthroom. Myōhō renge kyō, accessed November 20, 2015. http://21dzk.l.u‑tokyo.ac.jp/SAT/satdb2015 .php; Watson, trans., The Lotus Sutra, p. 300. Senju sengen Kanzeon Bosatsu, accessed November 20, 2015. http://21dzk.l.u‑tokyo.ac.jp/ SAT/satdb2015.php. Tokushi’s uncle, Taira no Yorimori (who offered his residence, the Ike mansion, for the performance of the Shichibutsu Yakushi ritual) had Gyōmyō 行命 (or 行明, dates unknown) carve the Eleven-Headed Kannon statue. Except for this statue, the other four sculptures

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from the consecration ritual for the wood (misogi kaji 御衣木加持) to the eyeopening ritual (kaigen 開眼), took only a single day, a remarkably short period. According to Mori Yukie’s research, the practice of making Buddhist sculptures in such a short period of time was common during the Insei period, with a view to helping imperial and aristocratic patients on the verge of death recover from life-threatening illness and difficult childbirths. As Mori has also noted, these statues were usually produced in or near the building that housed the subject of the healing. This direct involvement in the production of the statues was thought to constitute a prayer in itself and to be effective in obtaining the immediate help of the Buddhist deities.85 Indeed, Tokushi’s situation and location corresponded exactly to this manner of producing such Buddhist images.86 In principle, these Buddhist images, made in haste, were designed for one-time use with a specific goal and discarded after the use. “Newness”

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were produced by Myōen 明円 (d. 1199), one of the most prestigious sculptors of his time. Two of the four statues were commissioned by Tokushi’s brother Shigemori; one by Tokushi’s sister Taira no Moriko 平盛子 (1156–1179); and the other by Moriko’s lady-inwaiting Reizei-no-tsubone 冷泉局 (dates unknown). Mori, “Heian makki ni okeru zōbutsu to busshi,” pp. 22–28; Nedachi, Nihon chūsei no busshi to shakai, pp. 233–234. According to Nedachi, no known sculptural works made in the oneday-production practice have survived, but such works would be very different from extant sculptures during the Insei period with respect to jointing techniques, finishing touches, and other features. This practice of the one-day-production of Buddhist images was not just carried out on the day of Tokushi’s labor but earlier as well. For example, a life-sized sculpture of Fudō Myōō was made by the Buddhist sculptor Inshō 院尚 (dates unknown) at Jōkōin 常行 院 (the Taira family temple in Rokuhara) on the fourteenth day of the tenth month. The ritual of consecrating the wooden blocks started at the Hour of the Dragon (about 8:00 a.m.) and the sculpture was complete at the Hour of the Monkey (about 4:00p.m.) on the same day. It is worth noting that the Buddhist images used in the prayers for Tokushi’s safe delivery comprised three types according to their time of production. The first type was made in a short period, within the day as a ritual. The second type was made within a standard period, a couple of months before the ritual. To revisit an example mentioned earlier, the production of Shichibutsu Yakushi sculpture(s) began on the second day of the eighth month, and they served as the central icon of the Shichibutsu Yakushi ritual about three months later, from the twenty-fifth day of the tenth month through the twelfth day of the eleventh month. The third type was “old Buddhas” (kobutsu 古仏), images produced in the past and reused to pray for Tokushi’s childbirth. For example, the main icons for the recitations of the Yakushi and Senju Sutras on the tenth day of the ninth month were kobutsu. These kobutsu were noted for bringing about a favorable outcome in previous rituals, and a similar merit was expected by reusing the same icon. For kobutsu, see Nedachi, Nihon chūsei no busshi to shakai, p. 236.

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and “purity” were required to facilitate the efficacy of the rituals, which may explain the scarcity of extant works of this type.87 In Tokushi’s case, her safe delivery was the prime goal; so the images were probably discarded after this goal was achieved.88 For the same purpose, theurgic rituals ( juhō 呪法) were also performed. One of the most representative rituals of this kind was the sprinkling of rice (sanmai 散米 or uchimaki 打撒).89 In order to ward off malevolent spirits, Tokushi’s brother Shigemori and his son Koremori 維盛 (1158–1184) sprinkled rice just outside the birthing room until the baby was born. The sound of the rice grains falling to the ground was quite loud, but it was overshadowed by the incantations by the genja. So Shigemori and Koremori removed the straw mats from the wooden floor to make the sound even louder because the sound of the falling grains was thought to be more effective in driving away evil spirits. This ritual was well prepared beforehand; as we saw, a set of six earthenware jars containing rice had been placed beside the screens surrounding the birthing room when the room was assembled. Moreover, several types of medicine were prepared by court physicians for an easy delivery. As mentioned above, Tokushi had already been prescribed some herbal medicine, such as senshōshi, at the sash-donning ceremony. The chief court physician also prescribed for her a pair of fossil shells about a month before the labor. On the day of the labor, Kiyomori gave Tokushi another pair of fossil shells, and also seahorses, fur of a giant flying squirrel, and otter fur; Shigemori gave her a bowstring; and the chief court physician presented her with a certain type of horse hair.90 All were used as theurgic talismans to facilitate her labor. As Katsuura Noriko has rightly argued, physicians made significant contributions not only through their medical knowledge but also their skills in performing theurgic rituals.91

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There are some cases of Buddhist images that were originally meant to be used only on a single occasion but that were then repaired, probably to be re-used. See Nakano, “Saidaijibon Batō kannon zō kō,” pp. 7–21. As we have seen in Tokushi’s sash-donning ceremony, the paintings used at the two esoteric rituals as the main icons were also made within a single day. It is unknown whether these paintings were reused in the same or other rituals later. For this practice, see Nakamura Yoshio, Ōchō no fūzoku to bungaku, pp. 33–35; Suzuki, “Twanging Bows and Throwing Rice,” pp. 36–37. They used hair that grew under cheekpieces (psalia) of bridles. I am indebted to Katheryn Linduff for information on bridles. For the presumed effects of these medicines as well as physicians’ contributions, see Katsuura, “Kodai, chūsei zenki shussan girei,” pp. 19–20.

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This set of knowledge and skills was taken from medical and theurgic manual books, most notably Ishinpō, a medical manual edited by Tanba no Yasuyori 丹波康頼 (912–955). Ishinpō quotes many passages from the ancient Chinese medical manual Sankyō 産経. In fact, for the sake of Tokushi, the eastern gate of the Izumi mansion, which was normally closed, was opened, following the instruction in Sankyō (also quoted in Ishinpō) that any kind of closed object (e.g., gates, doors, windows, and lids of earthenware, bottles, and pots) should be opened at the time of a difficult childbirth.92 As many records attest, Tokushi’s delivery of Prince Tokihito turned out to be a very difficult process.

The Birth of Prince Tokihito After a difficult delivery, in the second quarter of the Hour of the Sheep (1:30p.m.), a baby boy was finally born. The birthing room was a confined environment behind curtains and accessed only by women who were either Tokushi’s close relatives or in immediate attendance. As was typical with women of her time, Tokushi gave birth in a supported sitting position with the assistance of three ladies-in-waiting. She sat leaning against one of the ladies, known only by her title, Kasuga-no-tsubone 春日局 (dates unknown), with her back supported by another attendant, Daisuke-no-tsubone 大輔局 (dates unknown).93 The third lady, Tōin-no-tsubone 洞院局 (a.k.a. Fujiwara no Muneko 藤原領子; dates unknown),94 who was a maternal aunt-in-law of Tokushi, served as a nursing mother (menoto 乳母) for the newborn prince. After her delivery of a baby, Tokushi was provided with a new sash, and she put it on over the empowered one that she had been wearing since the sashceremony. Shigemori recited a norito 祝詞 prayer three times, “Make heaven your father and earth your mother (ten o motte chichi to nashi, chi o motte haha to nasu 以天為父、 以地為母), have ninety-nine coins and live as many years (kinsen kujūku o ryōshi jumyō o ryōsu 領金銭九十九令咒命)” (presumably, he whispered this into the ear of the baby).95 He then placed a white bag contain-

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For this account in Sankyō, see Sugitatsu, Osan no rekishi, p. 59. According to Ōta Seiroku’s interpretation, Kasuga-no-tsubone assisted Tokushi by providing her with a rope or long piece of cloth as a birthing tool to pull on during the delivery. Ōta, Shinden zukuri no kenkyū, p. 608. Tōin-no-tsubone was the wife of Taira no Tokitada. She was appointed a nursing mother a few months prior to the birth of Prince Tokihito, when the wife of Taira no Munemori (Tokushi’s brother), who had been appointed a nursing mother, passed away. This prayer derives from a citation of Sankyō in Ishinpō.

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ing ninety-nine coins strung together on a white string (which Kiyomori had prepared) on the bedside in the bedchamber to which the newborn was going to be ritually transferred.96 Immediately following Prince Tokihito’s birth, a ceramic rice steamer (koshiki 甑) was rolled down from the ridgepole of the roof of the Izumi mansion. But it was dropped in an unpropitious direction. At the birth of a boy, a rice steamer was supposed to be dropped on the south side, but for Tokihito they dropped it to the north by mistake.97 So it was brought up again and dropped in the proper direction. As Tsurezuregusa explains, the practice of dropping a rice steamer was a theurgic ritual for imperial consorts to facilitate the afterbirth.98 Therefore, Tokushi must also have had a slow and difficult delivery of the placenta, which required that a rice steamer be dropped. The error in the direction notwithstanding, the rite went well for Tokushi in two, more crucial, aspects. The rice steamer was supposed to break and scatter when hitting the ground, and Tokushi’s steamer did that. Indeed, steamers were often cracked before dropping, to make sure that they would break without fail. For Tokushi, the steamer had been broken into three pieces and the fragmented pieces had been bound together with hemp before the fall. Another important aspect of the rite was the sound of the steamer shattering. In this rite and other ritualistic acts of making noise, such as sprinkling rice and breaking ceramics, the noise was designed to drive away evil forces at childbirth. Against the background sounds of incessant incantations, prayers, and objects shattering, Tokushi completed the delivery of placenta.99 96

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Usually, gold coins were freshly minted and dedicated to a newborn. According to Morimoto Sensuke, however, it was copper coins instead of gold coins that were used as a congratulatory gift in the case of Prince Tokihito. Morimoto, “Tennō no shussan kūkan,” p. 237. This may have been because Kiyomori was known to have imported a large amount of copper coins from Song China. Scholars have pointed out the symbolic meaning of dropping rice steamers. See, for example, annotations in Tsurezuregusa, p. 131; Keene, trans., Essays in Idleness, p. 56; Hotate, Chūsei no ai to jūzoku, pp. 206–207. It is very likely that people found some resemblance between the act of dropping a rice steamer and the way the placenta dropped from the womb. For an analyses of placenta expulsion and rice steamers, see Nakamura Teiri, Ena no inochi, pp. 43–49; Suzuki, “Twanging Bows and Throwing Rice,” pp. 18–21. Tsurezuregusa, p. 131; Keene, trans., Essays in Idleness, p. 56. According to Sankaiki, Tokushi’s placenta was then put into a white ceramic bottle (shiro heiji 白瓶子) and sealed with a wooden stopper. A screen was erected in the eastern side of the Izumi mansion, and the bottled placenta was kept behind the screen until two days later when its disposal took place. The date, time, and direction of the disposal were calculated by the chief of the Yin-Yang Bureau. Beyond this, neither Sankaiki nor any

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Theurgic rituals similar to these are depicted in, for example, Hikohohodemino-mikoto emaki 彦火々出見尊絵巻 (Illustrated handscrolls of Prince Hikohohodemi; fig. 3.6).100 The oldest extant copy of this set of picture scrolls is made in the early seventeenth century, modelled on the now-lost original, which was produced most likely by the order of Goshirakawa in the late twelfth century, contemporary to Tokihito’s birth.101 The scroll set shows Prince Hikohohodemi’s wife, a daughter of a dragon king, giving birth, along with a female attendant assisting her and other women praying for a safe delivery in the birthing room.102 One of the women is shattering earthenware. Outside the building, four yin-yang masters are performing a purification ritual in front of eight-legged tables. Each master assumes a different role: reciting a prayer from a scroll, setting up staffs with small rectangular paper sheets (heigushi 幣 串) on a table, waving a wooden wand decorated with zig-zag paper streamers, and infusing breath into a white object (paper or cloth). Objects purified by these masters are being, or are to be, carried by female attendants to the birthroom. Childbirth is a source of pollution and yin-yang masters must distance themselves from it, which is why the women enter the contaminated space on the masters’ behalf. This illustration may give us some clue to what the ritual actions and objects—such as ceramics, small barrels, and wooden sticks with white streamers—looked like in Tokihito’s birth.

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other extant document reveals exactly how the ceremony of disposing the placenta was performed in this case. Sankaiki, Jishō 2 (1178).11.12 (vol. 27, p. 172). In recorded cases of placenta disposal among elites, a placenta was preserved for a certain period and then washed with pure water and bottled, and the bottle was then either tied with a string to the kitsunedo 狐戸 (the latticework of the gable pediment) or deposited above the ceiling. There were some shinden-style buildings with ceilings covering some rooms, and those records say placentas were placed on or above tenjō 天井, ceiling. These recorded cases include the births of Emperors Horikawa (in 1079) and Takakura (in 1161), at which the placentas were similarly treated and placed above the ceiling. Many childbirth rituals for Prince Tokihito followed those performed for Horikawa, so we can assume that Tokushi’s placenta was also treated similarly. Komatsu, ed., Hikohohodemi-no-mikoto emaki, pp. 40–41. The oldest extant copy is preserved in Myōtsūji 明通寺 in Obama city, Fukui Prefecture. Inamoto Mariko has suggested that the scrolls may identify the daughter of the dragon king with Tokushi. For more on the emaki as well as Inamoto’s argument, see “Egakareta shussan.”

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figure 3.6 Birth scene of Prince Hikohohodemi’s wife, Hikohohodemi-no-mikoto emaki, 17th c. Source: Kano Taneyasu, Hikohohodemi-no-mikoto emaki, Urashima myōjin engi in Zoku nihon no emaki, vol. 19, ed. Komatsu Shigemi (Tokyo: Chūō Kōronsha, 1992), scroll 1; pp. 40–41

Rituals for the Newborn Rituals for a newborn began with cutting the umbilical cord.103 Prince Tokihito’s nursing mother, Tōin-no-tsubone, tied up his umbilical cord with a soft silk string (neriito 練糸), and Tokushi’s elder brother Shigemori cut it from the placenta with a bamboo sword that had been carved especially for the occasion by Tokushi’s younger brother, Shigehira. 103

Immediately after the birth of Prince Tokihito, the schedule of cutting the umbilical cord,

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The next ceremony was giving the first breast to the baby. Holding him in her arms, Tōin-no-tsubone wiped the blood off his mouth and tongue with silk batting. She also used silk batting to feed the baby a Chinese herbal concoction, apply a mixture of syrup and vermilion pigment to the baby’s lips, and to let the baby sip a solution of ox bezoar.104 We saw above that ox bezoars were used in another ritual for Tokushi; similarly, they were now expected to protect the baby from malicious forces. Tokushi then gave her breast to her baby. After this ceremony of the first milk, a wet-nurse attended to the baby boy.105 In addition, in accordance with a traditional practice, knots of soft silk cord were tied every time the baby sneezed, as a prayer for his health and growth.106 Then, a wife of Shigemori called Ano-onkata, who was Tokiko’s sister and therefore Tokushi’s aunt, held the baby in her arms and carried him from the birthing room to the bedchamber. Usually, a baby’s maternal grandmother transferred the baby to the bedchamber, but since Tokiko had already taken the tonsure, Ano-onkata substituted for her. Inside the chamber, the baby prince was flanked by two Taira ladies: Ano-onkata and Tōin-no-tsubone, Tokushi’s maternal aunt and aunt-in-law. While the birthing room was a private and practical space for the mother to give birth, the baby’s bedchamber served as a ceremonial space for the newborn to be shown to those who attended at the Izumi mansion.107

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giving milk, bathing, putting on the baby’s first clothes, and shaving the hair were set in accordance with advice of yin-yang masters. Vermilion pigment (kōmyōshu 光明朱 or shusha 朱砂), when applied to a child’s forehead or stomach, was believed to protect him or her from evil forces. Applying it to a baby’s lips probably had a similar function. These medicines were prepared by the chief court physician. She was a daughter and wife of palace guard officers, and was a lady-in-waiting for Tokiko, but her name is unknown. Sankaiki refers to her as an “ochinohito 御乳人,” a person who gave milk. This term was used in distinction from “menoto,” who took responsibility for raising the child in general. In the case of Tokihito, this was Fujiwara no Muneko, who was known by her title, Tōin-no-tsubone. Sankaiki reports that Tōin-no-tsubone gave birth in the sixth month of the same year, but at that time she could not produce breast milk, and she was not expected to give breast milk to Tokihito. There was a custom to tie a knot in thread each time the baby sneezed during a certain period, generally seven days after his or her birth. It was believed that more sneezing brought more blessings. Onochi, “Kushami no jinrui bunka,” p. 95. Despite this function of the bedchamber, it must have been difficult to see him from outside the bedchamber on this occasion. Prince Tokihito stayed in the bedchamber only for a short while and was then transferred back to the birthing room because it was windy and cold that day. Also, even before his return to the birthing room, the bamboo curtains in

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Since the delivery was over, the two major esoteric Buddhist rituals, i.e., the Kujaku and Shichibutsu Yakushi rituals, were concluded by making a vow (kechigan 結願). As mentioned above, the Kujaku ritual was held at the Izumi mansion, and the Shichibutsu Yakushi ritual at the Ike mansion. All of the objects used for these rites (e.g., main icons, implements and furnishings, and seats for monks) were removed from their ritual places. Monks received rewards and withdrew to their temples.108 Around the end of the Hour of the Monkey (5:00 p.m.), Emperor Takakura received the news of the birth of a prince from a messenger dispatched from the Izumi mansion to the Imperial palace. Although reigning sovereigns assumed a minor supporting role in actual childbirth scenes, they played an important role at the symbolic level. In the Heian period, it was customary that a sword was given to an imperial newborn prince on the day of, or the day after, his birth.109 This ceremony was called shiken no gi 賜剣の儀. Usually the father prepared the sword, and Takakura was no exception. Upon the news of the birth of his son, he sent an imperial envoy to the Izumi mansion to present to the baby a sword, beautifully decorated with a ray-skin hilt to which ornaments of the Blue Dragon and the White Tiger (guardians of the east and west directions) were attached.110 It was wrapped in a white fabric bag decorated with an auspicious tortoise-shell pattern. Unlike other objects used at the birth, this sword was not newly made for Tokihito. It had originally been given to Takakura by his father Goshirakawa at his birth. This special sword did not just serve as a material object designed to protect the child from evil spirits, but also as a sort of regalia to ensure the lineage of imperial succession from the grandfather,

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front of the bedchamber were rolled down to avoid cold wind. Although his quick return to the birthing room was against precedents, it was considered preferable because the wooden partitions in front of the birthing room shielded the baby from the cold winds. Additionally, Emperor Takakura wrote to his elder brother Shukaku the next day to express his gratitude for the success of the Kujaku ritual. In reply, Shukaku said how delighted he was with the result of the ritual and how moved he was to receive such a letter of gratitude from Takakura. Abe, “Shukaku hōshinnō to Mitsuyōshō,” p. 39. In the event of the birth of an imperial princess, a sword and a pair of red hakama trousers were given. See, for example, Chūyūki, Kōwa 康和 5 (1103).1.17 (vol. 10, p. 253). Although it records the birth of Prince Munehito 宗仁親王 (future Emperor Toba), it notes that there were such precedents for princesses. This sword is called a nodachi 野剣 or 野太刀 (lit. “field sword”). In the Heian and Kamakura periods nodachi referred to a military sword worn by the aristocracy. This type of sword was also called a hyōjō no tachi 兵仗の太刀, as opposed to a gijō no tachi 儀仗 の太刀 (ceremonial sword).

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through the father, to the son.111 This highly symbolic sword was placed at Tokihito’s bedside in the bedchamber, together with other objects, including the bag of ninety-nine coins and the ox bezoars. Even after the completion of Tokushi’s delivery, childbirth pollution was still a serious concern. As mentioned in the Engi shiki 延喜式, the most influential compendium of rules and procedures of governmental administration and ceremonies in the Heian period, it was believed that childbirth pollution would last for seven days. Therefore, to avoid such pollution, other actions were recommended. For example, five esoteric Buddhist rituals were halted for seven days after the day of Tokushi’s delivery, since the chief practitioners of these rites all played leading roles in the childbirth rituals for Tokushi and had been positioned very close to the source of pollution—Jitsuzen, Bōkaku, and Shungyō had served as genja just outside the curtains of the birthing room,112 and Saigen 済源 (dates unknown) and Zengen were ajari masters seated in the south hisashi space. According to Sankaiki, even after the seven-day halt was over, Zengen did not resume practicing the Six-Syllable ritual in the same location. He relocated away from the area near Takakura’s Imperial palace, lest the pollution might be transmitted to the palace. It is undocumented where the other four monks had been practicing their own rituals but, if they were near the palace, it is likely that they too changed their locations of practice.113

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In ancient times, when iron was brought from the Asian continent, people believed that the material and swords made of it wielded theurgic power. With the passage of time, a sword became both a symbol of confidence if granted from an emperor to a vassal, and a symbol of loyalty if presented from a vassal to an emperor. Moreover, a father giving a sword to a newborn meant the acknowledgement of paternity in the early Heian period. Fukutō, “Ōchō shakai no shussan to jendā,” p. 14. The ceremony of granting a sword to a newborn prince originated against this background. Takakura’s giving a sword to Tokihito was also meant to proclaim his paternity, as was the sash-donning ceremony. As will be discussed, these three monks also performed a ritual for the divine protection of Tokushi from the day after her delivery. This might be another reason why they halted the esoteric Buddhist rituals that had been originally scheduled. There were some Buddhist rituals that were not halted. They had been scheduled prior to Tokushi’s labor, and were considered still relevant after the labor. Among them was the ritual of the White-Robed Kannon (Byakue Kannon 白衣観音), who was believed to aid in a safe delivery, the raising of children, and the prevention of calamities. It is worth noting that one of the monks who performed these rituals, Gyōkai 行海 (1109–1181), served at the birth rituals for Tokushi as an ajari, sitting near Zengen in the hisashi of the Izumi mansion. Despite their similar roles and locations at Tokushi’s childbirth, Gyōkai was allowed to perform an esoteric ritual, while Zengen was not. The reason behind this difference is not clear.

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Moreover, although Tokushi’s delivery had concluded, wet nurses and ladiesin-waiting continued to dress in white. The same white furniture that had been assembled for the childbirth remained in the mansion for a period of seven days after the birth. Oil lamps were left on for the same duration, to prevent evil forces from intruding on the sanctuary where the mother and child rested. For the same period, it was prohibited to sweep the floor and courtyard of the Izumi mansion with brooms, for fear that harmful spirits would be incited and gathered up. Everything was carefully designed to protect the mother, child, and those related to them—the reigning emperor, family members, court ministers, officials, and various ritualists—from malicious spirits and forces.

After Childbirth The series of childbirth rituals for Tokushi and Prince Tokihito were not quite complete yet, because intensive care for the newly delivered mother and the newly born baby was required to ensure their continued health. This was especially so during the period of pollution, for pollution was believed to cause discomfort, illness, or even death. It was the duty of Tokushi and her family to make sure that such pollution and any other evil forces were averted, in order to maintain or improve the condition of the imperial consort, the imperial prince and, by extension, the royal state. In this section, I will briefly discuss the experiences of the mother and child during the ten-day period after childbirth. On the thirteenth day of the eleventh month and on each of the following days, Tokushi received a ritual for divine protection three times every day by three of the monks who served her on the day of the birth—Bōkaku in the morning, Shungyō in the afternoon, and Jitsuzen in the evening.114 This was probably continued for seven consecutive days, the incubation period of pollution. The absence of reports on Tokushi’s health afterwards in primary sources suggests that her recovery from labor went relatively smoothly. The next series of rites was the bathing ceremony (oyudono no gi 御湯殿 の儀). The details of this ceremony cannot be known directly from primary sources, since Sankaiki lacks entries from fourteenth day of the eleventh month through the thirty-first day of the twelfth month, but it records a schedule for the ceremony that had been made right after Tokihito was born.115 Preparations for the ceremony were set to begin in the main building of the Izumi mansion

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Sankaiki, Jishō 2 (1178).11.13 (vol. 27, pp. 177–178). Sankaiki, Jishō 2 (1178).11.12, (vol. 27, p. 172).

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early in the morning of the fourteenth day of the eleventh month.116 If a normal protocol for this ceremony was followed, a round wooden bathtub and other paraphernalia were set up, and, on the table behind the bathtub, the sword given by Takakura was placed along with a rhinoceros’ horn and a replica of a tiger’s head. These were believed to have the power to ward off calamities and were often immersed in the water before bathing the baby in it. The bath water for the baby was hauled from a well or a stream located in an auspicious direction, which, in Tokihito’s case, was the east. The first bath was scheduled at the Hour of the Horse (about noon). The bathing ceremony was usually performed twice a day (morning and evening) for seven consecutive days. On the fourteenth, Tokushi’s placenta was scheduled to be disposed of at the Hour of the Monkey (about 4:00p.m.).117 These ceremonies, as well as the ceremony of bathing, were probably conducted mostly by Tokihito’s nursing mothers, senior staff of Tokushi’s household, and court scholars; it is uncertain how Tokushi herself engaged in them. The ceremony of bathing normally ran in parallel with two other ceremonies that were performed in the southern courtyard. In the ceremony of reading (dokusho no gi 読書の儀), Chinese classical texts were read to the imperial prince, symbolizing his growing up into a ruler endowed with the virtues advocated in the texts. The ceremony of twanging bowstrings (meigen no gi 鳴弦の 儀) was performed, partly to ward off evil spirits and forces with the sound; but bows and archery played a central role in the order of virtue and conduct preached in the Chinese Liji 礼記 (Book of Rites), so the ceremony also symbolized the prince achieving the virtue and good conduct.118 These two ceremonies, reading and twanging bowstrings, were therefore meant to represent the education of the prince into an ideal ruler whose virtues spanned both scholarly and martial sides.

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The ceremony of bathing often started on the day of an imperial newborn’s birth. In the case of Tokihito’s birth, it was postponed for two days because it was considered inauspicious to bathe him on that day after the Hour of the Rooster (about 6:00p.m.). Sankaiki, Jishō 2 (1178).11.12 (vol. 27, p. 172). Chapter forty-six of the Liji explains the significance of the archery ceremony and archery in general. In the ceremony, everyone from the Son of Heaven to officers, shoots in the style assigned to his rank to symbolize the role he fulfills in the state. It was believed that perfection in archery leads to the perfection of virtue and good conduct, and ultimately to the perfection of the government. In fact, when a boy was born, a bow made of mulberry wood should be presented, as it was in the meigen ceremony of the Heian and later periods. See Raiki, pp. 595–600.

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In celebration of the birth of the new prince, an ubuyashinai 産養 (lit. “nurturing the newborn”) for Tokihito was held every other night from the fourteenth through the twentieth days of the eleventh month in the Izumi mansion.119 Ubuyashinai was a banquet consisting of many activities, and the four ubuyashinai banquets held for Tokihito are recorded in detail in Gyokuyō.120 The first one, on the fourteenth, the baby’s third night, was arranged by his mother Tokushi; the one on the fifth night (the sixteenth) was by his maternal uncle Shigemori;121 the banquet on the seventh night (the eighteenth) by his father Emperor Takakura; and the one on the ninth night (the twentieth) by Jōsaimon-in 上西門院 (1126–1189), a paternal aunt of Takakura and a great-aunt of Tokihito.122 Major court dignitaries were invited to the banquets, and they received a lavish package of meals, entertainment, and gifts from their hosts. There were some variations in these banquets, but the highlights were usually a meal served to Tokushi, dedication of robes to her baby, consumption of sake, and a three-to-five course menu of meals for guests, gambling (da 攤) by guests, singing of poems (rōei 朗詠), performance of music by participants, and distribution of gifts to guests. These events had not only entertainment and festive aspects, but also had religious significance. For example, gambling games were played not just for fun, but also on occasions of royal and aristocratic births, partly to ward off malicious spirits by the act and sound of throwing dice, but also as a kind of fortune-telling to please the deities and foretell their will.123 The childbirth rituals usually concluded with ubuyashinai, although more rituals would be held for the child as he or she grew up.124 119

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The protocol for the ubuyashinai (e.g., who would host it, who would be invited, what items would be presented, what food would be served, what activities would be held, etc.) was decided in a special council (Osan zōji sadame 御産雑事定) about three months in advance of the event. Sankaiki, Jishō 2 (1178).8.2 (Rekihaku database). Gyokuyō, Jishō 2 (1178).11.12 (vol. 4, pp. 40–51). As noted earlier, Shigemori acted in the role of Tokushi’s father after Kiyomori’s retirement from political affairs. This is why Shigemori was the most appropriate figure to host the fifth-night banquet. She was an elder sister of Goshirakawa and his acting mother ( junbo 准母). Emperors who had not yet attained their majority were assisted by their mothers during rituals (in particular, the enthronement ritual). If their biological mother was dead, tonsured, or lowranking and therefore unfit for that duty, a former consort or high-ranking princess would be appointed to serve as the emperor’s acting mother. The title of acting mother was later used for other purposes and the eligibility for the post was broadened. For religious meanings of gambling in the context of childbirth, for example, see Amino, Chūsei no minshū zō, pp. 308–317. For instance, the fiftieth-day anniversary of the birth, the one-hundredth day anniversary,

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Political Aspects of Rituals Above I have discussed the various rituals performed for Tokushi throughout the year of her childbirth, from before her pregnancy to after the birth. It goes without saying that the birth of an imperial prince by an imperial consort was a highly public and political event. Yet, we saw many variations in those rituals, with respect to their commissioners, participants, and designs that reflected the different political characters of the various rituals, as well as the political intentions of the different parties behind them. I will now highlight some of these aspects briefly. The first thing I will discuss is the private or public character of the rituals. That is, rituals performed during the earlier stages of Tokushi’s pregnancy tended to be more private and personal than later rituals, which were performed as official state rites. When the pregnancy was confirmed, even the dispatch of an imperial messenger to Itsukushima Shrine was more personal or family-related than official, being a private dedication by Emperor Takakura, as I suggested. The shift from private to public can be seen most vividly by comparing the sash-donning and childbirth rituals. As discussed earlier, the sashdonning ceremony was a private matter involving the Taira family: Tokushi’s mother Tokiko initiated it, and those who attended the ceremony were connected to Tokushi through more private channels.125 This is in sharp contrast to the birth rituals. Although a great number of ritual activities were held on the day of the sash-donning ceremony, they were still smaller in both number and variety compared to the rituals performed on the day of the birth. Also, during and after labor, Tokiko commissioned some, but far fewer, rituals than she did for the sash-donning ceremony. The diminished scope of her role clearly indicates that as Tokushi’s childbirth approached, the event shifted from the domain of private to public. This shift reflected the idea that, in the context of imperial childbirth, a consort’s body was treated as a “jewel body.”126

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and the ceremony of consuming fish and poultry for the first time were held as rites of passage for the baby. There is a significant difference in Retired Emperor Goshirakawa’s involvement in the sash-donning and birth ceremonies. He just ordered the Yakushi ritual following the sash ceremony, while he was personally very active in performing rituals at the birth scene. Hōhiki 宝秘記, one of the major ritual anthologies of the Jimon lineage in the Tendai school, compiled by the monk Keihan 慶範 (1155–1221), discusses this idea in relation to the pregnancy of Emperor Gotoba’s 後鳥羽天皇 (1180–1239; r. 1183–1198) consort. Introduced in Matsumoto, “Chūgū osan to mikkyō,” p. 86.

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Retired Emperor Goshirakawa’s involvement in the birth rituals is also worth considering in light of his political intentions. As I mentioned, he was actively engaged in the birth rituals, both by instructing monks and by performing rituals himself (even though it appears that he was not invited to the Izumi mansion that day). Nevertheless, in the political circumstances of the time, the birth of a prince could be disadvantageous for Goshirakawa. His son, the current Emperor Takakura, had come to contend with him for the initiative in court governance, and the birth of a prince to Takakura might mean that Takakura could replace Goshirakawa as the supreme ruler (chiten no kimi 治天の君, lit. “lord who governs all under heaven”). In fact, Takakura wanted the imperial line and heritage to stay with Tokushi and his descendants,127 whereas Goshirakawa was hoping to make another son of his own succeed as emperor after Takakura. Primary sources give no direct evidence as to why Goshirakawa was actively engaged in the birth rituals, despite the risk that the new prince could help Takakura defeat Goshirakawa—but the key factor must be that Tokushi was his adopted daughter. Although he may simply have been interested in the welfare of his adopted daughter (as well as of his son Takakura), it may also have been his intention to demonstrate his active commitment to his duty as Tokushi’s adoptive father, so that once the new prince succeeded to the throne and Tokushi became a kokumo, he would be able to play the role of the kokumo’s father. Indeed, Goshirakawa approved Prince Tokihito’s promotion to crown prince only a month after his birth—one of the youngest appointments in Japan’s history. He seemed cooperative with Tokihito’s succession until it soon became clear that the Taira would never give him a share of the power resulting from Tokihito’s succession. I also want to stress how important the status of kokumo was. To secure his power within the court, Kiyomori wanted to be a maternal grandfather of a reigning emperor—the same way regents had secured power in the sekkan-seiji 摂関政治 (regency government) period. But recent studies show that the power of being an emperor’s maternal grandfather derived from being a kokumo’s father. The reigning emperor was subject to the Confucian virtue of filial piety, and therefore he had to obey his parents. This was the source of power that gave both retired emperors and kokumo, and derivatively kokumo’s fathers, the authority to sway court governance.128 In other words, even a retired emperor was not entitled to such authority unless he was the father or grandfather of 127 128

Saeki Tomohiro, Chūsei zenki no seiji kōzō to ōke, pp. 153–180. For more on the authority of Heian kokumo, see Fukutō and Watanabe, “From Female Sovereign to Mother of the Nation,” pp. 19–32; and Kuriyama, Chūsei ōke no seiritsu to insei, pp. 170–209.

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a reigning emperor. Perhaps it should be noted that some courtiers thought a kokumo was not fully entitled to power if she had not been a “proper consort.”129 Indeed, many kokumo in the Heian period exercised their authority as mothers of reigning emperors over matters such as the appointment of courtiers, consorts, and even emperors. In the same way, becoming a kokumo gave Tokushi authority in her own right. She had a short tenure as kokumo (it was three years from Tokihito’s succession until the Taira fled Kyoto), but she did exercise her authority and influenced political affairs as kokumo on some occasions.130 Another important characteristic of some of the rituals is that they functioned as occasions for solidifying personal bonds and forming political alliances. In particular, for many of those involved in the birth rituals, their service in the safe delivery of Prince Tokihito meant the beginning of their life-long service to him. For example, Tōin-no-tsubone, who served in the birthing room and performed the ritual of the first breast for Tokihito, would serve him as a nursing mother throughout his entire lifetime and, even after his death, would keep serving him by performing rites for the salvation of his spirit. Also, some of the monks who participated in the spirit possession rituals would become Tokihito’s gojisō after his succession to the throne, protecting him throughout his short life. Similarly, for some courtiers and servants, their service during the birth rituals probably constituted their oath of allegiance to the prince. More generally, the entire court’s attendance on the birth could symbolize its fealty to the prince. This may also have been one of the functions of the ubuyashinai banquets, to which essentially all the high-ranking courtiers were invited.

Conclusion For the imperial consort Taira no Tokushi, a long series of rituals for pregnancy and safe delivery were arranged, prepared, and performed. Thanks primarily to the detailed record of many of these rituals that was fortunately kept by Nakayama Tadachika in Sankaiki, I have been able to describe a great variety and multitude of them. All of the available skills from a wide range 129

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It does not seem to have been strictly defined when a kokumo qualified to be a former “proper consort” and to exercise power. Sometimes a low-ranking background was cited to disqualify a kokumo; other times she must have shared a residence with her husband. Kuriyama, Chūsei ōke no seiritsu to insei, pp. 198–199. For recent scholarship on Tokushi’s political authority, see Kuriyama, Chūsei ōke no seiritsu to insei, pp. 187–209; and Meeks, “Survival and Salvation in the Heike monogatari,” pp. 142– 147.

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of denominations—esoteric Buddhism, Shinto, Yin-Yang, and a combination of medicine and theurgy—were deployed for this occasion. In particular, the designs of the rituals were largely governed by the notions that, on the one hand, the expectant mother needed protection from mononoke and other evil forces, and, on the other, people needed to manage the pollution and defilement caused by childbirth. Many objects were used after the birth as well, symbolically as prayers for the growth of the newborn Prince Tokihito into an ideal ruler. This diverse array of ritual activities had various and complex aspects, due to the intricate intentions of their sponsors and organizers. Probably the most obvious and critical aspect was the unique political situation of the time, which was dominated by the tense discord between Taira no Kiyomori and Retired Emperor Goshirakawa. Their relationship was increasingly strained over initiatives in court politics, and this made the birth of an heir to their daughter (Tokushi) and son (the reigning Emperor Takakura) a highly politically charged matter: he might succeed in establishing a reconciliation between Kiyomori and Goshirakawa, but he might also establish Kiyomori’s initiative once and for all; either way, he could decide the shape of a new order to come in the imperial government. Nevertheless, the power struggle of the two men by no means exhausted the significance of the array of birth rituals—initiatives and contributions by others, many of them women, gave the rituals more aspects of significance. In the early stage of the long series of rituals, the leading role lay with Taira no Tokiko, who organized the rituals in her private capacity as the mistress of the expectant mother’s parental house. Perhaps more importantly, Tokushi played an active role in many of the rituals as well. The birth rituals, in particular the ones before Tokihito was born, were primarily a rite of passage for the principal consort. Through the office of her household, Tokushi performed the duty of a principal consort and took the initiative in many rituals—such as sponsoring the production of Buddhist images, viewing objects to be empowered, and presiding over the first night of the ubuyashinai banquet—just like she would later take the political initiative as a kokumo. Due to the critical political import of Tokihito’s birth, the rituals for Tokushi’s pregnancy and childbirth were paramount for the Taira, the imperial house, the court, and the state. At the same time, the birth event was a private matter for members of the Taira and the royal families, and this fact gave rise to many more facets of the birth rituals. We have seen this multifarious significance reflected in the official and private characters of different rituals to various degrees, and in the great care taken in the sponsorship, design, and practice of the rituals.

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Secondary Sources Abe Yasurō 阿部泰郎. “Shukaku hōshinnō to ‘Mitsuyōshō’ 守覚法親王と「密要鈔」.” In Shukaku hōshinnō to Ninnaji goryū no bunkengaku teki kenkyū 守覚法親王と仁 和寺御流の文献学的研究, ed. Abe Yasurō 阿部泰郎 and Yamazaki Makoto 山崎誠, pp. 35–143. Tokyo: Benseisha, 1998. Abe Yasurō 阿部泰郎 and Yamazaki Makoto 山崎誠, eds. Shukaku hōshinnō to Ninnaji goryū no bunkengaku teki kenkyū 守覚法親王と仁和寺御流の文献学的研究. Tokyo: Benseisha, 1998. Amino Yoshihiko 網野善彦. Chūsei no minshū zō 中世の民衆像. Vol. 8 of Amino Yoshihiko chosaku shū 網野善彦著作集. Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 2009. Brown, Delmer M. and Ichirō Ishida. The Future and the Past: A Translation and Study of the Gukanshō: An Interpretative History of Japan Written in 1219. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1979. Fowler, Sherry. “Travels of the Daihōonji Six Kannon.” Ars Orientalis 36 (2009), pp. 178– 214. Fukutō Sanae 服藤早苗. “Ōchō shakai no shussan to jendā 王朝社会の出産とジェン ダー.” In Jendā to kyōiku no rekishi ジェンダーと教育の歴史, ed. Hashimoto Noriko 橋本紀子 and Henmi Masaaki 辺見勝亮, pp. 1–25. Tokyo: Kawashima Shoten, 2003. Fukutō, Sanae and Takashi Watanabe. “From Female Sovereign to Mother of the Nation: Women and Government in the Heian Period.” In Heian Japan: Centers and Peripheries, ed. Mikael Adolphson, Edward Kamens, and Stacie Matsumoto, pp. 15–34. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2007. Hirama Mitsuko 平間充子. “Heian jidai no shussan girei ni kansuru ichikōsatsu 平安時 代の出産儀礼に関する一考察.” Ochanomizu shigaku お茶の水史学 34 (April 1991), pp. 1–24. Hotate Michihisa 保立道久. Chūsei no ai to jūzoku: Emaki no naka no nikutai 中世の愛 と従属：絵巻の中の肉体. Tokyo: Heibonsha, 1986. Inamoto Mariko 稲本万里子. “Egakareta shussan: ‘Hikohohodemi-no-mikoto emaki’ no seisaku ito o yomitoku 描かれた出産—『彦火々 出見尊絵巻』 の制作意図を 読み解く.” In Seiiku girei no rekishi to bunka: Kodomo to jendā 生育儀礼の歴史と文 化—子供とジェンダー, ed. Fukutō Sanae and Kojima Naoko 小嶋菜温子, pp. 109– 164. Tokyo: Shinwasha, 2003. Katsuura Noriko 勝浦令子. “Kodai, chūsei zenki shussan girei ni okeru ishi, isho no yakuwari 古代・中世前期出産儀礼における医師・医書の役割.” Kokuritsu reikishi minzoku hakubutsukan kenkyū hōkoku 国立歴史民俗博物館研究報告 141 (March 2008), pp. 7–39. Keene, Donald, trans. Essays in Idleness: The Tsurezuregusa of Kenkō. New York: Columbia University, 1998. Kobayashi Taichirō 小林太市郎. “Dōji-kyō hō oyobi dōji-kyō mandara 童子経法及び童 子経曼荼羅.” Mikkyō kenkyū 密教研究 84 (March 1943), pp. 57–79.

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Komatsu Shigemi 小松茂美, ed. Hikohohodemi-no-mikoto emaki, Urashima myōjin engi 彦火々出見尊絵巻・浦島明神縁起. Zoku nihon no emaki 続日本の絵巻 19. Tokyo: Chūō Kōronsha, 1992. Komatsu Shigemi 小松茂美, ed. Heike monogatari emaki 平家物語絵巻, vol. 3. Tokyo: Chūō Kōronsha, 1994. Kuriyama Keiko 栗山圭子. Chūsei ōke no seiritsu to insei 中世王家の成立と院政. Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 2012. Maki Sachiko 槇佐知子. “Heike monogatari no henjō nanshi no hō, oyobi shussan girei to ‘Ishinpō’ no hikaku kenkyū 平家物語の変成男子の法、及び出産儀礼と「医心 方」の比較研究.” Girei bunka 儀礼文化 13 (September 1989), pp. 40–50. Matsumoto Ikuyo 松本郁代. “Chūgū osan to mikkyō: ‘Hōhiki’ Sonshōōhō mishuhō o megutte 中宮御産と密教—『宝秘記』 尊勝王法御修法をめぐっ て.” Nagoya daigaku gurōbaru COE puroguramu 名古屋大学グロー バル COE プログラム (2009), pp. 81–88. https://www.gcoe.lit.nagoya‑u.ac.jp/result/pdf/081‑088%e6%9d %be%e6%9c%ac.pdf, accessed December 21, 2017. McCullough, Helen Craig, trans. The Tale of the Heike. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1988. Meeks, Lori. “Reconfiguring Ritual Authenticity: The Ordination Traditions of Aristocratic Women in Premodern Japan.” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 33:1 (2006), pp. 51–74. Meeks, Lori. “Survival and Salvation in the Heike monogatari: Reassessing the Legacy of Kenreimon’in.” In Lovable Losers: The Heike in Action and Memory, ed. Mikael Adolphson and Anne Commons, pp. 142–165. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2015. Mikkyō Jiten Hensankai 密教辞典編纂会, ed. Mikkyō daijiten 密教大辞典, Kyoto: Hōzōkan, 1968–1970. Mori Yukie 森由紀恵. “Heian makki ni okeru zōbutsu to busshi 平安末期における造 仏と仏師.” Nara shien 寧楽史苑 41 (1996), pp. 20–57. Morimoto Sensuke 森本仙介. “Tennō no shussan kūkan: Heian matsu, Kamakura ki 天 皇の出産空間—平安末・鎌倉期.” In Tennō to ōken o kangaeru: Kosumorojī to shintai 天皇と王権を考える—コスモロジーと身体, ed. Amino Yoshihiko 網野善彦 et al., pp. 227–248. Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 2002. Nakajima Wakako 中島和歌子. “Inseiki no shussan: Tsūka girei to hakka 院政期の出 産—通過儀礼と八卦.” Fūzoku 風俗 32:2 (1993), pp. 2–25. Nakamura Teiri 中村禎里. Ena no inochi 胞衣の生命. Tokyo: Kaimeisha, 1999. Nakamura Yoshio 中村義雄. Ōchō no fūzoku to bungaku 王朝の風俗と文学. Hanawa sensho 塙選書 22. Tokyo: Hanawa Shobō, 1968. Nakano Genzō 中野玄三. “Saidaiji-bon Batō kannon zō kō: Hakubyō zuzō saishikizu no seiritsu 西大寺本馬頭観音像考—白描図像彩色図の成立.” Kokka 国華 1266 (April 2001), pp. 7–21.

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Nedachi Kensuke 根立研介. Nihon chūsei no busshi to shakai 日本中世の仏師と社会. Tokyo: Hanawa Shobō, 2006. Nishiguchi Junko 西口順子. Onna no chikara: Kodai no josei to bukkyō 女の力—古代の 女性と仏教. Tokyo: Heibonsha, 1987. Nishiguchi Junko 西口順子. “Ōchō bukkyō ni okeru nyonin kyūsai no ronri 王朝仏 教における女人救済の論理.” In Sei to mibun: jakusha, haisha no seisei to hiun 性 と身分—弱者・敗者の聖性と非運, ed. Miyata Noboru 宮田登, pp. 129–167. Taikei bukkyō to Nihonjin 大系仏教と日本人 8. Tokyo: Shunjūsha, 1989. Onochi Takeru 小野地健. “Kushami to jinrui bunka: Shintaion kara no jinrui bunka kenkyū no taikeika no tameno shiron クシャミと人類文化—身体音からの人類文 化研究の体系化のための試論.” Himoji shiryō kenkyū no kanōsei 非文字資料研究の 可能性, Kanagawa daigaku 21 seiki COE puroguramu kenkyū suishin kaigi 神奈川大 学 21 世紀 COE プログラム研究推進会議 (March 2008), pp. 89–107. http://klibredb .lib.kanagawa‑u.ac.jp/dspace/handle/10487/6751, accessed December 21, 2017. Ōta Seiroku 太田清六. Shinden zukuri no kenkyū 寝殿造の研究. Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 1987. Saeki Shin’ichi 佐伯真一. Kenreimon’in to iu higeki 建礼門院という悲劇. Tokyo: Kadokawa Shoten, 2009. Saeki Tomohiro 佐伯智広. Chūsei zenki no seiji kōzō to ōke 中世前期の政治構造と王家. Tokyo: Tōkyō Daigaku Shuppankai, 2015. Shinmura Taku 新村拓. Shussan to seishoku kan no rekishi 出産と生殖観の歴史. Tokyo: Hōsei Daigaku Shuppankyoku, 1996. Strickmann, Michel. Chinese Magical Medicine. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2002. Sugitatsu Yoshikazu 杉立義一. Osan no rekishi お産の歴史. 2nd edition. Tokyo: Shūeisha, 2004. Suzuki, Yui. “Twanging Bows and Throwing Rice: Warding off Evil in Medieval Japanese Birth Scenes.” Artibus Asiae 74, no. 1 (2014), pp. 18–21. Suzuki, Yui. “Possessions and the Possessed: The Multisensoriality of Spirits, Bodies, and Objects in Heian Japan.” In Sensational Religion: Sensory Cultures in Material Practice, ed. Sally Promey, pp. 67–87. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2014. Watson, Burton, trans. The Lotus Sutra. New York: Columbia University Press, 1993.

part 2 Women and Buddhist Rituals and Icons

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chapter 4

A Female Deity as the Focus of a Buddhist Ritual: Kichijō Keka at Hōryūji Chari Pradel*

Introduction Hōryūji 法隆寺 occupies a special position in the history of Japanese Buddhism. As one of the oldest extant temples, it preserves ancient rites and objects. Among the rites, the temple is one of the few that still performs Kichijō keka 吉祥悔過 (lit. “ritual repentance for good fortune”), a ceremony dedicated to a female deity. Some of the buildings in the Western Compound are dated to the late seventh and early eighth centuries, making them the oldest extant examples of wooden architecture in the world. In addition, the temple’s possessions include examples of Buddhist sculptures, paintings, and paraphernalia, many of which have been designated National Treasures or Important Cultural Properties. The temple’s historical importance was further acknowledged when it was added to the UNESCO World Heritage list in 1993.1 For this reason, the buildings of the Western Compound and sculptures on the Kondō 金堂 (Golden Hall)’s altar-platform—especially the bronze sculptures of the Shaka 釈迦 (Sk. Śākyamuni) Triad and the Yakushi 薬師 (Sk. Bhaiṣajyaguru) icon, and the four wooden images of the Shitennō 四天王 (Four Heavenly Kings)—are the focus of a number of publications about ancient Japanese Buddhist art (fig. 4.1).2 * The author would like to thank Prof. Karen Gerhart for organizing and inviting me to participate in the workshop “Women, Rites and Objects in Pre-Modern Japan.” The lively discussions during the workshop greatly enhanced the contents of this paper. I also would like to thank Profs. Sherry Fowler, Karen Gerhart, and Hank Glassman for their comments and suggestions, Ms. Toshiko McCallum for checking the Japanese characters, and Dr. Sara Sumpter for her thorough copyediting. Special thanks to Megan C. Terry, Douglas Leon, John Miranda, and Laura Sanchez, my students at Cal Poly Pomona, for their help with the images. Fieldwork for this study was facilitated by the Short-Term Travel to Japan Grant offered by the Northeast Asia Council and the Japan-US Friendship Commission in winter 2010. 1 See “Buddhist Monuments in the Horyu-ji Area,” UNESCO World Heritage Centre website, accessed December 30, 2015. http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/660/. 2 The Four Heavenly Kings are believed to protect the four cardinal directions. Tamonten 多聞

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2018 | doi: 10.1163/9789004368194_006

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The historical and artistic importance of the aforementioned sculptures is unquestionable, but surprisingly, their ritual role is now secondary. The only ritual performed at the Golden Hall today focuses on a female deity.3 The Shushōe 修正会 (short for Shushōgatsue 修正月会) or New Years’ Service, is dedicated to the Hindu-Buddhist deity, Kichijōten or Kisshōten 吉祥天 (Sk. Śrī-mahādevī), who is associated with good fortune and beauty. This ceremony is known as Kichijō keka and it is performed in the Golden Hall from January 8 to 14.4 During this week-long ceremony, the Heian period (794–1185) wooden images of Kichijōten (fig. 4.2) and Bishamonten (fig. 4.3), who is the god of war, warriors, and wealth, and one of the Four Heavenly Kings also known as Tamonten, become the focus of this important service. This essay addresses two related topics: the origins of Kichijō keka in Japan and its performance at Hōryūji. The first part of the essay examines the institution of Kichijō keka and its main purpose. Sources indicate that state-sponsored temples began to perform this ceremony during the Nara period (710–794), a time when Buddhism played a key role in the religious and political agendas of the court.5 Particularly relevant for the subject of this volume is that the institution of this ceremony dedicated to a female Hindu-Buddhist deity seems to be associated with a female emperor (tennō 天皇), who was enthroned twice, first as Kōken 孝謙 (718–770; r. 749–758) and later as Shōtoku 称徳 (r. 764–770).6 During this time, the imperial court was shaping itself as a centralized Buddhist state, and an important component of this process was the establishment of a yearly calendar of ceremonies for the protection of the state. Thus, the first part of this essay proposes that Kichijō keka was instituted to supplement the ceremonies dedicated to the kami deities, with the specific purpose of solving the

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天 (Sk. Vaiśravaṇa)—also known as Bishamonten 毘沙門天—is associated with the north; Zōchōten 増長天 (Sk. Virūḍhaka), with the south; Jikokuten 持国天 (Sk. Dhṛtarāṣṭra), with the east and Kōmokuten 広目天 (Sk. Virūpākṣa), with the west. See Frédéric, Buddhism, pp. 241–247. For the ceremonies held at Hōryūji’s Golden Hall, “Nenkan gyōji,” Hōryūji website, accessed October 6, 2017. http://www.horyuji.or.jp/gyouji/. Besides the Kichijō keka, a service is held on January 26 to remember the 1949 fire that damaged the Golden Hall’s mural paintings. The Shushōe of the Eastern Compound or Jōgūōin 上宮王院 is held from January 16 to 18 with Jūichimen keka 十一面悔過 (ritual repentance to Ekādaśamukha Avalokiteśvara or Eleven-Headed Avalokiteśvara) performed at the Yumedono 夢殿 Hall. For a brief historical overview of the Nara period, see Naoki, “The Nara State.” The term tennō (lit. “Heavenly Sovereign”) is usually translated into English as emperor or empress. Since “empress” (kōgō or kisaki 皇后) refers to the wife of an emperor, the term “female” is added to specify the gender of the emperor, and empress is used only to refer to an emperor’s wife.

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figure 4.1 Icons on the altar-platform of the Golden Hall at Hōryūji, Nara Prefecture. Diagram key: 1) Shaka triad; 2) Yakushi image; 3) Amida image; 4) Kichijōten; 5) Bishamonten; 6) Kōmokuten; 7) Zōchōten; 8) Jikokuten; 9) Tamonten (6–9 Shitennō) Source: Adapted by Megan C. Terry from Hōryūji, Hōryūji, pp. 22–23

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figure 4.2 Kichijōten, 1078, polychromed wood with gold foil designs, 166.7cm, Golden Hall, Hōryūji, Nara Prefecture Source: Nara Kokuritsu Hakubutsukan, Kokuhō Hōryūji kondō ten (Tokyo: Asahi Shinbunsha, 2008), p. 92

kichijō keka at hōryūji

figure 4.3 Bishamonten, 1078, polychromed wood with gold foil designs, 123.2 cm, Golden Hall, Hōryūji, Nara Prefecture Source: Nara Kokuritsu Hakubutsukan, Kokuhō Hōryūji kondō ten (Tokyo: Asahi Shinbunsha, 2008), p. 88

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high incidence of famine that devastated the country in the second half of the eighth century. The second part of the essay addresses the current arrangement of icons on the altar-platform at the Golden Hall and its relation to the ritual program of Kichijō keka with the aim of understanding the role of each of the Buddhist icons in the ceremony.

Kichijō Keka in Nara Japan In modern Japan, Kichijō keka is performed only at Hōryūji and Yakushiji 薬師 寺, both located in Nara Prefecture.7 Textual evidence and extant icons of Kichijōten in Buddhist temples across Japan and museum collections suggest that the belief in this female deity was widespread, especially in the Nara and Heian periods.8 The devotion to Kichijōten is closely tied to the Konkōmyō saishōōkyō 金光明最勝王経 (Sk. Suvarṇa prabhāsa uttama raja sūtra, The Golden Light Sutra, the King of Sutras, hereafter referred to as The Golden Light Sutra).9 Therefore, this section begins with a discussion of Kichijōten and the sections in The Golden Light Sutra dedicated to her. It then discusses the Buddhist ritual known as keka and analyzes the historical records about its performance in the Nara period. In order to understand the significance of this ceremony, the political and religious roles ascribed to the emperors in the Nara period and the events that might have played a role in the establishment of Kichijōten’s cult are discussed. This section ends with a short discussion of the celebration of Kichijō keka at the imperial palace in Kyoto during the Heian period as evidence of its permanent inclusion in the ritual calendar of the imperial court.

7 For Kichijō keka at Yakushiji, see “Nenmatsu nenji gyōji,” Yakushiji Temple website, accessed December 31, 2015. http://nara‑yakushiji.com/contents/nenmatunensi/index.html. According to temple tradition, Kichijō keka began to be performed at Yakushiji in 771 or 772 (Yōrō 養老 5 or 6), at the Hachiman Shrine of Yakushiji for a week, and in the Kondō for another week. The famous eighth-century painting of Kichijōten held by the temple was kept as a secret image (hibutsu 秘仏) and only unveiled in the Meiji period. See Moran, “Kichijōten, a Painting of Nara Period,” pp. 270–272. 8 For a comprehensive art historical study about Kichijōten, see Nedachi, “Kichijō, Benzaitenzō.” For the cult of Kichijōten in the Heian period, see Ebisawa, “Taimadera Kichijōten ritsuzō kō” and “Heian jidai ni okeru Kichijōten shinkō.” 9 Though historical sources usually refer to the sutra by the abridged title of Saishōōkyō, certain versions, discussed below, are given the full title of Konkōmyō saishōōkyō.

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Kichijōten and The Golden Light Sutra Kichijōten, also known as Kudokuten 功徳天, is the Japanese name for Śrīmahādevī or Mahā-śrī, the Hindu goddess of good fortune and beauty. In India, she is also known as Lakṣmī, the wife of Vishnu. Śrī-mahādevī and other Vedic and Hindu deities, such as Indra (Jp. Taishakuten 帝釈天), Brahma (Jp. Bonten 梵天), Saravastī (Jp. Benzaiten 弁財天), were incorporated into the Buddhist pantheon.10 In the Buddhist sutras, these deities interact with Buddha, and in most cases, show their support for Buddhist teachings. In the Nara period, three sutras were particularly important: Hoke kyō 法華 経 (Sk. Saddharma puṇdarīka sūtra, The Lotus Sutra), Ninnō gyō 仁王経 (The Benevolent Kings Sutra) and The Golden Light Sutra because they were believed to protect the state. For this reason, expositions, lectures, readings, chanting and copying these three sutras, as well as devotion to the deities mentioned in them, were essential components of the period’s Buddhist practices. There are many versions of The Golden Light Sutra with some variations in their content.11 A fifth-century translation might have arrived in Japan as early as the Asuka period (ca. 550–645). Entries in Nihon shoki 日本書紀 suggest that this version of the sutra was explained, read, and expounded at the palace and temples during the reigns of Emperor Tenmu 天武天皇 (631–686; r. 673–686) and Female Emperor Jitō 持統天皇 (645–703; r. 686–697).12 These practices continued in the early Nara period, but a new version, consisting of ten scrolls and translated by the Chinese monk Yijing 義浄 (635–713) in 703 (Taihō 大宝 3), was used in the mid- to late-Nara period. This longer version is identified with the longer title of Konkōmyō saishōōkyō, or The Golden Light Sutra, the King of

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Besides Kichijōten and Benzaiten, female protector deities mentioned in The Golden Light Sutra include Kariteimo 訶梨帝母 (Sk. Hārītī) and Kenrō Jishin 堅牢地神 (Sk. Dṛḍhā Pṛthivī Devatā, Earth Goddess Dṛḍhā). R.E. Emmerick’s English translation is from the Sanskrit version. He includes a brief history of the different versions and translations. See Emmerick, The Sūtra of Golden Light, xi–xiii. Mibu’s annotated version in modern Japanese is from Yijing’s Chinese version. Mibu includes a detailed explanation and comparison of the contents of the many extant versions in different languages. See Mibu, Konkōmyōkyō, pp. 7–39. For a brief explanation of the contents of the translations that arrived in Japan, see de Visser, Ancient Buddhism in Japan, vol. 1, pp. 14–16 and vol. 2, pp. 431–442. Portions of the reigns of Tenmu and Jitō took place during periods that were not given specific era names. The entries during Tenmu’s reign are therefore dated Tenmu 5 (678).11.20, Tenmu 9 (680).5.1, and Shuchō 朱鳥 1 (686).7.8, and the ones during Jitō’s reign, Jitō 6 (692).i5.3, Jitō 8 (694).5.11 and Jitō 10 (697).12.1.

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Sutras.13 Shoku Nihongi 続日本紀 states that, on the twenty-sixth day of the twelfth month, 728 (Jinki 神亀 5), during the rule of Emperor Shōmu 聖武天皇 (701–756; r. 724–749), temples in the provinces received ten scrolls of The Golden Light Sutra to perform the abridged chanting of the sutra (tendoku 転読) for the sake of the peace of the state.14 On the twenty-sixth day of the tenth month, 737 (Tenpyō 天平 9), there was a lecture (kōgi 講義) of the sutra at the Daigokuden 大極殿 (Great Audience Hall) at the imperial palace, and the following year (on the seventeenth day of the fourth month), the emperor ordered tendoku of the sutra in the temples of the capital and the Kinai region.15 It is important to note that tendoku was performed at the temples, but that at the Daigokuden, probably a kōshi 講師 (expounding master), lectured on the sutra. The importance of The Golden Light Sutra in the Nara period is further noted when the state-sponsored nunneries (kokubunniji 国分尼寺) and monasteries (kokubunji 国分寺) were established in 741 (Tenpyō 13), and the monasteries were named after the sutra. The edict for the twenty-fourth day of the third month in Shoku Nihongi states that the monasteries will be called Temples of the Golden Light and the Four Heavenly Kings Protectors of the Nation (Konkōmyō shitennō gokoku no tera 金光明四天王護国寺), and that the nunneries, Temples for the Atonement for Sin [by the Lotus Sutra] (Hokke metsuzai no tera 法華滅罪之寺). Monks and nuns of both institutions were required to be conversant with the Buddhist teachings and to have received the precepts. The edict also states that The Golden Light Sutra and the Lotus Sutra must be copied and that a copy of The Golden Light Sutra written in golden letters, should be enshrined in the temple’s pagoda. Buddhist ceremonies performed at the aforementioned temples were believed to protect the country against calamities, prevent sorrow and pestilence and cause the heart of the believers to be filled with joy.16 Similar information is also recorded in Ruijū sandaikyaku 類聚三代格, from the mid-Heian period, giving details about the types of rituals performed: “On the eighth day of every month, monks and nuns must not fail to recite The Golden Light Sutra, the King of Sutras and in midmonth, the texts about the precepts.”17 The evidence discussed reveals that The

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de Visser, Ancient Buddhism in Japan, p. 437. Yijing’s translation is titled Konkōmyō saishōōkyō. The ten-scroll translation by Yijing is the complete one. Shoku Nihongi states that some temples had eight scrolls and others four scrolls, suggesting that they might have had older incomplete versions. Shoku Nihongi, vol. 13, p. 203. Shoku Nihongi, vol. 13, pp. 330–331 and pp. 338–339, respectively. Shoku Nihongi, vol. 13, pp. 387–391. See also Naoki, “The Nara State,” pp. 254–255. As cited by Hongō, “State Buddhism,” p. 48.

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Golden Light Sutra was one of the key components of the Buddhist beliefs and practices in the Nara period related to the protection of the state, thus nuns and monks and lay Buddhist devotees were likely familiar with the contents of the sutra, including the female deity Kichijōten because two of its sections are dedicated to her. Kichijōten interacts with Shaka in section sixteen, “The female deity Kichijō,” and seventeen, “The female deity Kichijō, giver of bountiful goods” (Kichijō tennyo zōchō zaibutsuhin 吉祥天女増長財物品).18 These sections explain the benefits of worshipping Kichijōten and in addition, the ritual program for the ceremony dedicated to this female deity. In section sixteen, Kichijōten makes a vow in the presence of Shaka to offer spiritual and worldly benefits to the monk who expounds The Golden Light Sutra and to the people who hear it. These benefits include: the possibility of experiencing divine and human pleasures, the disappearance of famine, and the abundance of a variety of goods. In addition, Kichijōten promises that people will receive blessings, meet Buddha, and reach enlightenment. Moreover, she tells Shaka that she planted the good roots of merit (zenkon 善根) in the age of a Tathāgata (Nyorai 如来) named Ratnakusumaguṇasāgaravaiḍūryakanakagirisuvarṇakāñcanaprabhāsaśrī (Ruri konsen hōke kōshō kichijō kudoku kai 瑠璃金山 宝花光照吉祥功徳海). If a person reads The Golden Light Sutra, through this Tathāgata, Kichijōten will protect all beings and make sure they are blessed. They will have every equipment, food, drink, wealth, grain, gold, jewels, and other items. The sutra encourages believers to pay homage to this Tathāgata by offering perfume, flowers, and incense and uttering the name of Kichijōten three times. In addition, the name of the sutra must also be repeated. If these rites are performed, Kichijōten will watch over these beings and create good fortune for them. Shaka congratulates Kichijōten and predicts that she will obtain the merits mentioned above by propagating The Golden Light Sutra. Section seventeen gives instructions about the offerings and ritual actions to honor Ratnakusumaguṇasāgaravaiḍūryakanakagirisuvarṇakāñcanaprabhāsaśrī through Kichijōten. This ceremony includes the recitation of dhāraṇī (Jp. darani 陀羅尼, magic spells), which must be chanted for seven days and seven nights, in addition to keeping the eight precepts. Thus, the segments dedicated to Kichijōten in The Golden Light Sutra explain the benefits provided by the female deity and the specific rituals that must be 18

For the Japanese version of sections seventeen and eighteen, see Mibu, Konkōmyōkyō, pp. 260–256. In the English translation, both sections are together as chapter eight, see Emmerick, The Sūtra of Golden Light, pp. 49–52; and Takayasu Suzuki, “The Primary Introduction of Rites,” pp. 1155–1157.

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performed to achieve these goals. But, it does not provide a physical description of the deity. This information is found in other Buddhist texts, such as Bishamon Tennō kyō 毘沙門天王経 (The Sutra of Vaiśravaṇa), where she is described as a woman with an elongated face with big eyes and a calm and graceful expression. She wears a crown on her head and her body is adorned with jewelry. Her right hand is in the abhaya (no-fear) mudra, and her left, holds an open lotus flower. The Daranishūkyō 陀羅尼集経 (The Dhāraṇī Collection Sutra) describes a similar image, but it holds a wish-fulfilling jewel (hōju 宝珠) on her left hand.19 The pictorial and sculptural examples of Kichijōten in China are scant and mostly date from the ninth century.20 There are earlier icons in Japan dated to the eighth century, such as the clay images at Tōdaiji 東大寺, Saidaiji 西大寺, and Hōryūji (fig. 4.4); a bronze plaque at Tōshōdaiji 唐招提寺 and a painting at Yakushiji (fig. 4.5). In these representations of the female deity, she is portrayed as an East Asian woman, wearing Chinese-style clothing and portrayed in the Tang dynasty period style, with the characteristic round plump face. These features suggest that these examples followed no longer extant Chinese models.21 Around the tenth or eleventh century, Kichijōten is paired with Bishamonten.22 In brief, the devotion to the Hindu-Buddhist deity Kichijōten was introduced to Japan via The Golden Light Sutra. Since the late seventh century, expounding, reading, and chanting of the sutra were common practices believed to protect the state. As Buddhism prospered in the eighth century, some of the deities mentioned in the sutra became the focus of worship. Among them, Kichijōten became popular because she promises to grant worldly benefits to the people who follow the Buddhist teachings, particularly those who read The Golden Light Sutra, those who give her the specified offerings and those who utter her name. Kichijō Keka and the Female Emperor Kōken-Shōtoku The term keka derives from the Sanskrit term pratideśanā, which is usually translated as “confession.” The meaning, however, is closer to “disclosure” or “acknowledgement.” Keka is the practice of acknowledging one’s misdeeds.23 It is a ritual act of repentance performed by nuns and monks, where they 19 20 21 22 23

Nedachi, “Kichijō, Benzaitenzō,” pp. 21–22. See also Nishigori, Tenbu no butsuzō jiten, pp. 105–106; and Kameda, “Kichijōtenzō,” pp. 104–106. See Nedachi, “Kichijō, Benzaitenzō,” pp. 22–24. For extant sculptures and paintings of Kichijōten in Japan dated to the Nara period, see Nedachi, “Kichijō, Benzaitenzō,” pp. 29–32; and Kameda, “Kichijōtenzō,” pp. 109–110. Nedachi, “Kichijō, Benzaitenzō,” pp. 32–45. Buswell and López, The Princeton Dictionary, s.v. “pratideśanā.”

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figure 4.4 Kichijōten, 8th c., clay, 168.3cm, Daihōzōin, Hōryūji, Nara Prefecture Source: Hōryūji (Tokyo: Shōgakukan, 2009), p. 81

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figure 4.5 Kichijōten, 8th c., color on hemp, 53 × 31.7 cm, Yakushiji, Nara Prefecture Source: Tokyo Kokuritsu Hakubutsukan, Kokuhō Yakushiji ten (Tokyo: Yomiuri Shinbun, 2008), p. 188

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disclose their transgressions to the precepts. In some cases, the misdeeds are revealed to a community of monks or nuns, or to Buddhist deities, such as Kichijōten, Yakushi, Amida 阿弥陀 (Sk. Amitābha) and Jūichimen Kannon 十 一面観音 (Sk. Ekādaśamukha Avalokiteśvara).24 There is a difference between the traditional Buddhist practice of pratideśanā and keka in Japan. The purpose of the first is to exculpate individual practitioners from moral transgressions, whereas keka is usually practiced by a group of ordained and lay Buddhists for the purpose of collectively purifying their past sins. This collective cleansing was believed to achieve auspicious outcomes, such as healing illness, ending droughts, preventing epidemics, and suppressing rebellions.25 These outcomes are achieved through the invocation of diverse Buddhist deities, prayer, and other ritual actions.26 If the information provided by Nihon shoki is correct, keka was performed in Japan for the first time during the rule of Female Emperor Kōgyoku 皇極天皇 (594–661; r. 642–645) in 642 (Kōgyoku 1). In this case, this ritual was executed with the purpose of producing rain. Entries of the seventh month inform us that the lower rank priests (hafuri 祝) from different villages performed sacrifices to the gods requesting rain, but since there were no positive results, Soga no Emishi 蘇我蝦夷 (d. 645) suggested the performance of keka and the reading of Buddhist sutras to pray for rain. For this purpose, images of buddhas, bodhisattvas and the Four Heavenly Kings were placed in the southern court of the Great Temple (Ōdera 大寺) and the Daiunkyō 大雲経 (Great Cloud Sutra) was read, while Emishi prayed holding an incense burner in his hand.27 Unfortunately, this ritual was not effective and the reading of the sutra was discontinued. In the eighth month of the same year, Kōgyoku knelt by a river source and prayed to the four directions, looking up at Heaven, and then, there was thunder and it rained for five days. Thus, the peasants recognized the virtue of their ruler.28 The events recorded are meant to validate the “power” of the female ruler to propitiate rain and by so doing, ensure good crops. It is important to note that in this case, the Buddhist ritual appears to have been ineffective, which will not be the case in the eighth-century example we examine below.

24 25 26 27

28

de Visser, Ancient Buddhism in Japan, vol. 1, pp. 249–269. Abé, The Weaving of Mantra, pp. 163–164; Satō, Kekae to geinō, pp. 80–81. Nishise, “Kichijō keka,” p. 227. The Great Temple mentioned in this entry could be Kudara Ōdera 百済大寺. See Satō, Kekae to geinō, pp. 7–8. However, since the ceremony was led by Soga no Emishi, it is possible that the ceremony was held at Asukadera 飛鳥寺, the temple of the Soga clan, which—like Kudara Ōdera—was one of the Four Great Temples. Nihongi, pp. 174–175; Nihon shoki, vol. 68 of NKBT, pp. 240–241.

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Keka specifically dedicated to Kichijōten and based on the teachings of The Golden Light Sutra seem to have begun in the late eighth century. The information about the date of the rite’s beginnings, however, varies according to the sources. For instance, Enryaku sōroku 延暦僧録 (Record of monks from the Enryaku era, 788) states that it was performed during Shōmu’s reign. The reason for this statement might be because on the first day of the first month, 749 (Tenpyō-shōhō 天平勝宝 1), Shōmu ordered the performance of an unspecified keka and the abridged chanting of The Golden Light Sutra at the seventy-seven temples under Heaven.29 Some scholars believe that this keka must have been a Kichijō keka because, as discussed below, the two rituals were (and are) performed in tandem. The earliest document that associates the two rituals is in the Shōsōin collection, and it refers to a lecture of The Golden Light Sutra during the performance of Kichijō keka at Tōdaiji in 764 (Tenpyō-hōji 天平宝字 8).30 Shoku Nihongi’s entries, however, suggest that this ceremony was established by Female Emperor Shōtoku in 767 (Jingo-keiun 神護景雲 1). Before addressing the official records about the institution of Kichijō keka, a few words about this female emperor are necessary.31 She was the daughter of Emperor Shōmu, the builder of Tōdaiji, who in 749 proclaimed himself as the servant of the Three Treasures (sanbō 三宝) of Buddhism, abdicated in favor of his daughter, and became a monk. Her mother was Empress Kōmyō 光明皇后 (701–760), the daughter of one of the most influential political figures of the time, Fujiwara no Fuhito 藤原不比等 (659–720). Kōmyō also took Buddhist vows and was actively involved in the establishment of Buddhist temples.32 In the Kamakura period, she was deified at the nunnery Hokkeji in Nara Prefecture.33 Shōtoku ruled as Kōken from 749 to 758 and abdicated in favor of Emperor Junnin 淳仁天皇 (733–765; r. 758–764). During his reign, she continued to be politically active as the Retired Emperor and ascended to the throne for the second time in 765 (Tenpyō-hōji 9). Kōken-Shōtoku ruled during a time when the court made considerable progress towards establishing a centralized government system amidst political revolts and scandals. Orthodox historiography

29 30 31

32 33

Shoku Nihongi, vol. 14, pp. 60–61. As cited by Nishigori, Tenbu no butsuzō jiten, p. 110. The documented activities of Shōmu and Kōmyō are too numerous to list and beyond the scope of this essay. For a brief account of the activities of Shōmu and Kōmyō see Piggott, “The Last Classical Female Sovereign.” For Kōmyō’s activities, see Mikoshiba, “Empress Kōmyō’s Buddhist Faith.” See Meeks, Hokkeji and the Reemergence of Female Monastic Orders, pp. 27–48.

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highlights her connections to the monk Dōkyō 道鏡 (700–772), who intended to usurp the throne. The two met in 763 (Tenpyō-hōji 7), when the monk-healer cured Kōken-Shōtoku from an illness. In 765, she gave him the unprecedented title of Great Minister and Meditation Monk (Daijō daijin zenshi 太政大臣禅 師) and in 766 (Tenpyō-jingo 天平神護 1), based on an alleged oracle by the deity of Usa Hachiman 宇佐八幡, he received the title of Dharma King (Sk. Dharmarāja, Jp. Hōō 法王). Dōkyō tried to manipulate the oracle in an attempt to become a monk-emperor, but was not able to accomplish his goal.34 Due to the close relationship between monk and ruler, most discussions about this emperor focus on her alleged affair with Dōkyō and the strong influence he had upon her. Joan Piggott, however, has demonstrated that rather than a passive woman, she was a determined ruler.35 As her parents had, Kōken-Shōtoku also took Buddhist vows and became a member of the clergy. Although I have not found evidence of her ordination, she declared her status in edicts recorded in Shoku Nihongi. For instance, in Edict 28, dated the twentieth day of the ninth month, 764, when she was in the process of reclaiming the throne from Junnin, she proclaimed: “Although I have shaved off my hair and wear Buddhist robes, I am able to carry out government of the state.”36 On the first day of the first month, 765, she was successfully enthroned for the second time as Shōtoku. The following year, on the twentythird day of the eleventh month, 766, for the Daijōsai 大嘗祭 (Great Thanksgiving Festival) celebrating her enthronement, in Edict 38, she again identified herself as “a disciple of the Buddha, who had received the bodhisattva precepts (bosatsukai 菩薩戒).”37 This edict is important because she further revealed her devotion to the Three Treasures of Buddhism. The Daijōsai (also discussed below) is a ritual associated with kami beliefs, where offerings are given to the Sun Goddess, Amaterasu Ōmikami, and celebrated the year a new emperor is enthroned. Because Shōtoku was a Buddhist nun, she considered it necessary to make changes to this traditional ceremony.

34

35 36

37

For a detailed study of Kōken-Shōtoku, see Piggott, “The Last Classical Female Sovereign”; and Naoki, “The Nara State,” pp. 263–267. See also Bender, “The Hachiman Cult”; “Performative Loci”; “Changing the Calendar”; and “Auspicious Omens.” See Piggott, “The Last Classical Female Sovereign,” p. 62. Shoku Nihongi, vol. 15, pp. 31–35; Bender, Nara Japan, 764–766, pp. 75–78. In this same edict, Shōtoku appointed Dōkyō as Great Minister and Meditation Monk, claiming that because she was a Buddhist nun, she could have a minister who followed the same path. For Edict 38, see Shoku Nihongi, vol. 15, pp. 103–105; and Bender, Nara Japan, 764–766, pp. 158–159.

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Rather than paying homage to the imperial deity as prescribed, she proclaimed that she would first pay homage to the Three Treasures of Buddhism, then revere the shrines of the deities of Heaven and Earth and lastly, cherish with mercy and compassion the imperial princes, the ministers, the Hundred Officials and the people under heaven. Importantly, in this edict she also proclaimed that in the past, Buddhist monks were not allowed to participate in the Daijōsai, but the Buddhist scriptures state that a number of non-Buddhist deities protected the Buddhist law and respected it. Therefore, Buddhist monks should be allowed to participate in the Daijōsai. The edicts discussed are particularly important because they not only confirm that Kōken-Shōtoku was an ordained nun, but also reveal that Buddhism was more important than her alleged divine ancestry and duty to honor the kami. A couple of months after her enthronement, in an edict promulgated on the eighth day of the first month, 767, Kōken-Shōtoku stated the following: For seven days, the state-sponsored temples of Golden Light [Kokubun Konkōmyōji 国分金光明寺] in Kinai and provinces of the seven circuits shall carry out Kichijōten keka. Thanks to the merit generated, all under heaven will be at peace. The wind and rain will come in due order, and the five grains will ripen. The myriad of people will live agreeably and pleasantly, and the living beings of the ten directions will likewise benefit from this good fortune.38 Eight months later, Kichijō keka is mentioned again, in Edict 42 dated to the sixteenth day of the eighth month. In this case, Kōken-Shōtoku announced the appearance of colorful clouds above the Great Shrine of Ise. These clouds were believed to be a particularly auspicious omen that revealed that the kami had acknowledged her as a good ruler. Interestingly, in this edict Kōken-Shōtoku stated: Hence this is a thing Amaterasu no Ōmikami has graciously revealed, and moreover that the spirits of the earlier emperors of age upon age, whose names are invoked with awe and fear, have graciously assisted. Further, it is because in the first month I invited the great priests of the great temples (ōtera no daihōshi 大寺の大法師) to expound and read (kōdoku 講読) for two seven-day periods The Golden Light Sutra, and caused them to practice Kichijō keka. Thus, the great priests together with the officials of the

38

Shoku Nihongi, vol. 15, pp. 148–149; Bender, Nara Japan, 767–770, pp. 45–46.

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government of the realm all served correctly and the Three Treasures, the various devas, and the deities of Heaven and Earth together revealed the wonderful and venerable great sign.39 The omen was believed to have appeared because of Kōken-Shōtoku’s virtues as a ruler. Interestingly, she gave the performance of Kichijō keka and the exposition of The Golden Light Sutra credit for this divine recognition, and thus acknowledged the efficacy of these rituals. In addition, as she had done before, she acknowledged the Three Treasures before the kami. Bender has argued that the contents of this edict support the claim that the politico-religious ideology of the Nara period was not limited to Buddhism, but that it combined ideas from “proto-Shinto,” Buddhism and Confucianism.40 His statement is certainly accurate, but it is also clear also that in spite of her alleged descent from Amaterasu, Buddhism had priority in Kōken-Shōtoku’s life. Moreover, these two references suggest that Kichijō keka was only performed by males, in that the first edict specifies that it should be performed in the Temples of the Golden Light, i.e., the monasteries, and the second, indicates that the “great priests of the great temples” were in charge of the ceremony. Surprisingly, the third mention of Kichijō keka, dated to the eighth day of the first month, 769 (Jingo-keiun 3), states that “the empress went to the Eastern Inner [Hall] (Tōnai 東内) and for the first time performed Kichijō keka.”41 This short entry is significant on multiple levels. First, it shows that Shōtoku herself performed the ceremony. As she was an ordained nun, she must have been familiar with The Golden Light Sutra and perhaps able to recite or chant it. And accordingly, if she had performed it, it is possible that other nuns and female lay devotees did the same. Second, it further demonstrates the importance of Buddhist practices in the life of this female ruler. Third, although the exact meaning of Tōnai is not known, some scholars have suggested that it might refer to a hall built in the imperial palace compound.42 If this is the case, the performance of Kichijō keka was not limited to state-sponsored temples, but was also done at the palace. Kōken-Shōtoku died in 770 (Jingo-keiun 4) and Dōkyō in 772 (Hōki 宝亀 3). She was succeeded by Emperor Kōnin 光仁天皇 (709–782; r. 770–781), who on

39 40 41 42

Shoku Nihongi, vol. 15, pp. 171–179; Bender, Nara Japan, 767–770, pp. 79–84. See Bender, “Changing the Calendar.” As translated by Bender, Nara Japan, 767–770, p. 155. For the Japanese text see Shoku Nihongi, vol. 15, pp. 226–227. See n. 23, Shoku Nihongi, vol. 15, pp. 227.

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the thirteenth day of the first month, 771 (Hōki 2) ordered the discontinuation of the Kichijō keka ritual in the provinces.43 Yet in 772, due to irregularities in the weather and to prevent famine, he decided to reinstate the performance of Kichijō keka in state-temples during the New Year as it had been done in previous reigns.44 This is the last record regarding the ceremony in Shoku Nihongi. Although it is difficult to determine exactly when the performance of Kichijō keka was instituted in the Nara period, Shoku Nihongi, the official historical record, acknowledges that the performance of this ceremony at statesponsored temples began during the rule of Female Emperor Kōken-Shōtoku. Most studies about this ruler stress her connections to the monk Dōkyō and give him credit for her Buddhist activities. Yet, because Kōken-Shōtoku was an ordained Buddhist nun, who openly prioritized the Three Treasures over kami, it is likely that she might have had an active role in the decisions concerning the Buddhist ritual calendar. Role of Kichijō Keka in Eighth Century Japan This section aims to address why Kichijō keka was instituted in the second half of the eighth century. To understand the reasons for the institution of Kichijō keka, it is important to analyze Nara-period events that might have been related to this ceremony. Taking into account that Kōnin decided to reinstate the ceremony to prevent famine, two points will be addressed. The first is the political and religious duties of the emperor as the leader of an agricultural society with a centralized government, and the second, is the high incidence of famine during the eighth century. After rice cultivation was introduced in Japan, rulers functioned as magicoreligious leaders whose political power rested on their ability to solicit supernatural powers to ensure good crops.45 Kami associated with agriculture were honored with rituals led by these rulers, such as seen above in the case of Kōgyoku. Because the sun is essential in the agricultural cycle, it was chosen as the main deity of the imperial line, and Amaterasu, the Sun Goddess, was identified as the ancestor of the Yamato rulers. In the early stages of state formation, the ruler was believed to be the one who controlled the sun and the production of rice.46

43 44 45 46

Shoku Nihongi, vol. 15, pp. 326–327. Entry for the tenth day of the eleventh month. Shoku Nihongi, vol. 15, pp. 329. Ohnuki-Tierney, “The Emperor of Japan as Deity,” p. 199. Mori, “The Emperor of Japan,” pp. 525–526.

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By the Nara period, the emperor’s duties included the performance of ceremonies and offerings to the kami based on a ritual calendar.47 Two of the ceremonies related to the agricultural cycle (which are still performed today) are especially important: the Kannamesai 神嘗祭 (festival of the deities’ tasting), performed in the tenth month; and the Niinamesai 新嘗祭 (festival of the new [crop] tasting), performed in the eleventh month. It is believed that Kannamesai has been held at the Ise Shrine since the establishment of the shrine, yet the earliest record of its celebration is in 721 (Yōrō 養老 5).48 At present, the ceremony lasts for three days starting on October fifteenth with the purification of all the participants. Then, offerings of sacred food (new rice, sacred rice wine and other rice-derived food) are presented at both the Outer and Inner shrines of Ise. The ceremony concludes with a prayer by the imperial representative and the high priest, followed by the presentation of additional offerings and a sacred dance. On October seventeenth, the emperor, members of the imperial family and individuals chosen to worship in the direction of Ise get together. The emperor makes his own offering at the Kashikodokoro 賢所 (Place of Awe), a shrine in the imperial palace dedicated to Amaterasu.49 Likewise, during the Niinamesai, the emperor offers the newly harvested rice as well as other offerings to the kami deities and expresses his gratitude for the protection of the crops. Whereas in the Kannamesai, the emperor merely presents the offerings to the deities, however, in the Niinamesai, he partakes of the offerings with the deities. Furthermore, the Niinamesai is performed at the imperial palace, rather than at the Ise Shrine, and during the year of the enthronement of a new emperor, it is called the Daijōsai and includes additional ceremonies.50 Remarkably, performance of the ceremonies mentioned above is only sporadically recorded in Shoku Nihongi. In fact, during the reign of Kōken-Shōtoku,

47 48

49 50

For other ritual functions of the Japanese emperors, see Yamaguchi, “The Dual Structure of Japanese Emperorship,” pp. S6–S7. For the establishment of the Ise Shrine in 5 BCE (Suinin 垂仁 25), see Nihongi, pp. 176–177. For the Kannamesai, see Kokushi daijiten, Japan Knowledge database, accessed December 30, 2015. “Kannamesai,” Kodansha Encyclopedia of Japan, Japan Knowledge database, accessed December 30, 2015. See the “Niinamesai” entries in Kodansha Encyclopedia of Japan and Kokushi daijiten, Japan Knowledge database, accessed December 30, 2015. The many layers of symbolism of this ceremony are beyond the scope of this paper. For the symbolism of the Daijōsai, see Ohnuki-Tierney, “The Emperor of Japan as Deity.”

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only three entries refer to the Niinamesai and one to the Daijōsai. The reference to the Daijōsai dates to when she was enthroned as Shōtoku. The Niinamesai entries include the one from the eleventh month, 756 (Tenpyō-shōho 8), which states that the ceremony was not performed at the palace, but that the ceremony was in the charge of the Jingikan 神祇官 (Council of Kami Affairs). The other two entries, dated to the second day of the eleventh month of 768 (Jingokeiun 2) and the twenty-eighth day of the eleventh month of 769, state only that the ceremony was performed, and that there was a banquet to celebrate the festival, respectively. Due to the lack of regular records of the Niinamesai, it is difficult to draw a solid conclusion about its celebration during the time of Kōken-Shōtoku’s rule. The main purpose of this ritual seems to have been the offering of newly harvested rice and its derived products to Amaterasu and the kami deities to express gratitude for a good harvest. If this is the case, it is likely that Niinamesai might have been performed only the years when the harvest was successful. Due to the large number of entries about famine in Shoku Nihongi, especially during the reign of Kōken-Shōtoku, it is possible that the lack of records about Niinamesai was related to failed crops and the ensuing famine. The records about famine in Shoku Nihongi are meaningfully numerous. They are brief and only state the name of the province or provinces affected and that relief was granted by the court.51 In some cases, relief took the form of tax exemptions, and in others, grain was distributed among starving peasants. Based on the data available about famine, William Wayne Farris has concluded that during the Nara period, famine hit the land approximately every three years. In most cases, drought was the main reason for the scarcity of food, followed by cold or wet weather.52 Between 762 and 766, however, during the second rule of Kōken-Shōtoku, famine struck every year.53 The highest incidence of severe drought and famine was in the year 763.54 Based on these studies, I would argue that the establishment of Kichijō keka might have been the Buddhist solution to the problem of famine during the second half of the eighth century. Since the early stages of state for-

51

52 53 54

Bender, “Auspicious Omens,” pp. 55–60. He includes a chart listing the types of natural disasters the Japanese archipelago was prone to, famine being at the top of the list. In addition, an accompanying graph clearly shows the incidence of these various disasters in the years between 749–770. Farris, “Famine, Climate, and Farming,” p. 275. Farris, “Famine, Climate, and Farming,” p. 293. Bender, “Auspicious Omens,” p. 56.

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mation, the ruler’s ritual calendar was determined by the agricultural cycle that included periodic offerings to the kami deities to express gratitude for good crops. Besides these thanksgiving rituals, records in Shoku Nihongi state that offerings were made at shrines dedicated to kami to pray for rain when needed.55 The reason for the establishment of Kichijō keka might be because the ritual calendar dedicated to kami deities did not include ceremonies that promoted a good harvest, or that could prevent famine. Since the Kichijōten passages in The Golden Light Sutra clearly state that reading or chanting the sutra and worshipping Kichijōten offers “the possibility of experiencing divine and human pleasures, the disappearance of famine, and the abundance of a variety of goods,” Buddhist monks and nuns as well as lay devotees familiar with the sutra might have considered the additional benefits promised by worshipping the newly introduced Hindu-Buddhist female deity. Maekawa Akihisa has argued that Dōkyō must have been behind the institution of Kichijō keka. He contends that the monk was familiar with the sutras for the protection of the state, and moreover, found a parallel between the roles of Kōken-Shōtoku as the ruler and the female deity.56 Nonetheless, it is likely that Kōken-Shōtoku could have been involved because she was a Buddhist nun and importantly, as she herself stated, she considered that the Three Jewels had priority over the kami deities and her ancestors. As an ordained and devout Buddhist nun, she could have been familiar with The Golden Light Sutra and perhaps had heard about the benefits of invoking and worshipping Kichijōten, and of chanting or listening to the sutra. It is important to remember that, according to Shoku Nihongi, Kōken-Shōtoku not only ordered the performance of Kichijō keka in state temples, but she herself also performed it. The records of the performance of Kichijō keka and the celebration of the Daijōsai and Niinamesai suggest that people at the time believed in the efficacy of these rituals. As mentioned above, a document in the Shōsōin collection states that the Kichijō keka ritual was performed in 764 and that Kōken-Shōtoku celebrated the Daijōsai in 765. Coincidentally, the only two instances of Kichijō keka performances recorded in Shoku Nihongi are followed by the only two records of Niinamesai. Although the accuracy of these records cannot be confirmed, the fact that Emperor Kōnin first discontinued the Kichijō keka ritual

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One entry is dated Tenpyō-hōji 8 (764).4.16 and the other Tenpyō-jingo 2 (766).5.17. See Shoku Nihongi, vol. 15, pp. 10–11 and pp. 122–123, respectively; and Bender, Nara Japan, 767– 770, pp. 51 and 183, respectively. Maekawa, “Dōkyō to Kichijō keka,” pp. 221–235.

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after Kōken-Shōtoku’s death and then quickly reinstated it a year later in an effort to prevent famine suggests that, at the time, performing Kichijō keka and reading or chanting The Golden Light Sutra was believed to grant benefits promised by this female deity. In 794 (Enryaku 延暦 14), the capital was moved from Nara to Kyoto (Heian), a new imperial lineage was established, and new forms of Buddhism introduced. Kichijō keka continued being performed at the state-sponsored temples.57 In addition, The Golden Light Sutra’s lectures and Kichijō keka were also performed in the new capital, specifically in the imperial palace.58 These two ceremonies were included in the Gosaie 御斎会 (also read Misaie), the New Year ritual performed at the Daigokuden in the imperial palace.59 The main purpose of this ceremony was to offer a meal to the Buddhist monks. Following the Nara-period practices, the celebrations began on the eighth day of the first month and lasted until the fourteenth day. Asuka Sango has analyzed the textual and visual material associated with Gosaie. Based on ritual manuals, she reconstructs aspects of the exposition of The Golden Light Sutra, such as the layout of the hall and the seating areas for the emperor, monks, and aristocrats. The ritual manuals also mention an image of Rushana Butsu 盧舎那仏 (Sk. Vairocana) and two unidentified attendant bodhisattvas placed on the dais located in the center of the Daigokuden as well as images of the Four Heavenly Kings. Kichijōten, however, is not discussed in Sango’s study.60 The performance of the two ceremonies is described by Minamoto no Tamenori 源為憲 (d. 1011). He refers to the Gosaie ceremony in Sanbō ekotoba 三 宝絵詞 (Illustrated Account of the Three Jewels), written in 984 (Eikan 永観 2). He explains that for a week there were lectures on The Golden Light Sutra during the day, and Kichijō keka during the night. The separation of these two ceremonies, especially the performance of Kichijō keka at night seems to have begun in the ninth century. Tamenori does not mention any pictorial or sculptural icons used for these ceremonies, but states that “Kichijōten was the wife of Bishamonten, and that she had made a vow to fill all storehouses with five

57 58 59 60

de Visser, Ancient Buddhism in Japan, vol. 2, pp. 453–454. For the important changes that took place in the Heian period regarding keka performance, see Yamagishi, “Keka kara shushō, shunie e.” Gosaie were performed from 802 to 1467. See de Visser, Ancient Buddhism in Japan, vol. 2, p. 444. For a complete study addressing the political significance of the Gosaie, see Sango, The Halo of the Golden Light, pp. 13–23; and Yoshida Kazuhiko, “Gosaie no kenkyū.”

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grains and to answer all prayers.”61 It is interesting to note that Tamenori mentions Kichijōten and Bishamonten as a couple, because the altar-platform at Hōryūji includes wooden icons of these two deities made as a pair, and thus reflects changes in the Kichijō keka.

Kichijō Keka at Hōryūji Hōryūji claims that the temple has performed Kichijō keka since the ritual was instituted in 768 (Jingo-keiun 2) and that it was performed at the Lecture Hall using painted images of Kichijōten and Bishamonten.62 The first documented instance of Kichijō keka performed at the Golden Hall, however, dates to last quarter of the eleventh century. Inventories and other temple records suggest that at that time, images and ritual paraphernalia were added for the performance of the ritual. These inventories also suggest that a large number of objects were on the altar-platform, and that over the centuries, some images and objects were added and others were removed. The most significant move happened in the twentieth century, when the vast majority of objects were gradually relocated to the Daihōzōden 大宝蔵殿 (Great Treasure Hall) built in 1941, and later to the Daihōzōin 大宝蔵院 (Great Treasure House), built in 1998.63 Needless to say, the main purpose of the relocation was the preservation of the icons and objects. In 2008, the Golden Hall’s earth pounded altarplatform was restored and only a few images were kept on it. It now includes the seventh-century Shaka triad in the central bay, the Yakushi image in the eastern bay, and the Four Heavenly Kings, each in their respective corners. The images of Kichijōten and Bishamonten made in the eleventh century are located to the left and right of the Shaka triad, respectively, and the Amida triad, dated to the thirteenth century, is in the western bay (see fig. 4.1).64

61 62

63 64

Kamens, The Three Jewels, pp. 251–253. “Kondō shushōe,” Hōryūji website, accessed October 6, 2017. http://www.horyuji.or.jp/ gyouji/. See also Nara Kokuritsu Hakubustukan, Kokuhō Hōryūji kondō ten, pp. 178–179. This claim is based on a record in Kichijō gogan gogyō kiroku, p. 77. Kichijō gogan gogyō kiroku 吉祥御願御行記録 (also known as Kichijō gogan gogyō kyūki 吉祥御願御行旧 記) records performances of Kichijō keka from 1079 (Jōryaku 承暦 3) to 1359 (Enbun 延文 4). See also Ebisawa, “Heian jidai ni okeru Kichijōten shinkō,” pp. 204–207. For the Daihōzōin, see Yui Suzuki, “Temple as Museum.” See Nara Kokuritsu Hakubutsukan, Kokuhō Hōryūji kondō ten, pp. 14–16. The location of Kichijōten and Bishamonten is based on the viewer’s point of view.

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The contrast between the previously overcrowded altar-platform and the current minimalist arrangement is perplexing. Thus, this section aims to explain the current arrangement of icons and its association to the Kichijō keka. In order to understand the specific role of each icon, the first part analyzes the temple inventories that refer to the location of the icons and the time of their installation in the Golden Hall. The second part is a short description of the ritual program of Kichijō keka at Hōryūji and its relationship to the rites described in The Golden Light Sutra. Icons in Hōryūji’s Golden Hall Inventories and other documents allow us to determine when the images currently on the altar-platform were placed upon it. Some icons have been there since the first inventory was recorded in the eighth century, whereas others were brought in the eleventh and thirteenth centuries. The eleventh century records strongly suggest that images were brought for the performance of Kichijō keka. From the first inventory, Hōryūji garan engi narabini ruki shizaichō 法隆寺伽 藍縁起並流記資財帳 (Circumstances of the establishment of Hōryūji and an inventory of its possessions, hereafter referred to as the Hōryūji engi) compiled in 747 (Tenpyō 19), we know that the Shaka triad and the Yakushi icon had been in the Golden Hall when this inventory was written. Their specific location on the platform, however, is not specified in this document. Edward Kidder has argued that because the Yakushi image is listed first, it must have occupied the center bay.65 Surprisingly, the four wooden icons of the Four Heavenly Kings, also dated to the seventh century, are not listed in the 747 inventory, suggesting that they were not in the Golden Hall at the time. The other document containing lists of icons and objects in the Golden Hall is Kondō nikki 金堂日記 (Diary of the Golden Hall). It has five different inventories, dated 1078 (Jōryaku 承暦 2), 1080 (Jōryaku 4), 1082 (Eihō 永保 2), 1158 (Hōgen 保元 3) and 1196 (Kenkyū 建久 7). The 1080 inventory gives information about images and objects added to the Golden Hall, some of which are relevant to Kichijō keka. Under the heading, “About Buddhist icons and paraphernalia offered and enshrined,” the first objects listed are a “Bishamonten measuring three shaku (about three feet)” and “a Daikichijōten of the same size.” This entry also includes details about their construction. Thus, we know that the icons began to be made on the seventh day of the first month, 1078, that they were finished on the eighth day of the tenth month, enshrined on

65

Kidder, The Lucky Seventh, pp. 210–237; and “Yakushi, Shaka, the 747 Inventory.”

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the twelfth day of the eleventh month, and that an eye-opening ceremony was performed on the second day of the twelfth month. Significantly, this list of recently enshrined objects also includes “four icons of Shitennō.”66 Since no further detail about these images is given, it is difficult to assert that this record refers to the four Heavenly Kings icons currently on the altar. Yet, because the Kichijō keka is based on The Golden Light Sutra and the Heavenly Kings play a central role in this sutra, it is likely that these wooden icons were brought to Hōryūji for this ceremony. Kondō nikki also gives us information about the icons on the pedestals located in the center, east and west bays. The 1078, 1082, 1158 and 1196 inventories state that the Shaka triad was the central icon and that the Yakushi image was located on the eastern pedestal, where they are currently located.67 The information about the western pedestal (where the Amida triad is located now) is more complicated. The first three inventories list eighteen small Buddhist images, and the 1196 records twenty-three images.68 But the inscription engraved on Amida’s halo states that, the Amida image that originally occupied the pedestal was stolen in the Jōtoku 承徳 era (1097–1099). The monks were devastated and the empty pedestal was a reminder of their loss. Eventually a fundraising campaign was organized to fill the space left by the stolen image. The inscription further states that the manufacture of the new triad began in the third month, 1231 (Kangi 寛喜 3), and an eye-opening ceremony was performed in the eighth month, 1232 (Jōei 貞永 1). The sculptor in charge was Kōshō 康勝 (act. 1198–1233), who held the honorable title of Bridge of the Dharma (hokkyō 法橋), and was one of the six sons of the famous sculptor Unkei 運慶 (ca. 1150–1223).69 Since Kondō nikki’s inventories from 1078, 1082, 1158 and 1196 mention small Buddhist icons and no Amida image, it is likely that no earlier image ever existed and that the bronze Amida image and its attendant bodhisattvas were placed on the western pedestal in 1232.70 Because

66

67 68

69 70

The 1078 inventory was compiled on the 8th of the 10th month, before the eye-opening ceremony for the images of Kichijōten and Bishamonten. For the list of objects added to the Golden Hall in 1080, see Kondō nikki, pp. 17–21. The “Four icons of Shitennō” is listed on p. 18. As noted, the 1080 inventory is a list of new objects and icons added to the Golden Hall and do not mention previously existing ones. For the 1078, 1082, 1158 and 1196 inventories, see Kondō nikki, pp. 13–17, 22–26, 27–32, 33– 37, respectively. The 1082, 1158 and 1196 inventories include the images of Daikichijōten, Bishamonten, and a set of The Golden Light Sutra, among others. Nara Rokudaiji Taikan Kankōkai, Hōryūji, pp. 38–43. The attendant bodhisattvas currently in the Golden Hall are replicas. The original Seishi

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these icons were made in the archaic style of the seventh century, they seem to have been together with the Shaka triad and the Yakushi image since the Golden Hall was erected. Previous studies have suggested that the current placement of the Shaka triad flanked by Bishamonten and Kichijōten is based on a section in The Golden Light Sutra. In fact, Yijing’s translation includes a dialogue between Bishamonten and Shaka, where Bishamonten explains that if a devotee desires to see Bishamonten’s appearance, a painter who has received the eight precepts should paint an image of Shaka in the center, Kichijōten to the left, Bishamonten to the right, and also male and female Buddhist deities (danjo kenzoku 男 女眷属). The painting should be done on felt using wood-derived glue (mokkō 木膠) and flowers, incense, light, chants, and prayers must be offered.71 The reference to a painting, however, is not found in the Sanskrit version translated to English. If Kidder’s proposal that the Yakushi image was located in the central bay in the eighth century is accurate, then the information in the Kondō nikki inventories suggests that by 1078, the Shaka triad might have been moved to the center in order to match Yijing’s description. If this were the case, then the other icons on the platform, and perhaps even the mural paintings representing different Buddhist deities, would have stood for the unspecified “male and female deities.” Other documents give us more information about other changes at the Golden Hall brought about the Kichijō keka. For instance, Hōryūji bettō shidai 法隆寺別当次第 (Records of Hōryūji abbots) states that on the eighth day of the first month, 1078, the “Golden Hall’s doors were opened for the first Kichijō gogan 吉祥御願. The aristocrats moved and lined up.”72 This short entry is important for two reasons. First, it suggests that aristocrats were involved in the first performance a ceremony dedicated to Kichijōten at Hōryūji. This active participation of aristocrats probably relates to the performance of Kichijō keka as part of the Gosaie. As mentioned above, during the Heian period and later, the emperor, aristocrats and monks all participated of this week-long ceremony at the imperial palace. Second, if the eye-opening ceremony of the images of Kichijōten and Bishamonten was held on the second day of the twelfth month, 1078, as stated above, then it is likely that existing icons, or no icons, were used for the first performance of Kichijō keka at the Golden Hall.

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has been housed in the Musée Guimet in Paris since the Meiji period (1868–1912), and the Kannon image can be found in Hōryūji’s Daihōzōden. Scroll six, section twelve. See Mibu, Konkōmyōkyō, p. 210. Hōryūji bettō shidai, p. 792.

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In short, The Golden Light Sutra partially explains the current layout of icons in the Golden Hall’s altar, with the Shaka triad in the center and Kichijōten and Bishamonten to the left and right. The inclusion of the Four Heavenly Kings can be justified by the crucial role of these four deities in the sutra and their general role in state protection. Yet the presence of a Yakushi image and an Amida triad in this context is puzzling.73 The analysis of the ritual program should shed some light onto the specific roles of each of the Buddhist icons on the platform. Ritual Program As mentioned above, Kichijō keka is one of the ceremonies of the Shushōe, or the New Year’s services at Hōryūji.74 The other ceremony is the exposition of The Golden Light Sutra; both held from January 8 to 14.75 The sutra exposition takes place at eleven o’clock in the morning at the Lecture Hall and is open to the general public, whereas the Kichijō keka is held six times a day at the Golden Hall and participation is restricted to monks and a few guests. Needless to say, the core of the Shūshoe rituals is The Golden Light Sutra, the King of Sutras. As noted above, instructions to worship Kichijōten are outlined in the sutra. In section seventeen, Kichijōten explains to Shaka how to invoke and worship her for seven days and seven nights. In Yijing’s version, she states that an image of her must be painted and that her surroundings must be adorned (shōgon 荘厳) with jewelry.76 The rites mentioned in the sutra include purification of the participants, offerings to the images (such as incense, food and perfumed flowers), prayer, circumambulation, and repetition of The Golden Light Sutra and the names of numerous buddhas and bodhisattvas, including Kichijōten.77

73 74

75

76 77

As far as I know, there is no study about this issue. According to Yamagishi Tsuneto, in the Nara period, the performance of the Kichijō keka ritual and the exposition of The Golden Light Sutra were a single combined event known simply as Kichijō keka. In the Heian period, a new ritual calendar was established and the two ceremonies were held separately, usually with the exposition or lecture of the sutra in the morning and keka in the evening. Because they were held in the first month in the new ritual calendar, they became known as Shushōe, or the New Year’s special services. For a detailed discussion of this transition, see Yamagishi, “Keka kara shushō, shunie e.” These two events are the New Year rituals of the Western Compound. In the Eastern Compound, a Jūichimen Kannon keka is celebrated from January 16 to 18. See “Nenkan gyōji,” Hōryūji website, accessed October 6, 2017. http://www.horyuji.or.jp/gyouji/. Further research on, and comparison of, the various versions of the sutra is necessary to determine if the practice of creating images is related to Chinese Buddhist practices. Mibu, Konkōmyōkyō, pp. 253–256.

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Some of the rites described in the sutra are rooted in Hindu puja (Sanskrit word for veneration or worship) and are evidence of the adoption of Hindu ritual in Buddhist practices.78 A study of the current ritual program at Hōryūji shows that the rites mentioned in the sutra are performed, but it also includes ceremonies that are rooted in the agricultural tradition of Japan. Kichijō keka is performed at the Golden Hall following the canonical schedule known as “six periods [of the day] services” (rokuji no gyōbō 六時の行法). These services are named after the time of their performance: Dawn Service (goya no sahō 後夜の作法), Morning Service ( jinjō no sahō 晨朝の作法), Noon Service (nitchū no sahō 日中の作法), Sunset Service (nichibotsu no sahō 日没 の作法), Evening Service (shoya no sahō 初夜の作法), and Midnight Service (han’ya no sahō 半夜の作法).79 Participation in these services is restricted to the temple’s monks, however, selected guests have been invited to participate in certain portions of the services since 1987.80 The six main services are performed every day for seven days. In addition, there is a Vigil Service (tsuya no sahō 通夜作法) on January 7, an Opening Ceremony on January 8, additional rites on the last three days, and a Closing Ceremony on January 14 (table 4.1). Each of the six services is in charge of a different officiant-monk (dōshi 導師). In addition to the six services officiants, there is a monk in charge of the Opening Ceremony (kaibyaku dōshi 開白導 師), another for the vow ( juganshi 呪願師), a hall coordinator (dōgyōjishi 堂

78

79

80

For a discussion of the adoption of Hindu rites in Mahayana Buddhist practices in India, see Takayasu Suzuki, “The Primary Introduction of the Rites,” pp. 1158–1161. He focuses on one ritual, which gives instructions on how to apply cow dung on the floor of the ritual space, that has been omitted at Hōryūji. For Hindu puja, see Eck, Darśan, pp. 44–51; and Pal, Puja and Piety, p. 19. This same schedule is followed in the performance of the Shunie (Shunigatsue) at Tōdaiji’s Nigatsudō 二月堂 for the Jūichimen keka, dedicated to the Eleven-Headed Avalokiteśvara. See Abé, The Weaving of Mantra, pp. 170–176 and Satō, Chūsei jiin to hōe, pp. 6–8. Due to the lack of access to the services, scholarly research on Kichijō keka at Hōryūji is scant. This discussion of the services and the ritual program are based primarily on Takada, Hōryūji no shiki, pp. 46–64; and also on Nishise, “Kichijō keka,” pp. 229–231. As a Hōryūji monk-scholar, Takada provides first-hand information. In addition, there are two publications by Tatematsu Wahei, a writer who once served as an assistant in the services. For his personal accounts, see Tatematsu, Shōtoku Taishi; and “Hōryūji Kondō shushōe no kandō.” Nishise mentions an undated manuscript titled Kichijōe rokuji keka 吉祥会六時 悔過 in the archives of Tōdaiji, which records the ritual program of the services that does not fully conform to Takada’s descriptions. Nishise, “Kichijō keka,” pp. 230–231. I had the opportunity to attend an Evening Service in 2010.

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kichijō keka at hōryūji table 4.1

Schedule of services at Hōryūji from January 7 to January 14 Day

Jan 7

Jan 8

Jan 9

Jan 10

Jan 11

Jan 12

Jan 13

Jan 14

Dawn service

Dawn service

Dawn service

Dawn service

Dawn service

Dawn service

Dawn service

Morning service

Morning service

Morning service

Morning service

Morning service

Morning service

Morning service

Noon service

Noon service

Noon service

Noon service

Noon service

Noon service

Noon service Holy water ceremony

Sunset service

Sunset service

Sunset service

Sunset service

Sunset service

Sunset service

Sunset service

Evening service

Evening service

Evening service

Evening service

Evening service

Evening service Offering of flowers

Evening service

Midnight service

Midnight Midnight Midnight Midnight Midnight service service service service service Special Special prayer prayer

Opening ceremony

Services Vigil

Midnight service Special prayer Closing ceremony and talismans distribution

行事師) and a darani officiant ( jushi 呪師). In the past, these monks in charge were known as the Ten Monks of the Golden Hall (Kondō Jusshi 金堂十師), and

they were responsible for the successful performance of each of the services. Because at present there are only a few monks at Hōryūji, all of them participate in the services. The Golden Hall is decked out for Kichijō keka (fig. 4.6). The icons of Bishamonten and Kichijōten are each given a wooden sword carved out of a twig of

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lacquer tree, known as kaji jō 加持杖, an empowering stick (fig. 4.7).81 Stamped paper talismans, called goō hōin 牛王宝印, are set like flags on sticks held by Bishamonten, Kichijōten, and also bunched together to the sides of the Shaka triad.82 In addition, oil lamps are placed in front of each the icons for the offering of light and offerings of food are given daily. On the evening of January 7, the Vigil Service is performed at the Shōryōin 聖霊院, a hall located east of the Golden Hall and dedicated to spirit of Prince Shōtoku 聖徳太子 (574–622). After entering the hall, the monks separate in two groups, and sit on the east and west sides of the shrine containing the image of Prince Shōtoku as a Regent. The main purpose of this gathering is to confirm that all monk-participants are present and to prepare their prelate’s surplices (kesa 袈裟) and prayer beads (nenju 念珠) for the following day. In the past, the monks spent the night at the Shōryōin, but now they return to their respective sub-temples. On January 8, at five in the morning, the first Dawn Service is performed preceded by the Opening Ceremony. The monks enter the Shōryōin to change into their prelate’s surplices and when the bell of the Western Compound rings, they head towards the Golden Hall. They purify themselves by sprinkling water and incense before entering the hall from the east side. In the Golden Hall, they separate in two groups, one group seats on the east side of the south side of the temple and the other, on the west. Then, one of the monks or an assistant presents the offerings (kuyō 供養), while the others quietly read The Golden Light Sutra. Offerings of food, such as rice cakes, cooked rice, raw rice, beans, dried persimmons and straw, are placed in front of each of the icons on the altar-platform, beginning with Kichijōten and Bishamonten, followed by the buddhas and bodhisattvas on the altar-platform.83 In addition, each deity is offered light when the oil lamps are lighted. After the offerings, the officiant in

81 82

83

Kaji (Sk. adhiṣṭhāna) refers to the magical power of buddhas to reveal enlightenment to the world. Buswell and López, The Princeton Dictionary, s.v. “adhiṣṭhāna.” The term goō hōin is difficult to translate. It refers to woodblock printed talismans that include images of hōju and characters. They are prominent in the New Year services in temples and shrines. There is not a consensus about the origin of the term, but it is generally accepted that it relates to pigments used. The prints are made using black and red ink mixed with ground gallstones from cattle, known as “yellow thing of cattle” (goō 牛黄) or “cattle’s jewels” (gohō 牛宝). Cattle gallstones were used in Chinese medicine because they were believed to have healing properties by adverting evil spirits. For a discussion of goō hōin see Miyamoto, “Goō hōin to minzoku gyōji,” p. 23; and Satō, Kekae to geinō, p. 593. According to Tatematsu, each deity receives a different offering of food, but he does not specify what each of them receives. Tatematsu, “Hōryūji Kondō shushōe no kandō,” p. 33.

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figure 4.6 Golden Hall decorated for Kichijō keka, Hōryūji, Nara Prefecture Source: Takada Ryōshin, Hōryūji no shiki: gyōji to gishiki (Tokyo: Shōgakkan, 1992), pl. 1

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figure 4.7 Bishamonten with an empowering stick and a post with a goō hōin, Golden Hall, Hōryūji, Nara Prefecture Source: Hōryūji (Tokyo: Shōgakukan, 2009), p. 32

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charge stands in front of the main seat located near the altar-platform, bows, and hits a gong three times to indicate that the offerings have finished. At this point, the Opening Ceremony officiant sits on the main seat and explains the history and purpose of the ritual. He states that this ceremony began in 768 for the protection of the state and the happiness of the people and asks the buddhas, bodhisattvas, and Prince Shōtoku for divine protection to successfully complete the ceremonies. After the Opening Ceremony, the ritual program continues with the chanting of a Nyorai bai 如来唄, a hymn praising the Buddha.84 After finishing the chanting, the officiant offers incense and hits the gong three times and pronounces the offering sentence (kuyō mon 供 養文). Then, the participants carry out the sange 散華, or ritual scattering of flower petals. In the past, camellia petals were used in this ceremony, but these have been replaced by paper petals painted by famous artists.85 The scattering is performed while the monks circumambulate the ambulatory of the Golden Hall and repeat a prayer. After the sange comes the recitation of prayers praising the Buddha (tanbutsu jugan 嘆仏呪願) led by the prayer officiant, followed by the nenjū hotsugan 念通発願 or the recitations of invocations, which is the core of keka.86 The officiant and the congregation honor a number of Buddhist deities by reciting their names, beginning with Vairocana, Shaka, the Buddhas of the Four Directions (which include Amida), and other buddhas and bodhisattvas. As the names are chanted, it gets louder and louder. The service continues with the invocation to Bishamonten. In this case, his mantra (shingon 真言) is repeated 108 times. This is followed by the invocation to Kichijōten. Her mantra is also repeated 108 times and because she is the main deity of this ritual, the monks perform a short sange, and circumambulate the Golden Hall, while praising the virtues of Kichijōten. The monks keep count of the invocations by using their prayer beads.87 The next ritual action is the reading of the Hannya shingyō 般若心経 (Sk. Prajñāpāramitā Hṛdaya Sūtra, The essence of Prajñāpāramitā sutra; i.e. The Heart Sutra) while circumambulating the Golden Hall’s ambulatory two times. Then the Dawn Service officiant and the darani officiant stand in front of the altar and recite the Godaigan 五大願 (Five Great Vows) and a dhāraṇī to kami deities. During this recitation, the monks on the 84 85 86 87

Nyorai bai is chanted at the beginning of a service. Inagaki, A Dictionary of Japanese Buddhist Terms, s.v. “Nyorai bai.” Hōryūji began to replace camellia petals for painted ones in some of its ceremonies in Taisho 10 (1921). See Takada, “Hōryūji no sange.” Nishise calls this ritual shōmyō keka 称名悔過. Nishise, “Kichijō keka,” p. 231. Buswell and López, The Princeton Dictionary, s.v. “nenjū.” The number 108 has multiple meanings in Buddhism.

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west side shake a ritual rattle (nyō 鐃) and the monks on the west, blow a conch shell (hōragai 法螺貝). Each of them holds an empowering stick and circumambulates the ambulatory. The monks return to their respective seats and the officiant goes to the main seat and says “dai” three times, indicating that the dawn service has finished. The Morning Service is the second service and it is a shortened version of the Dawn Service.88 The third service begins right after the exposition of The Golden Light Sutra at the Lecture Hall. In this case, the monks enter the Golden Hall and the Noon Service officiant greets the deities by vowing three times. The ritual actions are also an abridged version of the Dawn Service, with the addition of a ceremony dedicated to Kichijōten and Bishamonten, which includes praises to their virtues and prayers asking for their divine protection. This service ends with an invocation to Shaka by reciting his name 108 times. The Sunset Service is similar to the Morning Service, and the Evening Service, similar to the Dawn service. The purpose of the Midnight Service is to pray for the peace of the state, the prosperity of the Buddhist law, and the peace of the temple. The rites performed are similar to those performed in the previous services, but from January 12 through 14, a “special prayer” (gongi no gi 厳祈の儀) is included in the service. This special prayer is led by the Midnight Service officiant and the darani officiant who pray for the divine protection of the state and the people. The monks hold the empowering sticks and circumambulate the ambulatory while shaking the rattles and blowing the conch shells. In this prayer, they repeat the names of the Jūni shinshō 十二神将 (Twelve Generals, who are under the command of Yakushi) and circumambulate three, five, or seven times, depending on the day. Then, the Midnight Service officiant sits facing the altar and prays for the protection of Hōryūji and its surroundings. The prayers are dedicated to Gundari Myōō 軍荼利明王 (Sk. Kuṇḍali Vidyarāja) for the peace of the temple, a pleasant life for the people, harmony among the monks, and the spread of the Buddhist law.89 In addition, kami deities are summoned to protect Hōryūji. For the last ritual action of this special prayer, monks wearing fabric hoods and carrying two wooden swords circumambulate the ambulatory hitting the columns with the wooden swords to ward off evil spirits and praying at the four corners of the temple. On January 13 and 14 some additional ceremonies are performed in some of the services. On January 13, after the Evening Service, there is a hana mōshiage

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Takada does not explain the rites of the morning service. For Gundari Myōō, see Frédéric, Buddhism, pp. 209–210.

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figure 4.8 Goō hōin or stamped paper talisman from Kichijō keka, ink on paper, 39 × 27 cm, Hōryūji Source: Author’s collection. Photo by Megan C. Terry

花申上 or the offering of flowers. A flower vase containing five plum branches

is offered with a prayer for a good harvest. According to Gorai Shigeru, this offering of flowers (not just petals) as well as the offerings of rice cakes to the deities are evidence that Kichijō keka includes certain ceremonies associated with Japan’s agricultural rites.90 On January 14, after the Morning Service, the monks drink the holy water that was offered to Kichijōten. In Hindu ritual, this act is known as prasād (Sanskrit term meaning favor or grace), which refers to the food offered to the deity that is returned to the devotees after being consecrated. The idea is that the deities share the offerings with the devotees.91 In addition, after the Midnight Service, the Closing Ceremony (kechigan 結 願) takes place. At the end of this ritual, the monks collect the stamped paper talismans and later distribute them among the participants. These printed talismans include three oval designs representing the Three Treasures of Buddhism and the characters (from right to left) for Kichijōten, Hōryūji, and goō (fig. 4.8). These talismans are believed to help avert evil spirits and disease because they have gathered the power of the deities by being in the altar during the ceremony.92 Thus, the Kichijō keka services at Hōryūji include the rites prescribed in section seventeen of The Golden Light Sutra, but their ritual program is more complex and contains certain features that are inherently Japanese, such as 90 91 92

Gorai, “Bukkyō girei,” p. 72. For the significance of rice cakes, see Gorai, “Shūshōe, Shūnie.” Eck, Darśan, p. 106. Satō, Kekae to geinō, p. 593. See Fowler’s essay in this volume for more about the empowerment of prints.

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ceremonies associated with agricultural rites (offering of rice cakes and plum flowers) and invocations of kami and prayers to Prince Shōtoku, the alleged patron of the temple. Section seventeen instructs participants to recite the names of buddhas and bodhisattvas, as well as Kichijōten. Yet Kichijō keka at Hōryūji includes recitations of the names of other deities such as Bishamonten, Shaka, the Twelve Generals, and Gundari. The Kichijō keka performed at Hōryūji today is therefore an expanded version of the one described in the sutra. The icons currently on the platform seem to serve to remind the participants of the presence of these deities in the services, especially Shaka, Bishamonten, and Kichijōten, as 108 invocations are chanted on their behalf. The presence of the statues of Amida and Yakushi on the altar is difficult to explicate in terms of their role in Kichijō keka. For instance, Amida is mentioned once in The Golden Light Sutra, but not specifically in the Kichijōten rite. Yakushi is not mentioned in the sutra, but his Twelve Generals are named during the special solemn prayers performed during the last three days of the services. Importantly, Yijing’s Chinese version of The Golden Light Sutra includes specific instructions “to paint images” of the deities to visualize them. Since these statements are not found in the Sanskrit version, then it is likely that a perceived need for painted images in rituals, which is expressed in The Golden Light Sutra, was developed by Chinese Buddhists and transmitted to Japan.93 Yet, the lack of correspondence between the icons currently on the altar-platform and the deities invoked in the ceremonies suggests that the whole-hearted invocations of the different Buddhist deities and kami and the correct performance of the different ritual actions by the monks are more important for the successful performance of Kichijō keka than the icons on the altar or the paintings on the Golden Hall’s walls.

Conclusion Hōryūji’s importance in Japanese history is usually highlighted by the fact that it contains the oldest Buddhist halls, sculptures, and paintings. It is also

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Due to the lack of images during the performance of Gosaie, the monk Kūkai 空海 (774– 835) sent a memorandum to Emperor Ninmyō 仁明天皇 (808–850; r. 833–850) requesting to create an Esoteric Buddhist counterpart to the existing Gosaie or Misaie. The memorandum highlighted the importance of including painted images of the deities mentioned in the sutra. Abé, The Weaving of Mantra, pp. 344–357.

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acknowledged as one of the temples established by Prince Shōtoku and an important cultic center dedicated to his devotion. The available evidence does not allow us to confirm that Hōryūji has been performing Kichijō keka since the ritual was established in the eighth century. Yet temple records and the wooden icons of Kichijōten and Bishamonten are evidence that in the late eleventh century, Kichijō keka began to be performed at the Golden Hall. It is likely that then, the Shaka triad was placed in the central bay and that the wooden icons of the Four Heavenly Kings were installed on the altar. Significantly, being one of the two temples that currently perform the ceremony, Hōryūji is the preserver of an ancient ritual dedicated to a female HinduBuddhist deity. Although we will never be able to recreate the ritual program of the ancient services, the current services seem to be a revamped version of the ancient one that reflects the fusion of Hindu, Buddhist, and indigenous Japanese beliefs and practices. Particularly important for the purposes of this volume is that the official historical records suggest that this ceremony focusing on a female deity was established and performed by Female Emperor KōkenShōtoku and perhaps also the nuns and female devotees of the Nara period. Kōken-Shōtoku is the last of the six women who ruled Japan in the seventh and eighth centuries. These female rulers paved the way for the establishment of a centralized government that followed Chinese models and values, which ironically, due to the male-oriented nature of the system, ended the possibility for a woman to become the ruler of Japan. Kichijō keka at Hōryūji should be a reminder of the important role played by women as members of the samgha, patrons and devotees of Buddhism in the eighth century.

References Primary Sources Hōryūji bettō shidai 法隆寺別当次第. Vol. 4:2 of Zoku gunsho ruijū 続群書類従, ed. Hanawa Hokinoichi 塙保己一. Tokyo: Zoku Gunsho Ruijū Kanseikai, 1935. Hōryūji garan engi narabini ruki shizaichō 法隆寺伽藍縁起並流記資財帳. Vol. 85 of Dai Nihon bukkyō zensho 大日本仏教全書 (Tokyo: Suzuki Gakujutsu Zaidan, 1970–1973); and Vol. 1 of Hōryūji shiryō shūsei: eiinbon 法隆寺史料集成： 影印本 (Tokyo: Wakō Bijutsu Shuppan, 1983). Kichijō gogan gogyō kiroku 吉祥御願御行記録. Vol. 2 of Hōryūji shiryō shūsei: eiinbon. Tokyo: Wakō Bijutsu Shuppan, 1983. Kondō nikki 金堂日記. Vol. 2 of Hōryūji shiryō shūsei: eiinbon. Tokyo: Wakō Bijutsu Shuppan, 1983. Nihon shoki 日本書紀. Annotated by Sakamoto Tarō 坂本太郎 et al. Vols. 67–68 of

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Farris, William Wayne. “Famine, Climate, and Farming in Japan, 670–1100.” In Heian Japan: Centers and Peripheries, ed. Mikael Adolphson, Edward Kamens, and Stacie Matsumoto, pp. 275–304. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2007. Frédéric, Louis. Buddhism: Flammarion Iconographic Guides. Paris & New York: Flammarion, 1995. Gorai Shigeru 五来重. “Bukkyō girei no minzokusei: tokuni Shūshōe to Shūnie ni tsuite 仏教儀礼の民族性—とくに修正会と修二会についてー.” In Nihon Bukkyō minzokugaku no kōchiku 日本仏教民俗学の構築, ed. Akata Mitsuo 赤田光男, pp. 51–100. Vol. 1 of Gorai Shigeru chosakushū 五来重著作集. Kyoto: Hōzōkan, 2007. Gorai Shigeru 五来重. “Shūshōe, Shūnie no mochi to hana 修正会—修二会の餅と花.” In Shūkyō saijishi 宗教歳時史, ed. Akata Mitsuo, pp. 5–13. Vol. 8 of Gorai Shigeru Chosakushū. Kyōto: Hōzōkan, 2009. Hongō, Masatsugu. “State Buddhism and Court Buddhism: The Role of Court Women in the Development of Buddhism from the Seventh to the Ninth Centuries.” Translated by Kaneko Massayo. In Engendering Faith: Women and Buddhism in Premodern Japan, ed. Barbara Ruch, pp. 41–64. Ann Arbor: Center for Japanese Studies, The University of Michigan, 2002. Hōryūji. Hōryūji. Tokyo: Shōgakukan, 2009. Inagaki, Hisao. A Dictionary of Japanese Buddhist Terms. Kyoto: Nagata Bunshodo, 1992. Kameda Tsutomu 亀田孜. “Kichijōtenzō to jōdai no Konkōmyōkyō no bijutsu 吉祥天 像と上代の金光明経の美術.” In Yakushiji 薬師寺, ed. Kinki Nihon Tetsudō Sōritsu Gojisshūnen Kinen Shuppan 近畿日本鉄道創立五十周年記念出版, pp. 98–119. Osaka: Kinki Nihon Tetsudō, 1965. Kamens, Edward. The Three Jewels: A Study and Translation of Minamoto Tamenori’s Sanbōe. Michigan Monograph Series in Japanese Studies 2. Ann Arbor: Center for Japanese Studies, The University of Michigan, 1988. Kidder, J. Edward. The Lucky Seventh: Early Hōryūji and its Time. Tokyo: International Christian University, Hachiro Yuasa Memorial Museum, 1999. Kidder, J. Edward. “Yakushi, Shaka, the 747 Inventory, and the Cult of Prince Shōtoku.” In Hōryūji Reconsidered, ed. Dorothy Wong and Eric M. Field, pp. 99–132. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholar Publishing, 2008. Maekawa Akihisa 前川明久. “Dōkyō to Kichijō keka 道鏡と吉祥悔過.” In Nihon kodai seiji no tenkai 日本古代政治の展開, pp. 221–235. Tokyo: Hōsei Daigaku Shuppankyoku, 1991. Meeks, Lori. Hokkeji and the Reemergence of Female Monastic Orders in Premodern Japan. Studies in East Asian Buddhism 23. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2010. Mibu Taishun 壬生台舜. Konkōmyōkyō 金光明経. Butten Kōza 仏典講座 13. Tokyo: Daizō Shuppan, 1987. Mikoshiba, Daisuke. “Empress Kōmyō’s Buddhist Faith: Her Role in the Founding of the

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Suzuki, Yui. “Temple as Museum, Buddha as Art: Hōryūji’s Kudara Kannon and its Great Treasure Repository.” Res 52 (Autumn 2007), pp. 128–140. Takada Ryōshin 高田良信. Hōryūji no shiki: gyōji to gishiki 法隆寺の四季—行事と儀式. Tokyo: Shōgakkan, 1992. Takada Ryōshin 高田良信. “Hōryūji no sange 法隆寺の散華.” In Hōryūji sange 法隆寺 散華. Nara: Hōryūji, 1991. Tatematsu Wahei 立松和平. Shōtoku Taishi: kono kuni no mahoroba 聖徳太子—この国 の原郷. Tokyo: Nihon Hōsō Shuppan Kyōkai, 2002. Tatematsu Wahei 立松和平. “Hōryūji Kondō shushōe no kandō. 法隆寺金堂修正会の 感動.” In Kokuhō Hōryūji Kondō ten, ed. Nara Kokuritsu Hakubutsukan, pp. 31–36. Tokyo: Asahi Shinbunsha, 2008. Tokyo Kokuritsu Hakubutsukan 東京国立博物館. Kokuhō Yakushiji ten: Heijō sento sensanbyakunen kinen 国宝薬師寺展: 平城遷都一三〇〇年記念. Tokyo: NHK Puromōshon and Yomiuri Shinbun, 2008. Yamagishi Tsuneto 山岸常人. “Keka kara shushō, shunie e Heian jidai zenki kekae no hen’yō (Nigatsudō tokushū) 悔過から修正・修二会へ—平安時代前期悔過会の変 容 (二月堂特集).” Nantō bukkyō 南都仏教 52 (June 1984), pp. 27–49. Yamaguchi, Masao. “The Dual Structure of Japanese Emperorship.” In “An Anthropological Profile of Japan,” supplement, Current Anthropology 28: 4 (1987), pp. S5–S11. Yoshida Kazuhiko 吉田一彦. “Gosaie no kenkyū 御斎会の研究.” In Nihon kodai shakai to bukkyō 日本古代社会と仏教, ed. Yoshida Kazuhiko, pp. 150–202. Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 1995.

chapter 5

The Relic and the Jewel: An Eleventh-Century Miniature Bronze Pagoda to Hold the Bones of a Young Queen Hank Glassman*

This chapter revolves around a small metal container buried more than one thousand years ago in the raised earth that formed the altar of a Buddhist chapel called Enkōin 円光院 at Daigoji 醍醐寺, an important, royally-sponsored temple in southeast Kyoto. The urn was placed there in commemoration of an imperial consort who died at the young age of twenty-seven, leaving the emperor, only a few years older himself, utterly bereft. Surely, his grief and his deep love for the consort played a significant role in the manner of the disposal of her remains. Particularly noteworthy are the installation of her cremated remains in the altar with a lavish reliquary to hold them. The woman at the center of this elaborate ritual enshrinement lived a welldocumented life. Her name was Kenshi (or Katako 賢子, 1057–1084), and while she was born into a Minamoto 源 family, she was adopted and raised as a Fujiwara 藤原. She became Retired Emperor Shirakawa’s 白河法皇 (1053–1129; r. 1073–1087) favorite wife, and also the mother of his heir, Emperor Horikawa 堀川天皇 (1079–1107; r. 1087–1107). As we will see below, Shirakawa was criticized for his extreme degree of attachment to Kenshi. We will also see that her bodily remains were treated with the ceremony and care usually afforded only to Buddha relics, as near contemporary examples of the gorintō form are all reliquaries for holding śarīra, Buddha relics. And yet, this remarkable interred object does not tell only of the love Shirakawa felt for his queen, it also offers insight into his religious endeavors and

* The author wishes to thank the editor, Karen Gerhart, and two readers, Chari Pradel and Sherry Fowler, for a wealth of suggestions, corrections, and solutions offered in earlier draft revisions. The chapter is greatly improved by their interventions. Also, thanks are due to the attendees at two conferences where this material was presented: Women, Rites, and Ritual Objects in Premodern Japan, University of Pittsburgh (March 2016) and “Empowering Objects: Kamakura-Period Buddhist Art in Ritual Contexts,” Columbia University (February 2016). The probing questions raised at these gatherings have helped me to clarify my thinking about relics and reliquaries in context.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2018 | doi: 10.1163/9789004368194_007

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highlights the politics of burial location during the late Heian period. I argue below that the burial of Kenshi’s remains as relics in the altar at Enkōin can be understood, at least in part, as an attempt by Shirakawa and his advisors to dedicate her bones to the establishment of a new imperial lineage free from Fujiwara control. The late eleventh century is a time when womens’ membership in the Japanese family was coming under question, regarding their relationship to their fathers and to their husbands in terms of kinship lineage. Kenshi’s reliquary provides us an excellent opportunity to reflect on the multiple and intersecting meanings of an artifact.

Fujiwara no Kenshi’s Gorintō at Enkōin The object flitters in and out of view, only observable in the recorded words of two diarists, one writing in the eleventh century and another in the seventeenth. The main subject of this chapter is a small five-colored bronze pagoda from the eleventh century. Nobody has seen this object for the past four centuries, not since the dawn of the seventeenth century. Surely this is a remarkable notion. How do we come to know about it? The pagoda was interred in the eleventh century and then remained underground for more than five centuries. That is, after its initial burial in 1085, it again saw the light of day only for a moment when it was briefly excavated in 1604. In this sense, it is a ghostly or charmed object, a sort of figment of history. Presumably it remains safely nestled in the earth of Daigoji, where it was promptly reburied at the turn of the seventeenth century (fig. 5.1). This buried treasure, surviving or lost, is the earliest known example of the “five-elements pagoda” or gorintō 五輪塔.1 While the term gorintō may conjure images of a stone grave marker in the minds of Japanese people today, it was first rendered in miniature, as a reliquary cast in bronze or carved in rock crystal. During the decades before Kenshi’s death, the gorintō had been at the center of a rite practiced at Daigoji known as the Sonshō darani hō 尊勝陀羅尼法 and based on the important esoteric spell, the Sonshō butchō darani 尊勝仏頂陀羅

1 This is the earliest record of a sculptural representation of the five elements as five stacked geometrical shapes. Dr. Seunghye Lee, Curator of Buddhist Art Leeum, Samsung Museum of Art, Seoul has kindly pointed out to me the similarities between the gorintō and the Korean stone stupas made for monks as early as the Koryŏ period (918–1392). While I do not have the space here to go into the question of the relationship between Korean and Japanese representations of the five elements, this question is explored in Lee, “Uri nara bulbokchang.”

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figure 5.1 Left: Top view of the gilt bronze gorintō at Konomiya Shrine, 1198, showing tetrahedral shape of the fire chakra of early gorintō, as opposed to the square based pyramid that was to become the norm in later periods. Right: Author’s rendering of Kenshi’s reliquary, based on the gorintō at Konomiya Shrine (see fig. 5.3) Source: Nara Kokuritsu Hakubutsukan, Busshari no shōgon (Kyoto: Dōhōsha, 1983), p. 14

尼 (Skt. Uṣṇīṣavijayā dhāraṇī). The small pagoda served as the central focus of worship, or honzon 本尊.2 While it was clearly the main object of worship, one

could say that it was in fact an adornment or a shell for what was held within— a powerfully animating Buddha relic or a polished quartz crystal mani jewel.3 Object, relic, jewel, and gorintō are closely homologous. Bernard Faure has put it well, “In particular, the definition of the śarīra as a ‘pearl-like’ substance commanded its association with jewels and above all with the ‘wish-fulfilling jewel’ cintāmaṇi.”4 As we shall see below, it is also the case that statues of the Buddhist deities hold enlivening hidden objects that include gorintō, relics, jewels, spells, sutras, and even human hair. The gorintō was then simultaneously container,

2 “Shonshō hō.” In Kakuzenshō, TZ vol. 4, 3022, 161c–175a. 3 See Morse, “A Short History of the Kei School;” and Kawada, Busshari, on the notion of the “glorious adornment,” or vyūha (shōgon 荘厳), in the creation of Buddha images, ritual spaces, and, most especially, containers for Buddha relics. 4 Faure “Buddhist Relics and Japanese Regalia,” p. 93.

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substitute, and homologue for the Buddha relics or for the magical cintāmaṇi (mani hōju 摩尼宝珠), the “wish fulfilling jewel.”5 By the Kamakura period, within Esoteric Buddhist circles in Japan the gorintō was well known as the samaya form (symbolic or attribute form) of Dainichi Nyorai 大日如来 (Mahāvairocana Buddha).6 Monk’s remains had been afforded the honor of being encased in a reliquary before, but this is the first such example involving a layperson. That is, here at the end of the eleventh century, we find the very start of a trend to treat the ashes and bones of the nonmonastic dead with the ceremony accorded to Buddha relics or the remains of eminent monks. As mentioned above, the original context of the gorintō was as the center of the performance of the ritual and the spell of the Sonshō darani and it has been proposed that this was also the case with Kenshi’s pagoda.7 Below, we will examine the development of this ritual during the late Heian period and its close association with both the miniature pagoda called the gorintō and the mani jewel. Kenshi’s cremated bone and ash remains were enshrined within the gorintō then placed inside a stone box interred inside the raised dais of earth supporting the altar at Daigoji’s Enkōin. This placement of her bones below the sanctum sanctorum of the altar, inside a reliquary worthy of Buddha relics, marks the start of a process that would see the transformation of the bones of the dead from a polluted remnant to be discarded or forgotten, to powerful and revered objects of veneration just like those of the Buddha’s.8 In Japan there was a movement from Buddha relic veneration to the worship of the remains of the clerical founders of Tendai, Shingon, and Zen lineages and the founders 5 See Nara Kokuritsu Hakubutsukan, Busshari to hōju, for a museum catalog dedicated entirely to this subject. For objects inside statues, see, inter alia, Kurata, Zōnai wa nōnyūhin. 6 See, for example, illustrations in Shikashō, TZ vol. 3, p. 753, p. 953. These are Kamakura period (1185–1333) iconographical illustrations, which differ somewhat from the conventions of Kenshi’s day when the “treasure pagoda” or hōtō was also a common way to depict Dainichi’s samaya body. However, it is very clear that by the medieval period, the gorintō was widely understood to be the correct samaya form for Dainichi Nyorai. 7 For the relationship between the Sonshō rite and the gorintō see Naitō, “Chōgen no shari shinkō.” On the history of the dhāraṇī behind the rite and its relationship to Chinese Buddhist material culture, see Copp, The Body Incantatory; and Sasaki “Butchō sonshō.” 8 The bones of eminent monks had been enshrined and venerated in Japan from earlier periods, from the tenth century at least, and such treatment would continue in the form of the inclusion of the ashes of the dead master in Zen sculpture portraits, etc. In this case, I am speaking specifically about a trend involving the bones of the lay dead. Bracketing some of the larger discussion about the history of lay and clerical bones and relics in Japan for the moment here, I plan to take this issue up in a future project.

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of various Kamakura sects through their monumental stone gorintō. However, this case—again the very earliest mention of an object called the gorintō— predates the twelfth-century examples of the form’s use as a reliquary by a number of decades,9 and it could be described as surprising, or even shocking, that the officiants at this rite of interment, probably under the leadership of the Daigoji monk Gihan 義範 (1023–1088), would choose to substitute the bones of a layperson, particularly those of a woman, for Buddha relics inside the main altar. In the annals of Japanese religion, fear and anxiety inspired by the pollution of dead bodies has been a major recurring theme. From the time of the earliest written sources, the mythological chronicles of the descent of the gods to the terrestrial realm, the danger and dread occasioned by contact with the corpse is a prominent theme. In diaries and in fictional accounts, we read that a chance or casual encounter with death, such as seeing a dead body by the road or news of the passing of a relative, would be occasion for the abandonment of a shrine or temple visit, requiring a period of ritual confinement to offset the contamination. The issue of the relationship between the polluting corpse and purified cremated remains is a complex one that varies greatly with social class, historical period, and region, and it is best to avoid generalizations. This much is clear, however: for the Heian aristocracy, from around the eleventh century and increasingly though the twelfth, the bones of family members became treasured as the very substance of family lineage and their disposition was regarded as the essential to future prosperity. That is, dry white bones yielded through cremation or second burials—the body was kept in a structure called the tamaya 霊屋 or mogari 殯—were considered pure and generative.10 As such, they were the polar opposite of the polluting and dangerous untransformed corpse. In particular, the soul of a woman had to be somehow attached to a male lineage to escape the miasma of decay represented by the flesh. While over these centuries women moved from identification with their fathers’ families and brothers’ to identification with their husbands and sons, the important thing to note is a deepened focus on the collection and proper emplacement of remains.11

9

10 11

On the relationship between the development of the gorintō and the veneration of the relics of eminent monks, see Momosaki, “Kōsō no bosho to sekitō,” pp. 220–224. For other examples of reliquary gōrinto from the twelfth century, see Kawada, Busshari, pp. 40–41. Wada, “Mogari no kisoteki kōsatsu.” Nishiguchi, Onna no chikara; Fukutō, “Bochi saishi to josei”; and Glassman, “Chinese Buddhist Death Ritual.”

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During the eleventh century, Shingon monks at Daigoji developed methods, as exemplified in the case of Kenshi, of ritually transforming the dead into Buddhas. This enshrinement of profane lay bones, albeit those of the queen mother, is one of the earliest steps toward the practice in later centuries of treating the remains of all of the family dead in a manner analogous to Buddha relics. This would become an ever deepening and commonly held belief or attitude across sectarian boundaries, especially as Japan moved into the Edo period (1600–1868). We can observe that the evolution of the gorintō from reliquary to monumental grave marker is closely tied to this shift in the attitude toward cremated ashes and bone fragments and furthermore discern that the remains of women are especially important in this context.

Gien’s Discovery, the Early History of Gorintō, and the Story of Kenshi’s Reliquary The gorintō, which we follow the late John Rosenfield in translating here as the “five-elements pagoda,” is composed of five geometrical solids stacked one atop the other, representing the five elements of the ancient Vedic tradition.12 One might also be inclined to translate it as “five-chakra pagoda” as the five elements are here literally called “five wheels.”13 The word pagoda might also be replaced by stupa, as some writers on the topic in English have done, but for convenience we will simply use the word gorintō. While there has been much debate over the past half-century on the presence or lack of Chinese or even Indian precedents for the sculptural gorintō, it is believed at this point that a three-dimensional rendering of the object did not exist outside Japan, where it appeared as if out of thin air during the late Heian period.14 That is to say, while diagrams that depict the five elements as five geometric shapes are found in the manuals for iconography and ceremonial protocol known as giki 儀軌 and in other ritual texts of the Esoteric tradition (Ch. mijiao, Jp. mikkyō 密教), there is no evidence that these shapes were ever stacked into a three-dimensional sculptural form elsewhere.15 In the group of esoteric texts 12 13 14 15

Rosenfield, Portraits of Chōgen, pp. 186–187 and p. 256, n. 18. Below, when referring to the individual shapes or sections, I will call them “water chakra,” “fire chakra,” and so on. Saitō, “Daigoji gorintō no bijutsuteki kenkyū”; and Naitō, “Chōgen no shari shinkō,” p. 61. The term “esoteric” has been much problematized in recent scholarship. See, inter alia, McBride, “Is There Really ‘Esoteric’ Buddhism’”; Orzech, Payne, and Sørensen, “Introduction”; and Bogel, With a Single Glance, pp. 17–40.

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that discuss the gorin 五輪 (“five elements” or “five wheels”), it is presented as a framework for meditation wherein the practitioner imagines these five shapes superimposed on the body.16 The folded legs become the cube of the earth element; the abdomen is the water element; the chest is fire; and so on (figs. 5.2a and 5.2b). This is a visualization that creates a sense of unity or identity (nyūga ganyū 入我我入) between the practitioner and the central deity of the Shingon pantheon, Dainichi.17 This “Great Sun” Buddha is the foundational and primary deity, and as such it is principal deity presiding over the Mandalas of Two Worlds (ryōgai mandara 両界曼荼羅) of Japanese Shingon, the root embodiment of enlightenment. Here, the agency of the gorintō in transforming ordinary beings into Buddhas is clear and should not be missed in our analysis of Kenshi’s case. The gorintō symbolizes Buddhahood “in this very body.” As such, it was an important conceptual support meditation in the Shingon school. In the practice of visualization called the gorinkan 五輪観, meditation on the body seated in the lotus posture as the five stacked elements of the gorintō. Thus, this geometrical form was at first an object to be created and held in the minds of meditators. Later, by the eleventh and twelfth centuries, it was cast in bronze, carved in wood and in rock crystal. In the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, large monumental stone gorintō were erected over the remains of Buddhist priests of high stature—often in the very places they were cremated.18 Such gorintō were also carved to put the corporate prayers and alms of confraternity members into material form.19 Over the centuries the gorintō eventually became the most common choice for permanent stone grave markers, large and small. To this day, the gorintō is the archetypical form of grave marker in Japan. The shape is indeed a well-balanced, pleasing, and evocative one that brings deep resonance appropriate to the solemnity of its purpose. As Helmut Brinker writes, Of all Buddhist symbols or forms, it is perhaps the ‘Five-Ring Pagoda’ that best epitomizes the purpose and meaning of the fundamental doctrine of the ultimate oneness of all existences, the transcendental unity of macrocosm and microcosm, of human nature and Buddha-nature, of icon and relic, of visible body and unseen presence of the sacred.20 16 17 18 19 20

See, for instance, Sonshō butchō shū yugahō giki, T 973. Snodgrass, Symbolism of the Stupa, p. 377; and Dolce, “The Embryonic Generation,” p. 271. Fujisawa, “Bojō no sekitō.” See Matsuo, “Eison kyōdan no Kawachi ni okeru tenkai,” on projects undertaken by religious communities in Kawachi Province. Brinker, Secrets of the Sacred, p. 60.

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figure 5.2a

Gorin as a meditation framework where the shapes the five elements are depicted superimposed on the body. From Gorin kuji hisshaku, Kamakura period Source: Manabe Shunshō, Mikkyō bijutsu (Yokohama: Kanazawa Bunko, 1991), p. 144

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Gorin as a meditation framework where the shapes the five elements are depicted superimposed on the body. From Goji jōshin zu, Kamakura period Source: Manabe Shunshō, Mikkyō bijutsu (Yokohama: Kanazawa Bunko, 1991), p. 162

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As we have seen, the five-elements pagoda is itself Dainichi’s samaya body, a representation of his vow and at the same time a mnemonic stand-in both for the unbounded deity and for the ordinary mortal human body of the meditator. From the bottom up, then, the three-dimensional gorintō is composed of a cube that stands for the earth element, a sphere that stands for water, a square-based pyramid for fire, a hemisphere for wind or air, and a jewel, or ovoid shape, for empty space. As noted above, the distribution of the five elements into these shapes and even their rendering into a stacked two-dimensional form can be found in various texts of the esoteric tradition but the sculptural rendering seems to have no precedent in India, China, or Korea.21 Naitō Sakae has argued convincingly for the likely origins of the gorin as a pagoda (a stupa or sotoba 卒塔婆) in the ninth-century at Kyoto’s Anshōji 安祥寺 with the monk E’un 恵運 (798–869).22 E’un had studied in Tang China for five years and brought back Shingon texts on the visualization of the five elements. The importation of these texts enabled monks in Japan to begin imagining a three-dimensional rendering of the stacked five elements in plastic, solid form. The earliest surviving gorintō are a few scattered twelfth-century examples. One is the beautiful footed gilt bronze reliquary commissioned by Shunjōbō Chōgen 俊乗坊重源 (1121–1206) early in the Kamakura period (1185–1333), now owned by Konomiya Shrine 湖宮神社 in Shiga Prefecture (figs. 5.1 and 5.3). In fact, Chōgen, the rebuilder of Tōdaiji 東大寺 following the burning of Nara in 1181, is so closely associated with several early magnificent gorintō reliquaries (including the Konomiya Shrine gorintō, a rock crystal gorintō from Amidaji 阿 弥陀寺 in Yamaguchi Prefecture, and a bronze gorintō from Jōdoji 浄土寺 in Hyōgo Prefecture, fig. 5.4) that some scholars have assumed he developed the form himself. Naitō Sakae and others have since convincingly refuted this idea, but it does attest to Chōgen’s enthusiasm for the form.23 The origins of the concretization of the visualization practice into a ritual object have been linked by others to the manual of gorintō theory and ritual, Gorin kuji hisshaku 五輪九字 秘釈, by Shingon by patriarch Kakuban 覚鑁 (1095–1144), however, subsequent research suggests the object certainly predates this twelfth-century treatise.24 Furthermore, the case of Kenshi’s gorintō definitively demonstrates that the form was already known in the eleventh century.

21 22 23 24

For an interesting case of the five shapes of the gorin as elements in the empowerment of statues in Korea see, Sim and Lee, “Colors of the Five Directions.” Naitō, Shari shōgon no bijutsu, p. 17. Naitō, “Chōgen no shari shinkō”; and Yoshida, “Daigoji shin’yoroku ni okeru gorintō.” Naitō “Chōgen no shari shinkō,” p. 63.

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figure 5.3 Left: Gilt bronze gorintō, 1198, Konomiya Shrine, Shiga Prefecture; Right: Lotus-shaped bronze base and rock crystal cintamani reliquary contained inside, 1198, Konomiya Shrine, Shiga Prefecture Source: Nara Kokuritsu Hakubutsukan, Seichi Neiha (Nara: Nara Kokuritsu Hakubutsukan, 2009), p. 53

The Discovery The fascinating story of the unearthing of the reliquary urn of Emperor Shirakawa’s consort Kenshi half a millennium after her death begins with two accounts in two different texts by the Daigoji monk Gien 義円 (1558–1626). In his Daigoji shin’yōroku 醍醐寺新要録, in a section labeled Enkōin, Gien recounts an exciting discovery made in 1604. Apparently, there had been a devastating fire at the Mieidō 御影堂, a portrait hall at Daigoji that in Gien’s day was located where the Enkōin had once stood. The damage to the Mieidō was

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figure 5.4 Left to right: Rock crystal gorintō, Amidaji, Yamaguchi Prefecture; bronze gorintō, Jōdoji, Hyōgo Prefecture; Naitō’s conjectural diagram, proportional to Gien’s specifications Source: Naitō, “Chōgen no shari shinkō,” Ronshū Kamakuraki no Tōdaiji fukkō, ed. G.B.S. Iinkai (Kyoto: Hōzōkan, 2007), p. 22

such that the structure had to be completely demolished. As the site was being leveled prior to rebuilding, the earth yielded up a precious time capsule. A small but heavy stone casket with an inscription and date was found beneath the main altar. It contained a five-colored bronze pagoda which in turn yielded human bone, ash fragments, and tiny bronze sheets inscribed with Buddhist spells. Below is a paraphrase of Gien’s original report, written some five hundred twenty-one years after Kenshi’s interment:25 Item: On the Stone Casket Containing the Bones of the Original Patron [Kenshi] During the rebuilding of the Mieidō in Keichō 11 [1606], a wooden structure had been built over the ruins of the former Enkōin and the level-

25

Daigoji shin’yōroku vol. 1, p. 216. The source is cited by Saitō “Daigoji gorintō no bijutsuteki kenkyū”; Uejima, “Hosshōji sōshutsu”; Naitō, “Chōgen no shari shinkō”; and others. Saitō was the first modern scholar to make the link between the Enkōin gorintō and Kenshi.

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ing of the ground in preparation for construction had commenced. As they dug into the large mound of earth beneath the altar, inside there appeared a small stone box. This stone box contained a bronze gorintō [“gorin” in the text]. The “fire chakra” of this item was not of the usual type, but rather was triangular on all sides.26 In this sense it conforms closely to the specifications [of the ritual manuals]. It is the first I have ever seen. The fire chakra was painted red, and similarly the metal of all the other chakras, each its different color. Again, it is certainly the first time I have seen [something like this.] Within the “water chakra” [the spherical section], there were sheets of bronze beaten very thin to resemble paper. They were each four sun and one bu in height [approximately 13.5cm]. They were gilded and inscribed in ink with various dhāraṇi and rolled up into scrolls before being deposited in the gorintō. These were: Dainichi shingon; Kōmyō shingon; Muku Jōkōin darani; Hōkyōtō darani; Bodai shogon darani; Daizui gūsokutoku darani; Fukyo nyorai ha jigoku shingon;27 Kōdaihō rokaku shingon; Manzoku rokuharamitsu shingon; Amida daiju; Ketsujō ōjō shingon; Metsu akushu shingon; Shōzai shingon; Saizai shingon; Roku Kannon shingon; Daiji Kannon shingon; Daihi Kannon shingon; Shishimui; Daikōfushō; Tenninjōfu; and so on.28 There were more besides, but I did not look at these. When we were finished, we put things back just as we had found them.29 [Here Gien also supplies a drawing that annotates measurements for each of the five elements and their colors. See figs. 5.5a and 5.5b.] Gien lists the titles of more than twenty dhāraṇī represented there, beginning with the Dainichi shingon 大日真言 and the Kōmyō shingon 光明真言, along with Pure Land mantras and other spells. He includes a drawing of the discovery with detailed annotations about the dimensions and color of each element, or chakra, of the gorintō and of the stone box. The fire chakra is labeled as red, the water chakra as white, the earth chakra as yellow. The remaining two are not specified here, but these would likely have been green for the air chakra and 26

27 28 29

That is, the fire element in the gorintō is usually represented, especially after the thirteenth century as a square-based pyramid with five sides. The fire chakra of the so-called “triangular gorintō” is a tetrahedron, a geometrical solid with four triangular sides. Amending 普炬 to 智炬. For more on the six Kannon mentioned here, see Fowler, Accounts and Images of Six Kannon in Japan, p. 29. Based on text in Naitō, “Chōgen no shari shinkō,” pp. 63–64.

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Gien’s report on Kenshi’s reliquary, from Daigoji shin’yōroku, 1604 Source: Naitō, “Chōgen no shari shinkō,” Ronshū Kamakuraki no Tōdaiji fukkō, ed. G.B.S. Iinkai (Kyoto: Hōzōkan, 2007), pp. 63–64

deep blue or black for empty space.30 Adding up the recorded height of each chakra, we find the total height is about one shaku and three sun or 42 centimeters (16.5 inches). It goes without saying that we are very much in Gien’s debt for his careful archeological practice and his care in recording the dimensions of the artifact. Gien also notes that the earth chakra (the cube that forms the base

30

For a study of the role of these five “directional” colors in object caches discovered in Korean statues, see Sim and Lee “Colors of the Five Directions.”

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figure 5.5b

Gien’s annotated drawing of Kenshi’s reliquary, from Daigoji shin’yōroku, 1604, with translation by the author Source: Naitō, “Chōgen no shari shinkō,” Ronshū Kamakuraki no Tōdaiji fukkō, ed. G.B.S. Iinkai (Kyoto: Hōzōkan, 2007), pp. 63–64

of the pagoda) contains bone and cremated ash, which he calls the “bones of the main patron” (hongan onkotsu 本願御骨), and tells us the year and month inscribed on the lid of the stone box: second year of Ōtoku 応徳 (1085), seventh month.31

31

See Daigoji shin’yōroku; Saitō “Daigoji gorintō no bijutsuteki kenkyū”; and Yoshida, “Daigoji shin’yoroku ni okeru gorintō.” Some have suggested that while this container itself is dated

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While Gien does not mention her by name, it is clear that the “main patron” here refers to the imperial consort Kenshi for whom Shirakawa built the Enkōin as a memorial chapel. Kenshi was the biological daughter of Minamoto no Akifusa 源顕房 (1037–1094) of the Murakami Genji and the adopted daughter of Fujiwara no Morozane 藤原師実 (1042–1101) of the Fujiwara Northern Branch, the regent’s house (sekkanke 摂関家). She was the mother of Prince Taruhito 善仁親王, the future Emperor Horikawa. She was deeply loved by Shirakawa, whose display of profound grief at her death at the age of twentyseven in 1084 is noted in several Heian period sources such as the Nihon ryakki 日本略記, Fusō ryakki 扶桑略記, Imakagami 今鏡, and Kojidan 古事談. These sources remark especially, and with considerable displeasure, on the fact that the emperor disregarded taboos against the imperial person coming into contact with death pollution by embracing the corpse as he broke down in his grief. Shirakawa collapsed at Kenshi’s deathbed and refused to take any food for several days following her death. The Kojidan, diary of Minamoto no Akikane 源 顕兼 (1160–1215) records the chiding remarks of Minamoto no Toshiaki 源俊 明 (1044–1114), a key political ally and confidant of Shirakawa, who decried the retired emperor’s behavior as a spectacle not seen before and admonished, “Let this not become the start of a new precedent.”32 Kenshi’s cremation took place in the capital at Toribeno 鳥辺野, Higashiyama, a location that was a common choice for the aristocratic men and women of her day and explicitly approved by the diviner who was summoned to determine Kenshi’s funeral location. The more important question than the site of the funeral itself, though, to Kenshi’s contemporaries, would have been the destination of her remains after the ceremony. That is, it was customary for women of high rank to be buried with the families of their fathers, even after marriage. In fact, male family members of the deceased were quite adamant about the proper disposition

32

1085, the contents could have been changed in the twelfth century and that Chōgen may have been involved in the reburial. Both Yoshida, “Daigoji shin’yoroku ni okeru gorintō,” and Uejima, “Hosshōji sōshutsu,” refute this idea convincingly. The detail of this precise date appearing on the box will be discussed below. Kojidan, p. 188. In a fascinating follow up to this story of Kenshi, her bones, and their burial that I intend to pursue elsewhere, we learn in the Kojidanshō that some decades later it was rumored that Kenshi had been the reincarnation of the monk Kōju Shōnin 広寿聖 人 (948–1013). He had always lamented the lack of donations to the sangha (Buddhist community) and vowed to seek rebirth as an aristocrat and use his wealth to offer great support to the sangha. He was thus born as this imperial consort some decades later and when she died, Enkōin was built and the estate of Ushihara in Echizen attached to it as a perpetual source of income. (Kojidanshō, pp. 400–402) For other shōen in the portfolio of Enkōin, see Daigo zōjiki, pp. 15–18.

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of female remains, arguing that these bones were in fact important ancestral property whose correct placement would guarantee the prosperity of future generations, according to the principles of geomancy.33 Women as Ancestors In the sources on services performed for the adult children of Fujiwara no Michinaga 藤原道長 (966–1028), the records for the funeral and burial arrangements of daughters are far more detailed than are those for the burial of sons.34 This disparity between the completeness of the description of men’s and women’s funerals and burials is evident through the generations—from Michinaga’s and his wives’ parents and grandparents down to his sons and daughters by various mothers. It is worth noting that during this period, the funeral site was, for laypeople, almost never the same as the burial place.35 Particularly interesting in this connection is the discussion in Chūgaishō 中外抄, the dairy of Fujiwara no Tadazane 藤原忠真 (1078–1162), which records the case of Rinshi 倫子 (964–1053), Michinaga’s principal wife, and attributes the success of the lineal descendants of her father Minamoto no Masanobu 源雅信 (920–993) to the proper interment of her remains. He was the progenitor of the Uda Genji. We will discuss Rinshi’s case in more detail below.36 Reburial of remains for geomantic reasons was not uncommon during the Heian period, and indeed has been fairly common in East Asian cultures in various places and times. However, the orthodox idea is that it is the graves of male ancestors that have been emphasized in such redispositions.37 We read in the Eiga monogatari 栄華物語 that Rinshi herself had moved her mother’s bones from one location in 1019 some three years after they had been placed in a temporary enclosure, or tamaya, constructed to the mother’s own specifications while she was still alive.38 Rather than with the Fujiwara family, among whom she had lived for so many decades and to whom she had given sons and daughters, Rinshi was identified in death with her father’s Minamoto line. Rinshi, like her biological father Masanobu who died at seventy-four, lived a remarkably long life. She died in 1053 at the age of eighty-nine. When Michinaga’s daugh-

33 34 35 36 37 38

Nishiguchi, Onna no chikara; and Glassman, “Chinese Buddhist Death Ritual,” pp. 395– 396. Kurihara “Fujiwara Michinaga no kazoku,” p. 4. Fujisawa, “Bojō no sekitō.” Kurihara “Fujiwara Michinaga no kazoku,” pp. 4–5; Chūgaishō, pp. 292–293. Tanaka Hisao, “Bukke shakai seiritsu.” Kurihara “Fujiwara Michinaga no kazoku,” p. 2; Eiga monogatari, vol. 76, p. 110; McCullough and A Tale of Flowering Fortunes, p. 520.

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ter Shōshi 彰子 (988–1074) died at the age of eighty-seven in 1074, Emperor Shirakawa had ordered her brother, the kanpaku 関白 (regent) Fujiwara no Norimichi 藤原教通 (997–1025), not to enter mourning, so as to not pollute the business of the court. However, Norimichi, now seventy-nine, had also lost his brother Yorimichi 頼通 (992–1074) the same year and refused to bend to the sovereign’s will, staying away from official business to pursue mourning.39 This demonstrates how the responsibility for funeral arrangements of aristocratic families in the Heian period continued to be taken on by brothers and sisters into old age, rather than skewing towards husbands and sisters-in law— as they would from the Kamakura period forward. We can note that in the description in Eiga monogatari cited above, Norimichi refuses to forgo mourning for his sister, in defiance of an imperial request, but had been persuaded on an earlier occasion to skip his own wife’s funeral in order to protect the ritual purity of the court. Rinshi—Michinaga’s primary wife, the mother of two Fujiwara regents and two Fujiwara imperial mothers—died in 1053, some twenty years after her husband. A diviner was called in by her son, Yorimichi, a man by then already in his late sixties, to determine the day, time, and location of the funeral. As we have noted, during this period the place of cremation and funeral ceremony was almost always different than the site for the interment or disposal or enshrinement of bone and ash remains. Most importantly in this case, the Fujiwara were usually cremated at Toribeno in Higashiyama, or at an adjacent place to the north, Ōtani, and then their remains would be taken directly after the funeral to the family graveyard south of the capital. The procession of relatives would carry the bones and ashes to Jōmyōji 浄妙寺, the mortuary temple of the regent’s branch of the Fujiwara family, which was located atop Mt. Kohata in Uji.40 For the funeral party to proceed from Ōtani to Kohata was a well-established custom among the sekkanke, and this was typical of aristo-

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Kurihara, “Fujiwara Michinaga no kazoku”; Eiga monogatari, vol. 76, pp. 514–515. This incident is mentioned in the thirty-ninth chapter, which does not appear in the McCullough translation as it is from the textually questionable final nine chapters of the work. Kurihara, “Fujiwara Michinaga no kazoku,” p. 8. Kurihara also describes the deep aversion of Heian period aristocracy to bones as “a classic instance of a polluting substance” and notes the resulting need to proceed directly to the gravesite from the funeral without stopping back at the residence. It is worth noting that in the case of Kenshi’s daughter, Ikuhōmon-in 郁芳門院 (Princess Teishi 媞子内親王, 1076–1096), it was the highranking Minamoto clansman and biological brother of Kenshi, Akimasa 源顕雅 (1074– 1136), who hung the bones in a bag around his neck to carry them to Enkōin for interment. See Daigo zōjiki, pp. 19–20.

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cratic families in the Heian period in general. The agnatically related would usually travel from the cremation site, or the tamaya, to the grave together and affines would be left behind. The burial of Fujiwara daughters ensured the future prosperity of the clan. Rinshi, however, was not ultimately counted as a Fujiwara. Though she had been adopted by and had spent her life among the Fujiwara, her father had been the powerful minister Minamoto no Masanobu.41 Fujiwara no Tadazane, in his diary Chūgaishō, tells a story that he once heard from his grandfather Morozane.42 Morozane had been twelve years old when his grandmother Rinshi died, and would likely recall some details of the ceremony. In an entry dated to 1144, Tadazane records his recollection of an earlier visit to Hōrinji 法輪寺, in the Arashiyama district, when his grandfather, Morozane, shared some old family lore. As we tied up our horses at some small pines, [my late grandfather Morozane] pointed to an old hall and said, “There was the place where the funeral [rites] for Takatsukasa-den (Rinshi) were performed. However, the grave [not here] is where the bones are kept. Thus, it is a different matter altogether. Although the place of the funeral is of no real consequence, the position of the bones affects the fortunes of future generations. When Rinshi’s bones were placed alongside those of her father, minister [Minamoto no] Masanobu [at the family graveyard near Ninnaji], the family flourished.”43 The case of Rinshi is very instructive as it highlights the sensitivity among the Heian aristocracy regarding gender, grave site, and family membership. It is no doubt significant that Morozane thought to transmit this knowledge to his grandson a century later. It was a time of great change regarding the idea of family membership for women. It was also a time of proliferating subfamilies of larger clans. That is to say the aristocracy in Japan of the late Heian period was quickly moving from the system of the uji 氏 (clan) to the predominance of the ie 家 (house).44 This well-known transformation had an enormous impact on women’s lives, both in the short term and in the long run; the shift would also come to deter41 42 43 44

Glassman, “Chinese Buddhist Death Ritual,” pp. 395–396. Chūgaishō, pp. 292–293. It is interesting to note here that this self-same Morozane was in fact the adoptive father of Kenshi. Chūgaishō, pp. 292–293; Glassman, “Chinese Buddhist Death Ritual,” pp. 384–386. Glassman, “Chinese Buddhist Death Ritual,” pp. 385–387.

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mine their deaths. In the twelfth century, aristocratic men began vigorously and increasingly to create new branch stems, or ie, thus founding new family lines. This was typically done by establishing one’s aged or ailing mother in a final Buddhist retreat, which would become a mortuary chapel. This place would then become the family temple, or ujidera 氏寺, for the new line. The son of the now deceased mother will then become the apical ancestor of her grandsons upon his death. Often these new lines took the name of the mortuary chapel as their surnames. This shift in the consciousness around women’s remains is important to bear in mind in the present context.45 All too soon after the day that Morozane, Kenshi’s adoptive father, told his grandson Tadazane the anecdote of Rinshi’s burial, Kenshi herself was interred at Daigoji’s Enkōin.46 In fact, though she lived a generation later than Rinshi, Kenshi’s story was strikingly similar: both were Minamoto daughters, adopted into the Northern House of the Fujiwara. Like Rinshi, Kenshi’s bone-and-ash remains were not interred with those of her adoptive Fujiwara relatives at Kohata. However, they were not interred with those of her true natal family, the Murakami Genji, to the north of Ninnaji 仁和寺, where Rinshi’s were, either. It is highly significant that Shirakawa had Kenshi’s remains enshrined in a reliquary under the main altar.47 In doing so, he emphasized the place of the mother of his son Horikawa, who he imagined would become the first inheritor in a long line of retired emperors with real power. This was a strategy towards the full restoration of the imperial institution, albeit through the rule of the in. The interment of Kenshi in this place signified the establishment of a “branch family” of the imperial line by appropriating the remains of this Fujiwara daughter to Daigoji and away from the usual resting place of Fujiwara royal mothers, which is at Kohata, as we have noted above.48 45 46 47

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Mizutani, Bozen saishi to seisho no toporojī; Suitō, Chūsei no sōsō, bosei; and Nishiguchi, Onna no chikara. Saitō “Daigoji gorintō no bijutsuteki kenkyū,” p. 230. Mimi Yiengpruksawan, takes up the topic of burial in altars. See “The House of Gold.” Yiengpruksawan’s observations on ritual halls as mausoleums are very useful in the present context. My sincere thanks to the editor, Karen Gerhart, for bringing this connection to my attention. See Glassman, “Chinese Buddhist Death Ritual,” on the shifts in burial customs among the Japanese aristocracy that took place during this period. Shirakawa’s move to establish a memorial hall for Kenshi and thus create an independent “lineage” for his son presages the agnatic splintering that would be common from the Kamakura period onward with the formation of the kinship unit called the “household” or ie. For obvious reasons, the imperial house is somewhat of an exception, but not in ways that affect the argument being made here. The point made here is confirmed by reference to the close relationships

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Besides Enkōin, Shirakawa later had another hall constructed in Kenshi’s memory at Daigoji, as well as one at Hosshōji 法勝寺, though there is no indication that her remains were divided in order to be buried in these places. These halls were given to accumulate merit on behalf of Kenshi rather than to enshrine her remains. These repeated pious acts testify to Shirakawa’s deep love for his lost consort. Though we have already seen the record of his inability to control his emotions over her untimely death, we should note, at the same time, that Shirakawa’s generosity in his grief afforded him particular sorts of opportunities. These multiple capital donations to strategic temples for halls built in his beloved’s memory allowed Shirakawa to consolidate power through the strengthening of connections to a number of key monastic lineages. As Mikael Bauer has argued, while the rise to power of the retired emperors during the insei 院政 period (1086–1192) has often been seen as a reaction to the entrenchment of the avuncular Fujiwara control of the throne that reached its apex with the regency of Michinaga, it can instead be understood as the organic outgrowth of the conflation or association of imperial and monastic lineages. The Buddhist refiguring of the emperor as a hōō 法王, or dharmarāja (Dharma King), who rules on behalf of the faith that led to the rise to power of the retired emperors, from Shirakawa to Goshirakawa 後白河法皇 (1127–1192; r. 1155–1158), had been set in motion already in the ninth century with Emperor Uda 宇陀天 皇 (867–931; r. 887–897): Uda’s conflation of dharma and imperial lineage is central to a gradual process involving the emperor entering the Buddhist path, constructing imperial vow temples, and installing imperial princes in their highest monastic posts. While the first two elements were not uncommon prior to Uda, it is the slow evolution from imperial princes toward the establishment of the imperial dharma princes in the late eleventh century that is of utmost importance here. Although by no means competitive with the power of the Fujiwara in the tenth century, Uda’s Ninnaji lineage would ultimately lead to the more powerful position of the retired sovereigns emerging by Shirakawa’s time, of which the imperial dharma prince was the result.49

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between the imperial house, the house of retired emperors (inke 院家), and Daigoji. See Tatsumi, “Daigoji no sōzoku ni miru inke.” Bauer, “Conflating Monastic and Imperial Lineage,” p. 244. For background on the retired emperors, see Hurst, Insei.

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Bauer notes the essential development of the advent of imperial dharma princes, hosshinnō 法親王, and we can see that the posthumous apotheosis of the imperial consort Kenshi—the treatment of her remains as empowering relics—is similarly innovative and strategic. Just as men in aristocratic lineages began from around this time to establish new lineages based on the burial places of their mothers, those Buddhist cloisters that would become the last place of maternal residence and ujidera, Shirakawa’s emplacement of his beloved consort’s remains in this powerful location below the altar at a chapel within the imperial temple of Daigoji, encased in a reliquary suited to Buddha remains, served to further shift the balance of power away from the Northern Fujiwara family and towards the imperial line. It would be overly simplistic to interpret the interment of Kenshi’s remains in a gorintō beneath the altar of Daigoji’s Enkōin as simply a strategy to consolidate the power of the imperial line after the long period of control by Northern Fujiwara house uncles and grandfathers, known to historians as the sekkanki 摂関期. While, as we have seen above, the location of women’s remains— specifically the remains of daughters and nieces—had been an issue of interest and contention among the Heian aristocracy in the decades leading up to Kenshi’s placement at Enkōin, there are clearly other considerations of a more religious and affective nature. Uejima Susumu has written about Shirakawa’s own interment in a Buddhist stupa.50 While this event has been focused on as a radical act without precedent, as Uejima points out Kenshi’s burial was in fact the first to treat human remains as Buddha relics.51 By the end of the sixteenth century, this notion, that the dead are Buddhas and their remains relics, had become commonplace. As Uejima indicates, in the interment at Enkōin Shirakawa establishes a precedent for his own post-mortem apotheosis and that of his son Horikawa before him. Shirakawa founded Hosshōji, as some have argued, as an answer to Michinaga’s founding of Hōjōji 法成寺 as the Fujiwara memorial temple. In fact, in his Gukanshō 愚管抄, Jien 慈円 (1155–1225) called it “the emperor’s family temple” (kokuō no ujidera 国王の氏寺).52 As Mitsuhashi Tadashi contends, the choice of katsu 勝 or “victory” for the middle character (here read in the Chinese pronunciation shō) in the name of the new temple reflects a desire that the splendor of the new temple “win,” eclipsing the Fujiwara family temple.53 It

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Uejima, “Hosshōji sōshutsu.” Uejima, “Hosshōji sōshutsu,” pp. 295–299. Hino, Creating Heresy, p. 140 n. 304; Nishiguchi, “Shirakawa goganji shōron,” p. 246. Mitsuhashi, Heian jidai no shinkō to shūkyō girei, p. 108.

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stood near what is today Kyoto’s Okazaki Park. A number of important aristocrats were in attendance at the completion ceremony (rakkei kuyō 落慶供養) for Hosshōji in 1077. Among these honored guests was the man, Fujiwara no Morozane, who initially gave the parcel of Fujiwara land, where a family villa had formerly been located, to Shirakawa for the construction of the temple. While Kenshi was adopted by a Fujiwara father, the same Morozane, she was born as a member of the Minamoto clan, and they would have had claims over her remains, as had been the case with Michinaga’s wife Rinshi.54 Normally, if not buried with the Fujiwara at Kohata, she would have been buried among the Minamoto, as we have noted. As Nishiguchi Junko makes clear, the treatment of Kenshi’s remains demonstrates a very different attitude towards women’s bones from the fear of women’s bodies that is well known within Heian period Buddhism: However, a woman’s ashes and relics seemingly presented an entirely different situation than did a living, breathing woman. The mountain enclaves that forbade access to women accepted their ashes for nokotsu relic burial. For example, below the altar of the Enkō-in, a chapel at Daigo, were buried the ashes of Shirakawa’s empress, Kenshi, and her daughters Ikuhōmon’in and Reishi. The ashes of Kenshi’s mother, Minamoto no Ryūshi, [who died decades later, also] lay below the altar in Ichijō-in at Daigo. Thus, just below the most sacred space of these halls were interred the ashes of women who, while living, would have been prohibited even from entering the precincts. A similar situation pertains to the Henjō-in chapel, where the ashes of Fujiwara no Tadamasa and Tadachika’s mother lay inside the sculpture of Dainichi, and at the Daijō-in, where Empress Kōkamon’in’s hair was enshrined inside the Amida 阿弥陀 figure. In these cases, it seems, the relics were worshipped along with the deities. This indicates that relics belonged to a realm unaffected by the limitations of gender and the dialectic of pure and impure.55 Nichiguchi here shows that the remains of aristocratic Heian women, as dry ash and bone fragment or hair, were inserted into statues and sacred altars with some frequency. It is Kenshi’s example that is the oldest. She died a number of decades before her mother did, and the other examples cited by Nishiguchi also

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Glassman, “Chinese Buddhist Death Ritual.” For an account of Reishi’s religious activities and her family relationships, see Blair, “Ladylike Religion.” Nishiguchi, “Where the Bones Go,” p. 425. Slightly revised for clarity.

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come later than Kenshi.56 As we have seen, Shirakawa (with his advisors) also considered Kenshi’s interment as a model for his own posthumous disposal and for his son Horikawa’s before him.

The “Triangular” Gorintō, Chōgen, and Kenshi’s Reliquary We have traced some of the kinship connections and political motivations for the particularity of Kenshi’s interment, now let us focus on her reliquary itself. Kenshi’s reliquary is still presumably safely nestled, sealed in its small stone box buried under ground at Kami Daigo on the former site of Enkōin. Whether present or absent, though, the painted metal urn is the very earliest known example of a three-dimensional gorintō.57 Subsequent examples follow in the twelfth century—a stone gorintō at a chapel of Chūsonji 中尊寺 in Hiraizumi in 1169 and various reliquaries produced by Chōgen at the turn of the thirteenth century. As a dated object often cited as the very earliest surviving representation of a gorintō, there is a relief on eight roof tile end ornament from 1122 at Ichijōin 一乗院, a sub-temple of Hosshōji 法性寺, a temple in Higashiyama that garnered the lavish support of Michinaga (fig. 5.6) (not to be confused with the Hosshōji 法勝寺 built by Shirakawa that is discussed above). Gien notes with some amazement in his record of the 1604 excavation at Enkōin that the unusual shape of the one element of the five. Rather than a pyramid with a square base, which is de rigueur for gorintō from the Kamakura period forward—the central “fire chakra” pyramid of Kenshi’s reliquary is triangular on all sides (mina sankaku nari 皆三角也), including the base. This is what modern scholars have referred to as the “triangular five-elements pagoda” or sankaku gorintō 三角五輪塔. Gien says that in this it closely follows “the specifications.” The specifications he refers to are no doubt those outlined in the Sonshō butchō shū yuga hō giki 尊勝仏頂修瑜伽法儀軌, a manual that lays out instructions for the performing gorinkan, a visualization practice in which the practitioner imagines the body as composed of the five chakras or “wheels” of the gorintō.58 This “yoga” of visualization is also taken up in Gorin kuji hisshaku

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For more on the interment of Kenshi’s daughter after her in the same crypt, see Ikuhōmon’in hōkyoki. Saitō “Daigoji gorintō no bijutsuteki kenkyū”; Yoshida, “Daigoji shin’yoroku ni okeru gorintō.” Sonshō butchō shū yuga hō giki, T 973. Note that the text’s title here is provided in SinoJapanese reading, not in the original Chinese.

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figure 5.6 Roof tile from Hosshōji, 1122, Yamazaki Masatada old roof tile collection, Kumamoto Prefectural Museum Source: Minoguchi and Sakata, “Kyoto Hosshōji ato shutsudo kawara ni tsuite,” Kumamoto shiritsu Kumamoto hakubutsukan kanhō 24 (2012), p. 110

by Kakuban, mentioned above.59 The Keiran shūyōshū, 渓嵐拾葉集, in an entry on the Sonshō darani ritual, describes purifying two pitchers of water by placing them on a diagram of the gorintō during the ceremony.60 Naitō Sakae notes that scholars had long assumed this form of reliquary was developed by Chōgen as part of his enthusiastic promotion of relic worship. While it is true that Chōgen did produce many such reliquaries, often having them inserted into the bodies of statues, Kenshi’s reliquary is evidence that in fact the sculptural form was already in use almost a century before Chōgen’s production of sankaku gorintō.61 The Sanbōin 三宝院 cloister of Daigoji is the most likely place for the development of this object. The monks Gihan and

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Naitō, “Chōgen no shari shinkō,” p. 62; Manabe, Mikkyō bijutsu, p. 150; Dolce “The Embryonic Generation”; Brinker, Secrets of the Sacred, p. 62. Keiran shūyōshū, T 2410 0650b17–0650b22. Naitō, “Chōgen no shari shinkō,” p. 63.

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Hanjun 範俊 (1038–1112), who invented the ritual called Sonshō butchō shuhō 尊勝仏頂修法, may well have had an important role in the creation of the gorintō reliquary.62 Naitō has asserted that Chōgen was no doubt introduced to the object during his youthful apprenticeship at Daigoji. During his apprenticeship, he regularly participated in the performance of the Sonshō butchō hō, (also called the Nyohō sonshō ritual), first performed in 1109. The Kakuzenshō 覚禅鈔 stipulates that the honzon is a “miniature pagoda,” and the illustration depicts a so-called “treasure pagoda” or hōtō 宝塔, but behind this is the important understanding that this pagoda hides a relic or a mani jewel held in a tiny precious container or even nested in caskets within caskets (see fig. 5.3).63 Either of these highly charged homologous objects, representing the body of Dainichi in its essential form, would provide the animation to bring efficacy to the ritual. As Youn-mi Kim notes, The [Kakuzenshō passage on the honzon] does not directly state that the wish-fulfilling jewel is the main object of veneration of the Nyohō Sonshō Ritual. However, the other passages of the ‘Nyohō Sonshō’ fascicle reveal that it was the wish-fulfilling jewel inside the pagoda which allows the pagoda to serve as the main object of veneration. The ‘Main Object of Veneration (本尊)’ section of the ‘Nyohō Sonshō’ fascicle explains that the wish-fulfilling jewel in the pagoda is the samaya form of Vairocana Buddha [Dainichi Nyorai], and the ‘Main Object of Veneration of the Great Altar (大壇本尊事)’ section of the fascicle explains that Vairocana Buddha is the main object of veneration. Therefore it would be valid to view the wish-fulfilling jewel as the ritual’s main object of veneration, as most modern scholars do.64 Naturally there was considerable conceptual overlap, significant intentional conflation, between three objects: the mani jewel, the Buddha relic, and the small pagoda.65 As we have noted, the gorintō (sometimes the hōtō) was taken within the Shingon school as the samaya body of Dainichi Nyorai.

62

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See Manabe, “Sonshōhō honzon no shomondai.” We should note here again that the ritual manuals of the Kamakura period have a retrospective view. In some, the samaya body of Dainichi—the small stupa that holds the relics—is a gorintō and in some it is a so-called “treasure pagoda” (hōtō 宝塔), a simpler form. Naitō, “Chōgen no shari shinkō”; Kim, Eternal Ritual, p. 250. Kim, Eternal Ritual, p. 245. In note 398 on this page, Kim cites Kakuzenshō, TZ vol. 4, no. 3022, 168c. See Rhi, “Images, Relics, and Jewels,” for a discussion of relic, image, and jewel in a differ-

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Here we see that the relics in the jewel in the pagoda were indeed the honzon hidden within the altar of Enkōin. However, rather than enshrining Buddha relics there, as was of course customary, Shirakawa and Gihan deposited the bones of beloved royal consort Kenshi as a substitute body for Dainichi in the altar. In death not only did she become the mani jewel relic, but also served as the anchor for a new family lineage for the retired emperors. Her bones would become imperial property, not reverting—as far as the record shows—to her Minamoto patrilineal blood kin’s graveyard or joining her adoptive father Fujiwara no Morozane at Mt. Kohata, but instead inhabiting the place of honor within the altar of an imperial chapel at Daigoji. Recall that Jien, writing almost two centuries later, would call Daigoji “the emperor’s family temple” kokuō no ujidera. This burial marks the start of that primacy of place. The diaries of the day reveal that Shirakawa left very precise instructions for his funeral ceremony and the disposition of his remains.66 After a funeral and cremation at Mt. Kasai, his bones were to be transferred to Kōryūji 広隆 寺 in Uzumasa. A three-tiered pagoda was built and a stone casket placed in the center of the foundation. After the urn containing Shirakawa’s ashes and bones was placed the stone box, the hole was covered again with earth and on top of this was laid a set of sutras written in golden letters on thin leaves of beaten bronze. Atop this there was a good quantity of gold, one thousand ryō. Above another stone slab there was a small stupa-form, possibly a gorintō, with an Amida image inside. This arrangement was placed at the base of the central pole for the large three-tiered pagoda, occupying the sacred spot reserved for Buddha relics. Thus, the bones of Shirakawa, the dharmarāja and retired emperor, became enshrined, by his own specification, in the manner of Buddha relics. Shirakawa’s interment has often been taken to be the first such apotheosis of lay remains into relics in Japan, but Uejima Susumu has pointed out that there are exactly two earlier examples, namely those of his primary wife Kenshi (the case at hand) and of his son Emperor Horikawa, who predeceased the retired emperor by one year. Some have suggested that the date on the stone box found in the ruins of Enkōin by Gien in 1604 might not in fact match with the contents; that is, that they may have been reburied there during the twelfth century, after the development of the sankaku gorin reliquary shape, with the date of the original ceremony preserved on the new box. However,

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ent context. Relics were inserted into the uṣṇīṣa of the stone and stucco Buddha icons of Gandhara to enliven then. Uejiima, “Hosshōji sōshutsu,” 294–296.

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Uejima has cited a detailed description in the contemporary Tamefusa kyōki 為 房卿記 regarding Kenshi’s remains that refutes this notion. Fujiwara no Tamefusa 藤原為房 (1049–1115), a close advisor and confidant of Shirakawa, records that on the tenth day of the seventh month, 1085 (about ten months after her funeral), Kenshi’s remains were transferred from the cremation urn to a “pure place”—inside a gilt bronze pagoda, within a stone casket, and buried beneath the altar at Enkōin.67 There can be no doubt that Tamefusa’s and Gien’s texts refer to the same object. Uejima has suggested that perhaps it was the gorintō, “which express the non-duality of the Womb world and the Diamond world,” that replaced the usual Buddha relics rather than Kenshi’s remains per se.68 The honzon of Enkōin was the Mandalas of Two Worlds, the Diamond and the Womb Worlds that unify in Dainichi Nyorai and in the gorintō. In the case of Kenshi, Horikawa, and Shirakawa, (in the order of their deaths) it is clear that in the context of ever-mounting enthusiasm for the śarīra cult (that is, the veneration of Buddha’s relics), the members of the imperial family and their spiritual advisors had come to treat royal bones as Buddhaśarīra.69 I would suggest that this series of three royal funerals put in place a pattern taken up by various aristocratic and warrior families through the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Before Kenshi’s precedent ushered in the “Buddhification” of lay remains, eminent monks in Japan had been enjoying this posthumous honor for a couple of centuries. Ryōgen 良源 (912–985) and other Tendai abbots were early examples of Buddhist masters whose remains were treated as Buddha relics, and this is a trend that continued and intensified through the Heian period. By the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, the interment of founders like Shinran 親鸞 (1163–1263) or Ippen 一遍 (1239–1289) or Eison 叡尊 (1201–1290) beneath a gorintō, a monument properly reserved for Buddha relics, in turn extended to the burial of royal lineage holders and from there to other aristocracy.70 As we have seen above in the case of Michnaga’s wife Rinshi, the placement of the remains of the royal mothers was a key consideration for the male aristocrats of the Heian court and their advisors in divinatory and religious matters. Shirakawa established Enkōin as a memorial to his beloved Kenshi but also

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Tamefusa kyōki, Ōtoku 2 (1085).7.10. Cited in Uejiima, “Hosshōji sōshutsu,” p. 295. Uejima, “Hosshōji sōshutsu,” pp. 297–298. See Matsumoto, “Daigoji Sanbōin-ryū no sokuihō,” on abiśeka ceremonies and the Japanese imperial house. Momosaki, “Kōsō no bosho to sekitō,” p. 220.

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as a center for the imperial lineage. The essential aspect of Kenshi’s burial at Enkōin is the enshrinement of her remains within the gorintō. In this, she is recognized as a Buddha, but, perhaps more importantly, her physical remains exit the realm of her agnatic Fujiwara (or Minamoto) lineage where they can be appropriated for the foundation of a new line of retired emperors. The enshrinement of Kenshi’s remains into the bronze gorintō was a harbinger of things to come. Over the course of the medieval period, it came to be believed that all of the dead in Japan became Buddhas, and the logic of Japanese funerary rituals was to save the deceased by transforming them into Buddhas directly. For the time being, however, rather than focusing on Kenshi’s transformation into a Buddha, we will briefly consider her instantiation as the mother of an apical lineage holder. One goal of Shirakawa’s political program was to free the imperial house from the control of the Fujiwara family and to reassert the prerogatives of the emperor. The placement of Kenshi’s remains in the earth of the altar at Daigoji’s Enkōin was a gesture that asserted Kenshi’s importance as a consort in the imperial line of ancestors. It asserted this identity over that as a daughter in the Minamoto family of her birth or the Fujiwara family of her adoption. As Nishiguchi has shown, the placement of the bones of female family members was an essential strategy in the empowerment of Heian period aristocracy.71 The monk Gihan was an important presence in Kenshi’s life, having ministered to her after the death of her first child, the Prince Atsufumi 敦文親 王 (1075–1077), who passed away just before he turned three. Gihan also performed rituals that led to the safe birth of another male heir for her and for Shirakawa: Prince Taruhito, the future Emperor Horikawa. Gihan was very close to Shirakawa and was a rival with his confrere Hanjun for imperial patronage.72 Both were Daigoji monks and key collaborators in Shirakawa’s ritual programs. Gihan played a major role in the development of the relic cult in imperial circles and also founded the Daigoji sub-lineage of the Ono branch of the Shingon school.73 He was also very close to Kenshi’s natal family, the Murakami Genji,

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Nishiguchi, “Where the Bones Go,” pp. 424–425. Ruppert, Jewel in the Ashes, pp. 332–333. Brian Ruppert’s study of the role of relics in the ritual life of the court during the eleventh and twelfth centuries, The Jewel in the Ashes: Relics and Power in Early Medieval Japan, published in 2000, provides a useful chart showing the monks of the time who performed the wishing-jewel rite or possessed a wishing jewel. See p. 158. For the close relationship between these monks and Emperor Shirakawa, see Hino, Creating Heresy; and Shimizu, “Inseiki Shingon mikkyō.”

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and was the protector monk of Emperor Horikawa.74 His ritual support was key to the establishment of the rule by retired emperors or insei. The interment of Kenshi’s remains in the altar at Enkōin and their treatment as relics provided precedent for the apotheosis of both Horikawa and Shirakawa after their deaths.75 Above we have hypothesized that it was in fact Gihan or Hanjun, or both together, who first introduced the gorintō as a sculptural object. Gihan was a ritual innovator and an especially enthusiastic promoter of rites centered on the cintāmaṇi jewel. This object, the hōju, is the focus of a few different Shingon rites such as the Aizen hō 愛染法, the Nyohō sonshō hō 如法尊 勝法, the Hōju hō 宝珠法. As we have seen, the hōju is tightly homologous with relics and also with the gorintō itself. Closely associated with rainmaking and with generation or fecundity, the mani jewel is tied to women in many mythological and ritual contexts.76 Lucia Dolce has argued that the gorintō was to become, over the next two centuries, the key element in Buddhist imaginings, both actual and metaphorical, of embryological development.77 In this context, the connection between a phantasmal female figure and the transformed relic found in the mythology of the mani jewel becomes a link to real flesh and blood women of the Fujiwara and imperial families. This persistent and prominent connection between the woman and the jewel has been well demonstrated in an extensive and insightful article by Ryūichi Abé on the figure of the Dragon Princess from the Lotus Sutra in medieval Japanese myth, legend, politics, and drama.78 The jewel, the gorintō, and the relic—all of these are closely associated and identified—contain great generative power. This is expressed as the inner cultivation, accomplished through yogic visualization, that transforms an ordinary human being into a Buddha. And, as Dolce suggests, this is also tied to ideas about real physical gestation and birth—the role of imperial mothers in producing sons.79 Abé’s study highlights the importance of the imagery

74 75 76 77 78

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Hino Creating Heresy, p. 87; Suisaki, pp. 117ff.; Minamoto no Toshifusa, who kept this diary, was the father of Ninkan. Uejima, “Hosshōji sōshutsu.” See Chen, “Śarīra and Scepter”; Faure, “Buddhist Relics and Japanese Regalia”; Tanaka Takako, Gehō to aihō no chūsei; and Shimizu, “Inseiki Shingon mikkyō.” Dolce, “The Embryonic Generation.” See Abé, “Revisiting the Dragon Princess,” pp. 60–61, on the use of this imagery jewel/ woman/relic discourse in relation to Fujiwara marriage politics. Abé also points out the gorintō seen on the box lid in Fig. 5.7 of this chapter and also notes that the roller finial on this scroll of the sutra is a carved rock crystal gorintō. For more on this box lid, see Steven Trenson, “Heike nōkyō kyobako,” pp. 1–20. Dolce, “The Embryonic Generation.”

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figure 5.7 Detail of lid of black bronze storied box created to hold the Heike nōkyō, 1164 Source: Nara Kokuritsu Hakubutsukan, Itsukushima Jinja kokuhōten (Osaka: Yomiuri Shinbun Ōsaka Honsha, 2005), p. 182

of the woman and the jewel to marriage politics in twelfth-century Japan in the context of the Heike nōkyō 平家納経, a ceremonially decorated copy of the Lotus Sutra offered to Itsukushima Shrine 厳島神社 by Taira no Kiyomori 平清 盛 (1118–1181) along with various Heike clan leaders. Abé follows Kajitani Ryōji in suggesting that the presentation was likely made on behalf of his daughter Tokushi 徳子 (later the imperial consort Kenreimon-in 建礼門院, 1155–1213) when she was eight years old, the same age as the legendary Dragon Girl.80 The exquisite bronze box that the sutra scrolls were contained in prominently features a gorintō in the center of its lid (fig. 5.7).

80

Abé, “Revisiting the Dragon Princess,” p. 59 ff. Citing Kajitani, “Heike nōkyō,” p. 257.

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Brian Ruppert has written about women’s devotion to relics in the late Heian and early Kamakura period, and has pointed out what he terms a “degendering” of Buddha relics that makes their worship increasingly available to women, and even makes women the special protectors of relics and wish-fulfilling jewels. In the early twelfth century, Ruppert posits, there was a profound shift that deepened over the coming decades: We begin, at this point, to witness appropriation of textual and ritual traditions associating women with the fecundity of Buddha relics into funerary practices of the Fujiwara and imperial families, which transformed the association of women with relics and jewels into female prominence in the guarding and worshipping of relics. Such pre-eminence even extended, by the early thirteenth century, to the performance of memorial relic rites.81 It was in fact just after the time of Kenshi’s interment in 1085, at the turn of the eleventh century, that these rituals were invented and became popular at court, with their expansion and development sponsored by Shirakawa. Daigoji monks like Myōhan 明範 (active 11th–12th centuries), Hanjun, Gihan, and Shōken 勝 賢 (1138–1196) made the wish-fulfilling jewel a central item in the ritual life of imperial family.82 In fact, the very first mention of the gorintō in connection to Chōgen is a record of the one that Shōken, at Chōgen’s request, placed inside the recast Nara Daibutsu at Tōdaiji in 1185. Shōken was the master of Daigoji’s Sanbōin cloister, which took a five-colored gorintō as its main image, following the description in the Sonshō butchō shū yugahō giki. Also, Shōken was the abbot of Daigoji and three times took up residence at Enkōin, where Kenshi’s gorintō held pride of place within the raised earth that formed the base of the altar.83 It is useful here to note here once again that Kenshi’s remains were treated as if they were relics and placed within a gorintō reliquary. Reversing somewhat the direction suggested by Ruppert’s “degendering of relics,” we might here return to the above-mentioned observations by Nishiguchi Junko to imagine a “degendering of female remains.” That is, the hair and also bones of women were placed in the most sacred of places, flaunting or circumventing

81 82 83

Ruppert, Jewel in the Ashes, p. 227. Kim, “The Hidden Link”; Hino, Creating Heresy; Ruppert, “Pearl in the Shrine”; and Kamikawa, “Kakuzenshō.” Naitō, “Chōgen no shari shinkō,” p. 72.

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dual taboos against female presence at certain sacred sites and the pollution of the corpse.84 Whether placed in statues, under altars, or as here, within a reliquary, it was the transformation of women’s remains into Buddha relics that made this possible. This is to be contrasted with a lavish provincial replication of some aspects of this novel imperial burial a little more than half a century later in the Konjikidō 金色堂 at Hiraizumi’s Chūsonji. Yiengpruksawan has demonstrated that the mummification of corpses and the erection of wooden halls to hold them harken back to a custom of the northeastern tribes called Emishi 蝦夷, the maternal forebears of Fujiwara no Kiyohira 清原清衡 (1056–1128), who was chieftain of the Ōshū Fujiwara 奥州藤原 and main patron of the hall. The context is very different here, of course, but in Yiengpruksawan’s discussion of the use of the ritual space—in this case a resplendent gold-covered Amida Hall— as a temporary burial hut or “spirit house,” we can find important resonances with the burials of Kenshi and her female relatives.85 More importantly, a shift was underway as regards the treatment of the remains of women. Men began to use the bones of women, especially those of their mothers, to anchor a family temple, or ujidera, signaling the creation of a new patriline. Over the course of the late Heian period, the significance of the placement of women’s bones changed. From being important property for their father’s line, a guarantee of prosperity to their nieces and nephews, women’s graves would became the focal point for new lineages created by their sons.86 We see here in Kenshi’s case and saw above in Reishi’s that men from aristocratic families considered the bones of their daughters, and especially those who had won the ultimate distinction of becoming queen-mothers, as an important component of family patrimony and insisted that control over their geomantic disposition was of crucial concern. Scholars have argued that the cintāmaṇi, an object associated with the rule of the righteous Buddhist king (hoō, dharmarāja) and also conflated with the jewel of the Japanese imperial regalia, was a key element for Shirakawa in estab-

84 85

86

Nishiguchi, “Where the Bones Go.” See Yiengpruksawan, “The House of Gold,” pp. 40–48 for a discussion of pagodas, and of the ritual spaces called Amida Halls and Lotus Halls being used as mausolea and on the tamaya. For tamaya and the practice of double burial among the Heian aristocracy, see Tanaka Hisao, “Heian jidai no kizoku,” and Wada, “Mogari.” For later periods and across a range of social classes, see Mizutani, Bozen saishi to seisho no toporojī. Glassman, “Chinese Buddhist Death Ritual”; Tanaka Hisao, “Bukke shakai”; and Nishiguchi, Onna no chikara.

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lishing the rule of the retired emperors.87 Shirakawa’s interest in rites involving the cintāmaṇi, so manifestly clear in the historical record, demonstrates his adept use of religious symbolism.88 The treatment of Kenshi’s remains as relics buried in the altar of the Enkōin offers a parallel based in kinship ties and marriage. Shirakawa’s enshrinement of Kenshi’s remains in the inner sanctum is no doubt a testimony to the great love he felt for her and a sincere expression of his grief at her passing. At the same time, her interment there can be understood from a different point of view of the establishment of a new lineage with a female apical ancestor. She was accorded this treatment as the mother of the child who would be installed as Emperor Horikawa just a few years after her death. When Shirakawa entered retirement in 1087 and ascended to the rank of hōō, Dharma King, he was initiating a new reckoning of power. The placement of Kenshi’s remains inside the gorintō and their treatment as relics can be understood as the founding of a new royal lineage of retired emperors free from Fujiwara domination, an important move in the consolidation of this new regime of rule by the in, the “cloistered” emperors.

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chapter 6

Connecting Kannon to Women Through Print Sherry Fowler*

During the seventeenth to nineteenth centuries Buddhist temples used printed text and image media as one of the main tactics to promote women’s participation in Buddhist pilgrimage. The employment of female protagonists in illustrated miracle tales was one such method. While the texts and images of women could certainly appeal to men, women in the stories served as paragons for female piety and visually reinforced the efficacy of women’s worship of Kannon 観音 (Sk. Avalokiteśvara). Another method was the promotion through print of an icon with a female gender, such as the Eleven-Headed Kannon 十一面観音 (Sk. Ekādaśamukha Avalokiteśvara) icon of Nakayamadera 中山 寺 who has an alternate identity as an Indian queen. Additionally, some temples offered, and continue to offer in the present, printed votive merchandise for ritual practice made for women, especially to aid with pregnancy and safe childbirth. The pilgrimage temples Okadera 岡寺, Mimurotoji 三室戸寺, Kannonshōji 観音正寺, and Nakayamadera will be discussed as representative sites that use the combination of two or more of these print-related strategies to encourage women’s devotion to Kannon. Based on Hindu and Confucian ideologies, Buddhism adopted the ideas that there were hindrances to prevent women from attaining Buddhahood. The “three obediences” (sanjū 三従) required women to obey their parents, their husbands, and their sons, and the “five obstacles” (goshō 五障) declared that women could not achieve the status as a Brahmā, Indra, Māra, Cakravartin (world-ruling) King, or Buddha, and therefore women were often barred from the highest positions for learning.1 Notable exceptions of women who were able to acquire high-level Buddhist knowledge are given in this volume. Major monastic institutions, such as those on Mt. Kōya and Mt. Hiei, went to great lengths to deny access to women for fear of contamination and distraction. * The author would like to thank Karen Gerhart, for initiating and then shepherding the conference and publication to completion, all of the project’s participants, especially Chari Pradel, Hank Glassman, and Sara Sumpter for their editing and comments, as well as Inge Klompmakers and the anonymous readers of the volume for their encouragement and suggestions. 1 See Nagata, “ ‘Kechien,’” pp. 279–295. Faure, The Power of Denial, pp. 55–90, discusses the “rhetoric of subordination” that denied full autonomy to women in Buddhism.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2018 | doi: 10.1163/9789004368194_008

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Nevertheless, within the Buddhist system opportunities were created for women to improve their karma and to benefit from acts of Buddhist piety. Pilgrimage is a form of ritual that brings karmic rewards through active participation. By the sixteenth century, many Japanese temples had been integrated into thirty-three-stop pilgrimage routes, and at these temples pilgrims directed their prayers toward a central icon of the compassionate savior Kannon. Women, as well as men, visited places sacred to Kannon to enhance their relationship with the deity. The four temples that are the foci of this study belong to the thirty-three-temple pilgrimage route of Kannon in Saigoku 西国 (or Saikoku) in the western provinces. Pictures of illustrated stories, many with a female protagonist, that touted the benefits of a particular temple’s Kannon were published as popular prints with wide distribution, such as the 1858–1859 series known as Kannon reigenki 観音霊験記 (Record of Kannon miracles) by the artists Utagawa Kunisada 歌川国貞 (Toyokuni III 三代目豊国, 1786–1865) and Utagawa Hiroshige II 二代目歌川広重 (Shigenobu 重宣, 1826–1869). In addition to those commercially available, prints of sacred temple icons were made to distribute or sell to pilgrims at the sites in order to help them attain personal connections with particular Kannon icons. Although personal viewing of the main icon at the pilgrimage site is optimal, most temple icons are kept hidden even from the pilgrim who makes the trek to the temple. These four temples clearly demonstrate how printed objects function as intermediaries between the viewer and the icon, either as a visual reminder of a pilgrimage or as an inducement to undertake one.

Kechien and Response Kechien 結縁 is a complex phenomenon that refers to the formation of bonds or karmic connections that people make with a Buddhist deity for either future salvation or this-worldly benefit. While the deity might initiate the bond, the faithful consider pious acts important devices to encourage a deity to respond. Common ways the connections can be made are by sponsoring the production, enhancement or refurbishing of an image, making an offering to it, or simply viewing it.2 The greater the effort made by the faithful, the stronger the connections became and ideally, like insurance, the deity would reciprocate when most needed. Listening to the stories of others’ rewards not only encouraged efforts to make connections, but also brought kechien into the realm of this

2 For more on kechien see Nakano, “ ‘Kechien.’ ”

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world. Every temple has an origin story, called engi 縁起, which is often a collection of exciting tales that outline the significance of the temple’s founding and define the site’s specific sacred identity while serving to attract worshippers. Mark MacWilliams has researched ways in which temple legends are strategies to localize and popularize Kannon within their particular areas.3 Aside from hearing or reading a story, other methods to form bonds use vision. At the forefront is the auspicious viewing of a sacred image (Sk. darśan or darśana, Jp. ken 見), where the pilgrim not only sees the image, but the image also sees the pilgrim.4 Since so many pilgrimage images are either secret or difficult to access, the importance of seeing the image is heightened and made more special when secret images are revealed. Layering sensory input seems to enhance kechien, such as listening to the story and seeing an illustration of the deity at the same time. Furthermore, when devotees are involved in a physical experience of kechien, such as the act of walking on pilgrimage, it may become even more powerful. While participation in a pilgrimage is a ritualistic act in itself, it includes a variety of diverse ritual behaviors that involve the senses, such as smelling incense, listening to temple bells or chanting, touching ritual clothing, or ingesting of ritual substances, all of which enhance kechien. While it is impossible to measure a subjective experience that depends upon the viewers’ perception, slightly less significant than seeing the real icon is observing a maedachi 前立 (lit. “standing in front”), which is an alternate image of the same type that has been placed in front of the closed zushi 厨子, a box or tabernacle often made of wood, that contains a concealed image. One is, after all, still in the presence of that deity. Simple printed ofuda お札 (talismans or votive placards), which are even more remote from the icon than are maedachi, retain some of the essence of the original. As will be discussed, although relatively simple in depiction, many of these ofuda attempt to replicate some of the distinctive features of the originals. If the viewer had been involved in the ofuda’s acquisition at a temple site, a personal connection makes it more meaningful.5 A pilgrim may or may not choose to acquire an ofuda at a temple, but ownership carries some responsibility. In the case of Kannon pilgrimage ofuda, some pilgrims collect them with the expectation of obtaining one from each site on the route and after complet3 See MacWilliams, “Kannon Engi”; and “Living Icons,” pp. 35–82. 4 See Eck, Darśan, pp. 3–10. 5 H. Byron Earhart devised a helpful ten-stage analysis of how ofuda function: 1. Transfer, 2. Movement, 3. Relationship, 4. Exchange, 5. Reciprocity, 6. Reverse Transfer, 7. Reverse Movement, 8. Installation, 9. Ritual Treatment, 10. Replacement. Earhart, “Nihon no mamorifuda,” pp. 69–78. Discussed in English and German in Steineck, “Religion in Japan,” pp. 38–45.

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ing the pilgrimage they either offer them back to the last temple on the route or take them all to their grave. However, because many old ofuda survive, we know this was not always the practice. The significance of the relationship between ofuda, icons, and ritual participants is evident elsewhere in this volume in the essays by Chari Pradel, who discusses the direct physical connection of ofuda and the icons in the Kichijō keka 吉祥悔過 ritual at Hōryūji 法隆寺, and by Anna Andreeva, who describes the proliferation of ofuda printed with the image of Kariteimo 訶梨帝母 (Sk. Harītī) made to aid with maternity. A remarkably direct explanation for reasons to make ofuda is given in Kannon reijōki zue 観音霊塲記図会 (Illustrated record of sacred Kannon places), which was published in 1845 (Kōka 弘化 2), but based on earlier versions from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.6 In addition to the text and narrative illustrations about each temple in this printed book, there are simple drawings of each Kannon image, which follow the conventions of ofuda, accompanied by a description of a few lines. After the thirty-third and last Saigoku Kannon illustration is one extra Kannon image from a temple outside the main route called Nichienji 日圓寺, located in the city of Ayabe in Kyoto Prefecture. The text next to it explains, “Because this Kannon is a truly remarkable manifestation, it is printed on paper so that sentient beings can establish a connection (kechien) with it.”7 This passage not only enhances the status of the Nichienji Kannon by aligning it with the preceding prestigious Saigoku Kannon images, but it also explicitly spells out a reason to print a Kannon image on paper. A particularly evocative passage on kechien that involves paper in a Saigoku temple legend is about a girl’s relationship to the Kannon of Rokkakudō 六角堂 (Chōhōji 長法寺 [number eighteen]) in Kyoto, which is found also in the 1845 text Kannon reijōki zue.

6 Kanezashi, Saikoku Bandō Kannon reijōki, p. ii, says the text was first published in 1726 (Kyōhō 享保 11) in an earlier version without pictures and several versions followed. Since I have not been able to access the earlier editions, I use the Kannon reijōki zue version from 1845. 7 See Kanezashi, Saikoku Bandō Kannon reijōki, p. 175; and Kannon reijōki zue, vol. 5, p. 2. For a clear image see “Kannon reijōki zue,” Waseda Library database, accessed September 27, 2016. http://archive.wul.waseda.ac.jp/kosho/ha04/ha04_01807/ha04_01807_0005/ha04_01807 _0005_p0004.jpg. About Nichienji see “Nichienji,” accessed September 27, 2016. http://www .ayabun.net/bunkazai/annai/nitienji/nitienji.htm. A manual for identifying Buddhist images titled Meiji zōho shoshū butsuzō zui 明治增補諸宗佛像圖彙 also includes the same passage and image from Nichienji. See Meiji zōho shoshū butsuzō zui, vol. 5. These volumes were revised from Butsuzō zui 仏像図彙, first published in 1690 (Genroku 元禄 3), which did not originally include the statement. See Fowler, “Kannon Imagery in the Life of the SeventeenthCentury Manual Butsuzō zui.”

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A twelve-year old girl passed the temple everyday on her way to her calligraphy lessons. One day she decided to put her paper, upon which was written namu Kannon bosatsu in the offering box. Later, after she was married, she had a difficult delivery, and was near death when a monk arrived at the door. He gave her a talisman and told her to swallow it. He disappeared. She swallowed it, and the child was soon delivered safely. In his hand they found the paper with Kannon’s name, the one she wrote when she was a child. In a dream, the old monk came and told her that he was the Rokkaku Kannon.8 The story is a powerful model for how multisensory acts of devotion enhance benefits. On her own initiative, the young girl wrote the calligraphy and donated it to Kannon. The monk offered her a paper talisman, described as a fu 符, which is another word used for ofuda. Readers might assume that this fu was imprinted with an image of Kannon, and thus was a way to “see” the image in a time of need, but its significance as an object goes well beyond the visual. When the woman ate the talisman and it passed through her body, the relationship was internalized and became even more intimate. Beyond the relationship to Kannon, there are many other well-known traditions of swallowing religious prints to improve health.9 In the Rokkakudō story, the reappearance of the calligraphy in the baby’s hand serves as evidence that Kannon rewards previous physical acts of worship in times of peril. This story of a girl’s simple pious gesture with powerful results would have especially resonated with women. A more mundane way of connecting to Kannon is found in the 1862 (Bunkyū 文久 2) publication Kannon gyō ryakuzukai 観音経略図解 (Kannon Sutra with abbreviated illustrations and annotations), which was a guide for faster reading of the Lotus Sutra’s Kannon chapter (Kannon gyō 観音経 [Kannon Sutra] 8 MacWilliams, “Kannon Engi,” p. 270. See also Kanezashi, Saikoku Bandō Kannon reijōki, p. 128; and Kannon reijōki zue, vol. 3, p. 50. 9 The most famous location in Japan known for edible healing prints is Togenuki Jizō in Tokyo, where they continue to be popular. See Williams, The Other Side of Zen, pp. 102–112, for several other examples of the practice of eating prints. In Tale of Genji, Genji was given a talisman to swallow as a cure for illness. Murasaki Shikibu, The Tale of Genji, vol. 1, p. 83. Chamberlain, “Notes on Some Minor Japanese Religious Practices,” p. 363, mentions the practice of ingesting prints at Suitengū Shrine 水天宮 in Tokyo, and on p. 357 describes the following related custom: “One may perhaps mention the strips of paper which pilgrims to Buddhist shrines chew into pellets and then spit out at the Ni-ō, or gigantic images of the guardian deities at the temples. If the pellet sticks, the pilgrim’s prayer will be heard. If not, the prayer will not be heard.” Bird, Unbeaten Tracks in Japan, vol. 1, pp. 71–72, who knew Chamberlain, also describes this striking and now outdated phenomenon.

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or Fumonbon 普門品 [Universal Gateway chapter]) that included supplemental pictures from Japanese history. The main purpose of the book was to teach new audiences to understand and appreciate the Kannon chapter, which often functioned independently from the Lotus Sutra, but the book is also packed with additional features. Along with the main text is a section with the description of each temple in the Saigoku Kannon pilgrimage followed by lists of the major Kannon pilgrimage route temples.10 The editor Shōtei Kinsui 松亭金水 (1795–1862) explained in the preface that his book annotated the sutra with explanations and illustrations so that “village children, fishermen, and wives, female servants, all” who are unfamiliar with the characters in the text would be able to benefit by understanding some of its content.11 Shōtei does not single out women as the only potential audience for this commercial publication, but makes it clear that they were a target market. As we shall see, the Lotus Sutra, and more specifically the Kannon chapter, is frequently invoked as a conduit to help people establish connections with Kannon.

Outline of the Saigoku Pilgrimage Before considering our topic more deeply, some background on Kannon as a deity as well as the phenomenon of Japanese pilgrimage is necessary. Pilgrims who undertake the Saigoku pilgrimage direct their prayers to a central icon of Kannon in sculpture at each temple. Thirty-three became the number of temples in the pilgrimage route because the Lotus sutra, which is one of the most prominent of all Buddhist texts, declares that thirty-three is the number of bodies that Kannon can take in order to save living beings.12 Kannon appears in the form best suited for those to hear the dharma, which can be in a male, female, child, or even non-human guise. In practice, there are many more than just thirty-three different types of Kannon with different identities and appearances who can rescue believers from any type of peril when necessary. And while thirty-three is the number of the Saigoku pilgrimage temple stations on

10 11 12

The other Kannon pilgrimage routes included in Kannon gyō ryakuzukai are Bandō 坂東, Chichibu 秩父, Edo 江戸, Rakuyō 洛陽 (Kyoto), and Nanba 難波 (Osaka). Kannon gyō ryakuzukai, pp. 1–2. Parts of the Lotus sutra were written in India in the first century CE and after the sutra evolved into many chapters, translations from Sanskrit were made into Chinese beginning in the third century CE, which then made their way to Japan by the seventh century. Wang, Shaping the Lotus Sūtra, p. 219 and p. 422, n. 12. See also Watson, The Lotus Sutra, pp. 301–302.

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the route, only seven different canonical types of Kannon appear at those sites as the temples’ main images.13 Pilgrimage has a long history in Japan, beginning with mountain ascetics perhaps as early as the eighth century. Men participated in most pilgrimages, but by the tenth century aristocratic women, who usually remained cloistered, had opportunities to go on pilgrimages to particularly auspicious temples. According to Barbara Ambros, evidence from women’s diaries reveals that these departures were usually focused excursions to temples fairly close to the capital that were known for miracles, and Kannon was the most venerated deity.14 As an example, a noblewoman only known as Michitsuna’s mother (Fujiwara no Michitsuna no Haha 藤原道綱母, ca. 935–995) describes her pilgrimages to the Kannon temples of Hasedera 長谷寺 and Ishiyamadera 石山寺 in her diary Kagerō nikki 蜻蛉日記.15 The thirty-three-stop Kannon pilgrimage routes, such as the Thirty-Three Temples of Kannon of Saigoku in the western provinces, Bandō 坂東, in eastern Japan, and Chichibu 秩父, northwest of Tokyo in Saitama Prefecture, organize and number the temples together by geographic proximity. The Saigoku pilgrimage spans over a thousand kilometers, has the highest number of pilgrims (both men and women), and is the best known of all the many Kannon pilgrimage routes. Some of the temples located within cities are easy to access, but many are located in remote rural areas on mountaintops that require a substantial climb. Numerically, the first stop of the Saigoku pilgrimage is Seigantoji 青 岸渡寺, which is high in the Kumano mountains near the famous Nachi waterfall in Wakayama Prefecture, and the thirty-third and last stop is Kegonji 華厳 寺 in Gifu Prefecture; yet it is not considered necessary to complete the pilgrimage in this order. The trek itself is a bodily experience for a pilgrim that galvanizes pious enthusiasm for the benefits of worshipping a specific Kannon at a specific place. Beyond lines drawn on a map, the ritual movement of the pilgrims creates geographical links between the temples, and grouping the different Kannon images from different locations together is believed to magnify their individual benefits.16

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Shō 聖 (Sk. Ārya, E. Noble); Senju 千手 (Sk. Sahasrabhuja, E. Thousand-Armed); Jūichimen 十一面 (Sk. Ekadaśamukha, E. Eleven-Headed); Batō 馬頭 (Sk. Hayagrīva, E. HorseHeaded); Juntei 准胝 (Sk. Cundī, E. Buddha-Mother); Fukūkenjaku 不空羂索 (Sk. Amoghapāśa, E. Rope-Snaring); and Nyoirin 如意輪 (Sk. Cintamāṇicakra, E. Jewel-Holding). See Fowler, Accounts and Images of Six Kannon in Japan. Ambros, “Liminal Journeys,” pp. 303–305. Michitsuna no Haha, The Kagerō Diary, pp. 153, 159, 207, 209, 211, 261, 267, 285. For general sources on the pilgrimage see Nara Kokuritsu Hakubutsukan, Saigoku san-

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The history of the Saigoku pilgrimage is surrounded by myth and mystery, yet it is generally agreed that it began as a route travelled by ascetics around the eleventh century and then began to flourish in the seventeenth century as people from different classes, including women, had more chances to travel. During that time, because permits were needed to go any distance and it was safer to journey as a group, pilgrimages became a major mode of travel. Furthermore, since the experience of going on a pilgrimage to a Buddhist site to express devotion and improve karmic merit also afforded the opportunity for fun and adventure, pilgrimage may be considered a forerunner of modern tourism.17 The focal point of a pilgrimage temple visit is theoretically the main icon of Kannon. Yet when a pilgrim visits a temple site, seeing the main image of Kannon is not an expectation. On the Saigoku pilgrimage route today, only four out of the thirty-three temples have icons that are always on view. In Japan, images hidden from view are called hibutsu 秘仏, a term that literally means “secret Buddha,” but can refer to any type of Buddhist figure. Usually the image is enshrined in the inner sanctum of a hall inside a zushi. The zushi has doors that may be opened to allow for public viewings of the image at regular intervals; these openings, referred to as kaichō 開帳, lit. “opening the curtains,” may be monthly, seasonally, annually or in longer cycles, such as thirty-three, fifty, or sixty years. However, in some cases the icon is never shown.18 Just being in the presence of the deity is important in itself, but an opening is considered to be especially auspicious. On the Saigoku pilgrimage, which is alive and well today, ritual protocol is such that first pilgrims bow at the front gate of a temple, then stop at a water basin to purify the body by rinsing the mouth. Then the pilgrim rings the temple bell in the belfry. At the main hall, pilgrims place slips of paper called osame fuda 納め札 (or copied sutras [shakyō 写経]) in a designated box, deposit coins in the offering box, light candles, then open their sutra books and chant. The osame fuda offering slips, of which the earliest examples were made of metal and wood, are now small slips of paper printed with the name of the pilgrimage and spaces to fill in the pilgrim’s name, address, specific wish, and date. These are obtained in advance of the pilgrimage, often at pilgrimage supply locations, and serve as a type of religious calling card that is later ritually burned by the

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jūsansho, pp. 214–227; and “Saigoku Kannon Pilgrimage,” accessed September 27, 2016. http://sacredjapan.com. Formanek, “Pilgrimage in the Edo Period,” pp. 166–167. About hibutsu, see Rambelli, “Secret Buddhas,” pp. 271–307 and Fowler, “Hibutsu,” pp. 138– 159.

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temples. Thus, osame fuda, which are also called nōsatsu 納札, function differently from ofuda adorned with the main icons that a pilgrim collects at each temple. As it is today, in the past the marketing of temple goods for pilgrimage, such as ofuda, scrolls, and printed charms, was a thriving enterprise. At the end of this essay, I will discuss some of the goods specifically aimed at female clientele, such as charms considered to be efficacious for childbirth. The following sections of this paper will tour four of the temples on the Saigoku route to examine how printed material enhances the pilgrimage experience and the relationship to Kannon, with special attention given to women.

The Okadera Kannon’s Protection at Sea In contrast to many of the main icons on the Saigoku route, the large Nyoirin Kannon image at Okadera (number seven, formally named Ryūgaiji 龍蓋寺) in Asuka (Nara Prefecture) is not kept secret, but may be viewed (today through glass) when the hall is open. The Okadera Kannon image was made of clay during the eighth to ninth century, yet only the head of this large clay image is original and the other sections have been heavily restored.19 The Okadera Kannon is known for its special efficacy in protection at sea. There are, of course, countless stories of Kannon saving people from danger, but for the purpose of our study it is noteworthy that many feature women. Although the temple’s founding legend does not focus on women, it explains the image’s initial worship and demonstrates how even a simple copy of this image can keep people safe. Kannon reijōki zue from 1845 records Okadera’s founding legend, which explains how the eminent monk Kūkai 空海 (774–835) was travelling to China when his ship was tossed in the waves during a strong storm. The captain thought all was lost but Nyoirin Kannon came to save the ship. The illustration features Kannon descending from the heavens and casting a light upon Kūkai, who is fervently praying for rescue in a boat on a stormy sea (fig. 6.1). Using his fingernail, Kūkai etched the likeness of the deity into a ship plank. The Okadera Kannon is modeled after this particular form.20 The main image is described as a small (one shaku two sun, approximately 36.3 centimeters) Nyoirin Kannon 19 20

The height of the restored image measures 485.2 centimeters. MacWilliams, “Living Icons,” p. 60, translates the section of the story about Kūkai carving the image in Kannon reijōki zue. See Kanezashi, Saikoku Bandō Kannon reijōki, pp. 52– 54; and Kannon reijōki zue, vol. 2, pp. 3–6. See also “Kannon reijōki zue,” Waseda Library database, accessed September 27, 2016. http://archive.wul.waseda.ac.jp/kosho/ha04/ha04

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figure 6.1 Kūkai in a storm, Okadera section of Kannon reijōki zue, 1845, woodblock printed book, 26 cm Source: University of California, Los Angeles Library

from the time of Great King (Emperor) Jomei 舒明天皇 (593–641; r. 629–641). The text goes on to say that later Kūkai made a large clay image of one jō six shaku (approximately 480 centimeters) using the earth from India, China, and Japan and then placed the smaller image inside its arm. One lively miracle tale from Okadera, which is in a way a “spin off” of the main legend, reinforces the icon’s continuing efficacy with an updated example and a girl in a leading role. Two prominent ukiyo-e artists of the day, Utagawa Kunisada and Utagawa Hiroshige II illustrated the story in the woodblockprint series Kannon reigenki, published during 1858–1859 (Ansei 安政 4–5). This series includes some wonderful prints that blur the lines between popular ukiyo-e and votive pilgrimage prints.21 All the prints in the set have a similar format with an illustration of the temple buildings above and legend below,

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_01807/ha04_01807_0002/ha04_01807_0002_p0005.jpg. For all volumes of the text, see http://archive.wul.waseda.ac.jp/kosho/ha04/ha04_01807/. Large file pictures of the prints may be found on the following site: “Gojū no tō, sanjū no tō, junrei no tabi, Kannon reigen ki,” Yoidore oyaji no DataFiles website, accessed September 27, 2016. http://book.geocities.jp/yabayousuke/junrei/04020/sub04020.html. The site

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which often relates to the temple’s main image of Kannon but does not show it. The upper section of the print has a framed panel with a picture of the temple grounds that was illustrated by Hiroshige II. The red cartouche on the far right includes the name of the series and to its left is the name and number of the temple. The temple poem (goeika 御詠歌) is in the clouds and Hiroshige’s signature is to the far left. The large section of text in the Okadera print begins with a statement that the temple’s main image of Kannon rescued Kūkai’s ship from a big storm when he was on his way to China (fig. 6.2). Then in the Jōkyō 貞享 era (1684–1687), a young lady from Nagato who had resolved to do the Saigoku pilgrimage slipped away from her home in secret and boarded a ship with about thirty other men and women to undertake the pilgrimage. The ship hit a terrible storm, and everyone died except the girl who was washed ashore at a place called Izaki where a fisherman rescued her. As the fisherman was kindly taking her back home, she recounted her ordeal. When the ship sank she thought she was going to die, but just as she was about to lose consciousness, she prayed that she could see the dewy slopes of Okadera again and realized she was clutching the mast of the ship. Then a large school of fish appeared and carried her to the shore where the fisherman found her. The text ends by saying this is truly a Kannon miracle not unlike the section in the Kannon chapter of the Lotus Sutra that explains if people who are washed away in a great flood call Kannon’s name, they will be instantaneously taken to a shallow place.22 The print reinforces the immediacy of Kannon’s power by weaving the Okadera Kannon into a narrative that ties it to Kūkai, the Lotus Sutra, and to an updated story focusing on a girl. Even though the young girl protagonist disobeyed her parents, she is still a paragon of piety because she was determined to make the extremely meritorious effort to undertake the pilgrimage. The print shows the girl wearing a coat that has the characters for pilgrimage ( junrei 巡禮) visible on a red background to identify her mission. As her pilgrim’s hat flies up over the top part of the print, she falls through the air while the fisherman jumps back in shock, collapsing the temporal sequence of events. Viewers are also meant to notice the offering slips or placards (osame fuda), that appear to be made of wood and are tied by a string around her neck, which demonstrate the devotion that saved her life. The custom of wearing osame fuda around the neck while on a pilgrimage was a practice of the nineteenth century. In an 1893 lecture, the Japan specialist Basil

22

refers to temple number seven by the name Ryūgaiji, but I follow the print’s text that uses the more common name of Okadera. Watson, The Lotus Sutra, p. 299.

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figure 6.2 Utagawa Kunisada and Utagawa Hiroshige II, Okadera (no. 7) in Kannon reigenki, 1858–1859, polychrome woodblock print, 36.4 ×25.5cm Source: Elizabeth Schultz collection

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Hall Chamberlain (1850–1935) noted that wearing them in this way was falling out of fashion.23 In the illustrated book Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon rishōki 西国三十三所観 音利生記 (Record of divine favor of the Saigoku thirty-three Kannon sites) from 1889, we see a similar scene of a falling girl wearing offering placards around her neck (fig. 6.3).24 In this modest monochromatic version, which was printed on inexpensive paper for popular sale, the fisherman is not pictured. Stripped to a minimum of information, the text and images are abbreviated and prioritized. The authors chose to emphasize the image of the young girl to make the benefits of worshipping Kannon seem more accessible rather than depict an image of the lofty ninth-century Buddhist prelate. Also part of the design of this small book is a tiny picture of the Okadera Kannon image, included on the top right of the page, which recalibrates focus on the Buddhist deity.

Crabs, Kindness, and the Mimurotoji Kannon In the same print series by Kunisada and Hiroshige II is another print that features the story of a different pious young girl.25 Located in Uji, Mimurotoji is the tenth stop on the Saigoku Kannon Thirty-Three Kannon pilgrimage route. In the same format as in all the prints, Hiroshige II’s framed panel shows a landscape with the temple’s buildings and Kunisada illustrates a legend about the power of the site’s Kannon image in the lower portion of the print (fig. 6.4).26 The text in the lower scene explains that a farm girl who lived in the village of Kahada—written 綺田—located in Yamashiro (present-day Kyoto Prefecture), 23

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Chamberlain, “Notes on Some Minor Japanese Religious Practices,” p. 360. Plate XXIV has a photograph of a pilgrim wearing offering slips around his neck. I am grateful to Gaynor Sekimori for pointing me to this article. Naitō, Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon rishōki, p. 4. The figure was taken from a book in a private collection, but Kobe University Library also has a copy. Although they are distinct works, because the illustrated Saigoku Kannon pilgrimage books published from 1885 to 1889 I refer to in this essay have similar titles, I abbreviate each and include the year for reference. The full titles are in the reference list. Marks, Japanese Woodblock Prints, pp. 300–301. Marks suggests that because eighteen designs are missing out of one hundred, the publisher Yamadaya Shōjirō 山田屋庄次 郎 (active ca. 1851–1866) may have halted production early because the series was not as popular as anticipated. The Mimurotoji print is illustrated on page 301. See also Katō, “Hiroshige, Toyokuni ga Kannon reigenki ni tsuite,” pp. 76–112. About Mimurotoji see “Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon junrei,” Nichibunken website, accessed April 21, 2018. http://www.nichibun.ac.jp/graphicversion/dbase/reikenki/saigoku/ index.html.

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figure 6.3 Okadera section of Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon rishōki, 1889, woodblock printed book, 16 cm Source: Private collection

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figure 6.4 Utagawa Kunisada and Utagawa Hiroshige II, Mimurotoji (no. 10) in Kannon reigenki, 1859, polychrome woodblock print, 36.4×25.5cm Source: Elizabeth Schultz collection

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was very devout in her practice of chanting the Lotus Sutra’s Kannon chapter. Because she fervently believed in the Mimurotoji Thousand-Armed Kannon, she never killed a living being. One day she came across a village man who was about to kill a crab, but she convinced him to let it go by giving him a dried fish in exchange. Later, when the girl’s father was plowing his field, he came across a snake trying to swallow a frog. He tried to convince the snake to give it up by saying in jest, “If you release the frog, I will give you my daughter.” The snake then spit out the frog and disappeared into a field. That night the snake, who had transformed into a man, said “As promised, I have returned.” In shock, the father asked him to come back in two or three days. During that time his daughter sealed herself within her room and chanted the Kannon chapter of the Lotus Sutra with a deep faith in the Mimurotoji Kannon. Then this man returned in snake form and smashed the door down with his tail—at which point a swarm of crabs suddenly appeared and sliced him to pieces with their claws. Referring to her village, the text concludes by saying that this was the place where Kanimanji 蟹満寺, which means “temple full of crabs,” was later built. Kanimanji is about twenty kilometers away from Mimurotoji and much better known for the crab story from which it takes its name.27 The scene in the print shows the girl concentrating on reading the sutra. Her incense burner has toppled onto the floor as the snake, in the guise of a man who looks like a kabuki actor, rushes into her room, only to be attacked by a swarm of crabs. While the story is a model for showing how directing one’s chanting of the Kannon chapter to the powerful Mimurotoji Kannon can save one from peril, it is also a moral tale about repaying kindness. If a mere crustacean can repay a merciful act, then humans certainly should be able to do the same. Multiple versions of the crab story have been circulating since at least the eighth century, with two early versions of the story found in Nihon ryōiki 日本霊 異記 (Miraculous stories from the Japanese Buddhist tradition) by the eighthcentury monk Kyōkai 景戒 (possibly read Keikai). In one, the girl takes off her clothes and exchanges them for the crab and in another it is the girl herself who

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The Mimurotoji website explains the connection to Kanimanji in the following way. The day after the incident, the girl from Kahada, which is the place where Kanimaniji is located, went to Mimurotoji. It started raining heavily and when she crossed the bridge, now called Yataibashi 蛇体橋 (Snake-shaped bridge), to the temple a big snake appeared in front of her. She prayed for the snake at the temple afterward. See “Hebi ni en no aru tera, Mimurotoji,” Mimurotoji website, accessed April 21, 2018. https://www.mimurotoji .com/history/snake.html. Interestingly, on the grounds of Kanimanji today is a modern stone Kannon statue dedicated to the salvation of crabs.

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strikes the bargain with the snake.28 The story has been retold and redrawn through the centuries with a great variety of details, such as the number of crabs and the number of items of clothing coming off. The production of illustrated books of Kannon tales boomed in the late nineteenth century.29 In the 1882 Saigoku, Bandō, Chichibu hyakuban Kannon reigenki 西国・坂東・秩父百番観音霊験記 (Record of one hundred miraculous Kannon from the Saigoku, Bandō, Chichibu pilgrimages), the artist Baidō Kunimasa 梅堂國政 (1848–1920), who was in Kunisada’s lineage, copied Kunisada’s image from the previously discussed print in an abbreviated form.30 Such borrowing may have been related to the fact that the editor of the book’s text, Mantei Ōga 万亭応賀 (also known as Hattori Ōga 服部応賀, 1818–1890), also edited the text in the print series by Kunisada and Hiroshige II. An 1888 illustration from the book Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon reigenki zue 西国三十三所 観音霊験記図会 (Illustrated record of the miracles of the Saigoku thirty-three Kannon sites) also uses a similar composition.31 Not all pictures of this subject rehashed the same imagery, such as the illustration from the 1885 Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon rishōki zue 西国三十三所観音利生記図会 (Illustrated record of divine favor of the Saigoku thirty-three Kannon sites), in which the girl peeks out from a box in her tattered room where she has been hiding, only to find the crabs attacking a huge hissing snake coiled around the box with its tongue out (fig. 6.7).32

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Watson, The Nihon ryōiki, pp. 79–80, 84–86. For a translation of the story in Konjaku monogatarishū 今昔物語集, see Tyler, Japanese Tales, pp. 156–157. See also Kamens, The Three Jewels, pp. 222–223. The Diet Library in Japan has over fifty related digitized books from the nineteenth century that are accessible. National Diet Library website, accessed September 27, 2016. http:// kindai.ndl.go.jp/. Mantei, Saigoku, Bandō, Chichibu hyakuban Kannon reigenki, p. 19. See National Diet Library Digital Collections database, accessed September 27, 2016. http://dl.ndl.go.jp/ info:ndljp/pid/818855/8?viewMode. Mantei Ōga (Hattori Ōga, or Hattori Kōzaburō 服部 孝三郎) was a comic writer of the day who rewrote the text based on the old temple stories. About Mantei Ōga see Mertz, Novel Japan, pp. 68–78. About Baidō see Newland 2010, pp. 5–26. Baidō took the name Kunisada III for a time. Sometimes Baidō is romanized as Umedō. Ryūgan, Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon reigenki zue, p. 29. See also, “Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon reigenki zue,” National Diet Library Digital Collections database, accessed September 27, 2016. http://kindai.ndl.go.jp/info:ndljp/pid/818822. Yoshimi, Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon rishōki zue, p. 13. See also “Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon rishōki zue,” National Diet Library Digital Collections database, accessed September 27, 2016. http://kindai.ndl.go.jp/info:ndljp/pid/818820.

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Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon rishōki from 1889 shows the girl calmly reading the sutra with the incense burner in place and the snake-man, whose identity is given away by his tail, looks like he is frozen in an awkward dance pose instead of being attacked by crabs (fig. 6.5). Indeed, the Saigoku stories were so popular in the late nineteenth century that they became the subject of kabuki plays.33 The books that illustrated tales of Saigoku pilgrimage temples, which were inexpensive and mass-produced, made the most of the paper by cramming the main story, details about the temple, and illustrations of the Kannon icons into every bit of available space on the pages. The widespread appeal of this theme is also apparent in an earlier image of the scene in the popular ukiyo-e print Kahada mura kōjo 綺田村孝女 (The Dutiful Woman of Kahada Village) from 1843 (Tenpō 天保 14), depicted by the eminent and prolific print artist Utagawa Kuniyoshi 歌川国芳 (1797–1861) (fig. 6.6).34 This print from the series Kokon honchō meijo hyaku den 古根本朝 名女百傳 (One hundred stories of famous women of our country, ancient and modern) does not mention Kannon, Mimurotoji, or even the Saigoku pilgrimage, yet does explain the girl’s devotion to the Kannon chapter of the Lotus Sutra and that Kanimanji was built at the location where the snake was buried. Although the story as adopted by Mimurotoji became a favorite for Saigoku pilgrimage publications, Kuniyoshi’s series must not have sold well since only five prints in the series of famous women were made. The print recycles the Buddhist story by combining images of an updated beautiful woman with the bizarre, but leaves out the violence. Instead of showing the frenzied crabs thwarting the snake, the crabs seem to be content to listen to the woman chanting the sutra.35 The Mimurotoji icon, which is only mentioned in passing in the Kunisada/ Hiroshige II print, is a significant secret image of a Thousand-Armed Kannon that is rarely shown. Theoretically, the Mimurotoji image was only to be shown once in thirty-three years, yet temple records indicate that viewings were more

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Naitō, Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon rishōki, p. 6. See also Hosoda, “Katsu Genzō no kabuki ‘Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon reigenki,’” pp. 179–215. There are earlier plays but the one by Katsu Genzō 勝諺蔵 (1844–1902) that is discussed in Hosoda’s article is from 1894. The village name has also been romanized as Kawada and Kabata. I am following the reading glossed on the prints. Ryūkatei Tanekazu 柳下亭種員 (1807–1858) wrote the text. Robinson, Kuniyoshi, pp. 37 and 39, mentions the series. Examples are located in Museum of Fine Arts Boston and the British Museum. See also Goldman, Israel Goldman Japanese Prints and Paintings, fig. 47.

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figure 6.5 Mimurotoji section of Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon rishōki, 1889, woodblock printed book, 16 cm Source: Private collection

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figure 6.6 Utagawa Kuniyoshi, Kahada mura kōjo from the series Kokon honchō meijo hyaku den, 1843, polychrome woodblock print, 36.4 ×25.4cm Source: BRITISH MUSEUM, GIFT OF PROF. ARTHUR R. MILLER TO THE AMERICAN FRIENDS OF THE BRITISH MUSEUM

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irregular.36 Nevertheless, its form is known through a wooden maedachi, made to resemble an anachronistic style of a seventh-century bronze figure, which stands in front of the closed tabernacle that holds the secret image.37 Since the temple burned down several times, there is a possibility that the icon hidden there now dates from the nineteenth century. Perhaps because the founding legend tells of a small bronze image and specifically states the size, an older two-armed Asuka-style bronze might have been used (or substituted) for the main image and then subsequently copied in the anachronistic form. Multiarmed esoteric images had not yet arrived in Japan in the seventh century. The text Jimon kōsōki 寺門高僧記 (Record of high-ranking Jimon branch monks), which was edited in the thirteenth century, provides two lists of the older numbering of Saigoku temples, one by the monk Gyōson 行尊 (1055 or 1057–1135) and another by a monk named Kakuchū 覚忠 (1118–1177), which state that the main image of Kannon at Mimurotoji is one shaku in size (approximately 30.3 centimeters), has a thousand arms, and came about from a vow made by Emperor Kōnin 光仁天皇 (709–782; r. 770–781) in the eighth century.38 36

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The temple website has a list of the openings. Before 2009, the previous opening was held in 1925. See “Hibutsu honzon kechien gokaichō,” Mimurotoji website, originally accessed September 27, 2016. Internet Archive website, accessed April 22, 2018. https://web.archive .org/web/20170922000611/www.mimurotoji.com/article.php?id=248. The secret image was shown in 2009 after eighty-four years and there was no photograph prior to that time. “Hibutsu honzon kechien gokaichō,” Mimurotoji website, originally accessed September 27, 2016. Internet Archive website, accessed April 22, 2018. https://web .archive.org/web/20170922000611/www.mimurotoji.com/article.php?id=248. There is no information on the date of the image but a small zushi dated 1659 (Manji 万治 2) appears on the temple website and the earliest recorded opening of the secret image was in 1489 (Entoku 延徳 1). From a small photograph the secret image appears to be an Asuka-style bronze (approx. 40 cm). Miyako meisho zue 都名所図会 (Famous views of the capital) from 1780 (An’ei 安永 9) claims that the main image is a standing purplish-gold ThousandArmed Kannon measuring eight sun (approximately 24.2cm). See Miyako meisho zue, vol. 5, p. 48. See also “Miyako meisho zue,” Nichibunken Digital Collections database, accessed September 27, 2016. http://www.nichibun.ac.jp/meisyozue/kyoto/jpg/jpg5/km _01_05_048.jpg. The purplish gold is called enbudaigon 閻浮提金 after gold that can be obtained from a river on the continent called Jambudvipa (Jp. Enbudai) in Buddhist cosmology. Jimon kōsōki, vol. 28, pt. 1, pp. 51 and 74. Only Gyōson, p. 51, mentions Emperor Kōnin. A later record called Jimon denki horoku 寺門伝記補録 (Supplemental records of the Jimon tradition), which was compiled by the Miidera 三井寺 monk Shikō 志晃 (1662– 1730), repeats the information on Mimurotoji. Jimon denki horoku, vol. 127, p. 250. Also cited in Uji shishi, vol. 5, p. 266. These records do not mention the number of arms, and, whether or not reliable, they repeat the tradition of noting the image’s small size.

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Even though access to the icon is extremely restricted, images of the Mimurotoji Kannon are recognizable in Saigoku pilgrimage ofuda.39 Nineteenthcentury ofuda from Mimurotoji show a two-armed Kannon image with one palm resting on the other across the chest and wearing a scarf with distinctive “fishtail” folds in the manner of a small Asuka period (ca. 590–650) bronze image.40 Although two-armed versions of Thousand-Armed Kannon exist, because this figure does not have any extra appendages, it certainly does not look like a typical Thousand-Armed Kannon. The 1885 Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon rishōki zue includes an illustration of the image as an awkwardly drawn multiarmed Kannon, but the text next to it counters that it is a Thousand-Armed Kannon with two arms (fig. 6.7).41 The Mimurotoji image is commonly shown in prints as a figure in a seventh-century style, something like the acclaimed seventh-century Yumedono Kannon, and while the discrepancy in the number of arms was occasionally commented upon, it does not appear to have been a problem for the temple.42 Instead of the crab story for the Mimurotoji section, Kannon reijōki zue gives the legend of the temple founding in relation to its Thousand-Armed Kannon icon, which is a small bronze that miraculously jumped out from the water onto the sleeve of the monk named Sōkyū 宋休 (dates unknown) and has been kept as a secret image and shown only once every three-three years since the Enryaku 延暦 era (782–806).43 The illustration shows the monk looking at the pond in shock just as the icon is about to emerge in a blaze of radiating light (fig. 6.8). 39

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See “Dai jūban Mimurotoji,” pp. 121–122. The article mentions that it is a two-armed bronze image of Thousand-Armed Kannon. The temple website has a photograph of a certificate of official examination by Okakura Tenshin 岡倉天心 (1862–1913) and others in 1882, which does not suggest a date for the image. There is also a copy of the abbreviated engi, but the text of the latter is too small to read in detail on the website. See “Hibutsu honzon kechien gokaichō,” Mimurotoji website, originally accessed September 27, 2016. Internet Archive website, accessed April 22, 2018. https://web.archive.org/web/20170922000611/ www.mimurotoji.com/article.php?id=248. For an outline of the history of the temple, see Kyoto Yamashiro jiin jinja daijiten, pp. 665–666. Flitsch, Tokens of the Path, pp. 108–113. Yoshimi, Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon rishōki zue, p. 13. Meiji zōho shoshū butsuzō zui, vol. 5, lists it as a Thousand-Armed Kannon and the illustration follows the earlier two-armed image in Butsuzō zui from 1783 (Tenmei 天明 3). Itō Takemi, Zōho shoshū butsuzō zui, p. 368. The accompanying text from 1886 says that it is a bronze image measuring eight sun, two bu (24.8 cm). MacWilliams, “Living Icons,” p. 71, translates a section of the story about Sōkyū from Kannon reijōki zue. See Kanezashi, Saikoku Bandō Kannon reijōki, pp. 73–74 and Kannon reijōki

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figure 6.7 Mimurotoji section of Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon rishōki zue, 1895, woodblock printed book, 13 cm Source: National Diet Library Digital Collections

With the exception of Kannon reijōki zue, most of the illustrated books mentioned above incorporate an image and description of the icon into the page format but the icons are not the focal point.44 The Kunisada/Hiroshige II print with its compelling image of the girl, her would-be attacker, and the crabs even completely omits the icon.

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zue, vol. 2, pp. 31–32. See “Kannon reijōki zue,” Waseda Library database, accessed September 27, 2016. http://archive.wul.waseda.ac.jp/kosho/ha04/ha04_01807/ha04_01807_0002/ ha04_01807_0002_p0027.jpg. For all the volumes of the text, see http://archive.wul.waseda .ac.jp/kosho/ha04/ha04_01807/. An alternate version of the legend proclaims that a monk named Gyōhyō 行表 (722–797) founded the temple in 770 (Hōki 宝亀 1) after Emperor Kōnin had a vision of a miraculous golden light. In this story, Kōnin sent a minister to find the source of the light, which was emanating from a pond in Uji. There the minister witnessed a large Thousand-Armed Kannon image fly out of the water and when he moved to grab it, it transformed into a smaller image with two arms. Later, Emperor Kanmu 桓武天皇 (737–806; r. 781–806)

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figure 6.8 Mimurotoji section of Kannon reijōki zue, 1845, woodblock printed book, 26cm Source: University of California, Los Angeles Library

Mermaid or Merman at Kannonshōji Kannonshōji, also called Kannonji 観音寺, has a founding legend that includes an unusual protagonist who is not necessarily female in the written texts, but appears so in some illustrations of the story. Kannonshōji, located on Mt. Kinugasa east of Lake Biwa in present-day Shiga Prefecture, is temple number thirtytwo on the Saigoku pilgrimage.45 Kunisada and Hiroshige II’s print of Kannonshōji in Kannon reigenki shows a dramatic scene from the temple’s founding legend. The text explains that as Prince Shōtoku 聖徳太子 (574–622) was passing by a field of rushes in the village of Ishidera (in Ōmi, present-day Shiga Prefecture) at sunset, a strange half-human and half-fish being appeared (fig. 6.9). The creature explained that because of the bad karma accrued from enjoying killing living beings as a fish-

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ordered that a larger image of sandalwood be carved and the one that emerged from the pond be placed inside it. See Kyburz, Ofuda, p. 179; and Itami, Mimurotoji, pp. 68–69. Lake Biwa is located about sixteen kilometers away.

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erman, she had been transformed into a mermaid. The creature then said that if the prince could take pity on her and build a temple to enshrine an image of the Thousand-Armed Kannon, her suffering would soon end, and she could be born in paradise. Right away the prince built the temple, carved an image of Thousand-Armed Kannon himself, and then held a seven-day ritual for her. On the seventh day she descended and said that because of the power of the prince’s compassion, she had already transformed and been born in Tōriten 忉 利天 (Sk. Trāyastriṃśa, Heaven of the Thirty-Three [Devas]). Thereupon she thanked the prince and flew away. Eating meat and fish went against Buddhist precepts, but hunting and fishing as professions were usually tolerated. In this version of the story, the mermaid confessed that she had enjoyed killing and this was the cause for her hideous transformation. The story warns us that we should obey the Buddhist precepts and not kill animals, but that if we do, we can pray to an illustrious Buddhist figure like Prince Shōtoku to intercede. Prince Shōtoku, who was heralded as one of the major early proponents of Buddhism in Japan and elevated to his own cult status, was considered to be an incarnation of Kannon. Shōtoku’s hagiography, said to have been compiled in the tenth century, is referred to as Shōtoku Taishi denryaku 聖徳太子傳暦.46 Subsequent illustrated and rewritten versions include an episode about how a being that was neither fish nor human appeared at a river in Ōmi Province. Officials in Settsu Province, which is the eastern part of present-day Hyōgo Prefecture far from Ōmi, later presented the creature to Shōtoku when he was forty-eight years old. Instead of a felicitous gift, Shōtoku regarded this strange thing as a sign of impending disaster and indeed fell ill not long afterward.47 The Shōtoku hagiography titled On’e denryakkai 御画傳略解 (Brief explanations of the illustrated biography), which was published in 1784 (Tenmei 天明 4), illustrates the mermaid out of water lying on a stretcher as the object of curiosity to some men who stare and point.48 Since Kannonshōji in Ōmi is located near Lake Biwa, its proximity to water afforded the imaginary link to the mermaid in the Shōtoku hagiography to

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Carr, Plotting the Prince, p. 194, n. 10. See Watanabe, Shōtoku Taishi setsuwa no kenkyū, pp. 439, 498–499; and Carr, Plotting the Prince, pp. 146 and 187. See Chaiklin, “Simian Amphibians,” about mermaids as ill omens in Japan, p. 243. On’e denryakkai, vol. 1, p. 17. A copy of this book is kept in Nagoya University Library. The set of fourteenth-century paintings in The Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art, known as Scenes from The Pictorial Biography of Prince Shōtoku (Shōtoku-Taishi eden 聖徳太子絵 伝), includes an image of this mermaid/merman.

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figure 6.9 Utagawa Kunisada and Utagawa Hiroshige II, Kannonji (no. 32) in Kannon reigenki, 1859, polychrome woodblock print, 36.4×25.5cm Source: Elizabeth Schultz collection

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create an auspicious network between the prince, Kannon, and the temple’s founding. Yet, while the original appearance of the mermaid was regarded as a bad omen, in an interesting twist, Kannonshōji recast the story into an uplifting tale of salvation and a positive event to demonstrate the sacrality of their site. But why is the mermaid illustrated as female? In English the Japanese word ningyo 人魚, lit. “person-fish,” is often translated as the gendered word “mermaid.” However, because no gender is specified in ningyo, Japanese artists and authors had the option to choose not only the gender of the mermaid/merman but also the level of allure—whether to depict a compelling beauty or frightening abomination. Perhaps because beautiful women were such prominent motifs in ukiyo-e woodblock prints at the time, the publishers advocated this as the best way to portray the creature. Moreover, to be born female brings difficulties. Readers of the text in the Kunisada/Hiroshige II print may have noticed that the mermaid was born into Tōriten, which was considered to be especially accommodating to women; notably, after Maya passed away she was visited there by her son Śākyamuni. Nevertheless, later illustrated books on the Saigoku pilgrimage that illustrate the Kannonshōji theme seem to vacillate between either lovely or creepy images of the mermaid/merman. After all, the function of these dramatic stories was to attract attention, which both types accomplished.49 In the eighteenth and nineteenth century, mermaid mummies were produced for various reasons, such as sideshow attractions or for sale to foreigners as exotic specimens.50 Kannonshōji formerly had its very own taxidermy mermaid, which a 1907 book proclaimed was the temple’s most prized treasure.51 But, sadly, in 1993, when the temple along with its Thousand-Armed Kannon sculpture went up in flames, the mummy was also destroyed in the fire. In 1987 Japanese religion scholar Ian Reader photographed the mermaid mummy on display at the temple and commented that it looked like a piece of wood.52 The

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For example, Yoshimi, Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon rishōki zue, pp. 34–35, and Ryūgan, Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon reigenki zue, pp. 72–73, use lovely mermaid images, while Naitō, Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon rishōki, p. 17, illustrates it as an odd kappa-like creature. Nagasaki Shiritsu Hakubutsukan, Nichi-Ran kōryū 400-shūnen kinen dai Dejima ten, pp. 158–161. For more on mermaid production, see Chaiklin, “Simian Amphibians.” Kanda and Maruyama, Nakayamadera kaneo yurai, p. 191. See Ian Reader’s 1987 photograph of the mermaid in “Mummified mermaid,” Nanzan Institute for Religion and Culture website, accessed September 27, 2016. http://nirc.nanzan ‑u.ac.jp/en/publications/photo‑archive/nc‑image/295/. Reader commented that it was

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temple and sculpture were rebuilt in 2007, but obtaining a new mermaid does not seem to be a priority.53 Within the Kannonshōji legend, although the construction of the main Kannon image and temple brought about the good merit to transform the mermaid, the temple’s icon is only mentioned in passing. The Thousand-Armed Kannon, which had been a secret image, is now lost, but the specter of a lovely mermaid or horrible merman brought to life through printed material still looms large in our imaginations.

The Female Kannon Icon of Nakayamadera A remarkable feature of the main Kannon icon of Nakayamadera (Saigoku number twenty-four) is the legend that it was modeled after a woman. Even though Kannon was regarded as a male bodhisattva in canonical Buddhist literature, there are many decidedly female images of the deity. The Kannon chapter of the Lotus Sutra explains that among the innumerable forms Kannon can take best to save sentient beings, some are female and specifically lists examples of nuns, wives of various statuses, laywomen, and girls.54 The Devadatta chapter (Daibadatta-hon 提婆達多品) of the Lotus Sutra also subverts the patriarchal system with the story of the brilliant eight-year old dragon girl who miraculously changes into a male body in the instant before attaining Buddhahood.55 Moreover, in visual representations, figures of White-Robed Kannon often appear to be female, but also sport mustaches. Chün-fang Yü has convincingly argued that popular notions of Guanyin (Kannon) as female were firmly rooted in Chinese culture by the eleventh century through stories and painted and sculpted images.56 The gendered identity of Guanyin brought from China resonated in Japan in large part with images known as Wife of Mr. Ma (Ch. Malangfu, Jp. Merōfu 馬郎婦) and Fish-Basket Kannon (Ch. Yulan

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labeled as a miira ningyo ミイラ人魚 (mummy mermaid). For more examples at Japanese temples see: “Mermaid Mummies,” Monster Mummies of Japan website, accessed September 27, 2016. http://monstermummies.wordpress.com/2010/02/03/mermaid ‑mummies/; and “Richard Freeman: The Preserved Yokai of Japan,” Still on the Track website, accessed September 27, 2016. http://forteanzoology.blogspot.com/2009/06/richard ‑freeman‑preserved‑yokai‑of.html. For a short article on Kannonshōji see “Dai sanjūniban Kannonshōji,” pp. 154–156. Watson, The Lotus Sutra, pp. 301–302; and Miaofa lianhua jing (Jp. Myōhō rengekyō 妙法 蓮華経), T 262 9:56–58. Watson, The Lotus Sutra, pp. 187–189. Yü, Kuan-yin, p. 6. See also Li, “Gendered Materialization.”

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Guanyin, Jp. Gyoran Kannon 魚藍観音), which are illustrated, categorized, and labeled in the seventeenth-century printed iconographic manual Butsuzō zui 仏像図彙.57 The stories of these two figures have the same premise of a woman who bribed men to memorize the Lotus Sutra, as well as other shorter sutras, in exchange for the possibility of sex, but die before following through with the promise.58 In spite of the motivations, the moral of the tales is that many men were compelled by them to learn the dharma. The icon of Nakayamadera has a female identity that is a completely different type from usual tropes. The Indian queen, Śrīmālā (Shōman Bunin 勝 鬘夫人), for whom the Śrīmālādevi siṃhanāda sūtra (Ch. Shengman jing, Jp. Shōmangyō 勝鬘經, Lion’s Roar of Queen Śrīmālā) was named, was said to have lived at the time of Śākyamuni Buddha.59 After she encountered Śākyamuni, Śrīmālā converted to Buddhism and then Śākyamuni empowered her to explain the dharma. Her sutra provides the authority that all people, including women, have the potential to become Buddhas. In Japanese Buddhism, Queen Śrīmālā is considered to be a previous incarnation of Prince Shōtoku, who is believed to have lectured on her sutra in the seventh century, and the queen’s identity was woven into Prince Shōtoku’s hagiography. Shōtoku, who was also regarded as an incarnation of Kannon, gained a vital link to Śākyamuni through the connection to the queen.60 The association with Queen Śrīmālā has become an important feature in the life of the Nakayamadera Kannon and continues to be promoted by the temple.61 Nakayamadera was certainly not the only temple to promote a royal female as a manifestation of their main Kannon icon. As an example, in her study of Hokkeji 法華寺 convent in Nara, Lori Meeks examined the evolution of the belief, recorded beginning in the twelfth century,

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Fowler, “Kannon Imagery in the Life of the Seventeenth-Century Manual Butsuzō zui.” Yü, Kuan-yin, pp. 419–438, discusses the variations in the legends of the Fish-Basket Kannon. Shengman jing (Jp. Shōmangyō 勝鬘経; Sk. Śrīmālādevi siṃhanāda sūtra), T 353 12:217a– 223b. See also Wayman and Wayman, The Lion’s Roar of Queen Śrīmālā. Carr, Plotting the Prince, pp. 47–50. Inoue, “Hyōgo, Nakayamadera Jūichimen Kannon ryūzō,” p. 61; Washizuka, “Nakayamadera to Sōōbuji no Jūichimen Kannon zō,” p. 60; and Ikawa, “Hyōgo Nakayamadera no Jūichimen Kannon zō,” p. 150, refer to the legend that the image is regarded as a portrait of the Indian queen. Ikawa explains that the reference to India accounts for the unusual style of the image. See also, Nakayamadera website, accessed September 27, 2016. http://www .nakayamadera.or.jp/top.html. Kannon reijōki zue mentions that the image was made in Shaeikoku (Sk. Śrāvastī), but does not mention the queen. See Kanezashi, Saikoku Bandō Kannon reijōki, p. 163; and Kannon reijōki zue, vol. 2, pp. 31–32.

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that the temple’s ninth-century image of Eleven-Headed Kannon was a manifestation of Empress Kōmyō 光明皇后 (701–760).62 This association asserted Kōmyō as divine, created a visible memorial to her as the temple’s founder at the site, and showed how a significant female identity could be a positive force within a Buddhist institution. At Nakayamadera, Śrīmālā’s embodiment in the Kannon image functions as one way to strengthen auspicious connections between Shōtoku and female believers. Moreover, the association with a powerful female Buddhist leader enhances Nakayamadera’s focus on prayers directed to women. To consider how the temple promoted the icon’s female identity, we must again look to printed literature and imagery. Many of the small nineteenthcentury ofuda offered by the temple, such as the print from Nakayamadera in a private collection, have text corresponding to the legend (fig. 6.10). This example, which is not unusual, reads from right top to bottom, left top to bottom, and then across the bottom from right to left: “Shōtoku Taishi zenshō 聖 徳太子前生” (Prince Shōtoku’s previous incarnation); “Shaeikoku ratchōzō 舎 衛国剌彫像” (carved image from Śrāvastī); “Nakayamadera 中山寺.” The word “Shaeikoku” (Sk. Śrāvastī), which was the capital city of the ancient Indian kingdom of Kośala where Queen Śrīmālā lived, alludes to her legend and the image’s special gendered identity.63 Temple texts from the seventeenth century, such as Nakayamadera engi 中山寺縁起 (Legend of the founding of Nakayamadera), and those written later reinforce the legend of the icon’s connection to Shaeikoku.64 However, an examination of temple documents reveals that it 62

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Meeks, Hokkeji, pp. 47–52. Interestingly, as another comparison to the Nakayamadera Eleven-Headed Kannon, the Hokkeji Eleven-Headed Kannon also has an unusual lotusleaf halo. Hokkeji also offer haraobi 腹帯 (special protective sashes for pregnancy). About the Hokkeji Kannon image see Itō Nobuo, Tōdaiji to Shin’yakushiji, p. 142. Moreover, the first thing this entry, which is in an art history book, mentions is the image’s identity as Kōmyō. Another possible reading for this unusual phrase 剌彫像 is ratsuborizō. See print in Petzold collection, “Nakayamadera jūichimen kannon sanzon zō,” Harvard University Library database, accessed November 21, 2017. https://ids.lib.harvard.edu/ids/view/32034914 ?buttons=y. Harvard University Library’s print of the Nakayamadera triad, which was likely made in the nineteenth century, is larger (50.7×27.5cm) than a typical ofuda of handheld size and mounted as a single image on a hanging scroll and omits the text that refers to the queen. Nakayamadera owns an Edo-period woodblock print of the three Kannon with more text that explains Shaeikoku and that this was the best image in Japan to lead to future salvation. See Daihonzan Nakayamadera, Nakayamadera no bunkazai: Dai nikan, p. 199. Daihonzan Nakayamadera, Nakayamadera no bunkazai: Dai nikan, pp. 211 and 225.

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is not until the early twentieth century that the icon’s female identity is clearly asserted. The 1912 record Shiunzan Nakayamadera ki 紫雲山中山寺記 (Records of Nakayamadera, Purple Cloud Mountain) has the fantastic claim that in order to save suffering women Queen Śrīmālā made the Eleven-Headed Kannon in the image of herself at age nineteen and she also made a separate vow to help women with pregnancy and safe child delivery.65 Beyond Saigoku, other pilgrimage icons with female identities have similarly captured the attention of worshippers. An undated image of Gyoran Kannon, which has a legend claiming it was brought from China, is kept as a secret image at Gyoranji 魚藍寺 in Tokyo. Gyoranji was founded in the seventeenth century and the early nineteenth-century gazetteer Edo meisho zue 江戸名所図会 (Famous views of Edo) illustrates the temple as a thriving Edo destination.66 Even though Kinshōji 金昌寺 (temple number four on the Chichibu Kannon pilgrimage) has a main image of Eleven-Headed Kannon and a plethora of eighteenth-century stone Buddhist images, it is the temple’s image of Jibo Kannon 慈母観音 (Compassionate Mother Kannon) that attracts the most attention. The Jibo Kannon, also known as Kosodate Kannon 子育観音 (ChildRearing Kannon), is carved in stone in the form of a nursing mother with exposed breasts. Its lotus-petal base bears an inscription stating that the Edo merchant Yoshinoya Hanzaemon 吉野屋半左衛門 (dates unknown) donated it in 1792 (Kansei 寛政 4). Popular, but extremely unlikely accounts for the striking form of this sculpture include one that the ukiyo-e artist Kitagawa Utamaro 喜多川歌麿 (1753–1806) made the model drawing for the image and another that it is an image of Mary (Maria Kannon マリア観音) made by hidden Christians during the prohibition of their religion in Japan.67 The Jibo Kannon’s surprising form, as well as its accessibility in front of the hall, contributes to the temple’s reputation as an efficacious location for help with childbirth.

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Nakayamadera, Shiunzan Nakayamadera ki, pp. 55–59, 117. See also “Shiunzan Nakayamadera ki,” National Diet Library Digital Collections database, accessed September 27, 2016. http://kindai.ndl.go.jp/info:ndljp/pid/819342/95. See Fister, “Merōfu Kannon,” pp. 423–424; and Edo meisho zue, vol. 3, p. 43. See “Edo meisho zue,” Waseda Library database, accessed September 27, 2016. http://archive.wul.waseda .ac.jp/kosho/ru04/ru04_05105/ru04_05105_0003/ru04_05105_0003_p0043.jpg. While the image is kept hidden by the temple, its maedachi is visible. Ōnishi, “Kinshōji no Jibo Kannon,” p. 31. See also Collcutt, “The Image of Kannon,” pp. 220– 221. In addition to the inscription, there is also an unexplained image of a frog on the lotus-petal base. Some believe that in Japanese the word for frog “kaeru” sounds similar to St. Michael, “mikaeru,” which is part of the lore of this image’s purported Christian identity. The Kannon image measures approximately eighty-eight centimeters in height.

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Eleven-headed Kannon pilgrimage print from Nakayamadera, 19th c., monochrome woodblock print, 10.5×19.5cm Source: Private collection

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Returning to the Nakayamadera Kannon image, this standing figure of a wooden Eleven-Headed Kannon is kept as a secret image, but opened to the public on the eighteenth day of every month (fig. 6.11). The broad, rhythmic patterning of the skirt, full face and chest, and thick hairstyle are consistent with early Heian period style. Most scholars propose that the image was made sometime during the ninth to tenth centuries and all agree that it has an unusual form.68 In addition to the awkward sway of the figure that leans to the right with its left hip jutting out, it also has extremely arched eyebrows and penetrating eyes that slant downward at the outer edges with pupils inlaid with iron rivets. Even though the image’s distinctive large, elaborately carved mandorla made in 1702 (Genroku 元禄 15) is the kind of accessory scholars tend to overlook, it became the defining feature for representations of this image in ofuda.69 Another extraordinary feature of the Nakayamadera Kannon, which is also depicted in many ofuda, is that it is included in a triad made up of three sculptures of the same deity—Eleven-Headed Kannon—in which two smaller attendants flank a larger figure. The Kannon on the right stands on a lion base and the Kannon on the left stands on an elephant base, which mimics the conventional construction of a Shaka triad with the two bodhisattvas Fugen 普賢 (Sk. Samantabhadra) and Monju 文殊 (Sk. Mañjuśrī) who have corresponding animal vehicles. The main Kannon is also unusual because it stands on a base made up of two writhing three-dimensional dragons.70 The mid-seventeenth century Nakayamadera engi proclaims that each of the three Kannon stand in for eleven and together they add to thirty-three, which is the special number of guises for Kannon enumerated in the Lotus Sutra.71 Since thirty-three is 68

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For photographs of the main Kannon and one of the attendants, see Kuno, Kannon sōkan, figs. 281, 282, pp. 137, 265; and Ikawa, “Hyōgo Nakayamadera no Jūichimen Kannon zō,” pp. 145–153. See also McCallum, “The Evolution of the Buddha,” p. 338. Inoue, “Hyōgo, Nakayamadera Jūichimen Kannon ryūzō,” p. 154, argues that the sculpture dates from the eighth century. About the mandorla, see Ikawa, “Hyōgo Nakayamadera no Jūichimen Kannon zō,” p. 151; Washizuka, “Nakayamadera to Sōōbuji no Jūichimen Kannon zō,” p. 27; and Inoue, “Hyōgo, Nakayamadera Jūichimen Kannon ryūzō,” p. 62. Ikawa and Washizuka do not mention how the image was dated, but Inoue mentions that the base and mandorla were replaced when the image was repaired and that there is an inscription inside the lotus base dated to 1702 (Genroku 15). For another example of an ofuda that shows the triad, see Kyburz, Ofuda, p. 193. The reference to Queen Śrīmālā discussed above is not given in this print. Nakayamadera engi, p. 318. See also Daihonzan Nakayamadera, Nakayamadera no bunkazai: Dai nikan, p. 211.

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Eleven-headed Kannon, 9th c., wood, 151.3 cm, Nakayamadera, Takarazuka City Source: Nakayamadera

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also the number of pilgrimage stops on the Saigoku route, worshipping before the triad can be a way to encompass the whole pilgrimage at once. The three images were not originally a set. The two attendant figures were made in an elegant style of the Kamakura period (1185–1333): one has an inscription with the date 1244 (Kangen 寛元 2) and artist name Kaisei 快成 (ca. mid thirteenth century), and the other, which it resembles, is undated but from the same period.72 Both were therefore made long after the larger main Kannon image. The attributions of these two images to the famed sculptors Unkei 運慶 (ca. 1150–1223) and Tankei 湛慶 (1173–1256) found in Nakayamadera engi are incorrect, yet they acknowledge awareness that the attendant images in the triad were made more recently than the main image. Nakayamadera and its Kannon are well known for helping mothers with both childbirth and crying babies.73 In Japan requests for Kannon’s assistance for safe childbirth were made as early the twelfth century.74 The Osan oinori mokuroku 御産御祈目録, a record of imperial births and birth rituals, noted that in 1335 (Kenmu 建武 2) sutras were offered at the Saigoku Thirty-Three Kannon pilgrimage temples for the safe delivery of the child of Emperor Godaigo 後醍醐天皇 (1288–1339; r. 1318–1339) and his empress, Shinmuromachi-in 新室町院 (1311–1337).75 While Nakayamadera was not singled out in the record, it was included within this prestigious group of temples on the pilgrimage route. On the grounds of Nakayamadera today, hard evidence for safe birth rituals is found east of the Amida hall as a large stone trough known as the “Anzan chōzubachi 安産手水鉢” (Safe birth hand-washing basin). According to the 1912 Shiunzan Nakayamadera ki, although no one knows when it began or who named it, there is an old legend that if a women of the village who was experiencing a difficult birth prayed to Kannon and took water from the basin, she

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Ikawa, “Hyōgo Nakayamadera no Jūichimen Kannon zō,” p. 152. These images have replacement lotus leaf head halos. Daihonzan Nakayamadera, Nakayamadera no bunkazai: Dai nikan, pp. 6–13. About Nakayamadera see “Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon junrei,” Nichibunken website, accessed September 27, 2016. http://www.nichibun.ac.jp/graphicversion/dbase/reikenki/ saigoku/index.html. Kuly, “Religion, Commerce, and Commodity,” pp. 152–153 discusses contemporary birth rituals at Nakayamadera. See Fowler, Accounts and Images of Six Kannon in Japan, ch. 1, about the rituals related to safe birth and Kannon in the twelfth century. There is even earlier evidence for rituals dedicated to Kannon to help conceive children from the tenth century. Isaka, Negai, p. 23; Osan oinori mokuroku, vol. 33, pt. 2, p. 504; and Nakayamadera, Shiunzan Nakayamadera ki, p. 118.

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would instantly deliver her child safely. Now many women attempt this. Amazingly, the text also claims that the basin was recycled: before it was transformed into a ritual object for safe birth, it was one half of a stone coffin for King Oshikuma 忍熊王, son of the legendary second century CE leader Chūai 仲哀 posthumously referred to as an emperor.76 In 1926 temple donors commemorated the safe-birth basin by creating a stone fence around it and stone marker for it with their names inscribed.77 While it is no longer used today, the basin has a prominent place on the temple grounds where a modern metal sign conveys its history to visitors. Nakayamadera’s birth rituals are recorded in the eighteenth century, but they did not seem to be the temple’s emphasis.78 The female poet Yokoyama Katsurako 横山桂子 (1800–1855) described in her diary a pilgrimage she took sometime between 1820 and 1830, when she travelled from Osaka to Nakayamadera. She mentions seeing the Nakayamadera Kannon icon, but she was clearly more intrigued by the local inns, flowers, and baths and says nothing of childbirth rituals.79 In contrast, about thirty kilometers east of Nakayamadera is a temple called Tōritenjōji 忉利天上寺, which was much better known for birth rituals.80 One exemplary citation, found in the eighteenthcentury gazetteer Settsu meisho zue 攝津名所図会 (Famous views of Settsu), explains Tōritenjōji’s role in helping women with childbirth.81 Isaka Yasuji, who researched the roots of the belief in Nakayamadera’s ability to aid childbirth, proposed that Nakayamadera eclipsed Tōritenjōji’s role as the area’s birth ritual center in the early twentieth century because it had a higher status as a Saigoku pilgrimage temple and because it became more accessible.82 Nakayamadera has a lower elevation than Tōritenjōji, located high on Mt. Maya, and 76

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Nakayamadera, Shiunzan Nakayamadera ki, pp. 31–34. Daihonzan Nakayamadera, Nakayamadera no bunkazai: Dai nikan, pp. 545, 529, claims that, because of the shape and the carving, the basin (30 × 190cm), which had been previously regarded as made in the Kofun period, is actually medieval. There is a Kofun tomb near Nakayamadera. Daihonzan Nakayamadera, Nakayamadera no bunkazai: Dai ichikan, p. 187, offers the opinion that the basin was probably made after the Heian period and not originally a stone coffin. See Isaka, Negai, pp. 31 and 36, for the inscription on the fence. Isaka, Negai, pp. 18–19. The journey is discussed in Daihonzan Nakayamadera, Nakayamadera no bunkazai: Dai ichikan, pp. 82–83. Isaka, Negai, pp. 18–19. Isaka cites a few different records on the birth practices of Tōritenjōji, which is located on Mt. Maya—named for Śākyamuni’s mother. See Settsu meisho zue, vol. 9, pp. 48–49. For other eighteenth-century references to Nakayamadera’s birth rituals see Isaka, Negai, p. 23. Isaka, Negai, p. 33.

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once the railroad was constructed in 1910 with a stop nearby, increasingly easier access helped Nakayamadera to become an even more popular destination for childbirth rituals.83 The greatest stimulus for the reputation of successful birth rituals at Nakayamadera is described in the temple record Shiunzan Nakayamadera ki from 1912, which explains that Nakayama Yoshiko 山中慶子 (1836–1907), the mother of Emperor Meiji 明治天皇 (1852–1912; r. 1867–1912), received a haraobi 腹帯 (special protective sash for pregnancy) from the temple before his birth in 1852 (Kan’ei 寛永 5).84 In 1918, Gonda Raifu’s 権田雷斧 (1847–1934) book Shinkō ni itaru no michi 信仰に至るの道 (Roads leading to faith) promoted Nakayamadera as an efficacious destination for childbirth ritual by citing the successful birth of Emperor Meiji.85 Gonda further explained that at Nakayamadera, haraobi for birth rituals were referred to as kane no o 鉦緒 (gong rope).86 The use of the word kane no o in this context refers to the practice of tying a haraobi to the gong suspended in front of the Kannon hall and using it to ring the bell as a direct line of contact to Kannon before using it to wrap the expectant mother. As in the case of Emperor Meiji’s birth, after a successful birth, the haraobi is returned to the temple with an offering of gratitude. Today at Nakayamadera, the most significant ritual provisions for sale are haraobi, which were traditionally worn by mothers beginning in the fifth month of pregnancy. Although the medical benefits are usually no longer touted, these sashes symbolically wrap the fetus in religiously charged protection.87 As haraobi decline in fashion, an alternative custom at other temples 83

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See “Nakayamadera,” Nihon rekishi chimei taikei, Japan Knowledge database, accessed September 27, 2016. See Nakayamadera’s website for the temple’s view of its history as place for childbirth rituals, “Nakayamadera ryaku engi,” accessed September 27, 2016. http://www.nakayamadera.or.jp/history.html. Isaka, Negai, p. 24, has noted that a temple official went to Nakayamadera to obtain a haraobi for Nakayama Yoshiko because he believed that Nakayamadera had a connection with her family name. Nakayamadera, Shiunzan Nakayamadera ki, discusses the haraobi tradition (pp. 117–127) and describes Nakayama Yoshiko’s safe delivery (pp. 168–169). Gonda, Shinkō ni itaru no michi, pp. 174–175. Gonda, Shinkō ni itaru no michi, p. 174, explains that the haraobi used for Emperor Meiji’s birth was returned to the temple afterward. Alternate characters and a different reading for kane no o can be kaneo 鐘緒, which is the title of a Nakayamadera legend about a thoughtless woman whose hair gets caught in a gong rope and then is released though the power of Kannon’s compassion. See Hosoda, “Katsu Genzō no kabuki ‘Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon regenki,’ ” pp. 202–203; and Naitō, Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon rishōki, p. 13. See Lindsey, Fertility and Pleasure, pp. 123–127; Reader and Tanabe, Practically Religious, p. 317.

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and shrines is to write prayers for safe delivery or messages of appreciation for a successful birth on commercially produced bibs and leave them on altars in trays.88 Pregnancy can be one of the most anxious times in life and Nakayamadera is certainly not the only place where women can seek assistance. Suitengū Shrine 水天宮 in Tokyo is another institution well known for marketing haraobi.89 As a shrine, there is no connection to the Buddhist deity Kannon now, but some of the small paper charms offered for safe childbirth there, which are made to be worn inside the haraobi, are printed with Sanskrit seed syllables for the Five Wisdom Buddhas (Gochi Nyorai 五智如来).90 In addition, at present, alongside several other selections for safe childbirth, the shrine sells tiny prints with this slightly blurry five-character design, which is no longer acknowledged as Buddhist, and suggests that they be torn up and ingested with water in a particular order to bring about good physical health. As a related phenomenon, the Ōura Kannondō 大浦観音堂, a Kannon hall near north Lake Biwa, displays an image of Kannon that wears a haraobi that is printed with its Kannon ofuda image (fig. 6.12). The temple still owns the woodblock, carved in 1719 (Kyōhō 享保 4), which includes text that explains the temple’s fundraising campaign effort in 1711 (Hōei 宝永 8).91 Today the Kannon image, which dates to the twelfth century, encourages the consumption of haraobi by wearing a traditional long sash type haraobi that displays the print. This icon together with its printed haraobi demonstrates the potency of layering of ritual objects. This type of haraobi with its imprint of the temple’s Kannon ofuda, which could be worn in sustained bodily contact, results in personal connections (kechien) for women that could be considered even more physically direct than those created by the act of tying a haraobi onto a bell in front of a Kannon hall.

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See Fowler, Accounts and Images of Six Kannon in Japan, pp. 111–112, for bibs offered at Shingūji 新宮寺, which is a temple known for helping women with childbirth. See Kuly, “Religion, Commerce, and Commodity,” and the Suitengū website (http://www .suitengu.or.jp/), accessed September 27, 2016, about contemporary practice. “Nanahyaku nijūnen mae no Suitengū omamori hangi,” pp. 13–14. The article includes photographs of the print block with the incised date of 1219 (Jōkyū 承久 1). See Nagahama-shi Nagahamajō Rekishi Hakubutsukan, Biwako, Nagahama no hotoketachi, pp. 69–73. The text on the print block does not specifically say it was used for haraobi, and I cannot confirm when the custom of tying one on the image began.

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Eleven-Headed Kannon wearing a haraobi, 12th c., wood, 149 cm, Ōura Kannondō, Nagahama City Source: Ōura Kannondō

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Conclusion The four Saigoku sites of Okadera, Mimurotoji, Kannonshōji, and Nakayamadera clearly demonstrate how printed objects were used to create karmic bonds between both female and male worshippers and Kannon icons. An effective step to enhance the relationship to Kannon for women, as well as men, would be to visit one or more places devoted to Kannon worship, such as the temples on the Saigoku Kannon pilgrimage route. Although personal viewing of the icons is most desirable, temple icons are usually invisible even to the pilgrim who makes the journey to the temple. The four sites discussed show how some sort of somatic contact, such as walking, eating, wearing, and perhaps reading Buddhist texts or even shopping for ofuda and other temple goods, was important for people to sense a deity that cannot be seen. By making the physical effort of walking the Saigoku pilgrimage, pilgrims feel transformed by the grueling but exhilarating experience. Eating paper imprinted with sacred images or texts allows for direct and embodied contact with Kannon, such as the girl who ingested the talisman from Rokkakudō to deliver her child safely. Because wearing a haraobi from an empowered Kannon site was deemed successful for Emperor Meiji’s mother, Nakayamadera came to be considered one of the most efficacious places to go for anxious expectant mothers. Purchasing an ofuda of Kannon was a significant way to engage and possess the essence of a temple’s precious icon, and while temples created votive merchandise for all pilgrims, the purpose of the haraobi, which can include an auspicious print, was specifically geared for women’s use. Gender was utilized within prints to promote the efficacy of Kannon icons, such as the employment of an image of a beautiful mermaid who implores Prince Shōtoku to construct a Thousand-Armed Kannon icon at Kannonshōji. At Nakayamadera, its ofuda displays the text “Shaeikoku,” which refers to Queen Śrīmālā’s birthplace, Śrāvastī in India, in order to allude to the alternate female identity of the Eleven-Headed Kannon icon as Queen Śrīmālā. Then in the early twentieth century when the temple came to highlight birth rituals, temple literature promoted the gender of the Nakayamadera Kannon’s alternate identity to enhance the connection to women. In contrast to the temple-sanctioned ofuda images of Kannon, the prints of Saigoku legends made and sold offsite through commercial enterprises, such as the mid-nineteenth-century print series Kannon reigenki by Kunisada and Hiroshige II, were created for popular consumption, but they also served to fuel pious ritual activity and stimulate the retelling of miracle tales. In these prints, as well as in the numerous illustrated books on the Saigoku Kannon pilgrimage from the nineteenth century,

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a pattern emerges where temples complemented their more traditional founding legends by rewriting and redrawing more accessible, portable, and updated versions to attract worshippers that often provided impressive female protagonists as role models for Buddhist women.

References Primary Sources Bird, Isabella L. Unbeaten Tracks in Japan: An Account of Travels on Horseback in the Interior. New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1881. Chamberlain, Basil Hall. “Notes on Some Minor Japanese Religious Practices.” Royal Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland 22 (1893): pp. 355–370. Edo meisho zue 江戸名所図会. Edited by Saitō Chōshu 斎藤長秋 (1737–1799) et al. Edo: Tokyo Shoho, 1836. Gonda Raifu 権田雷斧. Shinkō ni itaru no michi 信仰に至るの道. Tokyo: Jitsugyōnonihonsha, 1918. Jimon denki horoku 寺門伝記補録. In Vol. 127 of Dai Nihon Bukkyō zensho 大日本仏教 全書. Tokyo: Meicho Fukyūkai, 1986. Jimon kōsōki 寺門高僧記. In Vol. 28:1 of Zoku gunsho ruijū 続群書類從. Tokyo: Zoku Gunsho Ruijū Kanseikai, 1958. Kannon reijōki zue 観音霊塲記図会. 5 vols. Edited by Tsujimoto Kijō 辻本基定 (dates unknown). Kyoto: Sakaiya Nihē, 1845. Kannon gyō ryakuzukai 観音経略図解. Edited by Shōtei Kinsui 松亭金水 (1797–1863). Illustrations by Katsushika Isai 葛飾為斎 (1821–1880). Edo: Suharaya Heisuke, 1862. Posted on The World of the Japanese Illustrated Book: The Gerhard Pulverer Collection. http://pulverer.si.edu/node/368/title/1, accessed September 27, 2016. Mantei Ōga 万亭応賀. Saigoku, Bandō, Chichibu hyakuban Kannon reigenki 西国・坂 東・秩父百番観音霊験記. Tokyo: Kodama Yakichi, 1882. Meiji zōho shoshū butsuzō zui 明治增補諸宗佛像圖彙. 5 vols. Edited by Kajikawa Tatsuji 梶川辰二 (dates unknown). Kyoto: Kajikawa Tatsuji, 1886. Miyako meisho zue 都名所図会. Edited by Akisato Ritō 秋里籬島 (active 1780–1814). Kyoto: Daihan Shorin, 1804. First published in 1780. Naitō Hikoichi 内藤彦一 (active late-19th century). Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon rishōki 西国三十三所観音利生記. Kyoto: Naitō Hikoichi, 1889. Nakayamadera 中山寺, ed. Shiunzan Nakayamadera ki 紫雲山中山寺記. Nakayamadera-mura: Nakayamadera, 1912. Nakayamadera engi 中山寺縁起. In Vol. 27:2 of Zoku gunsho ruijū. Tokyo: Zoku Gunsho Ruijū Kanseikai, 1957. On’e denryakkai 御画傳略解. Sessensai 雪仙齋. Osaka: Tsurugaya Kyuhē, 1784.

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Osan oninori mokuroku 御産御祈目録. In Vol. 33:2 of Zoku gunsho ruijū. Tokyo: Zoku Gunsho Ruijū Kanseikai, 1958. Ryūgan Kōshi 柳岸居士, ed. Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon reigenki zue 西国三十三所観 音霊験記図会. Osaka: Hakiaidō, 1888. Settsu meisho zue 摂津名所図会. Edited by Akisato Ritō. Naniwa: Sekigyōho, 1796–1798. Posted on The World of the Japanese Illustrated Book: The Gerhard Pulverer Collection. http://pulverer.si.edu/node/1153/title, accessed December 11, 2017. T = Taishō shinshū daizōkyō 大正新脩大蔵経. 100 vols. Ed. Takakusu Junjirō 高楠順次 郎. Tokyo: Taishō Issaikyō Kankōkai and Daizō Shuppan, 1924–1932. Online version: SAT Daizōkyō Text Database (SAT 大正新修大蔵経テキストデータベース). University of Tokyo. http://21dzk.l.u‑tokyo.ac.jp/SAT/index_en.html. Yoshimi Jūzaburō 吉見重三郎, ed. Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon rishōki zue 西国三十 三所観音利生記図会. Kyoto: Fūgetsudō, 1885.

Secondary Sources Ambros, Barbara. “Liminal Journeys: Pilgrimages of Noblewomen in Mid-Heian Japan.” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 24:3–4 (1997), pp. 301–345. Carr, Kevin. Plotting the Prince: Shōtoku Cults and the Mapping of Medieval Japanese Buddhism. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2012. Chaiklin, Martha. “Simian Amphibians: The Mermaid Trade in Early Modern Japan.” In Large and Broad: The Dutch Impact on Early Modern Asia: Essays in Honor of Leonard Blussé, ed. Yoko Nagazumi, pp. 241–273. Tokyo: Toyo Bunko, 2010. Collcutt, Martin. “The Image of Kannon as Compassionate Mother in Meiji Art and Culture.” In Challenging Past and Present: The Metamorphosis of Nineteenth-Century Japanese Art, ed. Ellen P. Conant, pp. 197–224. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2006. “Dai jūban Mimurotoji 第十番三室戸寺.” Daihōrin 大法輪 (May 1987), pp. 121–122. “Dai sanjūniban Kannonshōji 第三十二番観音正寺.” Daihōrin 大法輪 (May 1987), pp. 154–156. Daihonzan Nakayamadera 大本山中山寺, ed. Nakayamadera no bunkazai: Dai ichikan, ronbun hen 中山寺の文化財: 第一卷, 論文編. Hyōgo-ken Takarazuka-shi: Daihonzan Nakayamadera, 2013. Daihonzan Nakayamadera 大本山中山寺, ed. Nakayamadera no bunkazai: Dai nikan, shiryō hen 中山寺の文化財: 第二卷, 資料編. Hyōgo-ken Takarazuka-shi: Daihonzan Nakayamadera, 2007. Earhart, Byron. “Nihon no mamorifuda in mirareru mekanizumu to purosesu 日本の守 り札に見られるメカニズムとプロセス.” In Nihon no gofu bunka 日本の護符文化, ed. Chijiwa Itaru 千々和到, pp. 69–78. Tokyo: Kōbundō, 2010. Eck, Diana L. Darśan: Seeing the Divine Image in India. 3rd edition. New York: Columbia University Press, 1998.

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Faure, Bernard. The Power of Denial: Buddhism, Purity, and Gender. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2003. Fister, Patricia. “Merōfu Kannon and Her Veneration in Zen and Imperial Circles in Seventeenth Century Japan.” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 34:2 (2007), pp. 416– 442. Flitsch, Mareile, ed. Tokens of the Path—Japanese Devotional and Pilgrimage Images: The Wilfried Spinner Collection (1854–1918). Stuttgart and Zurich: Arnoldsche Art Publishers and Ethnographic Museum at the University of Zurich, 2014. Formanek, Susanne. “Pilgrimage in the Edo Period: Forerunner of Domestic Tourism?” In The Culture of Japan as Seen Through Its Leisure, ed. Sepp Linhart and Sabine Frühstück, pp. 165–193. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1998. Fowler, Sherry. Accounts and Images of Six Kannon in Japan. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2016. Fowler, Sherry. “Kannon Imagery in the Life of the Seventeenth-Century Manual Butsuzō zui.” In Moving Signs and Shifting Discourses: Text Image Relations in East Asian Art, ed. Jeong-hee Lee-Kalisch and Wibke Schrape. Weimar: VDG. Forthcoming. Fowler, Sherry. “Hibutsu: Secret Buddhist Images of Japan.” Journal of Asian Culture 15 (1991–1992), pp. 138–159. Goldman, Israel. Israel Goldman Japanese Prints and Paintings, Catalogue 20. London: Israel Goldman, 2014. Hosoda Akihiro 細田明宏. “Katsu Genzō no kabuki ‘Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon reigenki’-shukō to daizai 勝諺蔵の歌舞伎 「西国三拾三所観音霊験記」—趣向と 題材.” Teikyō Daigaku Bungakubu kiyō Nihon bunkagaku 帝京大学文学部紀要日本 文化学 40 (March 2009), pp. 179–215. Ikawa Kazuko 井川和子. “Hyōgo Nakayamadera no Jūichimen Kannon zō 兵庫中山寺 の十一面観音像.” Bijutsu kenkyū 美術研究 303 (January 1976), pp. 145–153. Inoue Tadashi 井上正. “Hyōgo, Nakayamadera Jūichimen Kannon ryūzō 兵庫・中山 寺十一面観音立像.” Nihon bijutsu kōgei 日本美術工芸 604 (January 1989), pp. 60– 65. Isaka Yasuji 井阪康二. Negai: Sei to shi no bukkyō minzoku ねがい: 生と死の仏敎民俗. Tokyo: Iwata Shoin, 2002. Itami Kōkyō 伊丹光恭. Mimurotoji 三室戸寺. Kyoto: Kōdansha, 1995. Itō Nobuo 伊藤延男, ed. Tōdaiji to Shin’yakushiji, Hokkeji: Tōdaiji, Shin’yakushiji, Hokkeji 東大寺と新薬師寺, 法華寺: 東大寺, 新薬師寺, 法華寺. Vol. 4 of Nihon koji bijutsu zenshū 日本古寺美術全集. Tokyo: Shūeisha, 1980. Itō Takemi 伊藤武美, ed. Zōho shoshū Butsuzō zui 増補諸宗仏像図彙. Tokyo: Yahata Shoten, 2005. Kamens, Edward B. The Three Jewels: A Study and Translation of Minamoto Tamenori’s Sanbōe. Michigan Monograph Series in Japanese Studies 2. Ann Arbor: Center for Japanese Studies, The University of Michigan, 1988.

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Kanda Hakuryū 神田伯龍 and Maruyama Heijirō 丸山平次郎, eds. Nakayamadera kaneo yurai 中山寺鐘緖由來. Osaka: Nakagawa Gyokuseidō, 1907. Kanezashi Shōzō 金指正三, ed. Saikoku Bandō Kannon reijōki 西国坂東観音霊場記. Tokyo: Seiabō, 2007. Katō Mitsuo 加藤光男. “Hiroshige, Toyokuni ga Kannon reigenki ni tsuite 広重豊国画 観音霊験記について.” Kenkyū kiyō Saitama Kenritsu Rekishi Shiryōkan 研究紀要埼 玉県立歴史資料館 20 (1998), pp. 76–112. Kuly, Lisa. “Religion, Commerce, and Commodity in Japan’s Maternity Industry.” PhD diss., Cornell University, 2009. Kuno Takeshi 久野健. Kannon sōkan 観音総鑑. Tokyo: Shin Jinbutsu Ōraisha, 1986. Kyburz, Josef, ed. Ofuda: images gravées des temples du Japon: la collection Bernard Frank. Paris: Collège de France, 2011. Kyoto Yamashiro jiin jinja daijiten 京都山城寺院神社大事典. Tokyo: Heibonsha, 1997. Li, Yuhang. “Gendered Materialization: An Investigation of Women’s Artistic and Literary Reproductions of Guanyin in Late Imperial China.” PhD diss., University of Chicago, 2011. Lindsey, William R. Fertility and Pleasure: Ritual and Sexual Values in Tokugawa Japan. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2007. MacWilliams, Mark. “Kannon Engi: Strategies of Indigenization in Kannon Temple Myths of the Saikoku sanjūsansho Kannon reijōki and the Sanjūsansho Bandō Kannon reijōki.” PhD diss., University of Chicago, 1990. MacWilliams, Mark. “Living Icons: ‘Reizō’ Myths of the Saikoku Kannon Pilgrimage.” Monumenta Nipponica 59:1 (Spring 2004), pp. 35–82. Marks, Andreas. Japanese Woodblock Prints: Artists, Publishers and Masterworks 1660– 1900. Rutland: Tuttle Publishing, 2010. McCallum, Donald. “The Evolution of the Buddha and Bodhisattva Figures in Japanese Sculpture of the Ninth and Tenth Centuries.” PhD diss., New York University, 1973. Meeks, Lori. Hokkeji and the Reemergence of Female Monastic Orders in Premodern Japan. Studies in East Asian Buddhism 23. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2010. Mertz, John. Novel Japan: Spaces of Nationhood in Early Meiji Narrative, 1870–88. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2003. Michitsuna no Haha. The Kagerō Diary: A Woman’s Autobiographical Text from TenthCentury Japan. Translated, with an introduction and notes, by Sonja Arntzen. Ann Arbor: Center for Japanese Studies, The University of Michigan, 1997. Nagahama-shi Nagahamajō Rekishi Hakubutsukan 長浜市長浜城歴史博物館. Biwako, Nagahama no hotoketachi びわ湖・長浜のホトケたち. Nagahama-shi: Nagahamajō Rekishi Hakubutsukan, 2014. Nagasaki Shiritsu Hakubutsukan 長崎市立博物館. Nichi-Ran kōryū 400-shūnen kinen dai Dejima ten: Raiden, Nagasaki, Edo ikoku bunka no madoguchi 日蘭交流 400 周

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年記念大出島展: ライデン ・長崎・江戸異国文化の窓口. Nagasaki-shi: Nagasaki Shiritsu Hakubutsukan, 2000. “Nanahyaku nijūnen mae no Suitengū omamori hangi 七百二十年前の水天宮お守り 版木.” Hizen shidan 肥前史談 12 (September 1938), pp. 13–14. Murasaki Shikibu. The Tale of Genji. Translated by Royall Tyler. New York: Viking, 2001. Nagata, Mizu. “Transitions in Attitudes Toward Women in the Buddhist Canon: The Three Obligations, The Five Obstructions, and the Eight Rules of Reverence.” Translated by Paul B. Watt. In Engendering Faith: Women and Buddhism in Premodern Japan, ed. Barbara Ruch, pp. 279–295. Ann Arbor: Center for Japanese Studies, The University of Michigan, 2002. Nakano, Chieko. “‘Kechien’ as Religious Praxis in Medieval Japan: Picture Scrolls as the Means and Sites of Salvation.” PhD diss., University of Arizona, 2009. Nara Kokuritsu Hakubutsukan 奈良国立博物館. Saigoku sanjūsansho: Kannon reijō no inori to bi 西国三十三所: 観音霊場の祈りと美. Nara: Nara Kokuritsu Hakubutsukan, 2008. Newland, Amy Reigle. “In the Shadow of Another: Introducing the ‘Meiji no Edoko’ Baidō Hōsai.” Andon 89 (2010), pp. 5–26. Ōnishi Kōzō 大西耕三. “Kinshōji no Jibo Kannon 金昌寺の慈母観音.” Jōdo 浄土 47 (December 1981): pp. 30–31. Rambelli, Fabio. “Secret Buddhas: The Limits of Buddhist Representation.” Monumenta Nipponica 57:3 (Autumn 2002): pp. 271–307. Reader, Ian and George Tanabe. Practically Religious: Worldly Benefits and the Common Religion of Japan. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 1998. Robinson, B.W. Kuniyoshi. London: Her Majesty’s Stationary Office, 1961. Steineck, Raji C. “Religion in Japan: One, Many or None?” In Tokens of the Path— Japanese Devotional and Pilgrimage Images: The Wilfried Spinner Collection (1854– 1918), ed. Mareile Flitsch, pp. 14–23. Stuttgart and Zurich: Arnoldsche Art Publishers and Ethnographic Museum at the University of Zurich, 2014. Tyler, Royall. Japanese Tales. New York: Pantheon Books, 1987. Uji shishi 宇治市史, vol. 5. Uji-shi: 1973–1981. Wang, Eugene Y. Shaping the Lotus Sūtra: Buddhist Visual Culture in Medieval China. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2005. Washizuka Hiromitsu 鷲塚泰光. “Nakayamadera to Sōōbuji no Jūichimen Kannon zō 中山寺と相応峯寺の十一面観音像.” Museum 248 (November 1971), pp. 27–31. Watanabe Nobukazu 渡辺信和. Shōtoku Taishi setsuwa no kenkyū 聖徳太子説話の研 究. Tokyo: Shintensha, 2012. Watson, Burton, trans. The Lotus Sutra. New York: Columbia University Press, 1993. Watson, Burton, trans. The Nihon ryōiki. New York: Columbia University Press, 2013. Wayman, Alex and Hideko Wayman, trans. The Lion’s Roar of Queen Śrīmālā; A Buddhist Scripture on the Tathāgatagarbha Theory. New York: Columbia University Press, 1974.

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Williams, Duncan Ryūken. The Other Side of Zen: A Social History of Sōtō Zen: Buddhism in Tokugawa Japan. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2005. Yü, Chün-fang. Kuan-yin: The Chinese Transformation of Avalokiteśvara. New York: Columbia University Press, 2001.

part 3 Buddhist Women and Death Memorials

∵

chapter 7

Commemorating Life and Death: The Memorial Culture Surrounding the Rinzai Zen Nun Mugai Nyodai Patricia Fister*

… In coming, she had no origin, in leaving, she left no trace; she was not born in the past, she is not dead at the present …1

∵ This chapter focuses on the veneration of the renowned Buddhist nun Mugai Nyodai 無外如大 (1223–1298) in Rinzai Zen circles and the elaborate memorial ceremonies (onki 遠忌) periodically held in her honor. My research is based primarily on the material objects and documents preserved at three Kyoto imperial convents (Daishōji 大聖寺, Hōkyōji 宝鏡寺, Hōjiin 宝慈院) and two other temples historically connected with the abbess (Shinnyoji 真如寺, Shōkenji 松見寺). By examining commemorative imagery of Mugai Nyodai (including painted and sculptural portraits) and accompanying inscriptions or documents, references to Nyodai in the poems and texts written by Zen prelates, and records of special death anniversaries and memorial rites, I will trace the tradition of celebrating her life and commemorating her death, and show how Nyodai’s legacy was established and transformed in the centuries * I would like to express my sincere gratitude to the imperial convents Daishōji, Hōjiin, and Hōkyōji, and the temples Jōtokuji, Shinnyoji, and Shōkenji, for graciously permitting me to study works in their collections and include photographs in this essay. I would also like to express my appreciation to Professors Barbara Ruch and Monica Bethe for reading and making insightful comments on an early draft, and to Katsura Michiyo from the Kyoto Chūsei Nihon Kenkyūjo (Medieval Japanese Studies Institute) for helping me to decipher some of the Japanese documents and prepare and obtain permission forms. Lastly, I am deeply indebted to Norman Waddell for generously providing translations of the Chinese verses and inscriptions included here. 1 From the euology that was written for Mugai Nyodai by Priest Zekkai Chūshin 絶海中津 (1334–1405). See full text below.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2018 | doi: 10.1163/9789004368194_009

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following her death. Since rites are one of the main themes of this volume, the chapter includes a detailed description of events during the onki at Shinnyoji commemorating Nyodai’s four hundredth death anniversary. Onki played a key role in establishing Nyodai’s legacy, which has great relevance to the tonsured women who have devoted their lives to practicing and teaching Zen in Japan’s Rinzai convents. The continuation of memorials for so many centuries is a measure of the high esteem Buddhist clergy, both women and men, have for her. Many questions remain concerning Mugai Nyodai’s early life since the extant biographies of her were written in later centuries. The conflicting accounts may be due to the intermixing of tales regarding at least one and possibly two other women with Nyodai’s life story.2 The “real” Nyodai was born into the Adachi 安達 family and married into the Kanezawa Hōjō 金沢北条 clan. After her husband died, she studied with the eminent Chinese priest Wuxue Zuyuan (Jp: Mugaku Sogen 無学祖元 or Bukkō Kokushi 仏光国師, 1226–1286), who was appointed as abbot of Kenchōji 建長寺 monastery and later Engakuji 円覚寺 monastery in Kamakura. She is also recorded as practicing meditation under the guidance of Enni Ben’en 圓爾辯圓 (Shōichi Kokushi 聖一国師, 1202– 1280), founder of Tōfukuji 東福寺 monastery in Kyoto. According to one legend, she even burned her face to remove any traces of femininity that initially prevented her from pursuing spiritual training at Tōfukuji.3 Nyodai received dharma transmission (inka 印可) from Wuxue Zuyuan and is one of the few women to be included in the official dharma lineage of the Rinzai school.4 She eventually settled in Kyoto where, with her teacher’s endorsement, she founded the convent Keiaiji 景愛寺,5 which was later ranked the highest among the Five Mountain Convent Association (Niji Gozan or Amadera Gozan 尼寺五山)—a parallel institution to the well-known Five Mountain (gozan) Monastery System for male Zen priests. Keiaiji’s prestige remained intact after Nyodai’s death, for it was headed by a succession of abbesses from aristocratic families. The convent’s network expanded over time, at one point encompassing more than fifteen branch temples.

2 Mujaku 無著/無着 and Chiyono 千代野 are also names used to refer to Nyodai. For further details on Nyodai’s biography and the intermixing of identities, see Tanaka, Ama ni natta onnatachi, pp. 92–103; and Yanbe, “Mugai Nyodai to Mujaku” and “Mugai Nyodai den to Chiyono densetsu.” 3 See the section on Mugai Nyodai in Ruch, “Burning Iron Against the Cheek,” pp. lxxiv–lxxvi. 4 She is listed in Enpō dentō roku 延宝伝灯録 (Enpō era record of the transmission of the lamp), a collection of biographies of Chan/Zen prelates compiled by the Rinzai priest Mangen Shiban 卍元師蛮 (1626–1710) and published in 1706. 5 Keiaiji was located near the present-day intersection of Itsutsujii and Ōmiya streets.

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In the late thirteenth century, Nyodai founded a small temple in northern Kyoto called Shōmyakuan 正脈庵 in memory of her spiritual mentor Wuxue. Her ashes were later interred there. In the fourteenth century Shōmyakuan was made into a larger temple by the eminent priest Musō Soseki 夢窓疎石 (1275– 1351), who renamed it Shinnyoji; since that time it has been closely affiliated with the Rinzai monastery Shōkokuji 相国寺. The presence of Nyodai’s bodily relics figured importantly in the decision to make Shinnyoji the mortuary temple of the Hōkyōji imperial convent, which I will discuss below. Nyodai’s convent, Keiaiji, burned to the ground in 1498 after the Ōnin wars, approximately two hundred years after her death, but the abbess’s legacy endured. Her portrait sculpture was rescued from the fire and transferred to one of convent’s branch temples, Hōjiin,6 where it remains today and has been designated as an Important Cultural Property (figs. 7.1a and 7.1b). This lifesize, startlingly realistic statue showing the abbess seated in meditation posture, is believed to date to the end of the thirteenth century, around the time of Nyodai’s death at age seventy-five.7 Made of cypress wood, the sculptural portrait displays the crisp, vigorous carving typical of the era; marks left by the chisel are still visible on the wood surface. Faint traces of pigment can be found on her face and neck.8 The most dynamic aspect of this sculpture is Nyodai’s face: it may be the most important material document remaining that conveys a sense of Nyodai’s powerful persona. The sculptor has brilliantly rendered distinctive features, such as the slight differences in the shape and alignment of the abbess’s eyes, the loose skin below them and other lines of age, her wide, open nostrils, and the drooping right side of her mouth, which Barbara Ruch speculates may have been caused by a stroke.9 Nyodai’s gaze is penetrating, an effect made all the more realistic by her glistening inlaid crystal eyes. Mugai Nyodai must have been a remarkable spiritual master, for during her lifetime and after her death she was revered as a towering figure in the Zen Buddhist world. One of the earliest testimonials to her is the eulogy composed by the Rinzai priest Zekkai Chūshin 絶海中津 (Butchi Kōshō Kokushi 佛智廣照国

6 Nyodai allegedly resided at Hōjiin while Keiaiji was being built. 7 See Nishikawa Kyōtaro’s discussion of Figures 35–37, Chinsō chōkoku, pp. 30–31. 8 The statue was restored in 1971, at which time pigments applied in the Edo period were removed. Records that I was able to examine from the Bijutsuin conservation atelier in Kyoto note that originally the wood was covered with hemp, coated with lacquer, and then painted. 9 Ruch, “Burning Iron Against the Cheek,” p. lxxv.

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figure 7.1a

Portrait sculpture of Mugai Nyodai, ca. late 13th c., cypress wood with traces of polychromy, 73.2 cm, Hōjiin Source: Nishikawa Kyōtaro, Chinsō chōkoku, Nihon no bijutsu 123 (Tokyo: Shibundō, 1976), fig. 37

師, 1334–1405).10 A disciple of Musō Soseki, Zekkai was appointed as abbot of

Shōkokuji in 1392 and again in 1397. His verse is evidence that a memorial service was held to mark Nyodai’s one hundredth death anniversary, which would have been the year 1398. Titled “Words on Offering Incense on the Day Commemorating the Hundredth Death Anniversary of Nyodai Zenji, Founder of

10

Included in the record of his sayings. See Kajitani, Zekkai goroku, vol. 2, pp. 12–13, 129–133.

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figure 7.1b

Detail of fig. 7.1a

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Keiai Convent (Keiai niji kaiki Nyodai Zenji hyakunenki senkō 景愛尼寺開基如 大禅師百年忌拈香)”, the text may be translated as follows:11

The nun Zongchi12 succeeded to Bodhidharma’s dharma and the nun Wuzhuo13 was one of the radiant lights of her teacher Dahui.14 But how was it that Nyodai Zenji of our own Japanese Rinzai school came to bequeath Keiaiji to future generations, a convent whose plants and grasses have continued to emit their wonderful fragrance to the present day? With eloquence and a skill in dealing with students that was utterly free and untrammeled, she raised high her teacher Wuxue Zuyuan’s15 enlightened mind-seal. With great discernment and deep understanding she established a splendid new training hall at Keiaiji. The means she used in instructing students were severe, her mind remaining constant amid the storms and waves of the karmic ocean. Rules and precedents in the temple were modeled on those laid down by Baizhang.16 Following the style of Deshan,17 she made the Dharma hall the center of her teaching activity. In her Zen activities, she worked with completely independent freedom, destroying the old nests to which students had attached themselves. She always served as a vessel ferrying beings across the vast seas of suffering and delusion. The lightning thrusts she employed in providing sustenance to her students resembled those of nun Liu Tiemo.18 11 12

13

14

15 16

17 18

Translation by Norman Waddell, based on the annotated rendition of the verse by Kajitani Sōnin in Zekkai goroku, vol. 2, pp. 129–133. Zongchi 摠持 (dates unknown) was a daughter of Emperor Wu of Liang 梁武帝 (464– 549; r. 502–549), who purportedly became a disciple of Bodhidharma. She is included in fascicle 1 of the Enpō dentō roku. See Bussho Kankōkai, Enpō dentō roku, vol. 108, p. 45. Wuzhuo 無著 (lit. “no attachment”) is the layname of the Chinese Chan (Zen) nun Miaozong 妙總 (1095–1170), who became a dharma heir of Dahui Zonggao 大慧宗杲 (1089– 1163). In Zekkai’s verse, the Chinese Chan priest Dahui Zonggao is referred to as “Fori” 仏日 (Sun of the Dharma), which is an honorary name given to him by a high-ranking government official. In Zekkai’s euology Wuxue is referred to as Jōshō 常照, a reference to one of his posthumous honorific titles, Enman Jōshō Kokushi 円満常照国師. Baizhang Huaihai 百丈懷海 (Jp. Hyakujō Ekai, 720–814). According to traditional Chan/ Zen accounts, Baizhang established a set of rules for monastic discipline called Baizhang qinggui (Jp. Hyakujō shingi 百丈清規, Pure rules of Baizhang). Deshan Xuanjian (Jp. Tokusan Senkan 徳山宣鑑, 780–865), a Chinese Zen master famous for hitting his pupils with a cane to spark their spiritual awakening. Liu Tiemo or “Iron-grinder Liu” (Jp. Ryū Tetsuma 劉鐵磨, dates unknown), was a disciple of Guishan Lingyou (Jp. Isan Reiyū 溈山靈祐, 771–853).

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She retrieved and wielded the deep, recondite teachings of the great nun Moshan,19 which had long lain dormant. Using words to sweep away words, she silenced the one-sided gabbling of Gavāṃpati.20 Using poison to dispel poison, she rotted out the guts of Sunyata divinity21 and cast them into oblivion. Her activities and enlightenment were in perfect agreement: actions matching enlightenment, enlightenment matching actions, no objects apart from mind, no mind apart from the external world, objects and mind both utterly dismissed. In her seventy-sixth year, her teaching activity suddenly ceased, only to continue without limit throughout the trichiliocosmic universe.22 In coming, she had no origin, in leaving, she left no trace; she was not born in the past, she is not dead at the present. Over a hundred years, time passing and things changing, the true form of Nyodai Zenji is totally revealed in all its imposing majesty throughout eternity. The Buddha-eye that had opened in the center of her forehead was like a single red sun-disc shining down over the land of the mulberry tree [Japan]. In this eulogy, Zekkai praises Nyodai as both abbess and dharma teacher, positioning her within a female lineage of exemplary Chinese nuns. She is also lauded for vigorously maintaining the Zen spirit of eminent male monastics, suggesting that in the end, Nyodai had transcended gender.

Extant Writings and Personal Artifacts Nyodai’s fame as a strict Zen master was legendary, but unfortunately no contemporary records of her Zen teachings have survived. There are two waka 19

20 21

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Moshan Liaoran (Jp. Massan Ryōnen 末山了然, active 9th century), a disciple and dharma heir of Gaoan Dayu (Jp. Kōan Daigu 高安大愚, active 9th century). She is one of the first women dharma heirs included in the official Chan genealogical history, Jingde chuandeng lu (Jp. Keitoku dentōroku 景德傳燈錄, Jingde-era record of the transmission of the lamp), compiled in 1004. 喬梵鉢提; a man who became a monk; because of transgressions of speech committed in a former life, he was born with a mouth that was always ruminating like a cow. According to the text of the Śūraṅgama Sūtra (Ch. Da foding shoulengyan jing; abbreviated in Japanese as Ryōgon-kyō 楞厳経), which was widely read by Chan/Zen prelates, the Sunyata divinity 舜若多神 is a formless deity representative of emptiness. See Kajitani Sōnin’s annotation in Zekkai goroku, vol. 2, p. 132. “Trichiliocosmic” refers to the concept in Buddhist cosmology of a “third-order” universe containing three thousand clusters of a thousand worlds each, i.e. a billion-fold universe.

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poems attributed to her, however, which can be regarded as expressions of her awakened mind. The first verse is the one Nyodai allegedly composed after the wooden bottom dropped out of the water bucket she was carrying as she was gazing at the reflection of the moon inside it. She no longer held the moon—a symbol of enlightenment—but through “losing” it, she understood its emptiness or nonexistence and at the same time the distinction/non-distinction between the real moon and its reflection, thus coming face to face with a deeper reality. No matter how you look at it, when the bottom of the bucket falls away, it will not hold water nor will it house the moon23

Tonikaku ni takumishi oke no soko nukete mizu tamaraneba tsuki mo yadorazu

The second waka was written as reply to her teacher Wuxue Zuyuan, presumably during the period when she was undergoing kōan training with him.24 The master spoke and I replied

Kokushi no ōse arishi Kotae nishi

Not understanding, I had surely lost my way. But now I realize my Self is moon on water, none other than floating cloud.25

Shirade koso mayoi kitsurame mizu no tsuki ukaberu kumo o mi no tagui tomo

Due to the warfare and conflagrations in Kyoto during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, which destroyed many temples along with their records, there is a hiatus in information regarding how Mugai Nyodai was perceived during those centuries. This tumultuous era saw a great deal of relocation and rebuilding of temples in Kyoto, and life in the old capital did not really settle down until the seventeenth century. Keiaiji was never rebuilt, but the abbesses of two affiliated Kyoto convents, Daishōji and Hōkyōji, symbolically maintained Nyodai’s lineage by continuing to hold concurrent titles as honorary abbess of the

23 24 25

Translation by Barbara Ruch. See Amamonzeki, p. 61. A copy of this second waka may be found in the collection of the Daishōji. Translation by Barbara Ruch.

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figure 7.2 Waka poem by Mugai Nyodai, ca. 13th c., hanging scroll, ink on paper, 28.3×43cm, Daishōji Source: Author photo

lost ancestral convent, referring to themselves as the “nth generation abbess of the former Keiaiji.” This practice has continued to the present day. As a result of their linkage with Nyodai and Keiaiji, the abbesses of Daishōji and Hōkyōji were granted the special privilege of wearing purple robes instead of plain black ones. Among the treasures preserved at Daishōji convent are some writings in Nyodai’s hand. Included are: 1) a letter of land transfer ( yuzurijō 譲状) believed to be written to the Rinzai Zen master Kōhō Kennichi 高峯顕日 (Bukkoku Kokushi 仏国国師, 1241–1316),26 designated as an Important Cultural Property; 2) a letter to an undesignated recipient; and 3) the second of the two waka poems quoted above (fig. 7.2). There are other extant written documents attributed to Nyodai, but further study is required before they can be properly verified.

26

Dated the seventh day of the seventh month, 1286. The name Kennichi appears in the letter, as a contributor to Keiaiji. Kōhō Kennichi was also involved in the restoration of Shōmyakuan (before it was renamed Shinnyoji) and was a teacher of Musō Soseki.

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Among the objects associated with Nyodai that have been passed down in related temples are two clerical vestments (surplices or kesa 袈裟): a yellow silk kesa (presently in the collection of Shōkokuji monastery) and a brown hemp kesa preserved at Shōkenji.27 As will be discussed below, Shōkenji is a temple in Gifu Prefecture where, according to tradition, Nyodai lived and practiced before moving to Kyoto. The system of ranking gozan convents died out with the dissolution of the Muromachi shogunate, but because of the historical connection with Keiaiji, Daishōji and Hōkyōji retained their high status among the Kyoto convents. Due in large part to their interest in maintaining and promoting her reputation as an exemplary female cleric, convents and temples associated with Nyodai were gradually restored to their former glory. The flourishing of the bikuni gosho (比 丘尼御所 lit. “nun’s palaces”)28 system in Kyoto during the Edo period, in which convents such as Daishōji and Hōkyōji came to be headed by daughters from imperial or high-ranking courtier families and were supported financially by land grants and stipends from the shogunate, created an environment conducive to keeping the spirit of Mugai Nyodai alive. Hōkyōji in particular played an important role in efforts to highlight and perpetuate Nyodai’s stature in the Buddhist world.

Restoration of Shinnyoji (Formerly Shōmyakuan) Founded by Nyodai For example, the temple where Nyodai’s ashes are interred, Shinnyoji, was designated as the mortuary temple (bodaiji 菩提寺) for the abbesses of Hōkyōji. An interest in maintaining strong bonds with Mugai Nyodai, even in death, no doubt underlay the desire for Hōkyōji abbesses to be interred there. Enshrined inside the Dharma hall (hattō 法堂) at Shinnyoji is a sculptural portrait of Nyo-

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In addition, there is a vestment described in an inventory of Hōkyōji treasures as a hōe 法 衣 (Buddhist robe) which the convent has been unable to locate. It, too, may have been a kesa. See the section on Hōkyōji in Kyōto-fu jiin jūkibo: Jiin jūki meisaichō, kaisei Zen Rinzai shū. Bikuni gosho were private convents for tonsured royal or aristocratic women. The practice of appointing imperial women as abbesses was initiated in the Muromachi period; by the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, there were approximately fifteen convents headed by princess-nuns that were designated as bikuni gosho. The majority were located in Kyoto and belonged to the Rinzai school of Zen.

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dai (fig. 7.3); the date of its creation is unknown, but there is a document recording that the image was restored in the twelfth month of 1627, suggesting that it dates at least to the sixteenth century and possibly earlier.29 The statue shows the abbess sitting with hands in meditation pose similar to the Hōjiin sculptural portrait but with eyes staring straight ahead. Her robes and surplice, rendered in a similar fashion, include the hexagonal ring securing her kesa. Nyodai’s facial expression is not quite as severe as the Hōjiin statue, but the mouth is similarly downturned at the corners, although lacking the dropped right lip. The sculptor clearly sought to represent Nyodai in her later years: signs of age are the three deep horizontal creases on her forehead and the lines underneath her eyes and on either side of her mouth. The father of numerous daughters who became heads of bikuni gosho, Emperor Gomizunoo 後水尾天皇 (1596–1680; r. 1611–1629) was instrumental in transforming Shinnyoji into a mortuary temple for Hōkyōji. In 1656, following the death of his daughter Kugon Rishō 久巖理昌 (posthumously Senju-in 仙寿院, 1631–1656), who had been appointed as abbess of Hōkyōji ten years earlier, he sponsored the rebuilding of the Dharma hall at Shinnyoji so that it could serve as the site of memorial services for her and subsequent Hōkyōji abbesses. Near the Dharma hall was a cemetery where Senju-in and other abbesses were interred. Restoration was completed in the twelfth month of 1656, and the emperor installed a portrait sculpture of his deceased daughter.30 At this time the statue of Nyodai was already in place and Gomizunoo was well aware of Shinnyoji’s spiritual and historical connections with the preeminent nun. 29

30

The document in question is the 64th volume of Rokuon nichiroku 鹿苑日録. See Tsuji, Rokuon nichiroku, vol. 5, p. 372. Rokuon nichiroku is the diary of successive chief priests at Rokuonji 鹿苑寺 (Kinkakuji 金閣寺), ca. 1487–1651. I am grateful to Priest Egami Shōdō of Shinnyoji for calling my attention to this document. The Shinnyoji Nyodai statue was examined by a team of specialists, including scholars from the Kyoto Prefectural Cultural Properties Protection Division and the Agency for Cultural Affairs, as well as a restoration expert from the Bijutsuin conservation laboratory in September of 2012. At that time the head was removed to look inside the statue’s main cavity, but no inscription was visible, nor were there any objects placed inside the statue. The statue was restored again in 1847, at the time of Nyodai’s five hundred and fiftieth onki (recorded in Nyodai Oshō gohyakugojūnen onki fushin narabi shozatsuhi chō 如大和尚五百五拾年遠忌普請並 諸雜費帳 [Record of construction and miscellaneous expenses connected with Abbess Nyodai’s five hundred and fiftieth death anniversary]) and possibly again in the twentieth century. For information on this statue and others placed inside the hall, see Fister, “In Memoriam?”

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figure 7.3 Portrait sculpture of Mugai Nyodai, ca. 16th c., wood, Shinnyoji Source: Author photo

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From this time on Shinnyoji became a setting for funerals and memorial services for deceased Hōkyōji abbesses as well as for memorial events honoring Mugai Nyodai.31 This was in addition to annual rites and special memorial ceremonies for Nyodai periodically held in Kyoto at Hōkyōji and Daishōji convents.

Revival of Shōkenji Where Nyodai Did Spiritual Training Another temple connected with Nyodai’s legacy that was revived in the seventeenth century was Shōkenji in present-day Gifu Prefecture. It was there that she allegedly had a spiritual breakthrough during a trip to fetch water from a spring or well, the inspiration for the waka verse cited earlier. From the midseventeenth century Hōkyōji abbesses helped to revive Shōkenji, which had fallen into ruins, and it was made a sub-temple of that imperial convent during the tenure of Abbess Richū 理忠 (1641–1689), another daughter of Emperor Gomizunoo, who headed Hōkyōji from 1656 to 1689.32 A new sculptural portrait of Nyodai (fig. 7.4) was enshrined at Shōkenji in 1659, and in the years that followed, many objects were gifted by Hōkyōji abbesses to that sub-temple. The circumstances surrounding the creation of the Nyodai portrait sculpture at Shōkenji are recorded in a document placed inside the statue that was composed by Shōkenji restorer-abbess Yōshin 養心 (d. 1687), who spearheaded the restoration of buildings and negotiated the convent’s affiliation with Hōkyōji.33 Funds for the statue, made by the Kyoto Buddhist sculptor Hanbei 半兵衛 (dates unknown),34 were raised from among local parishioners. Yōshin wrote that she went to see the Keiaiji [Hōjiin] (see fig. 7.1) and Shinnyoji (see fig. 3) sculptures of Nyodai in Kyoto in the fourth month of 1659, and asked the sculptor to model it upon the latter.

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Respects were also paid to Nyodai during unrelated ceremonies at Shinnyoji. According to the Shinnyoji kiroku 真如寺記録, which records daily events and rituals at Shinnyoji, during annual rites such as the segaki 施餓鬼 ceremony in the seventh month food offerings were always placed in front of the statue of Nyodai as well as that of her mentor Wuxue. Richū was posthumously known as Kōtoku-in 高徳院. Zō Nyodai Oshō izō ki 造如大和尚遺像記 (Account of the making of Abbess Nyodai’s statue). Dated the last day (sugomori 晦日) of the sixth month of 1659 and calligraphed by Priest Soin 祖因 (dates unknown) of Rinsenzenji 臨泉禅寺. I am indebted to Matsuo Shōdō, the current chief priest of Shōkenji, for allowing me to photograph this document in October 2015. Hanbei is identified in the above document as working at an atelier located in the vicinity of Teramachi and Nijō streets in Kyoto.

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figure 7.4 Portrait sculpture of Mugai Nyodai, 1659, wood with polychromy, Shōkenji Source: Author photo

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In the Shōkenji portrait, Nyodai is represented seated in a chair, in meditation posture, with inset crystal eyes staring forward in the manner of the two portrait sculptures discussed above. However, Nyodai’s face is covered with white pigment and her eyebrows are painted in. Her visage does not have the severity of the Hōjiin image, but rather could be described as solemn, with the corners of her mouth turning downward. There are no distinguishing features and the lack of prominent wrinkles makes Nyodai appear more youthful. She is dressed in a purple robe and brocade kesa, which like the two previously discussed Nyodai statues is secured by a hexagonal ring. The kesa is brilliantly decorated with gold foil cloud forms and red/green flowers. It is likely that it was restored and repainted at some point. Interest in preserving and promoting Nyodai’s legacy at Shōkenji remained strong, and approximately fifteen years later (1676), a biography of her was compiled called the Seizan Keiai niji kaiki Nyodai shōden 西山景愛尼寺開基 如大禅師小伝 (Biography of Zen Master Nyodai, founder of the Seizan Keiai Convent).35

Large-Scale Ceremonies Honoring Nyodai’s Special Death Anniversaries Prayers were always chanted on Nyodai’s death anniversary—the twentyeighth day of the eleventh month—in the convents associated with her. However, beginning in the late seventeenth century, large-scale special memorial services called onki36 honoring Nyodai were regularly held at Daishōji and Hōkyōji, as well as at Shinnyoji and Shōkenji. The first of these took place in 1697, marking Nyodai’s four hundredth death anniversary. In preparation for such important onki, funding was often sought for restoring the host temple’s buildings and icons. At the time of the 1697 onki, commemorative painted portraits of Nyodai were commissioned and installed at both Hōkyōji and Daishōji. This was clearly a joint endeavor to revive and preserve her memory. It is likely that there were earlier painted portraits of Mugai Nyodai, but

35

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Several versions of this biography, which was later recopied, are preserved at Shōkenji. For the text, see document 431 in Seki shishi, pp. 1047, 1063–1066. Seizan 西山 is the “mountain name” of Hōkyōji. Death anniversaries which are marked by special rites are the first, third, seventh, thirteenth, seventeenth, twenty-fifth, fiftieth, and one hundredth anniversaries, and thereafter at fifty-year intervals.

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they did not survive the ravages of the Ōnin wars. I will give a brief description of the newly created portraits and then discuss the commemorative ritual itself. The two nearly identical portraits (figs. 7.5 and 7.6) are painted with ink and color on silk. There are no signatures or seals to identify the artists. (While very close in many respects, there are slight differences in the brushwork suggesting that they were painted by different people.) Nyodai is rendered in three-quarter view typical of Rinzai Zen portraiture style, seated in a chair, and facing toward her right. The main difference between the two portraits is the style of lacquered chairs and the brocade cloths draped over them. In the Hōkyōji portrait, the chair is black with a high back and straight legs, whereas in the Daishōji portrait, the chair is carved red lacquer with curved legs and a lower rounded back. In both the abbess is shown seated with her hands in meditational Zen posture; her ceremonial shoes, almost identical, are placed on a lacquer stool in front of the chairs. She is dressed in a formal silk purple robe, indicative of her high rank, with a kesa draped over her left shoulder, affixed with ropes and strips of cloth to what appears to be a tortoiseshell hexagonal ring. In the Hōkyōji portrait, the purple pigment has discolored to brown and the silk background of the scroll has also darkened, suggesting that it was exposed to more light than its counterpart at Daishōji. The light brown gauze weave silk (monsha 文沙) kesa worn by Nyodai in both portraits is identical: the pattern woven in white is called kaki no heta 柿の 箆. The detailed rendering of the woven cloth and the tortoiseshell ring in both portraits suggest that it was based on an actual kesa, perhaps one of Nyodai’s. Unfortunately, no such kesa has been found in either convent’s collection. For the depictions of Nyodai’s face in the Hōkyōji and Daishōji portraits (figs. 7.5 and 7.6), I believe the artists used the portrait sculpture at Shinnyoji (see fig. 7.3) (and possibly the one at Hōjiin; fig. 7.1) as a reference. Similarities include the overall shape of the head with full cheeks and prominent rounded chin, the three horizontal creases on her forehead, lines around her eyes and mouth, and the slightly downturned corners of her mouth. The fact that the right side of Nyodai’s mouth droops ever so slightly in both painted portraits suggests that the artists viewed the Hōjiin statue with this distinctive feature. However, the severity of the Hōjiin Nyodai image has been softened; the overall mood projected in these painted portraits is one of enlightened dignity. Both paintings have inscriptions dated 1697 and written by Taikyo Kenrei 太 虚顕霊 (1680–1705), the 101st abbot of Shōkokuji, recording that the portraits were made as memorials on the occasion of Nyodai’s four hundredth death

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figure 7.5 Portrait of Mugai Nyodai, 17th c., hanging scroll, ink on silk, inscription (dated 1697) by Taikyo Kenrei, Daishōji Source: Author photo

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figure 7.6 Portrait of Mugai Nyodai, 17th c., hanging scroll, ink on silk, inscription (dated 1697) by Taikyo Kenrei, Hōkyōji Source: Author photo

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anniversary.37 The Chinese-character verse Priest Taikyo inscribed above the portraits is the eulogy quoted above by Zekkai Chūshin, composed three hundred years earlier on the occasion of Nyodai’s one hundredth death anniversary.38 Taikyo made minor changes (or possibly mistakes) in characters when copying this verse so the inscriptions on the two portraits are not one hundred percent identical. Onki commemorating Nyodai’s four hundredth death anniversary were held on the twenty-eighth day of the ninth month at Hōkyōji, the twenty-eighth day of the tenth month at Daishōji, and the twenty-eighth day of the eleventh month at Shinnyoji. The dates were no doubt staggered since some of the same clergy were expected to attend all three onki. The three memorial services are briefly described in the Sangaryō nikki 參暇寮日記,39 and there are two records preserved at Shinnyoji which give further details about the rites carried out there.40 Using information from these accounts, I will outline the course of events during the onki at Shinnyoji, which is the best documented.41 The Shinnyoji onki was attended by thirty priests from Shōkokuji monastery and its sub-temples, as well as the abbesses of the Daishōji and Hōkyōji imperial convents. Offerings of “incense money” (kōshi 香資) totaling three hundred monme42 were received from the participants.43 The main “sponsors” were Daishōji, Hokyōji, and the host temple, so their contributions were proportionately large. Records include a detailed accounting of payments for food and other items used in preparing the meals served to participants and for the offerings placed in front of the images. Included are condiments and stock items such as miso bean paste, soy sauce, sake, tofu, pickles, cooking oil, fu 37 38 39 40

41

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Taikyo was also chief priest of the Shōkokuji sub-temple Jiun’an 慈雲庵. He served as chief celebrant in the onki ceremony for Nyodai held at Daishōji at this time. He omitted the first three sentences, which serve as a kind of introduction, referring to famous nuns in China. The Sangaryō nikki is the diary from an office called the Sangaryō at Shōkokuji monastery dating from the years 1682–1871. See Shōkokuji shiryō, vol. 3, pp. 501–503. Nyodai Oshō yonhyakunen-ki shoshiki chō 如大和尚四百年忌諸式帳 (Record of various rites connected with Abbess Nyodai’s four hundredth death anniversary) and Nyodai Oshō yonhyakunen-ki kōshi chō 如大和尚四佰五拾年忌香資帳 (Record of “incense offerings” for Abbess Nyodai’s four hundredth death anniversary). I am grateful to Abbess Tōun of Daishōji, Chief Priest Egami of Shinnyoji, and Katsura Michiyo from the Kyoto Chūsei Nihon Kenkyūjo (Medieval Japanese Studies Institute) for helping me to read these accounts and for explaining their contents. One monme was worth 3.76 grams of silver. In the Kyoto-Osaka region, silver was the basis for currency instead of gold, which was used in Edo. A record of these donations is preserved at Shinnyoji; see note 40.

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(wheat gluten), vinegar, charcoal, green tea, salt, rice, and konbu (kelp). A significant amount was spent on fresh produce, which included daikon, carrots, black beans, spinach, bean curd skin ( yuba), several kinds of yams and mushrooms, ginkgo nuts, parsley, Japanese mustard greens (mizuna), mountain asparagus (udo), ginger, zenmai fern, dried gourd strips (kanpyo), burdock root, arrowroot, sesame seeds, dried persimmons, and mikan and yuzu citrus fruits. Among the items purchased explicitly for use by the imperial abbesses was high grade tobacco. (Smoking in long-stemmed tiny-bowled pipes was a common practice even in the convents at that time.) Other miscellaneous items in the record of payments are incense ( jinkō 沈香) and candles for the ceremony, two pairs of wooden clogs (geta), twenty-nine pairs of straw sandals (zōri), and several kinds of paper (used for record keeping and for placing under the food offerings). The total cost of the onki ceremony came to approximately 294 monme, which was less than the amount of donations received. On the late afternoon of the day before the ceremony, there was a short “pre-ceremony” service shuku-ki 宿忌 in the Dharma hall. The abbot of Shinnyoji, Tenrin Tōkaku 天倫等格 (dates unknown), served as the main celebrant and made an incense offering to Nyodai. Participating priests, including the Shōkokuji abbot Tenkei Shūjō 天啓集仗 (dates unknown), performed a ritual perambulation of the hall while chanting sutras (gyōdō 行導). All the priests then made incense offerings and left the hall. Those who did not live close by stayed overnight at Shinkōan 真光庵, a building on the grounds of Shinnyoji used for lodging. The main ceremony took place the following morning. Participants gathered at Shinkōan hall and were led to the abbot’s quarters (hōjō 方丈), where they were served a light meal with tea and sweets.44 An offering of food arranged on a special lacquer tray table was placed in front of Nyodai’s portrait statue at Shinnyoji, consisting of white rice, manju buns, pounded rice cakes (kinomi mochi 木ノ三餅), and rakugan 落雁 sweets. Food offerings were also placed in front of statues of three other eminent priests, who lived in Nyodai’s time and are enshrined in Shinnyoji’s Dharma hall: Wuxue Zuyuan (Bukkō Kokushi), Kōhō Kennichi (Bukkoku Kokushi), and Musō Soseki.

44

The onki records give details about the purchases of utensils for serving tea: high quality blue and white tea bowls (presumably decorated with chrysanthemum crests) for the abbesses, two Kiyomizu-yaki tea bowls, hand towels, tea napkins, bamboo whisks, tea scoops, and tea ladles.

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After finishing the refreshments, the priests returned to Shinkōan hall to get dressed for the ceremony. The abbesses from Daishōji and Hōkyōji arrived and were seated in the Dharma hall. A bell was rung to signal the other priests to proceed to the hall. After they had all entered and assumed their positions, an offering of rice gruel (kenshuku 獻粥) was made in front of Nyodai’s statue. This was done by the chief celebrant Tenrin, who then, together with Shōkokuji abbot Tenkei, made offerings of rare fragrant wood incense (nenkō 拈 香). They and the other high-ranking priests who assisted all wore special ceremonial silk robes called dōgu-e 道具衣 draped with a nine-panel kesa, whereas the other participants wore lesser ceremonial robes and smaller seven-panel kesa. Led by the chief celebrant, the participating priests chanted sutras and did ritual prostrations in front of Nyodai’s statue. Portraits (sculptural or painted) were always the visual and liturgical focal point of onki ceremonies. While reciting one of the sutras, the priests did another ritual perambulation of the Dharma hall. After making individual incense offerings, the group of priests filed out of the hall and returned to Shinkōan. At that point the two abbesses made their offerings of incense, after which they were guided to the abbot’s quarters. Since they were members of the imperial family, protocol required that the two princess-nuns remain separate from the other guests. A vegetarian meal consisting of simmered vegetables, broiled tofu, rice, kelp, a clear soup, and pickles was served to participants after the ceremony, followed by traditional sweets. The abbesses, along with the nuns and attendants accompanying them, were served a more elaborate meal. The first course (gozen 御膳) was nearly the same as that served to the other participants. This was followed by a second course (ni no gozen 二御膳) comprising kuroae (tofu and mixed vegetables flavored with black sesame); simmered arrowhead (kuwai 慈姑), rock mushrooms, and gingko nuts; and a clear soup with burdock root, broiled wheat gluten, spinach, and mountain asparagus. The third course (onhikimono 御引物) was a dish of simmered oyster mushrooms, yams, mustard greens served together with burdock root and broiled wheat gluten. The last course (ojūbiki 御重引) was served in a two-tiered container and consisted of broiled Japanese parsley, bean curd skin, and burdock root. The meal was topped off by an assortment of traditional sweets (adzuki bean jelly [ yokan], tangerines [mikan], manju buns, yam [ yama-imo], and dried persimmon). Nyodai’s four hundredth death anniversary was also marked by a ceremony at Shōkenji in Gifu in 1697. As was the case in Kyoto, this onki was also an occasion to raise funds for the restoration or rebuilding of lost structures. A document remains revealing that the abbess sought financial support from people in the domain and also the Nagoya castletown several years in advance of the

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onki for rebuilding the hōjō, which was completed in 1693.45 She initially borrowed one hundred ryō from the domain and then applied for permission to go out and collect money, receiving contributions from people ranging from the domain lord to ordinary folk. For participating nuns, onki served as occasions to celebrate their spiritual link with Mugai Nyodai as well as pay tribute to her. The abbess of Hōkyōji at the time of the 1697 onki was Tokugon Rihō 徳巖理豊 (1672–1745), a daughter of Emperor Gosai 後西天皇 (1638–1685; r. 1655–1663). Especially keen on identifying Hōkyōji and herself as part of Nyodai’s lineage, Abbess Rihō played a major role in reviving Mugai Nyodai’s legacy. No doubt inspired by the anniversary memorial services in which she was actively involved, she gathered all the documents she could find and compiled a biography of Nyodai, which was completed in 1712.46 Numerous transcriptions were made of this biography and deposited at related temples, ensuring that Nyodai’s legacy would be transmitted.47 Rihō also compiled a lineage document (keizu 系図) tracing her convent’s origins back to Nyodai and Keiaiji.48 A consummate painter, she did a portrait of Nyodai, but its whereabouts are unknown.49 Abbess Rihō also turned her attention to the convent’s mortuary temple, Shinnyoji. In addition to refurbishing Nyodai’s gravesite, in 1723 she donated funds to construct a special memorial chapel (shidō 祠堂) within the Dharma hall to enshrine the portrait sculpture of Nyodai.50 This “chapel” is located behind and to the right of the high platform housing the temple’s main image of Śakyamuni, next to a shidō chapel for Nyodai’s teacher Wuxue. Two years later Rihō composed an epitaph for Nyodai, which she had engraved on a plaque to hang on the wall adjacent to Nyodai’s memorial chapel. On the back of the 45 46

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This and other Shōkenji documents are published in Seki shishi 関市史. See document 426, pp. 1046, 1058–1060. There are two versions by her hand in the collection of Hōkyōji: Keiai kaisan shiju [hon]gan Shōmyaku Sōken Nyodai Oshō den 景愛開山資壽[本]願正脈剏健如大和尚傳 (Biography of Abbess Nyodai, founder of Keiai[ji] and Shōmyaku[an]) written in cursive script and Mugai Nyodai-ni densho 無外如大尼伝書 (Biography of nun Mugai Nyodai) in regular or standard script. In the collection of the Imperial Archives, Imperial Household Agency is a handwritten copy dated 1712 by Rihō: Keiai kaisan shiju [hon]gan Shōmyaku Sōken Nyodai Oshō den (abbreviated Nyodai Oshō den 如大和尚傳 on the cover). Keiaiji godaidai 景愛寺御代々. A painted portrait of Nyodai is among the objects listed in the Honkakuin no miya seikō ryakki 本覚院宮成功略記 (Outline of princess-nun Honkakuin’s [Rihō] achievements). From a manuscript (Hōshū Sochū hitsuroku 鳳洲祖沖筆録) written by Shinnyoji priest Hōshū Sochū (1672–1757), included in Sangaryō nikki 11. See Shōkokuji shiryō, vol. 4, p. 365.

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plaque is a list of objects and ritual/offeratory implements that Rihō gifted to Shinnyoji in the autumn of 1725, presumably for use in memorial services, since the list is titled “Ritual implements [to be placed] directly in front of Abbess Nyodai (Nyodai Oshō shinzen hōki 如大和尚真前法器).” Included are such things as a hossu 払子 ceremonial whisk, altar cloth (uchishiki 打敷), incense burner, tray, and flower and water vessels. As a result of Abbess Rihō’s persistent efforts to record and pay tribute to her spiritual ancestor, Nyodai’s heritage was firmly etched into history. At nearly the same time that structures related to Nyodai were being renovated at Shinnyoji, similar restoration activity was taking place at Shōkenji in Gifu. Abbess Rihō supported her convent’s sub-temple in these endeavors, donating a Death of Buddha painting (nehan-zu) by her own hand to Shōkenji in 1718.51 In 1725, a founder’s hall (kaisandō 開山堂) was built at Shōkenji and in 1731 the main worship hall (hondō 本堂) was restored. Rihō wrote the temple’s name in large-scale calligraphy that was carved into a wooden plaque and hung above the entrance.52 Documents reveal that funding for the construction was collected from people in the region, as in the case of the 1697 onki.53 A petition for support written by Daisen 大泉 (dates unknown) of Shōkenji in 1725 includes a brief biography of Nyodai to bolster the convent’s image and convince would-be donors of its importance.54 Several years later (1737), on the occasion of turning over the abbacy of Hōkyōji to the young princess-nun Richō 理長 (1725–1764), Rihō wrote out a set of instructions for her successor to follow.55 She began by stating that Hōkyōji belongs to the lineage starting with Śakyamuni, passed on to Bodhidharma, through the Rinzai school, from Wuxue Zuyuan to Mugai Nyodai, and emphasized that Nyodai’s lineage has been carried on by Daishōji and Hōkyōji convents following Keiaiji’s demise. Among the important annual rituals to be observed she specifies Nyodai’s death anniversary. Abbess Rihō’s efforts to distinguish the convent and herself as part of Nyodai’s lineage had not gone unnoticed: as early as 1711 the two Ōbaku Zen priests

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The date is inscribed inside the lid of the wooden box containing the painting. See also Shōkenji document 432, Seki shishi, p. 1066. For an illustration, see Fister, “Creating Art in Japan’s Imperial Buddhist Convents,” pp. 159–160. Shōkenji documents 424 and 426, Seki shishi, pp. 1046, 1056–1060. Seki shishi, p. 1059. The precepts are mounted in a long handscroll (approximately 14 meters), which Rihō titled Kochō no yumegatari 胡蝶の夢語 (Story of the dream of a butterfly). Collection of Shinnyoji.

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who were her spiritual mentors had written verses in which they compared Rihō to Mugai Nyodai.56 Pertinent lines from their verses appear below. Bodhidharma’s matchless Zen Dharma, with ten thousand golden hooks, Has been shouldered by a person of great capacity; She will return and from now on walk in Abbess Mugai’s footsteps, Their combined virtue is destined to receive unending acclaim. Daizui Dōki 大随道機 1652–1717

… How unusual, a lady of noble birth undertaking the practice of Zen, Manifesting vital Zen activity rivaling that of former Abbess Mugai. Hyakusetsu Gen’yō 百拙元養 1668–1749

These verses suggest that by the eighteenth century, the name of Mugai Nyodai was a symbol of a superior female Zen master. Nyodai’s biography was included in two collected biographies of Zen masters published in 1706: Enpō dentō roku 延宝伝灯録 (Enpō era record of the transmission of the lamp, vol. 19)57 and also the Honchō goen 本朝語園 (vol. 9). The renowned Rinzai priest Hakuin Ekaku 白隠慧鶴 (1686–1769) was obviously familiar with her life story, and he made reference to Nyodai’s attaining enlightenment when the bottom of her water bucket dropped out at Shōkenji in his Oniazami 於仁安左美 (Wild thistles, 1752),58 a kind of sermon written in the form of a letter to the abbesses of the Hōkyōji and Kōshōin 光照院 imperial convents after he visited them in Kyoto.59 Mugai Nyodai was one of a handful of nuns and female devotees whom Hakuin held up as models to the princess-nuns.60 Hakuin himself was inspired to do at least one painting of Nyodai, throwing up her hands in surprise as the round bottom drops out of her bucket (fig. 7.7). 56

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Both of these documents are dated 1711 and preserved at Hōkyōji. For the full text of the verses and further details, see Fister, “Daughters of the Dharma.” Translations by Norman Waddell. See Bussho Kankōkai, Enpō dentō roku, vol. 108, p. 260. See Zen Bunka Kenkyūjo, Hakuin Zenji hōgo zenshū, vol. 2, pp. 187–188. The abbesses were Jōshōmyō-in 浄明妙院 (1725–1764) and Jōmyōshin-in 浄明心院 (1730–1789), both daughters of Emperor Nakamikado 中御門天皇 (1702–1737; r. 1709– 1735). Hakuin visited their convents several times during a trip to Kyoto in 1751 and wrote the Oniazami after returning to his home temple. See Yoshizawa, “Hakuin Zenji kana hōgo, yodan.” Among the others were Chūjōhime 中将姫 (ca. 8th century), Empress Kōmyō 光明皇后 (701–760), and the nun Eshun 慧春 (ca. 14th century). Hakuin admonished the princess-

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figure 7.7 Portrait of Chiyono [Mugai Nyodai] by Hakuin Ekaku, 17th c., hanging scroll, ink on paper, 36.6 × 57 cm, private collection Source: Photo courtesy of the International Research Institute for Zen Buddhism, Hanazono University

He added the following verse, playing off the waka written by Nyodai quoted above (the last three lines are the same). Chiyo [Nyodai] hoped to draw water in her bucket but it lost its bottom and it could not hold water nor could it house the moon

Chiyo no fu ga tanomishi oke no soko nukete mizu tamaraneba tsuki mo yadorazu

No matter how you look at it when the bottom of the bucket falls away, it will not hold water nor will it house the moon

Tonikaku ni takumishi oke no soko nukete mizu tamaraneba tsuki mo yadorazu

nuns for living too lavishly, urging them to adopt a more austere lifestyle and to pursue Zen practice during all of their daily activities, not just in zazen.

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Around the same time Hakuin’s Oniazami was published, onki honoring Nyodai’s four hundred and fiftieth death anniversary (1747) were held in Kyoto at Daishōji, Hōkyōji, and Shinnyoji, and in Gifu at Shōkenji.61 There are two documents preserved at Shinnyoji detailing the preparations for the service held there.62 The ceremony itself was similar to the 1697 ritual. In preparation for this event the sliding doors in the Reception hall (kyakuden 客殿) were repapered and new tatami mats installed. A portrait of Nyodai was borrowed from Hōkyōji to display in the center of the Reception hall, where participants went for a vegetarian banquet following the main ceremony. Shōkenji also acquired a portrait of Nyodai around the time of this death anniversary (fig. 7.8). According to the inscription (dated 1758) by Myōkō Kanjin 妙光閑人 (dates unknown), it was painted by the nun Nakami 仲見 (dates unknown) who was residing at Shōkenji. A piece of paper placed in the box records that it was donated in memory of the laywoman Shinshōin Kanshitsu 真照院乾室 (d. 1758). Nyodai is depicted sitting in a high-backed carved red lacquered chair, facing to her right as in the portraits discussed above, with hands in a meditation posture, eyes staring forward, and lips pursed in concentration. She is wearing a plain brown robe, but her kesa is brilliantly colored, with patterns of floral scrolls and clouds on red, white, light blue, and dark blue grounds. It is unusual among portraits of Nyodai because it shows the Zen abbess looking very attractive and idealized, her head covered by a light blue hood often worn by tonsured women. The youthful manner of representation may be due to the fact that Nyodai’s stay at Shōkenji was during an earlier period of her life, before becoming a full-fledged Zen master, and therefore the nuns at Shōkenji had a rather different vision of her. In contrast, the Kyoto portraits all depict Nyodai as an older, “defeminized” nun. The final portrait of Nyodai (fig. 7.9) that I will discuss was painted six years prior to her five hundredth death anniversary (1797).63 It was presented to Shinnyoji by Hōkyōji, perhaps to be used in future ceremonies. (As noted above,

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On the twenty-seventh and twenty-eighth days of the ninth month (Hōkyōji), twentyseventh and twenty-eighth days of the tenth month (Daishōji), and twenty-seventh and twenty-eighth days of the eleventh month (Shinnyoji). Recorded in Sangaryō nikki 19. See Shōkokuji shiryō, vol. 5, pp. 80–82. Nyodai Oshō yonhyakugojūnen-ki zatsuyō chō 如大和尚四佰五拾年忌雜用帳 (Record of miscellaneous expenses connected with Abbess Nyodai’s four hundred and fiftieth death anniversary) and Nyodai Oshō yonhyakugojūnen-ki kōshi chō 如大和尚四佰五拾 年忌香資帳 (Record of “incense offerings” for Abbess Nyodai’s four hundred and fiftieth death anniversary). The box inscription is dated 1791.

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figure 7.8 Portrait of Mugai Nyodai by Nakami, 1758, hanging scroll, ink and color on silk, 100.6×38.9cm, inscription (dated 1758) by Myōkō Kanjin, Shōkenji Source: Author photo

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figure 7.9 Portrait of Mugai Nyodai by Imei Shukei, 1791, hanging scroll, ink and color on silk, inscription by Daiten Kenjō, Shinnyoji Source: Author photo

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fifty years earlier Shinnyoji had borrowed a portrait of Nyodai to display in the Reception hall at the time of the four hundred and fiftieth year onki.) The newly dedicated portrait appears to be based on the statue of Nyodai at Shinnyoji, and was painted by Imei Shukei 維明周圭 (1730–1808), the 115th abbot of Shōkokuji.64 Nyodai is shown seated facing to her left in three-quarter pose in a low chair with curved armrests as in the Daishōji portrait. Unlike all of the other portraits, her hands are not in the standard meditation pose with the tips of the thumbs touching, but rather her right hand is grasped by her left hand. Her face, however, bears a close resemblance to the statue, especially the shape of the head, full cheeks, round chin, and placement of wrinkles and creases. The stern-looking abbess wears a plain brown robe and tan kesa woven with a pattern of clouds and grasses with blue cloth squares. Her rather austere form is set off by the green and red brocade cloths covering the chair. The portrait was inscribed with the following laudatory verse by Imei’s teacher, the 113th abbot of Shōkokuji, Daiten Kenjō 大典顕常 (1719–1801), who was an eminent poet of Chinese-style kanshi 漢詩.65 Venerating with deepest reverence this great Bodhisattva among women, Whose lamp of radiant wisdom long illuminated the lightless crossroads. I can hold up three characters and refer to her as a Moon-faced Buddha,66 But not even a flicker of her Zen mind can I inscribe over a chinsō portrait.

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There is no signature, but Imei’s seals are visible in the lower left. Daiten had close connections with both Daishōji and Hōkyōji convents, and many letters and poems by him can be found in their collections. According to the Daiten Zenji nenpu, which was appended to the book Daiten Zenji, he served as chief celebrant at the onki honoring Nyodai’s five hundredth death anniversary at Daishōji on the twenty-eighth day of the tenth month in 1797 and Hōkyōji on the twenty-eighth day of the first month of 1798. See Obata, Daiten Zenji, pp. 438–439. Among the Buddhas of the past are the Sun-faced Buddha (Nichimenbutsu 日面佛) and the Moon-faced Buddha (Gachimenbutsu 月面佛), standing for a long-lived and shortlived Buddha; the Sun-faced Buddha is said to live for 1,800 years; the Moon-faced only one day and one night. See The Blue Cliff Record, Case 3. Daiten’s reference to Nyodai as a Moon-faced Buddha may be an allusion to her spiritual awakening at Shōkenji, when the reflection of the moon she was gazing at “fell” out of her wooden water bucket.

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Easier to say that like Moshan,67 her true heights remained unbarred, Or to say that it was the great earth itself that were her shape and features.68 The actual ceremonies commemorating Nyodai’s five hundredth death anniversary were held at Daishōji and Shinnyoji in 1797, Shōkenji in 1798, and Hōkyōji in 1799. Hōkyōji’s was delayed due to reconstruction at the convent.69 The first onki to take place was the one held at Daishōji on the twenty-eighth day of the tenth month of 1797.70 This was followed by a ceremony at Shinnyoji on the exact anniversary of her death, on the twenty-eighth day of the eleventh month of 1797. A major event that occurred at the Shinnyoji onki was the presentation of one of Nyodai’s kesa to Shinnyoji by the abbot of Chōtokuin 長得 院, a sub-temple of Shōkokuji.71 It is common to display kesa and other contact relics such as prayer beads near the portrait at an onki. Nyodai’s kesa remained at Shinnyoji72 for many years before being returned to Shōkokuji, most likely in the twentieth century. Restoration, the gifting and transferal of objects associated with the abbess, as well as the creation of new imagery accompanying onki were essential to keeping Nyodai’s memory alive. This practice continued into the following century. Documents reveal that on the occasion of an onki at Shinnyoji honoring Mugai Nyodai’s five hundred and fiftieth death anniversary (eleventh month of 1847), the Nyodai portrait sculpture at Shinnyoji, as well as four other statues there, were restored by the Buddhist sculptor Tōji Jōkei 東寺定慶 (dates

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Moshan is the name of a famous Chinese Buddhist nun and Chan (Zen) master of the Tang dynasty. Literally, the two characters mean “Mt. Mo.” See note 19. Translation by Norman Waddell. The onki at Hōkyōji took place on the twenty-eighth day of the first month; accounts appear in both the Shinnyoji kiroku and Sangaryō nikki. See Shōkokuji shiryō, vol. 7, pp. 319– 323. A record of this onki is preserved at Daishōji: Gokaisan Nyodai-ni Zenji gohyakukaiki gohōjichū shoki 御開山如大尼禅師五百廻忌御法事中諸記 (Record of the five hundredth death anniversary rites for the founder, nun and Zen master Nyodai). See also Shōkokuji shiryō, vol. 7, pp. 289–292. Sangaryō nikki 66, 67; see Shōkokuji shiryō, vol. 7, pp. 289–292. The inscription on the kesa box by Chōtokuin priest Emon/Ebun 恵汶 (dates unknown) states that it was conserved and presented to Shōmyakuan [Shinnyoji] on the occasion of Mugai Nyodai’s five hundredth death anniversary in 1797. An undated inventory of objects at Shinnyoji, Shinnyoji kōkatsu chō 真如寺校割帳, notes that the kesa is in a storage chest there.

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unknown).73 The letter of land transfer calligraphed by Nyodai in the collection of Daishōji convent was restored at the time of this onki as well.74 Thirteen years later (1860) the abbess Kandō 貫道 (dates unknown) of Shōkenji arranged for a woodblock version of Nyodai’s biography to be printed and distributed by the convent.75 This is yet another example of the determination of temples associated with Nyodai for the abbess not to be forgotten. Their interest was double-edged: historically Nyodai was important and promoting their connection with her gave them prestige. The absence of records after the 1847 death anniversary rites suggests that the observance of onki and other convent traditions was disrupted in the Meiji period (1868–1912) when, as part of an anti-Buddhist movement, the new government made Shintō the state religion and forbade the imperial family from taking Buddhist vows. With no imperial candidates for abbesses and their stipends terminated, the convents suffered. To my knowledge, onki commemorating Nyodai’s six hundredth anniversary (1897) were not held in Kyoto.76 However, in 1898 an onki did take place at Shōkenji in Gifu, which was distanced from the political scene in Kyoto and had its own base of patronage independent from the imperial court. The main ceremony was held on March 3.77 The tradition of honoring Mugai Nyodai was revived in the late twentieth century, perhaps the result of the convents having regained status as religious/cultural institutions along with financial stability, and her seven hundredth death anniversary was celebrated in both Japan and in the United States.

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Nyodai Oshō gohyakugojūnen onki fushin narabi shozatsuhi chō. The inscription inside the lid of the wooden box housing this letter of land transfer, dated the twenty-eighth day of the ninth month of 1848, records that it was restored for the five hundred and fiftieth death anniversary held the previous year. The box inscription is by Eichū Shūsei 盈沖周整 (d. 1861), chief priest of Jishōji 慈照寺 who served as the 120th abbot of Shōkokuji. Shūsei later added an inscription to a portrait of the founding abbess of Daishōji, Gyokugan Goshin 玉巖悟心 (d. 1407), indicating that he was closely connected with the convent. Copies of this woodblock edition are preserved in the collection of Shōkenji. The exception being a small-scale memorial service held at Hōjiin in 1901, in conjunction with a ceremony celebrating the completion of a new hondō there. In this case the main event was the celebration of Hōjiin’s new worship hall. Hōryu Sensei genkōroku, p. 9. Various records connected with this onki remain at Shōkenji, including records of incense offerings by clergy and laypeople. On this occasion a special ceremony was held for worshippers to take or renew bodhisattva vows ( jukai-e 受戒會 or jubosatsu-kai-e 受菩薩戒 會); lists of the people still remain, including laypeople and nuns.

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In the years leading up to the international event, separate onki were held at Hōkyōji (1994.11.28),78 Daishōji (1997.11.28), Hōjiin (1998.10.10), and Shōkenji (1998.10.25). Manabe Shunshō, a Buddhist priest and painter of Buddhist imagery, created a seven hundredth anniversary portrait in 1998 of Nyodai based on the two portraits preserved at Daishōji and Hōkyōji discussed above, and donated it to the Kyoto Medieval Japanese Studies Institute housed in Daikankiji. Barbara Ruch, professor emeritus of Columbia University, has played an important role in bringing international attention to Nyodai in her publications and presentations at scholarly conferences.79 With the blessing and support of Abbess Kasanoin Jikun of Daishōji, she arranged for an onki for Nyodai to be held at Columbia University in New York City on November 21, 1998. The ceremony took place in St. Paul’s Chapel, in front of a Buddhist altar arranged before an exact replica of the Nyodai portrait statue at Hōjiin.80 Nuns from eight convents participated, and Abbot Fukushima Keidō of Tōfukuji monastery performed a special incense offering and poetic invocation. After the ritual offerings were made and the abbess serving as chief celebrant offered incense and gave an invocation, the nuns performed the rituals of perambulation and scattering of petals (sange 散華) while chanting the Kannon Sutra (Kannongyō 観音経). The ceremony was accompanied by an international symposium in Nyodai’s honor, and several treasures related to Nyodai lent by convents were displayed in the university’s C.V. Starr East Asian Library Kress Rare Book Suite.81 This event and the publicity and scholarly interest it generated cemented Nyodai’s legacy in the Western world and furthered her recognition in Japan. She was among the historical nuns highlighted in the exhibition Amamonzeki, A Hidden Heritage: Treasures of the Japanese Imperial Convents held at the University Art Museum of Tokyo University of the Arts in 2009.82 A google search on the internet for “Mugai Nyodai” currently yields more than 1,400,000 hits in

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A description of the 1994 Hōkyōji onki appears in IMJS Reports, pp. 1–2. For example, Ruch, “The Other Side of Culture”; “Unheeded Voices; Winked-at Lives,” pp. 102–106; “Obstructions and Obligations”; and “Burning Iron Against the Cheek.” The replica was borrowed from the Kanagawa Prefectural Kanazawa Bunko Museum. For a photograph, see Amamonzeki, p. 55. The symposium was titled “The Culture of Convents in Japanese History.” For the contents of the exhibition (November 6–December 4, 1998), see the catalogue Days of Discipline and Grace. See Amamonzeki, pp. 54–61.

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Japanese and approximately one thousand hits in English. Regrettably, however, in many cases the few historical facts we know are intermingled with fiction, especially in entries and blogs created by lay practitioners. Even her name has been mis-romanized in greatly out-of-date entries. I believe we are at a critical juncture with regard to Nyodai’s position in religious and cultural history. It is imperative that scholarly studies advance, perhaps involving scholars of various disciplines so that we can track down more historical sources and document the legacy of this elusive Zen master so that she will be more fully and accurately understood. In sum, this chapter has demonstrated how Mugai Nyodai’s image, in part through periodic memorial ceremonies and commemorative portraits made in connection with them, has been constructed and reconstructed over the centuries. While we do not really know much about Nyodai as a historical person beyond her being recognized as a dharma successor to a leading Chinese Zen master, she represents an ideal that Buddhist practitioners, especially women, have aspired to achieve through study and disciplined practice, and continues to serve as a model for women in the present and future. Respect and admiration for the abbess still burns strong within the remaining convents and temples closely associated with her, and not wanting to wait for her 750th memorial date in 2048, preparations are underway to commemorate Nyodai’s eight hundredth birth anniversary in 2023.

References Primary Sources Enpō dentō roku 延宝伝灯録. Compiled by Mangen Shiban 卍元師蛮. 1706. Republished in Dai Nihon bukkyō zensho 大日本仏教全書, vols. 108–109, ed. Bussho Kankōkai 仏書刊行会. Tokyo: Daihōrin Kaku, 2007. Gokaisan Nyodai-ni Zenji gohyakukaiki gohōjichū shoki 御開山如大尼禅師五百廻忌御 法事中諸記. 1797. Collection of the Daishōji archives. Honchō goen 本朝語園, ed. Kozan Koji 弧山居士. 1706. Republished in Koten bunko 古 典文庫, vols. 445–446. Tokyo: Koten Bunko, 1983. Honkakuin no miya seikō ryakki 本覚院宮成功略記. 1732. Collection of the Hōkyōji archives. Keiaiji godaidai 景愛寺御代々. Compiled by Tokugon Rihō 徳巖理豊. Undated. Collection of the Hōkyōji archives. Keiai kaisan shiju [hon]gan Shōmyaku sōken Nyodai Oshō den 景愛開山資壽[本]願正 脈剏健如大和尚傳. Compiled by Tokugon Rihō 徳巖理豊. 1712. Collection of the Hōkyōji archives and the Imperial Household Agency.

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Kyōto-fu jiin jūkibo: Jiin jūki meisaichō, kaisei Zen Rinzai shū 京都府寺院什器簿： 寺 院什器明細帳改正禅臨済宗. ca. 1897. Collection of the Kyoto National Museum archives. Mugai Nyodai-ni densho 無外如大尼伝書. Compiled by Tokugon Rihō. 1712. Collection of the Hōkyōji archives. Nyodai Oshō yonhyakunen-ki kōshi chō 如大和尚四佰年忌香資帳. 1697. Collection of the Shinnyoji archives. Nyodai Oshō yonhyakunen-ki shoshiki chō 如大和尚四百年忌諸式帳. 1697. Collection of the Shinnyoji archives. Nyodai Oshō yonhyakugojūnen-ki kōshi chō 如大和尚四佰五拾年忌香資帳. 1747. Collection of the Shinnyoji archives. Nyodai Oshō yonhyakugojūnen-ki zatsuyō chō 如大和尚四佰五拾年忌雜用帳. 1747. Collection of the Shinnyoji archives. Nyodai Oshō gohyakugojūnen onki fushin narabi shozatsuhi chō 如大和尚五百五拾年遠 忌普請並諸雜費帳. 1847. Collection of the Shinnyoji archives. Rokuon nichiroku 鹿苑日録. 7 vols. Edited by Tsuji Zennosuke 辻善之助. Tokyo: Zoku Gunsho Ruijū Kanseikai, 1961–1962. Sangaryō nikki 參暇寮日記. 1682–1871. Collection of the Shōkokuji archives. Seizan Keiai niji kaiki Nyodai Zenji shoden 西山景愛尼寺開基如大禅師小伝. Compiled by Tenryū Korin 天竜虎林. 1676. Collection of the Shōkenji archives. Shinnyoji kiroku 真如寺記録. 7 vols. 1775–1829. Collection of the Shinnyoji archives. Shinnyoji kōkatsu chō 真如寺校割帳. Undated. Collection of the Shinnyoji archives. Zō Nyodai Oshō izō ki 造如大和尚遺像記. 1659. Collection of the Shōkenji archives.

Secondary Sources Amamonzeki, A Hidden Heritage: Treasures of the Japanese Imperial Convents. Edited by Patricia Fister and Monica Bethe. Tokyo: Sankei Shinbunsha, 2009. The Blue Cliff Record. Translated by Thomas and J.C. Cleary. Boulder/London: Shambhala, 1977. Days of Discipline and Grace: Treasures from the Imperial Buddhist Convents of Kyoto. Edited by Maribeth Graybill et al. New York: Institute for Medieval Japanese Studies, 1998. Fister, Patricia. “Daughters of the Dharma: The Religious and Cultural Pursuits of Four Imperial Nuns.” In Amamonzeki, A Hidden Heritage, ed. Patricia Fister and Monica Bethe, pp. 288–294. Tokyo: Sankei Shinbunsha, 2009. Fister, Patricia. “In Memoriam? Rethinking the Portrait Sculptures of Princess-Abbesses Enshrined in the Dharma Hall at Shinnyoji Temple.” In Rethinking “Japanese Studies” from Practices in the Nordic Region, ed. Liu Jianhui and Sano Mayuko, pp. 63–73. Kyoto: International Research Center for Japanese Studies, 2014. Hōryu Sensei genkōroku 法立先生言行録. Kyoto: Hōjiin, 1998. Originally published in 1931.

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IMJS Reports 6:1 (June 1995). Accessed December 26, 2017. http://www .medievaljapanesestudies.org/imjs‑reports/1995‑06/index.html Nishikawa Kyōtaro 西川杏太郎. Chinsō chōkoku 頂相彫刻. Nihon no bijutsu 日本の美 術 123. Tokyo: Shibundō, 1976. Obata Buntei 小畠文鼎. Daiten Zenji 大典禪師. Osaka: Fukuda Hiroichi, 1927. Ruch, Barbara. “The Other Side of Culture in Medieval Japan.” In Medieval Japan, ed. Kozo Yamamura, pp. 500–543. Vol. 3 of The Cambridge History of Japan. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990. Ruch, Barbara. “Unheeded Voices; Winked-at Lives.” In Literature, Visual Arts & Linguistics, ed. Adriana Boscaro, Franco Gatti, and Massimo Raveri, pp. 102–109. Vol. 1 of Rethinking Japan. Sandgate, Folkestone: Japan Library Limited, 1991. Ruch, Barbara. “Obstructions and Obligations: An Overview of the Studies That Follow.” In Engendering Faith: Women and Buddhism in Premodern Japan, ed. Barbara Ruch, pp. xliii–lxiii. Ann Arbor: Center for Japanese Studies, The University of Michigan, 2002. Ruch, Barbara. “Burning Iron Against the Cheek: A Female Cleric’s Last Resort.” In Engendering Faith: Women and Buddhism in Premodern Japan, ed. Barbara Ruch, pp. lxv–lxxviii. Ann Arbor: Center for Japanese Studies, The University of Michigan, 2002. Seki shishi 関市史. Vol. 4 of Shinshū shiryōhen kinsei 新修史料編近世, ed. Seki-shi Kyōiku Iinkai 関市教育委員会. Seki-shi: Seki Shiyakusho, 1995. Shōkokuji shiryō 相国寺史料. 10 vols. Edited by Shōkokuji Shiryō Hensan Iinkai 相国寺 史料編纂委員会. Kyoto: Shibunkaku Shuppan, 1984–. Tanaka Takako 田中貴子. Ama ni natta onnatachi 尼になっ た女たち. Tokyo: Daitō Shuppansha, 2005. Yanbe Kōki 山家浩樹. “Mugai Nyodai to Mujaku 無外如大と無着.” Kanazawa Bunko kenkyū 金澤文庫硏究 301 (September 1998), pp. 1–11. Yanbe Kōki 山家浩樹. “Mugai Nyodai den to Chiyono densetsu no kōryū 無外如大伝と 千代野伝説の交流.” In Kodai chūsei Nihon no uchi naru “Zen” 古代中世日本の内な る「禅」, ed. Nishiyama Mika 西山美香, pp. 232–244. Tokyo: Bensei Shuppan, 2011. Yoshizawa Katsuhiro 芳澤勝弘. “Hakuin Zenji kana hōgo, yodan 白隠禅師仮名法語・ 余談,” parts 1 and 2. Zen bunka 禅文化 163 (1997) and 164 (1997), pp. 141–147 and 138– 146. Zekkai goroku 絶海語録. 2 vols. Annotated by Kajitani Sōnin 梶谷宗忍. Kyoto: Shibunkaku Shuppan, 1976. Zen Bunka Kenkyūjo 禅文化研究所, ed. Oniazami 於仁安左美. Vol. 2 of Hakuin Zenji hōgo zenshū 白隠禅師法語全集. Kyoto: Zen Bunka Kenkyūjo, 1999.

chapter 8

Of Surplices and Certificates: Tracing Mugai Nyodai’s Kesa Monica Bethe*

On February 2, 2007 at Shōkokuji 相国寺 in Kyoto, abbesses from the Imperial Convents of Daishōji 大聖寺 and Hōkyōji 宝鏡寺 attended a viewing of a prelate’s surplice (kesa 袈裟) associated with the thirteenth-century Zen abbess Mugai Nyodai (無外如大 1223–1298). This nine-panel yellow kesa (fig. 8.1) was spread out over much of the floor.1 With awe and admiration, the two abbesses gazed at the garment. They both traced their dharma lineages back to Mugai Nyodai, and their temple titles still carry the name of the convent she founded, Keiaiji 景愛寺. This essay investigates the migration of Nyodai’s kesa over the seven-hundred-plus years since her death through documentary evidence of its ritual transmission and textile analysis supporting its authenticity. More than most Buddhist sects, Zen places importance on personal transmission from teacher to disciple. In Rinzai Zen, when the master recognizes the disciple’s depth of religious understanding and feels he/she has experienced enlightenment (satori 悟り), he certifies this attainment by conferring an inka * My sincere gratitude goes to the imperial convents Daishōji, Hōjiin, and Hōkyōji, and the temples Shinnyoji, Shōkokuji, and Shōkenji, for graciously permitting me to study works in their collections and include photographs in this essay. Professors Barbara Ruch and Patricia Fister have kindly read an early draft, offered insightful comments, and provided access to research materials. Katsura Michiyo at the Kyoto Chūsei Nihon Kenkyūjo (Medieval Japanese Studies Institute) consistently helped along the way, including obtaining permission forms. My appreciation goes to Norman Waddell and Atsuko Watanabe for reading through medieval documents with me. Most importantly, I am indebted to Aki Yamakawa at the Kyoto National Museum for introducing me to the world of kesa, working with me on weave structures, and providing the opportunity to gather first-hand experience of the breadth of comparative pieces necessary to make an informed judgement on the authenticity of historical textiles. 1 I took the following measurements on that occasion: 359.0cm long by 108.0cm wide at the edge and 91.0 cm wide at the shortest place. Formal nine-panel Rinzai kesa, rather than being true rectangles, widen at both ends, being shortest close to the center, where when draped, the kesa hangs straight down the prelate’s back.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2018 | doi: 10.1163/9789004368194_010

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figure 8.1 Nine-panel yellow kesa stored in a box labeled “Mugai Nyodai’s kesa,” 13th or 16th c., Shōkokuji Source: Photo by Kanai Morio

certificate, along with a bowl, transmission robe (den-e 伝衣), and portrait of himself. In China, theoretically, a single robe was passed through generations of disciples, its possession authenticating the new possessor as being next in the transmission of the dharma lineage going back to Bodhidharma (Daruma 達磨).2 When Chinese Zen priests came to Japan in the thirteenth century, they perpetuated this custom, each master establishing a personal lineage. In hopes of spreading their faith, men like Nyodai’s mentor, Wuxue Zuyuan (Jp. Mugaku Sōgen 無学相元; also known as Bukkō Kokushi 仏光国師, 1226–1286), had several successors, both male and female, some of whom, including Nyodai, in turn established their own lineages. In Japan, items associated with great prelates and temple founders were also set aside as treasures. Mortuary sub-temples dedicated to religious masters treated things like the robes they had worn as contact relics to be honored in special rituals.3 Documents attest to Nyodai’s robe functioning first as a transmission kesa and symbol of ritual investiture and later to being placed in Nyodai’s mortuary temple, Shōmyakuan 正脈庵, to be displayed as a contact relic in ceremonies and anniversary celebrations. Repeated relocation of the Nyodai kesa, however, resulted in questions of authenticity and conflated associations with people other than those who received it in direct transmission. Verification of the authenticity of a twelfth-century garment cannot rely purely on documentary evidence. Careful textile analysis based on correspondences with dated fabrics is necessary. Weave structure, materials, sewing tech-

2 For the origins of transmission kesa see Yamakawa, “Five Dharma Transmission Robes at the Zen Temple Tōfukuji,” pp. 48–50. 3 Yamakawa, pp. 48–50.

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niques, and tailoring must be given detailed consideration, particularly since objects as fragile as textiles were often reworked when they became worn, ripped, or soiled. These robes might be backed, retailored preserving a portion of the original textile, or totally remade with new materials that copied the older ones. The results of such conservation, renovation, and replication efforts deserve an objective historical analysis tempered by an appreciation of the religious attitudes that sustain the kesa’s legacy.

Mugai Nyodai’s Life, Training, and Reception of the Transmission Robe According to her biography in the Enpō dentō roku 延宝伝灯録 (Enpō era [1673–1681] record of the transmission of the lamp), Nyodai was born in 1223 into the Adachi family and given the childhood name of Chiyono 千代野.4 She then married into the Kanazawa branch of the Hōjō regents serving the Kamakura shogun.5 Possibly she turned to Buddhist practice after the death of her husband as was customary at the time, though her religious involvement may have begun much earlier.6 Whatever the case, she met and studied under the Chinese prelate Wuxue Zuyuan after his arrival in Japan in 1279. Invited to Kamakura by the Hōjō 北条 regent Tokimune 時宗 (1251–1284), Wuxue at the age of fifty-three may have seen Japan as a chance to escape the attacks on religious institutions resulting from the Mongol takeover (1274– 1279) of the Southern Song and to plant the seeds of Chan (Zen) in more fertile ground.7 During the roughly sixteen years he resided in Japan he had numerous followers, some of whom established and headed Zen temples. Wuxue’s written and spoken words recorded in the Bukkō Kokushi goroku 佛 光國師語錄 (Sayings of Zen Master Wuxue) reflect his high esteem for Nyodai.

4 Enpō dentō roku, vol. 19 (Dai Nihon bukkyō zensho, vol. 108, p. 260). On the other hand, an early eighteenth-century biography of Nyodai written by Tokugon Rihō 徳巖理豊 (1672– 1745), abbess of Hōkyōji, and considered generally reliable, gives Nyodai’s childhood name as Kenshi 賢子 (Keiaiji kaisan, Shijūgan, Shōmyaku sōken Nyodai Osho, beginning of scroll). 5 Partially due to the eradication of the Adachi family in 1285 during the Shimotsuki incident, conflicting data complicates the identification of her father and husband. 6 Tokugon Rihō’s biography relates that Nyodai met Wuxue when she was staging prayers for her deceased husband, who is identified as Lord of Echigo, presumed to be Kanazawa Sanetoki 金沢実時 (1224–1276). For a discussion of widows turning to Budddhism, see Ushiyama, “Buddhist convents in Medieval Japan,” pp. 131–136. 7 Collcutt, Five Mountains, pp. 64–65 and 72.

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In 1286 when he saw his death approaching, he gathered his disciples around him in Kamakura, and praising Nyodai’s ability to answer Zen koan with “three turning words” signifying her true enlightenment, he told the monks that he had passed on his robe and inscribed portrait to her. He recommended her as a model, extoling her vigor and dedication to transmitting his teachings faithfully.8 Wuxue went on to announce that he had sent his hair and fingernails to Nyodai, asking her to enshrine them as relics. Nyodai placed these in her Shōmyakuan retreat in north-western Kyoto, transforming it into a mortuary temple for her master. The actual ritual of passing on the symbols of dharma succession, his personal robe and a self-inscribed portrait, must have been simple and personal. The eight-line Chinese poem Wuxue wrote at the top of the portrait is recorded in the Bukkō Kokushi goroku.9 The poem traces her growing spiritual capacity through a series of metaphors, comparing, for instance, her dharma eye to a “lightning bolt flashing with confident ease” and ends with “I transmit the final word to you, Mujaku,” a pun on Nyodai’s alternate name “non-attachment” 無 着.10 Passing on one character in his own name, mu 無, was yet another recognition of Nyodai’s inheritance.11 Although Nyodai’s name appears in some Wuxue lineage charts, none of her female successors do. Since he had several other dharma successors, one might posit that Wuxue hoped she would found a female lineage to parallel a male lineage. He certainly endorsed her founding of the convent Keiaiji. The tradition of parallel male and female Zen institutions was well established in China and other examples of female transmission of relics can be found in Japan.12 8 9 10

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Bukkō Kokushi goroku, vol. 9 (Dai Nihon bukkyō zensho, vol. 48, p. 162). Bukkō Kokushi goroku, vol. 8 (Dai Nihon bukkyō zensho, vol. 48, p. 142). The inclusion of the name of the recipient in such a poem is common. Scholars like Yanbe Kōki have used this poem to question whether Mujaku and Mugai were indeed the same person or two people conflated into one. Based on the portrait inscription being labeled as dedicated to “Nun Nyodai of Keiaiji,” my inclination is towards agreeing with her early biographers that she was known both as Mugai and Mujaku. Wuxue also passed on a robe and the character “mu” to Mushō Jōshō 無象静照 (Hōkai Zenshi 法海禅師, 1234–1306). See Kamakura Engakuji no meihō, p. 30. For female relics passed down in Japan see Harada, “Nyonin to zenshū,” pp. 170 and 179. For parallel convents in the Song dynasty (960–1276) see Levering, Zen Images, Texts, and Teaching, ch. 6. In particular, the Chinese nun Miao-tao 妙道 (active ca. 1134–1155) is held up as a model when describing Nyodai. (See the Zekkai Chūshin inscription quoted in the Fister chapter in this volume.) She was a disciple of the Chan master Dahui Zhonggao 大 慧宗杲 (1089–1163), who founded her own nunnery and left behind a number of poems and sayings.

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Nyodai’s Convent Complex, Keiaiji Undoubtedly Nyodai’s the greatest achievement with the longest lasting legacy was the establishment of Keiaiji. A 1286 letter from Nyodai to another of Wuxue’s successors, Kōhō Kennichi 高峰顕日 (1241–1316), reaffirms her rights to the convent lands and indicates one of many ways Kennichi supported her endeavors.13 In a biography of Nyodai, the abbess of Hōkyōji, Tokugon Rihō 徳 厳理豊 (1672–1745), describes her energetic fund raising, astonishing religious insight, and the strict, austere discipline she established at her convent. With its ordination platform, Keiaiji grew to be a large, well-sustained Zen complex of sub temples and branch temples.14 As a serious training center for Zen practice where women could meditate for personal enlightenment, the convent stood out among other contemporary nunneries, which were generally devoted to praying for the departed and sutra copying. In the late-Heian and Kamakura periods, women “left the world” (shukke 出家) after the loss of a loved one or a severe sickness.15 Many partially tonsured, or even fully tonsured “nuns” stayed at home, or retired to a villa retreat where they focused on devotional practices and praying for the deceased. Some of these nuns seem to have taken the precepts, but few were formally ordained.16 Most of these private sanctuaries did not survive long after the death of their founders. A reemergence of convents as communal institutions developed after the wars of the late twelfth century left numerous women widowed. Joining together in communal living provided safety and some financial security. The religious intent, however, remained focused on prayers for the deceased.17 Nyodai’s Keiaiji was, thus, distinct. Her own personality must have driven its orthodox principles of austerity, simplicity, and practice.18 In her last years, she retired to Shōmyakuan, passing on the kesa and Wuxue’s portrait as a part

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Mugai Nyodai jihitsu uzurijo, 1286. Kōhō Kennichi was the second son of Emperor Gosaga 後嵯峨天皇 (1220–1272; r. 1242–1246). Kennichi studied under Zen masters Enni Ben’en 圓爾辯圓 (1202–1280), Wuan Puning (Jp: Gottan Funei 兀菴普寧, 1197–1276), and Wuxue Zuyuan. Musō Soseki 夢窓疎石 (1275–1351) was one of his many disciples. Arakawa, “Keiaiji no enkaku,” p. 63. See Arakawa, “Keiaiji no enkaku,” pp. 57–69. Ushiyama, “Buddhist Convents in Medieval Japan,” pp. 131–164. Ushiyama, “Buddhist Convents in Medieval Japan,” pp. 132–133. Ushiyama, “Buddhist Convents in Medieval Japan,” p. 136. Zekkai Chūshin’s 絶海中津 (1334–1405) poem written for her hundredth death anniversary describes her as following the principles of Zen Master Desan (Tokusan), while Toku-

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of the investiture rituals for the next abbess, Gettei Munin 月庭無忍 (dates unknown). As time passed, the meaning of the robe and the investiture ritual evolved. It is possible to extrapolate something of this development from a document preserved at Hōkyōji, a chart labeled “Transmission Succession for the Buddhist Robe,” 法衣相𣴎次第 with an addendum in smaller kanji reading: “and for those who do not receive the robe but become abbesses of Keiaiji”19 (fig. 8.2). This is the oldest record confirming the names of the abbesses and one of only a handful of original documents still extant from the convent. Although no dates and little information are given for each person named, it is clear from the chart that while passing on the dharma teachings as embodied in the kesa lay at the core of the succession, eventually the transmission of the robe ceased to be a prerequisite for becoming abbess. At the same time, the possession of the robe took on new socially symbolic value. A number of scholars have tried to identify the individuals listed in the lineage, and in tracing the passage of Nyodai’s surplice I have relied heavily on their work, though many conflicting and dubious points remain.20

Tracing the Transmission of Nyodai’s Kesa The chart spans some 180 years from Wuxue and Mugai Nyodai in the late thirteenth century to the mid-fifteenth century nun Madenokōji Jishō 万里小路慈 照 (b. 1427), who probably compiled the chart. These 180 years can be divided into three phases: (1) Keiaiji as a privately sponsored convent for strict Zen training and ordination (late 13th, early 14th century), (2) Keiaiji weathering the upheavals of the Nanbokuchō era (1336–1392), and (3) Keiaiji as leader of the government-patronized and controlled “Five Mountain Convent” system or Amagozan/Amadera Gozan 尼五山/尼寺五山 (mid-to-late 14th–15th century). In 1498 Keiaiji burned down and lacked the finances to be rebuilt. Some of the sub and branch temples of Keiaiji, however, having been founded by imperial, noble, or Ashikaga-related women were destined to become “nun’s palaces” or bikuni gosho 比丘尼御所 in the sixteenth century. Three of these Keiaiji nun’s

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gon Rihō in her biography descries Nyodai throwing out all the statues to clear the hall for meditation. Hōe shōshō shidai, Hōkyōji documents, probably written in or shortly before 1455. Arakawa, “Keiaiji no enkaku,” pp. 57–69; Yanbe, “Mugai Nyodai no sōken jiin,” pp, 1–14 and “Nyodai enyū no jiin to Muromachi bakufu,” pp. 561–579; Harada, “Nyonin to zenshū,” pp. 140–180; and Oka, “Kinyo no bikuni gosho, Hōkyōji o chūshin ni,” Vol. 42.2, pp. 30–60 and Vol. 44.2, pp. 1–40.

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figure 8.2 “Transmission Succession for the Buddhist Robe” (a line connects the names of each successive recipient of the kesa), ca. 1450s, Hōkyōji archives Source: Photo courtesy of Nara National Museum

palaces survived the Warring States period (1466–1576) and carried on the head convent’s legacy: Daishōji, Hōkyōji, and Hōjiin 宝慈院. Phase One During the first thirty to forty years, the authority and the transmission of Nyodai’s kesa reflected commitment to perpetuating the Buddhist precepts through convent activities (fig. 8.3). Investiture as abbess and possession of the symbols of dharma transmission were equivalents. After passing from “Bukkō Zenshi” 仏光禅師 (Wuxue Zuyuan) to “Keiaiji Kaisan Nyodai Oshō” 景愛寺開 山如大和尚 [Keiaiji Founder, Abbess Nyodai], the kesa was then passed on to four abbesses in succession, up until number five, Tōhō E’nichi 東峯恵日 (dates unknown, mid-fourteenth century). These women were probably her direct disciples, or their disciples.21 Although the transmission chart lists nothing more than their names, a lineage chart of Hōkyōji abbesses that incorporates 21

An affirmation of the religious respect given the early abbesses at Keiaiji can be read into

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figure 8.3 Lineage of phase one Keiaiji abbesses

the early Keiaiji abbesses provides further information.22 All four nuns seem to have been daughters of the elite Hino family, and were thus sisters, aunts, mothers, and cousins of high-ranking women serving the emperor. Absence of birth and death dates makes it difficult to pinpoint the times of their residencies. An end date, however, can be found in the fifth abbess’s Will of the Nun Tōhō E’nichi 東峰恵日尼自筆置文 (Tōhō E’nichi ni jihitsu okibumi) in her own hand and dated 1354, which has instructions for the future of Keiaiji.23 E’nichi’s will stipulates that both the kesa and the abbacy should be passed on to Karin Egon 華林恵厳 (d. 1386). From the transmission chart we can see that this transferal bypassed two abbesses, who never received the kesa and about whom we know nothing. Thus Karin Egon became the eighth abbess, sixth recipient of the kesa, and additionally she was the founder of Hōkyōji branch temple.

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a document in which Musō Soseki requested the transfer of the graves or stupas for Nyodai, and also for the fourth Keiaiji abbess Kohō Keishū 孤峰恵秀 (dates unknown, midfourteenth century), to Shōmyakuan shortly before he converted Shōmyakuan into the temple Shinnyoji 真如寺. Yanbe interprets this as appropriating a direct lineage extending back to Wuxue; see “Nyodai enyū no jiin to Muromachi bakufu,” pp. 565–566. Hōkyōji keifu; Keiaiji godaidai 宝鏡寺系譜、 景愛寺御代々, Hōkyōji archives. Oka, “Kinyo no bikuni gosho,” pp. 35–56, suggests that the version known today dates to a nineteenth-century revised version of this geneology by Hongakuin no miya (Tokugon Riho) titled, Ama Gozan Keiaiji denkei Seizan Hōkyōji teidai keifu jiseki 景愛寺伝系西山 法鏡寺逓代系譜事跡 (Traces of a genealogy of successive generations of Seizan Hōkyōji, descended from Ama Gozan Keiaiji). See also Yamamoto, Visual and Material Culture at Hōkyōji Imperial Convent. Bunwa 文和 3. Tōhō E’nichi-ni jihitsu okibumi 東峯恵日尼自筆置文, Miho Museum.

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Phase Two Why two abbesses did not receive the kesa and portrait remains buried in history, though it does reflect a separation of religious transmission (kesa and portrait) from administrative leadership (abbess) (fig. 8.4). The answer might lie in the state of the nation during their abbacies. It is likely that the two women who did not receive the kesa would have been abbesses between the 1330s and the early 1350s—a time of political unrest that saw major power shifts with many reversals, families abolished, land confiscated, and loyalties split along several lines: southern versus northern emperors, military versus imperial court, and orthodox religious sects versus newly established ones.24 Tōhō E’nichi’s letter refers to “several quarrels,” presumably the Kannō disturbance (Kannō jōran, 観応擾乱 1350–1351) and its aftermath.25 In light of this, she claims to have placed the most important documents in the “hands of others” and laments that “women, being inexperienced, need guidance in worldly affairs.”26 The woman to whom Tōhō E’nichi (who presumably had kept the kesa after retiring from being abbess)27 saw fit to pass on the kesa was clearly aligned with the rising order: Karin Egon was the daughter of the Ashikaga 足 利-supported Northern Emperor Kōgon 光厳天皇 (1313–1364; r. 1331–1333) and a disciple of Musō Soseki 夢窓疎石 (1275–1351).28

24 25

26

27

28

For a detailed discussion of the Nanbokuchō wars and their effect on the social, economic, and political structure of Japan, see Conlan, State of War. In the early years of the Ashikaga shogunate, the brothers Takauji 尊氏 (1305–1358) and Tadayoshi 直義 (1306–1352) ruled together, but due to differences of policy they came to loggerheads in 1350. After Takauji’s deputy, Kō no Moronao 高師直 (d. 1351) forced Tadayoshi to become a priest under Musō Soseki (1349), Tadayoshi took revenge and the two brothers waged battle against each other. The internal fighting weakened the Ashikaga shogunate sufficiently that it led to a brief revival (1351–1354) of the Southern Imperial line’s power, to whom Tadayoshi and others had defected. Ultimately Takauji emerged victorious and in sole control. At the time the resident abbot of Ungoan 雲居庵 at Tenryūji 天龍寺 was either Mukyoku Shigen 無極志玄 (1282–1359), the second abbot, or Shun’oku Myoha 春屋妙葩 (1312– 1388), the third. The close connection with Tenryūji may also be related to the fact that Karin Egon was tonsured by Musō Soseki. Hōkyōji monjo of Kōei 康永 2 (1343).2, names an E’nichi Hall (hattō 法堂) with an address close to Keiaiji, presumably E’nichi’s retirement temple. See Yanbe, “Nyodai enyū no jiin to Muromachi bakufu,” p. 568. The Meiji records of Hōkyōji abbesses note Karin Egon’s father and her mentor. After being in Hōjiin she became eighth abbess of Keiaiji. She then was granted the privilege to wear purple robes and next received the kesa and portrait that had been passed down from Nyodai through six generations. Later she was at Kenpuku Convent and then founded

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figure 8.4 Lineage of phase two Keiaiji abbesses

Tōhō E’nichi’s will also sheds light on ways in which Keiaiji convent had evolved along with the emergence of the Kyoto “Five Mountain” system. Following the Chinese model, which ranked the newly founded Zen temples and tied them to a nationwide network of temples, select Zen monasteries served the state, receiving support—but also supervision—from the shogunate. In Kyoto, Musō Soseki, a disciple of Kōhō Kennichi, who in turn was a disciple of Bukkō Kokushi (Wuxue), worked with the early Ashikaga shoguns to build up the Kyoto gozan system. One of the temples Soseki founded was Tenryūji (1344), and it was to the resident abbot of a sub-temple (Ungoan 雲居庵) at Tenryūji that the nun Tōhō E’nichi recommended the nuns of Keiaiji turn when in need of help. Yanbe posits that the abbot was Shun’oku Myōha 春屋妙葩 (1311–1388), a disciple of Soseki who was instrumental in elevating the image of Mugai Nyodai and who encouraged a number of other women on their religious paths.29 Phase Three The creation of the “Five Mountain Convents” probably evolved slowly, its last member, Tsūgenji 通玄寺, being founded only in 1380. Keiaiji was ranked at the top (fig. 8.5). Prestigious as this was, it also meant that the shogun appointed the abbesses, as he did the abbots of Five Mountain temples, and thus he had tight-control of their activities.30 According to the system, the various sub and branch convents presented the Shogun with a list from which he chose the

29 30

Seizan Hōkyōji, which at the time was situated near Tenryūji and the western mountains of Kyoto. See Harada, “Nyonin to zenshū,” p. 150. A kesa that Myōha presented to Abbess Chisen Shintsū 智泉聖通 (1309–1388) evidences his support of the founder of Tsūgenji 通玄寺, the last convent to be designated as one of the Five Mountain convents. See Nishiyama, “Nisō no ‘seichi’ toshite no Shinnyoji,” pp. 224–225. See also Harada, “Nyonin to zenshū,” pp. 153–155. When a chosen nun refused to take the abbacy, another was chosen by lottery from former abbesses of Keiaiji and of sub and branch temples. See Arakawa, “Keiaiji no enkaku,”

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most suitable candidate. This politicization may be why, according to the kesa transmission chart, four imperial daughters, none of whom receive the kesa, follow Karin Egon.31 The next recipient of the kesa was Kyōmuro Eshō 鏡室恵照 (d. 1414). The Hōkyōji lineage identifies her as the third daughter of the Minister of Interior Hirohashi Kanenobu 広橋兼宣 (1366–1429). Like most Keiaiji abbesses, she moved around among the sub-temples. Having earlier obtained permission from Karin Egon, she built a sub-temple on Itsutsuji street next to Keiaiji in 1394 and named it Kenshōin.32 She then moved on to Hōkyōji. When she was appointed abbess of Keiaiji itself, she received the robe and portrait. The robe had apparently been “kept in a secret place” after the death of Karin Egon.33 Sometime in the early fifteenth century, the robe and portrait were deposited in the newly founded Kenshōin. This is indicated in the transmission chart with a branch line and the comment, “the kesa leaves the main Keiaiji precincts.” With Abbess Eshō we enter a time of greater stability. Ashikaga Yoshimitsu 足利義満 (1358–1408, r. 1368–1394), the most powerful of the Ashikaga shoguns, had finally established peace between the northern and southern imperial lines (1392). He built Shōkokuji (1382) as a head Five Mountain temple and finalized details in the Five Mountain administration (1386). The position of women had also changed. In the Kamakura period when Nyodai founded Keiaiji, elite women had considerable inheritance rights. For instance, according to a Hōkyōji document dated 1277 signed by “Rihō 理宝,” her wealth was great enough that she provided the land for Keiaiji as well as the shōen 荘園 tax estates to support it.34 Hōkyōji and Daishōji ascribe Rihō to

31

32

33 34

pp. 63–64. In her letter E’nichi warns against allowing just anyone to enter the convent, even if they are relatives of people already installed. The shogunal right of intervention can also be seen in a much later edict, the Nakagata Chūsei hōsho 仲方中正奉書 dated 1431 (Eikyō 永享 3) where the shogunate ordered that the kesa and portrait with Wuxue’s inscription to be removed from Keiaiji and placed in the sub-temple of Kenshōin. Hokyoji archives. Nakagata Chūsei 仲方中正 (1373–1451) was a Rinzai priest and administrator at Shōkokuji who transmitted missives and made announcements (dentatsu hirō 伝達披露) for Ashikaga Yoshimochi 足利義持 (1386– 1428). See also Harada, “Nyonin to zenshū,” p. 161. Yanbe, “Mugai Nyodai sōritsu jiin,” p. 9. As Karin Egon is thought to have died in 1386, a number of years must have passed between Eshō’s obtaining permission and then actually constructing Kenshōin, or perhaps construction was started, but then stopped for some reason, and it wasn’t completed until later. Inoguchi, Amamonzeki no gengo seikatsu, p. 29. Rihō kishin jōan 理寶寄進状案 (Rihō’s [Land] Donation Missive) (Kenji 建治 3 [1277], Hōkyōji archives) states that “The donated land was imperial for a long time and located

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figure 8.5 Lineage of phase three Keiaiji abbesses

be Imabayashi (Fujiwara) no Sadako 藤原貞子 (1196–1302), the wife of Saionji Saneuji 西園寺実氏 (1194–1269) and mother of the principle consort of the Emperor Gosaga 後嵯峨 (1220–1272, r. 1242–1248). A document in Daishōji in Nyodai’s hand mentioning [Kōhō] Kennichi and his verifying the land grant gives credence to this attribution, as he was the second son of Gosaga and “Rihō” would have been his step grandmother.35 Over the next century, wars and warrior government engendered new approaches to land distribution and bolstered the family (ie 家) system. Gradually the independence of elite women was undermined and for many their property came to be transferred into their husband’s family on marriage.36 Additionally, during the Nanbokuchō era, the divided court led to a loss of the shōen property that formed the imperial court’s economic backing. On the one hand, there were fewer and fewer jobs for elite women within the court.37 On the other, convents founded by single or groups of bereaved women were now institutions with landed property rights. As the highest-ranking Five Mountain Convent, Keiaiji with its fifteen sub and branch temples offered women from aristocratic families a viable alternative to marriage or court service.

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on Itsutsuji but is given to “Nyodai-bō” for the purpose of building a convent.” Published in Josei to Bukkyō as item 158. See also discussion on p. 247. Mugai Nyodai jihitsu uzurijo, 1286. Daishōji archives. A concise discussion of changing circumstances for elite women can be found in Laffin, Rewriting Medieval Japanese Women, pp. 6–8. For a discussion of the financial straits of the court aristocracy in the fifteenth century, see Butler, Emperor and Aristocracy in Japan, pp. 24–26.

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By the fifteenth century elite parents were sending their unmarried daughters to Keiaiji and other convents as a way to provide for them. This began a trend that in the Edo period led emperors and regental families to place their daughters, often at a young age, in select nun’s palaces. A fringe benefit was family control of the convent.

Investiture Rituals and the Symbolic Capital of Nyodai’s Transmission Kesa Kenshōin, where the kesa was retained through several abbacies, is an example of family dominance. We know something of the circumstances by which Kenshōin came to house successive abbesses from the same family through the diary of the courtier Madenokōji Tokifusa 万里小路時房 (1395–1457), Kennaiki 建内記 (Record of Inner Minister Madenokōji Tokifusa; Buddhist name Kenshōin). He was brother of the eighth recipient of the kesa, Tōdō Etsū 徹堂恵 通 (d. 1422?),38 and father of both the ninth and tenth recipients, Jishun 慈俊 (dates unknown) and Jishō.39 Various issues led to Jishun retiring and Jishō taking the tonsure.40 On that occasion Jishō received the “Bukkō Kokushi” kesa.41 Her father noted the event in the following entry to his diary. Sections enclosed in brackets are his explanatory notes. Bun’an 4 [1447].4.14 Today acolyte Jishō [She became an acolyte (kasshiki) at age 15 on 1441.10.27 at the mortuary site of Bukkō Kokushi under the previous Kenni Seiten Keiai Prelate.]

38

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The date is calculated from her brother, Madenokōji Tokifusa’s, diary Kennaiki entry for Ōei 応永 29 (1428).5.7, which notes her seventh death anniversary. She became the second abbess of Kenshōin in Ōei 25 (1418). Madenokōji Tsugufusa 万里小路嗣房 (1341–1401) was father to both Tokifusa and Etsū, who also shared the same mother. Jishō’s birth date is calculated from the Kennaiki note that she was 15 in Kakitsu 嘉吉 1 (1441). For details on the politics behind Jishō’s tonsure, see Yanbe, “Mugai Nyodai no sōken jiin,” pp. 9–10. Madenokōji Tokifusa, Kennaiki 建内記, entry for Bun’an 文案 4 (1447).4.14, pp. 78–79.

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became a full nun [bikuni]. Ōgosho42 provided the money. Various people attended Jishō as she went in her palanquin to Sōjuin at Shōkokuji, where Seiten is head priest. Bukkō Kokushi’s portrait with his own inscription and his Buddhist robe were on display. Her head was shaved, she received the robe [The Buddhist robe is a nine-panel robe from Bukkō Kokushi: a transmission kesa. A seven-panel kesa, five-panel kesa, and prayer cloth (zagu), as well as the bowl (hachi) were all from Seiten. Actually the ceremony should have been at Shōmyakuin, but Ōgosho wished to have it here.] and the wood blade. Ōgosho presented [Jishō] with a gift of a thousand hiki.43 The attendants presented her with a kosode [kimono of glossed plain weave silk nerinuki], a razor, and a katabira.44 The recipient thanked them properly in perfect form. The gifts cover the preparations for the ceremony, like the kesa45 and other garments. They amount to two thousand hiki all together. One thousand is a donation, and one thousand I will return to the person from whom I borrowed money for the ceremony, the details of which are noted in a previous entry. The nun [Jishō] then prepared to retire. She went to pay respects to Ōgosho and also gave her thanks to various other people. On the next day, she came to be the owner of the collected garments and the Sacred Robe. This robe is a seed, a rare treasure that has been passed down through successive hands from Nyodai to Jishō. The saying goes, that when one child takes the tonsure, mother and father achieve salvation. There is surely no greater wish between two generations. The details of the lavish investiture ceremony include a retinue of attendants enhancing the novice’s progression to the site, attendance by high-ranking lay people, and extensive gifts. Indeed, the financing for Jishō’s investiture seems to have taxed her father, Tokifusa’s, purse to the extent that he borrowed money

42

43 44 45

Ōgosho is generally a reference to the shogun. Here, however, the note identifies the person as Ashikaga Yoshimochi’s later consort, Sanjō Tadako 三条尹子, listed here by her name in retirement, Zuishun-in. See also Yanbe “Mugai Nyodai no sōken jiin,” p. 9. Hiki is a monetary unit worth 10 mon. A katabira is a henpen summer kimono. This refers to kesa she and others wore, not the transmission kesa she received.

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for the occasion and was grateful for the proceeds being sufficient to promptly pay back the loan. He is very beholden to Ōgosho, who seems to have masterminded the whole ceremony. Apparently Tokifusa was not the only aristocrat hard put to finance his daughter’s entrance into a convent. Arakawa has identified a number of elite fathers who needed to borrow money to defray the expense of placing a daughter in a religious institution.46 Of further note is that Tokifusa refers to the kesa as Wuxue’s during the public ceremony, but as Mugai Nyodai’s the next day when, as Jishō’s father, he privately rejoices in the marvel of his daughter possessing it. This shift between public and private highlights the importance of the grand Zen master Wuxue, who stands as a cornerstone authenticating Nyodai, and the more immediate, intimate association with the woman, Nyodai. A similar scenario surrounds Nyodai’s retreat, Shōmyakuin, which was both Wuxue’s and Nyodai’s mortuary temple and which served as the standard site (Tokifusa tells us) for Keiaiji investitures. Jishō had her investiture as a novice (kasshiki 喝食 ceremony) there. Shōmyakuin is also destined to be the resting place for the kesa. Jishō, despite her elaborate investiture receiving the kesa, does not seem to have felt compelled to pass it on to a successor. Hers is the last name on the transmission chart, which is followed by a separate document that states she is transferring the kesa to Shōmyakuin.47 So in 1455, twelve years before the Ōnin wars (1467–1477), the kesa that had been transmitted through a line of nuns was laid to rest in the founder’s retreat and mortuary temple for her teacher. Tokifusa’s diary passage not only gives us a glimpse of the tonsure ceremony, it also is the first time we get any concrete information about the type of kesa passed down. It was described as a “nine-panel” (kujō 九條) kesa, which was standard for Rinzai Zen transmission kesa. In the following section I will detail the various forms and styles of kesa in an attempt to connect the lines between the transmission kesa and the yellow kesa introduced at the beginning of the essay as being associated with Mugai Nyodai.

Documentation for the Shōkokuji’s Kesa Associated with Nyodai The yellow Shōkokuji kesa is stored in a plain wood box with Mugai Nyodai’s name inscribed on the lid and the following passage on the inside of the lid (fig. 8.6). 46 47

Arakawa, “Keiaiji no enkaku,” pp. 64–65. Jishō yuzurijō an, Kōshō 3 (1457).8.15, Hōkyōji archives. Note Shōmyakuan and Shōmyakuin are the same place.

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figure 8.6 Inscription inside of the lid of Nyodai’s kesa box, 1798, Shōkokuji Source: Author photo. Used with kind permission of Shōkokuji

One kesa of chief prelate Mugai Nyodai This has been kept as a secret treasure in our temple for a long time Now, we are offering it to the home temple [Shōmyakuan] in honor of Nyodai’s 500th-death anniversary Long may it serve Shōmyaku as a solemn ornament (shōgon) Kansei 9 [1797] [abbot of] Chōtoku[in], Emon48

48

The content of the inscription also appears in the Sangaryō nikki. See Shōkokuji shiryō, vol. 7, pp. 289–292, which mentions that it was conserved for the occasion.

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In other words, for the 500th anniversary of Nyodai’s death the yellow kesa was presented to the temple of Shōmyakuan/ Shōmyakuin, the mortuary temple for both Wuxue Zuyuan and Mugai Nyodai. The box lid states that the kesa is being sent from Chōtokuin 長得院, a sub-temple of Shōkokuji. Since it is common to display a kesa worn by a deceased prelate as a part of the rituals attending special memorial anniversaries (onki 遠忌), the offering of this kesa must have greatly enhanced the occasion. Since at one time the transmission kesa was stored at Shōmyakuan, this may be a return rather than a loan or permanent offer. The box also contains verification slips that affirm the authenticity of the yellow kesa. One verification is written by Gakuin Ekatsu 鄂隠慧奯 (also known as Busui Seizoku Kokushi 仏慧正続国師, 1357–1425), who founded Chōtokuin in 1410 and became abbot of Shōkokuji in 1414.49 It is very similar to other verification slips with his name: hand and insignia being the same.50 So in the early fifteenth century, this kesa, or at least a kesa that passed through Gakuin Ekatsu’s hands, was authenticated as Mugai Nyodai’s.

The Transmission Kesa and the Identity of the Yellow Shōkokuji Kesa The only physical description of the Wuxue-Nyodai transmission kesa so far is that it is a nine-panel kesa (fig. 8.7). This description corresponds to the yellow kesa at Shōkokuji designated as associated with Nyodai. That does not, however, guarantee that they are one and the same. The verification slip for the yellow kesa written by Gakuin Ekatsu presumably dates to sometime close to 1410. From the succession chart, it is clear that at that time the transmission kesa was still within the Keiaiji complex, either in the main temple or in the Kenshōin sub-temple. It may have needed verification for other reasons than long-term storage. To contextualize this kind of authentication, I turn to one of Gakuin Ekatsu’s own kesa. This was stored in a box with a lengthy inscription and a verification tag very similar to the one for the yellow kesa.51 The end of the inscription 49

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Gakuin Ekatsu was a disciple of Zekkai Chūshin. He studied in China between 1386–1396, was a poet of gozan literature and became abbot of Shōkokuji after his return to Japan. He was also teacher of the founder of Jijuin Imperial convent, Chikutei Jōken 竹庭浄賢 (1390–1431). Another example lies in the box storing Gakuin Ekatsu’s own kesa. See below. The box and Gakuin Ekatsu’s kesa are presently stored at Kyoto National Museum.

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figure 8.7 Sketch identifying the parts of a Rinzai Zen nine-panel kesa Source: Author drawing

has an addendum stating that the extra item in the box is a black seven-panel gauze-weave (mojiri-ori or “crossed warps”) kesa belonging to Nyodai and presented by Shinnyoji (Shōmyakuin) to Chōtokuin. Since it was a seven-panel kesa, this black kesa would not correspond to the nine-panel transmission kesa as described in the Kennaiki: at least two kesa associated with Nyodai were in Shōmyakuin. The rest of the box inscription relates the story of Gakuin Ekatsu’s kesa, shedding light on the value, perpetuation, and replication of kesa. After identifying the weave (gold brocading, kinran), color (red and blue), and ring (ivory), it goes on to say: This is the same kesa mentioned in Kinsen’s diary. According to the diary, in the intercalary fifth month of Bunmei 19 [1487], Jishō Sōkō (Shogun Ashikaga Yoshimasa) had the priest Imei Zuichi hold gyakushū ceremonies (death rituals before you die) for 100 days. During the lectures on Buddhism, the shogun asked about the kesa. The answer was, it had been passed on from the previous priest, Busui Seizoku Kokushi [Gakuin Ekatsu]. The shogun wanted the kesa to give it to Ōsen Keisan [横川], so he had it replicated. In Keian 3 [1650], Tōfukumon-in presented another copy of this kesa to Kinshuku Kentaku to commemorate the 300th death anniversary of Musō Kokushi [Musō Soseki]. The inscription on the lid of Gakuin Ekatsu’s kesa box not only indicates that two hundred years after her death more than one kesa was associated with Nyo-

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dai but also elucidates an appreciation of kesa for their aesthetic appeal that spurs their replication. When, why and whether the Wuxue-Nyodai kesa was transferred from Shōmyakuin to Shōkokuji’s Chōtokuin needs more research. The earliest document clearly identifying the yellow kesa ascribed today to Nyodai by its color, weave, and pattern is a Shōkokuji reference to a kesa that was used in the 300th death anniversary rites for Musō Soseki in 1651.52 The robe is identified as, “Founder’s Buddhist robe (hōe 法衣), yellow, bands of gauze weave with peony design, ground of hokken silk, ring of water buffalo.”53 Every item in this description fits the yellow kesa that is now stored as Mugai Nyodai’s in a box claiming it was sent to Shōmyakuin for her 500th death anniversary (see fig. 8.1). Of course there is the possibility that when Musō Soseki converted Shōmyakuin into Shinnyoji monastery, he wore a kesa that had been Nyodai’s, symbolically affirming his link to the place and through her to Wuxue. The kesa would then have “belonged” to both of them, though it could not have been the transmission kesa, as that was kept at Kaiaiji. Without relegating this apparent mix-up to yet one more appropriation of Nyodai’s identity by Musō Soseki, we might investigate other ways the confusion could have occurred. Let us presume for a moment that this kesa is, indeed, Nyodai’s transmission kesa and that someone at Shinnyoji-Shōmyakuin, founded by Musō, transferred it to the head monastery Shōkokuji along with other articles, including perhaps a kesa that really did belong to Musō.54 These were deposited at Chōtokuin for safe-keeping, and a hundred years later the kesa was presumed to be Muso’s. The attribution slip was then found, matched with a now-lost record, and the identification straightened out. Another scenario might point to replication and refashioning, as suggested by the Egatsu kesa inscription quoted above. The yellow kesa associated with either or both Mugai Nyodai and Musō Soseki consists of three different materials, all of which have been associated by textile historians to dates later the thirteenth century, but none of them technically impossible to have been produced that early. A detailed analysis follows.

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See Shōkokuji Shiryō, vol. 2, p. 232. This description lies in the box lid, but is also recorded in the Shōkokuji Records. In fact, a kesa of the same color and similar, but not identical, gauze weave with Musō’s name inscribed in ink is also preserved at Shōkokuji. The boxes for these two kesa were seemingly mixed up when the Mugai Nyodai kesa was taken out to show the abbesses in 2007.

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A Textile Perspective The 1651 description of the yellow kesa describes it as having “bands of gauze weave (sha 紗) with peony design.” Sha refers to an open weave where adjacent warps cross and uncross as successive wefts are passed between their sheds. In this case there is a pattern, so more accurately one would call it a “patterned simple gauze” (monsha 文紗).55 The pattern area, or monsha, was created by leaving the warps uncrossed in certain places. The resultant plain weave (not crossed) area appeared solid against the open holes created by the crossed warps. In the Song dynasty, the Chinese began to weave these crossing and uncrossing gauze structures with three rather than two warps crossing. In Japan this weave structure is called kenmonsha. The bands of the yellow kesa in question have a peony pattern in kenmonsha. Extensive investigation of just how the three warps in kenmonsha cross each other and then create pattern areas where they do not cross revealed that five different methods were used (table 8.1).56 Three of these weave structures are recorded by Chinese textile historians and are well documented.57 One of the three Chinese weave structures is found on many of the kesa brought to Japan by immigrant Chinese monks and by Japanese monks returning from China. A fourth structure has so far only been found in Japan, the earliest examples dating from the fourteenth century.58 The bands of the yellow kesa in Shōkokuji were woven with a fifth structure, one that became the dominant structure used from the late fifteenth century on in Japan. A sixteenth-century meibutsugire 名物裂 purportedly imported from China also has this fifth structure, but to date I have not yet found any other Chinese examples.

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In China sa 沙 often refers to loosely woven plain weave or to unpatterned two-end crossed-warp weave, while in Japan the character for sha 沙 signifies two warps crossing and uncrossing. Chinese often refer to patterned crossed-warp weaves as luo 羅, while in Japan ra 羅 refers specifically to four-end crossed warps that form a net-like pattern, whether or not they incorporate a pattern. Patterned three-end crossed warp (gauze) weaves are also called luo in China, but kenmonsha 顕文紗 in Japanese. See Bethe, “Kenmonsha or patterned three-end guaze,” pp. x–xiv. See Kuhn and Zhao, “Chinese Silks,” p. 525. These include kesa owned by Musō Soseki and a kesa owned by Abbess Chisen Shintsū, the founder of the Tsūgenji Five Mountain convent, that were received from Shun’oku Myōha.

Type

1

2

variation of 2end gauze

Crossing evenly spaced. Pattern: plain weave.

China/ Korea

China

Place

S Song

Han/Song

Period

Ground: warp 1 crosses and uncrosses with each weft. Warps 2&3= plain weave Pattern: plain weave, but warp 1 and 2 parallel

Ground: warp 1 crosses warps 2+3 Pattern: warp 3 released from cross

Characteristics

Five different types of patterned 3-end gauze weave structures

Weave structure

table 8.1 Up-doup face: warp 1 pulled under & up

Down-doup face: warp 1 pulled over & down

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China/ Korea/ Japan

Japan

3

4

Crossing creates grouping of 3 wefts Pattern: twill

Crossing creates grouping of 1 then 2 wefts. Pattern: twill

Place

Type

Weave structure

Nanbokuō Muromachi

S. Song/ Kamakura/ Nanbokuchō

Period

Ground: warp 1 crosses and stays crossed for 2 wefts. Warps 2 & 3 = twill Pattern: twill

Ground: warp 1 crosses every 3rd weft. Warps 2 & 3 = twill. Pattern: twill

Characteristics

Up-doup face: warp 1 pulled under & up

Down-doup face: warp 1 pulled over & down

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Place

Japan/ China?

Type

5

Crossing evenly spaced. Pattern looks like plain weave on one side, satin weave on the other

Kamakura? Nanbokuō~ / Ming?

Period

Ground: Warp 1 crosses with each weft shot Warps 2 & 3 alternate passing under 3 wefts and over 1 weft. Pattern: Warp 1 in plain weave, Warps 2 & 3 alternate completing the plain weave.

Characteristics

Five different types of patterned 3-end gauze weave structures (cont.)

Weave structure

Table 8.1 Up-doup face: warp 1 pulled under & up

Down-doup face: warp 1 pulled over & down

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Exactly when and where this fifth structure was developed needs further research. Despite its later popularity, circumstantial evidence suggests it may have been produced already in the thirteenth century. Several kesa stored at Tenryūji have fabrics woven with this fifth structure. One associated with Kōhō Kennichi, a contemporary of Nyodai, is too fragile to spread out. A large rakusu 絡子 (five-panel kesa hung around the neck) associated with Wuxue and stored at Engakuji 円覚寺 in Kamakura was also was woven with the fifth kenmonsha structure. Unfortunately, the only proof that this was actually used by Wuxue, however, is that it was found in a box with other things belonging to him. The existence of these two examples of the fifth kenmonsha weave structure, both associated with contemporaries of Nyodai, suggests that at least the kenmonsha bands of the yellow kesa at Shōkokuji could have been produced in Nyodai’s time. Textile historians often use the style and size of patterns as dating tools. In general, the earlier kenmonsha fabrics display larger patterns. The peony design on Wuxue’s rakusu is cut into small rectangles making it impossible to discern the entire pattern unit, though the peonies appear large.59 On the other hand, the peonies on the yellow kesa at Shōkokuji, though of similar style, are of medium size (H. 14.0cm, W. 11.0cm) (fig. 8.8).60 Some scholars have noted that earlier kenmonsha peony scrolls tend to have stems rendered with double lines, while later ones often depict them with a single line.61 Wuxue’s rakusu combines single line stems and double line ones. The yellow kesa at Shōkokuji has double lines (fig. 8.9). The standard tailoring construction of these Rinzai Zen nine-panel gauzeweave kesa (see fig. 8.7) was to join several large pieces of fabric to form the overall shape and then to stitch the bands of different cloth on top of this backing or “ground” ( ji 地). The bands covered the perimeter border and ran vertically and horizontally across the central portion to form columns and crossbars,

59 60

61

According to Kamakura Engakuji no Meihō, p. 54, the diameter of the flower is 9cm and length of the stem is 16.2 cm, but there is no estimated pattern repeat size. In comparison, the mid-thirteenth-century kenmonsha peony scroll pattern on Wuan Puning’s kesa measures H. 49.6 cm, width 19.6cm. The kenmonsha peony scroll pattern on Abbess Shintsū’s mid-fourteenth-century kesa from Shun’oku Myoha measures H. 48.2cm, W. 23.0 cm. But the flower scrolls in the kenmonsha fields of Qingzhuo Zhenchon’s (Jp. Seisetsu Shōchō 清拙正澄, 1274–1339) kesa measure only H. 15.5cm W. 6.6cm, and are believed to be a later replacement. Ogasawara, “Kamakura Engakuji no takaramono,” pp. 119–120.

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figure 8.8 Detail of the peony pattern with double-line stems, fabric for the bands of the yellow kesa at Shōkokuji Source: Author photo. Used with kind permission of Shōkokuji

thus creating borders to rectangular “fields” where the ground fabric remained uncovered. A similar construction was used for other kesa passed down from Wuxue.62 The 1651 description of the Shōkokuji yellow kesa notes the ground fabric 地 to be “ji hokken.” Hokken 北絹 refers to a thin plain weave silk woven from wild yellow cocoons. Indeed, the back lining of the kesa is a beautiful natural yellow plain weave silk typical of fabrics woven with yellow cocoons (fig. 8.10).63

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One given to Mushō Jōshō is a good example. Silk worms produce different color thread depending on what type of leaves they eat. In Thailand and Cambodia they still raise silkworms on leaves that produce golden cocoons.

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figure 8.9 Magnification of the weave structure on the yellow kesa at Shōkokuji Source: Author photo. Used with kind permission of Shōkokuji

Although the first known mention of hokken dates to the fifteenth century, it could have been imported much earlier.64 More puzzling, however, is the non-standard tailoring of the kesa. Instead of allowing the hokken to be seen from the front as “fields,” it serves solely as a lining on the reverse. Rectangles of plain satin fill in the spaces between the bands (fig. 8.11). This construction appears like a hybrid between the Rinzai style nine-panel construction and the standard Ritsu construction of kesa (discussed below) where a patchwork of individual rectangles is laboriously sewn to the vertical and horizontal bands. The plain satin fabric raises more questions. Of the four basic weave structures—plain weave (under one, over one repeat), twill weaves (floats displaced by one warp in each successive row to form diagonal ridges), gauze weaves (crossed warps), and satin weaves (longer floats in irregular repeat forming a glossy surface)—the satin weaves emerge much later than the others, around

64

The mid-fifteenth century dictionary Mangakushū 万学集 lists hokken 北絹 as being imported from Tokin 東京 (Fujian Province).

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figure 8.10

Magnification of the plain weave structure of the lining in the yellow kesa at Shōkokuji, showing silk woven with natural yellow cocoons Source: Author photo. Used with kind permission of Shōkokuji

the twelfth century. In addition, remaining satin-weave textiles follow an odd chronology. Examples from the Liao (907–1125) and Yuan (1271–1368) dynasties are almost all patterned satin (donsu 緞子).65 This suggests the more complex technique may have preceded the simpler, though the quirks of historic preservation may be playing tricks here. Whatever the case, the non-standard construction of the kesa combined with three types of fabrics, two of which are usually dated to the fifteenth century or later, suggests several possible interpretations. If the kesa was indeed Nyodai’s, either what we have now is a replica of the original or the original kesa may have been re-sewn using some old and some new materials. Indeed, it may have been re-sewn twice, since the 1651 description makes no mention of the satin fields.

65

A few examples from the eighth century of compound weave using satin ground, sometimes referred to as “satin samite” (e.g. slippers in the Shōsōin) exist, but this is structurally distinct from the patterned and simple satin that appear later.

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Magnification of the satin weave structure of the fabric used for the fields in the yellow kesa at Shōkokuji Source: Author photo. Used with kind permission of Shōkokuji

A Contending Kesa North of Nagoya nestled in the mountains of what is now Gifu Prefecture lies the temple of Shōkenji 松見寺. According to the temple history, it is here that Mugai Nyodai reached enlightenment and composed the poem that won her recognition from Wuxue. She was collecting water in the temple well, or stream, and admiring the moon’s reflection in her bucket when the bottom fell out: No water, no moon! No matter how you look at it When the bottom of the bucket falls away, It will not hold water Nor will it house the moon66

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Translation by Barbara Ruch, Amamonzeki, p. 60.

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The homeliness of the activity, simplicity of the wording, and clarity of the message have earned this poem longevity. It is quoted in the Nanajūichi shokunin utaawase 七十一職人歌合 (Poetry contest of seventy-one artisans; section featuring Zen versus Risshū nuns, 15th century),67 depicted by Hakuin 白隠 (1686–1768), and forms the highlight of the many legends about Chiyono—allegedly the childhood name of Mugai Nyodai. The vicissitudes of the “Story of Chiyono” (Chiyono Nyodai oshō ki 千代能如大和尚記) and the parallel “Tale of Mugai” (Nyodai zenshi shoden 如大禅師小伝) belongs to another essay. Here I shall limit myself to the Shōkenji temple history and its references to the kesa. In the archives at Shōkenji are several nearly identical versions of its temple history dated to 1677. Beginning with, “In Minō district, the temple of Shōkenji is where Nyodai of the Keiaiji Convent first embarked on the path of Buddhism. Nyōdai’s childhood name was Chiyono …,” these “histories” basically tell the story of Nyodai’s path to enlightenment and, like the various Chiyono stories also owned by the temple, combine legend and fact, conflating the identities of Chiyono, Mugai, and another name identified with her, Mujaku. The story relates that after experiencing her enlightenment and composing the bucket poem, Nyodai went off to Engakuji in Kamakura and passed various examinations with Bukkō Kokushi/Wuxue. Finally, “in recognition of her enlightenment, she received his robe. The robe embodies the truth of the Law.” The Shōkenji documents list among their treasures an “Asa 麻 [bast fiber] hōe: A robe passed down from Bukkō Kokushi to Honorable Mugai Nyodai on the third day of the ninth month of Kōan 弘安 9 [1286].”68 Indeed, they have a dark brown twenty-five panel kesa stored in a green lacquer box with a gold chrysanthemum crest on the top (fig. 8.12). Also in the box are two verification slips. One is not dated, but might belong with another slip in the box dated 1809.69 The other was written by the late abbess of Hōkyōji, Kasannoin Jikun 花山院慈薰 (1910–2006) in 1947. Both identify the kesa as a transmission robe (denpō kesa 伝法袈裟) and detail how Nyodai received the kesa. The later one also gives a short history of Keiaiji and claims that Abbess Tokugon Rihō of Hōkyōji presented the kesa to Shōkenji, though no historical document to corroborate this has yet been found.70

67 68 69 70

Harada, “Nyonin to zenshū,” pp. 140–141. Shōkenji inventory, Shōkenji archives. [麻法衣　一衣弘安九年九月三日受納是レハ 佛光国師ヨリ如大和尚遺衣ナリ]. Bunka 文化 6. For further detail, see Patricia Fister’s chapter in this volume.

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figure 8.12

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Dark brown, bast fiber twenty-five panel kesa associated with Mugai Nyodai, Shōkenji Source: Author photo. Used with kind permission of Shōkenji

Nothing in the fabric or construction of the kesa would either corroborate or deny the truth of the verifications. This is a standard vinaya (ritsu 律) kesa, that is, one sewn according to monastic rules, for which in Japan the stipulations were set down by the Chinese priest Jianzhen (Jp. Ganjin 鑒真, 688–763) in the eighth century. The color (brown), the stitching (back stitch), the fiber (asa, the poor-folk’s staple), the weave structure (plain weave) (fig. 8.13) and the construction (patchwork of rectangles set between bands to from a large rectangle and sewn with open sections in the seams) all follow the rules and could date from any period (fig. 8.14). A twenty-five panel kesa, like a nine-panel kesa, counts as a “formal” kesa worn for ceremonies and celebrations. Still, if we look at the other Rinzai kesa known to have been passed on as transmission kesa, they are almost all oversized nine-panel kesa with an arc-shaped upper edge made of luxury materials. If this brown asa kesa did indeed belong to Mugai Nyodai, it is more likely she sewed it herself as a part of her religious practice.

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figure 8.13

Magnification of the plain weave structure of the brown kesa at Shōkenji, showing the straight fibers and twisted ply-joins that identify it as a bast fiber (most likely hemp) Source: Author photo. Used with kind permission of Shōkenji

Final Thoughts In tracing the documentation related to the Bukkō Kokushi/ Mugai Nyodai kesa and matching it to existing garments a number of general points emerge. First, the symbolic role of the transmission kesa changes over time. Second, the economic-socio-political underpinning behind religion in general, and the Five Mountain Zen institutions in particular, plays a complex role that cannot be ignored. Third, the act of verification of an object is an act of appropriation, whether the verification can be defended historically or not. The self-inscribed portrait and kesa that Wuxue presented to Mugai Nyodai symbolized recognition of the depth of her religious experience and authentication of his lineage transmission. His support of her Zen convent, Keiaiji in Kyoto suggests the expectation that the transmission be passed on through future generations. Presumably, Nyodai passed on the paraphernalia to the next abbess of Keiaiji with the same sincerity and sense of lineage succession. Over time, the kesa gained a double identity: it was valued as Wuxue’s and as Mugai Nyodai’s. Put another way, as Wuxue’s it belonged to the greater Zen world, as Mugai Nyodai’s it symbolized the founder of Keiaiji and her legacy.

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Detail of the sewing on the brown kesa at Shōkenji, showing the open flaps along the seam that follow ritsu rules Source: Author photo. Used with kind permission of Shōkenji

As Wuxue’s, the kesa was important to his male successors, particularly Musō Soseki and his lineage, who were central to the establishment of the Five Mountain Zen temples in Kyoto. Around 1342, Musō moved the graves of Nyodai and the fourth Keiaiji abbess Kohō Keishū to Shōmyakuan.71 That done, Musō renamed it Shinnyoji, made himself its founder and Wuxue its spiritual founder, with a nodding recognition to his own mentor, Kōhō Kennichi, and to Mugai Nyodai. In 1354 when the Keiaiji abbess E’nichi wrote that she was passing on the abbacy (and kesa) to Karin Egon, she recommended that the nuns turn to Musō’s successors for guidance. In the following decades, as the Five Mountain Zen temple system took form, Keiaiji was placed at the head of the parallel Five Mountain Zen convents. This tied it into the Ashikaga shogunate political web. Typically, the abbesses were appointed by the shogun from a list (Yoshimitsu designated four sub-temples from which to choose) and changed frequently. At this point, the kesa transmission migrated to the branch temple Kenshōin and

71

Yanbe, “Nyodai enyū no jiin to Muromachi bakufu,” pp. 565–566.

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the shogun was instrumental in getting the kesa returned there when, for some reason, it had wandered back to the main temple of Keiaiji. Judging from Madenokōji Tokifusa’s diary, Kennaiki, however, by the mid fifteenth century, the possession of Wuxue’s portrait and kesa had taken on a new role. His daughter Jishō received the kesa when she took the tonsure to become a full-fledged nun and abbess of Kenshōin. A priest at Shōkokuji, not the previous possessor of the kesa, conducted the ceremony, and shogunal funds underwrote the expenses. By having his daughters installed in Kenshōin, Tokifusa managed to keep the kesa and portrait in his family for three abbacies. At this point the kesa had ceased to function as a transmission of profound religious maturity and had instead become a coveted relic with symbolic prestige that was “possessed” by the family. For whatever reasons, however, the young Jishō proved unable to sustain this privilege and, rather than return it to Keiaiji, in 1455 she deposited the kesa in Wuxue’s mortuary temple, Shōmyakuan (Shinnyoji). She thereby ended its transmission and laid it to rest as a treasured relic in a male monastery. As such in Shinnyoji, it lent authority to Muso’s temple and would serve in rituals, such as memorial ceremonies. How and whether the transmission kesa survived the fires and devastation of the following hundred years is yet to be researched. A kesa associated with Nyodai reemerged as a yellow kesa stored in Shōkokuji (Chōtokuin) and was lent (or returned) to Shōmyakuan for the 500th anniversary of Mugai Nyodai’s death in 1798. By this time Nyodai was well established as one of the spiritual founders of Shinnyoji and a statue of her was in place to mark this. Confusion as to the true identity of the yellow kesa, however, blurs the issue. It may have belonged to Musō Soseki. Verifying the authenticity of a relic gives it weight. Nyodai’s yellow kesa at Shōkokuji comes with two verification slips and her brown kesa at Shōkenji with two others. The former underscore Nyodai’s importance, the latter serve to enhance the image of Shōkenji convent and its “mother” convent Hōkyōji by providing a concrete connection to their mutual spiritual founder, Mugai Nyodai. The Shōkenji verifications reinforce relationships between convents and perpetuate the Keiaiji legacy. As indicated by the inscription on the box for Gakuin Egatsu’s kesa, when an original kesa is copied, the copy still carries an association with the person who wore it. In this way fragile, perishable items like fabrics can be renewed and perpetuated without losing their associative value. Chinsō 頂相 portraits were often reproduced. Kesa that were frayed or tattered were re-sewn, salvaging what was possible of the original. From a textile historian’s perspective, there is little question that the yellow kesa at Shōkokuji has been remade at least once if not twice, or is a copy of

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the original. The fabric most likely to date from the thirteenth century, when Nyodai and Wuxue lived, is the gauze-weave textile used for the bands, but even this poses questions. From a religious perspective, however, the reverence paid to the garment, the legacy it represents, the use made of it for ritual commemorations, and the people it evokes overshadow historical fact. So, too, in establishing a legend for the brown kesa at Shōkenji, it gained a function that served to honor two convents and reassert the legacy of Mugai Nyodai.

References Primary Sources Enpō dentō roku 延宝伝灯録. Compiled by Mangen Shiban 卍元師蛮 (1626–1710). 1706. Republished in Dai Nihon bukkyō zensho 大日本仏教全書, vols. 108–109, ed. Bussho Kankōkai 仏書刊行会. Tokyo: Daihōrin Kaku, 2007. Hōkyōji keifu; Keiaiji godaidai 宝鏡寺系譜、 景愛寺御代々. Collection of the Hōkyōji archives. Abbess Madenokōji Jishō 慈照. Hōe shōshō shidai 法衣相承次第. Undated, but circa 1455. Collection of the Hōkyōji archives. Published in Josei to Bukkyō: Inori to hohoemi 女性と仏教：いのりとほほえみ, pp. 163, 247, along with other related documents under the title “Documents on the Transmission of Property and Robes” (Item 158). Nara: Nara Kokuritsu Hakubutsukan, 2003. Jishō yuzurijō an 慈照譲状案. Dated 1457.8.15. Collection of the Hōkyōji archives. Published in Josei to Bukkyō: Inori to hohoemi, pp. 163, 247, along with other related documents under the title “Documents on the Transmission of Property and Robes” (Item 158). Madenokōji Tokifusa 万里小路時房, Kennaiki 建内記. Vol. 8 of Dai Nihon kokiroku 大 日本古記録. Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1978 Mugai Nyodai jihitsu uzurijo 無外如大自筆譲状. Dated 1286. Daishōji archives. Published in Josei to Bukkyō: Inori to hohoemi, pp. 162, 247, along with other related documents under the title “Documents on the Transmission of Property and Robes” (Item 155). Nakagata chūsei hōsho 仲方中正奉書 [Order Transmitted by Nakagata Chūsei], Hōkyōji archives. Published in Josei to Bukkyō: Inori to hohoemi, pp. 163, 247, along with other related documents under the title “Documents on the Transmission of Property and Robes” (Item 158). “Rihō kishin jōan 理寶寄進状案.” Dated Kenji 3 (1277).2. Collection of the Hōkyōji archives. Published in Josei to Bukkyō: Inori to hohoemi, p. 247 (unnumbered). Tōhō E’nichi-ni jihitsu okibumi 東峯恵日尼自筆置文. Dated Bunna 3 (1354). Presently owned by the MIHO Museum. Published in Josei to Bukkyō: Inori to hohoemi, p. 164 (cat. no. 157).

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Wuxue Zuyuan 無学祖元. Bukkō Kokushi goroku 仏光国師語録, vol. 2, 8, 9, 10. Edited by Tokuon. Reprinted in Vol. 48 of Dai Nihon bukkyo zenshu. Tokyo: Suzuki Research Foundation, 1971.

Secondary Sources Amamonzeki, A Hidden Heritage: Treasures of the Japanese Imperial Convents. Edited by Patricia Fister and Monica Bethe. Tokyo: Sankei Shinbunsha, 2009 Arakawa Reiko 荒川玲子. “Keiaiji no enkaku: amagozan kenkyū no hitokoma 景愛寺 の沿革—尼五山研究一齣.” Shoryōbu kiyō 書陵部紀要 28 (1976), pp. 57–69. Bethe, Monica. “Kenmonsha or patterned three-end gauze within an East Asian Context.” In Transmitting Robes, Linking Minds: The World of Buddhist Kasaya, pp. x–xiv. Kyoto: Kyoto National Museum, 2010. Collcutt, Martin. Five Mountains: the Rinzai Zen Monastic Institution in Medieval Japan. Harvard East Asian Monographs 85. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1981. Conlan, Thomas Donald. State of War: The Violent Order of Fourteenth-Century Japan. Ann Arbor: Center for Japanese Studies, The University of Michigan, 2003. Harada Masatoshi 原田正俊. “Nyonin to zenshū 女人と禅宗.” In Chūsei o kangaeru hotoke to onna 忠誠を考える仏と女, ed. Nishiguchi Junko 西口順子, pp. 140–180. Tokyo: Hirokawa Kōbunkan, 1997 Inoguchi Yūichi 井之口有一 et al. Amamonzeki no gengo seikatsu no chōsa kenkyū 尼門 跡の言語生活の調査研究. Tokyo: Fūkan Shobō, 1965. Kamakura Engakuji no meihō 鎌倉円覚寺の名宝. Tokyo: Gotoh Museum, 2006. Kuhn, Dieter and Zhao Feng, eds. Chinese Silks. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2012 Laffin, Christina. Rewriting Medieval Japanese Women. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2013. Levering, Miriam. Zen Images, Texts, and Teaching. New York: Artisan, 2000. Nishiyama Mika 西山美香. “Nisō no ‘seichi’ toshite no Shinnyoji 尼僧の整地としての 真如寺.” In Jisha engi no bunkagaku 寺社縁起の文化学, ed. Tokuda Kazuo 徳田和 夫 et al., pp. 214–227. Tokyo: Shinwasha, 2005. Ogasawara Sae 小笠原小枝. “Kamakura Engakuji no takaramono: denpō-e ni kansuru shinchiken o chūshin ni 鎌倉円覚寺の宝物：伝法衣に関する新知見を中心に.” In Kamakura Engakuji no meihō, pp. 118–122. Tokyo: Gotoh Museum, 2006. Oka Yoshiko 岡佳子. “Kinyo no bikuni gosho 1, Hōkyōji o chūshin ni 近世の比丘尼御 所 1~ 宝鏡寺を中心に.” Bukkyō shigaku kenkyū 仏教史学研究 42:2 (March 2000), pp. 30–60 (Part 1) and 44:2 (March 2002), pp. 1–40 (Part 2). Shōkokuji shiryō 相国寺史料 11 vols. Edited by Fujioka Daisetsu 藤岡大拙 and Akimune Yasuko 秋宗康子. Kyoto, Shibungaku, 1984–1997. Ushiyama, Yoshiyuki. “Buddhist Convents in Medieval Japan.” In Engendering Faith: Women and Buddhism in Premodern Japan, ed. Barbara Ruch, pp. 131–164. Ann Arbor: Center for Japanese Studies, The University of Michigan, 2002.

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Yamakawa, Aki. “Five Denpō-e of Tōfukuji.” Eastern Buddhist 45:1–2 (2014), pp. 47–75. Yamamoto, Sharon Mitsuko. “Visual and Material Culture at Hōkyōji Imperial Convent: The Significance of ‘Women’s Art’ in Early Modern Japan.” PhD diss., University of California, Berkeley, 2010. Yanbe Kōki 山家浩樹. “Mugai Nyodai no sōken jiin 無外如大の創建寺院.”Miura kobunka 三浦古文化 53 (December 1993), pp. 1–14. Yanbe Kōki 山家浩樹. “Nyodai enyu no jiin to Muromachi bakufu 如大縁由の寺院と室 町幕府.” Zen bunka kenkyū kiyō 禅文化研究紀要 26 (December 2002), pp. 561–579.

part 4 Female Patronage, Portraits, and Rituals

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chapter 9

Retired Empress and Buddhist Patron: Higashisanjō-in Donates a Set of Icon Curtains in the Illustrated Legends of Ishiyamadera Handscroll Elizabeth Morrissey*

Introduction The fourteenth-century illustrated handscroll Ishiyamadera engi e 石山寺縁起 絵 (Illustrated legends of Ishiyamadera) frequently identifies women as patrons of the Buddhist temple Ishiyamadera 石山寺, a Shingon sect temple located in Ōtsu, Shiga Prefecture. Most of these women were high-ranking members of the aristocracy, including the wives and mothers of emperors. One woman in particular stands out: Higashisanjō-in 東三条院 (962–1002), the consort of Emperor En’yū 円融天皇 (959–991, r. 969–984) and mother of Emperor Ichijō 一条天皇 (980–1011, r. 986–1011), is the only individual in the scrolls to have two separate scenes devoted to her patronage of the temple. The second of these two scenes records her final visit to Ishiyamadera in the year 1001, during which she sponsored various rituals and donated, among other items, a set of curtains to adorn the temple’s icon. The painted scene depicting this episode does not show Higashisanjō-in herself, but the curtains she offers take a prominent position on an altar-like table at the center of the hall. Through analysis of the painting and text of Ishiyamadera engi e, descriptions of the event recorded in the eleventh-century text Eiga Monogatari 栄花物語 (A Tale of Flowering Fortunes), and records of comparable patronage of Buddhist temples by aristocrats, I argue that the memorialization of Higashisanjō-in’s donation reflects both her elite status and her identity as one of Ishiyamadera’s most powerful

* I would like to express my sincere thanks to Karen Gerhart for guidance and suggestions on several drafts of this paper. I would also like to thank the other contributors to this volume, as well as Katheryn Linduff, for their insightful comments and helpful discussions. I also extend my thanks to the Japan Iron and Steel Federation and the Mitsubishi Endowments at the University of Pittsburgh, the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation, the Japan Foundation, and the department of the History of Art and Architecture at the University of Pittsburgh for funding the research for this project.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2018 | doi: 10.1163/9789004368194_011

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patrons through an object that directly links her to the most sacred part of the temple—the shrine of Nyoirin Kannon 如意輪観音 (Sk. Cintamāṇicakra).1

Patronage and Political Context of Ishiyamadera engi e Most scholarship on Ishiyamadera engi e, classified as an Important Cultural Property, has focused on clarifying dates of production and the identity of patrons. Only four of the seven scrolls are original to the 1300s (scrolls 1–3 and scroll 5); the fourth scroll is a replacement created during the fifteenth century, and the sixth and seventh scrolls are hybrids of seventeenth-century calligraphy and eighteenth-century paintings.2 The exact patron of the scrolls is not documented in either the scroll itself or external texts, but Umezu Jirō has identified Tōin Kinkata 洞院公賢 (1291–1360) as the most probable patron.3 The Tōin family was a branch of the Saionji 西園寺, descendants of the Fujiwara 藤原. Umezu has pointed to the close relationship between the Tōin family and Ishiyamadera as evidence for his patronage of Ishiyamadera engi e, noting that members of the Tōin had served as abbots of Ishiyamadera for several generations—Kinkata’s granduncle, brother, and two of his sons all served as abbots of the temple. At least one of these abbots was involved in writing the handscroll text.4 Kinkata knew the value of looking to the past—he was considered an expert on ritual protocol at the court, knowledge that secured his position in both the court of Emperor Godaigo 後醍醐天皇 (1288–1339; r. 1318–1339) and in the later Northern court of the Nanbokuchō period (1336–1392).5 He was a prominent member of both courts, serving as Minister of the Left (sadaijin 左大臣), under 1 Thanks to the support of the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation I was able to visit Ishiyamadera during its 2016 kaichō 開帳 (revealing of a secret icon), enabling me to make a close examination of both the hibutsu 秘仏 (secret icon) and the architecture of the inner sanctum (naijin 内陣), which is ordinarily restricted to visitors. 2 For a detailed discussion of the creation and replacement of the Ishiyamadera engi e scrolls, see Ishiyamadera engi and Umezu, “Ishiyamadera engi e ni tsuite.” 3 Umezu “Ishiyamadera engi e ni tsuite,” pp. 4–5. 4 Kinkata’s son, Kōshu 杲守 (1335–1384), has been identified as the calligrapher of the first three scrolls and wrote out a draft of the text of the entire handscroll, known as the Ishiyamadera engi ekotoba 石山寺縁起絵詞. Kōshu seems to have become involved at a later stage of the handscroll’s production, however, with Kinkata and his brother Yakushu 益守 (b. 1293), who was also an abbot of Ishiyamadera, being the original planners. See Umezu “Ishiyamadera engi e ni tsuite,” pp. 4–5 and Aizawa and Kuniga, Ishiyamadera engi emaki shūsei, p. 11. 5 Conlan, From Sovereign to Symbol, p. 3.

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Godaigo, and as Chancellor (daijō daijin 太政大臣), a position he held at both Godaigo’s court and later at the Northern court. Scenes that emphasized the order and splendor of the Heian court resonated with aristocrats looking for stability in difficult times, and the example of a powerful, pious empress served to emphasize what had once been achievable. That Higashisanjō-in was an empress was likely a strong factor in the inclusion of her stories in the handscroll, as the creators of the scroll were eager to emphasize Ishiyamadera’s long history of imperial patronage. The temple was founded at the command of Emperor Shōmu 聖武天皇 (701–756, r. 724–749), making it an imperial edict temple (chokuganji 勅願寺), and Ishiyamadera engi e highlights the repeated patronage of emperors throughout the temple’s history.6 The handscroll itself was viewed by at least two emperors in later centuries, suggesting that the temple still held imperial interest many years after the scrolls were completed.7 Kinkata would have been particularly motivated to emphasize the piety and political success of imperial women from earlier periods. The Tōin family had risen to power in the mid-1200s as several Tōin women, the daughters of Tōin Saneo 洞院実雄 (1217–1273), Kinkata’s great-grandfather and the originator of the Tōin line, became empresses and mothers of emperors.8 Ishiyamadera engi e credits the success of Saneo and his daughters to their devotion to Ishiyamadera’s Kannon at several points in the scroll.9 Throughout the thirteenth century, however, the Tōin had to compete with the main branch of the Saionji family for the role of in-laws to the emperor. During the period when the handscroll project was begun, sometime during or shortly after the Shōchū 正中 era (1324–1326), Emperor Godaigo already had a 6 Washio and Ayamura, Ishiyamadera no shinkō to rekishi, p. 38. 7 Sanjōnishi Sanetaka 三条西実隆 (1455–1537), Sanetaka-kō ki 実隆公記, records a reading of the text of the fourth scroll to Emperor Gotsuchimikado 後土御門天皇 (1442–1500, r. 1464– 1500) in 1476 in his diary, DNS 2:8, Bunmei 文明 8 (1476) (pp. 741). This was probably the fifth scroll of the current set, the fourth of the extant scrolls in 1476. Yamashina Tokitsugu 山科言 継 (1507–1579) presented the scrolls to Emperor Ōgimachi 正親町天皇 (1517–1593, r. 1557– 1586) in the sixth month of 1564. See DNS 2:9, Eiroku 永禄 7 (1564).6 (p. 593). In the seventh month of the same year the imperial dharma prince (hosshinnō 法親王) Kakujo 覚恕 (1521– 1574) of Enryakuji’s 延暦寺 Manshuin 曼殊院 was summoned to the palace to give a lecture on Ishiyamadera engi to Ōgimachi. DNS 2:9, Eiroku 7 (1564).7 (p. 594). 8 These women were: Kyōgoku-in 京極院 (1245–1272), consort of Emperor Kameyama 亀山 天皇 (1249–1305; r. 1259–1274) and the mother of Emperor Gouda; Genkimon-in 玄輝門 院 (1246–1329), consort of Emperor Gofukakusa 後深草天皇 (1243–1304, r. 1246–1260) and mother of Emperor Fushimi 伏見天皇 (1265–1317, r. 1287–1298); and Kenshinmon-in 顕親 門院 (1265–1336), consort of Fushimi and mother of Emperor Hanazono. 9 See Ishiyamadera engi, pp. 141 and 142–143.

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consort from the Saionji family, Reiseimon-in 礼成門院 (1303–1333), curtailing the Tōin family’s attempts at political advancement. Consequently, they would have been motivated to commemorate their own history of imperial consorts in Ishiyamadera engi e in response to the loss of that power. Examples of earlier empresses, like Higashisanjō-in, placed the successes of the Tōin family within a lineage of powerful aristocratic families who were granted imperial children and grandchildren as a result of their devotion. At the time when Ishiyamadera engi e was planned, the court was experiencing an unusual change in fortunes. Godaigo had managed to seize independent authority over the throne, resisting interference from the retired emperors Gouda 後宇多法王 (1267–1324, r. 1274–1287) and Hanazono 花園法王 (1297– 1348, r. 1308–1318), and by 1324 had attempted a rebellion against the Kamakura shogunate.10 This was the first time in centuries that an emperor had openly opposed the shogunate, and although his early attempts were unsuccessful, Godaigo’s efforts to form an imperial restoration would eventually lead to his exile and the splitting of the Japanese government into two courts. However, before the onset of the chaos of the Nanbokuchō period, Godaigo appeared to be making strides towards returning the position of the emperor to the glory of previous epochs. The preface to Ishiyamadera engi e contains a reference to Godaigo’s independent rule in a line that describes the Shōchū era as a time of “the expansion of imperial rule,” implying that the handscroll creators approved of these circumstances.11 There is no evidence that Godaigo himself was a patron of Ishiyamadera, however his father, Gouda was. His patronage is referred to in the preface and in the final scene of the handscroll, which depicts a pilgrimage made by both Gouda and Retired Emperor Kameyama 亀山法王 (1249–1305, r. 1260–1274) to pray for the ascension of their descendants to the throne. The handscroll text attributes Godaigo becoming crown prince to these prayers. Thus, the entire handscroll, with its emphasis on imperial patronage of Ishiyamadera, can be read as a history that culminates in the ascension of Godaigo to the throne. This progression is implied as dependent on the devotions of imperial mothers—Gouda’s mother was a member of the Tōin family, and although she is not specifically mentioned as the reason for his devotion to Ishiyamadera, other Tōin empresses are credited in the scroll as the motivations behind their sons’ patronage of the temple.12 Kinkata was a supporter of Godaigo before his exile, and he and his family were successful at his court. 10 11 12

For further details on Godaigo’s activities during this time, see Goble, Kenmu, pp. 64–71. Ishiyamadera engi, p. 132 and Yoshida, “ ‘Ishiyamadera engi e’ nanamaki no rekiho,” p. 100. Genkimon-in’s devotion to Ishiyamadera is said to be the reason for her son, Fushimi’s patronage. See Ishiyamadera engi, pp. 142–143.

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The historical scenes presented throughout the handscroll reflect the hopes of Kinkata and his family at this time—that the improvement of imperial fortunes would similarly result in the success of the Tōin family and their favored temple, Ishiyamadera.

Ishiyamadera and Female Patronage Ishiyamadera developed as a popular pilgrimage site during the Heian period, particularly for aristocratic women. Although located about ten miles outside the capital, the temple was close enough to be accessible to court women, and it had a reputation as the site of miracles attributed to its patron deity, a hibutsu 秘仏 (secret icon) of Nyoirin Kannon that further increased its appeal.13 Ishiyamadera is also one of the thirty-three temples dedicated to Kannon on the Saigoku pilgrimage route (saigoku sanjūsan sho 西国三十三所). The text of Ishiyamadera engi e records, in thirty-three episodes distributed across seven scrolls, the legends and historically significant events that occurred at the temple between its foundation in 747 and 1299, the date of the final episode of the seventh scroll. The number of scenes was specifically chosen; thirty-three, the same number of temples on the Saigoku pilgrimage route, refers to the thirtythree manifestations Kannon took in order to save sentient beings. Throughout the Heian period, women of the imperial court frequently engaged in pilgrimages to temples near the capital, and it was not uncommon for an elite woman to take partial vows as a lay nun during a serious illness or when she wished to retire from public life.14 In spite of the fact that Buddhism exercised various restrictions against women, including temples that barred women on their grounds or teachings that argued for the inherent inferiority of the female body in the quest to attain enlightenment, women in premodern Japan engaged in a variety of Buddhist practices, including pilgrimage, sutracopying, and the commissioning of images and rites. Ritual activity at temples was usually accompanied by donations to the monks of the temple as payment for their services. In the case of Higashisanjō-in, her donations included more than the usual offerings, such as vestments and land holdings. The curtains that occupy the center of attention in the handscroll painting were an important part of ritual paraphernalia, integral to the proper performance of rituals. 13

14

The current icon is a 9.8 ft (301.2 cm) wooden statue of a two-armed Nyoirin Kannon seated in a half lotus position. It dates to around 1096. See Washio and Ayamura, Ishiyamadera no shinkō to rekishi, pp. 55–56. Meeks, “Reconfiguring Ritual Authenticity,” p. 54.

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While the curtains she donated no longer exist, the painting that documents this donation offers insights into the role she played as an elite patron, one who is depicted on par with, and sometimes surpassing, the patronage of her male peers. Of the thirty-three chapters, women are the subjects of eight, in most cases examples of famous women who made pilgrimages to Ishiyamadera, but also commoners who had their prayers answered by Kannon in times of desperation.15 The most famous of these women today is undoubtedly Murasaki Shikibu 紫式部 (ca. 973 or 978–1014 or 1025), who, according to a legend also recounted in Ishiyamadera engi e, received the inspiration for the Tale of Genji (Genji monogatari 源氏物語) while on pilgrimage at Ishiyamadera where she began writing the story on the back of a sutra.16 Most of the noblewomen who visited Ishiyamadera spent the night praying in the temple’s main hall, hoping to receive an answer to their prayers; even scenes that recount the devotions of male petitioners include images of women praying in the temple’s main hall. However, there are also two examples of women, both empresses, requesting the performance of rituals. The text of one scene records the performance of healing rituals for the then-crown prince, future emperor Gosuzaku 後朱雀 天皇 (1009–1045, r. 1036–1045), as requested by his mother, Jōtōmon-in 上東 門院 (988–1074).17 However, the painting of this scene emphasizes the ritual proficiency of the priest responsible for performing the rituals, rather than the sponsor, recipient, or even the rituals themselves. The only scene in the handscroll that emphasizes a woman as donor and patron of rituals is the occasion of retired empress Higashisanjō-in’s final pilgrimage to Ishiyamadera. In this scene, the text records that the empress made this pilgrimage in order to offer prayers for her rebirth in the next life, during which she sponsored various rituals, made offerings to the main icon, and gave donations to the temple monks.18 The painting accompanying this scene focuses on the presentation of one of

15

16 17 18

These eight scenes are: the pilgrimage and divinely inspired dream of the mother of Michitsuna, scroll 2 scene 3; the two pilgrimages of Higashisanjō-in, scroll 3 scenes 1 and 2; the pilgrimage and dream of the daughter of Takasue, scroll 3 scene 3; the pilgrimage of Murasaki Shikibu 紫式部 (ca. 973 or 978–1014 or 1025), scroll 4 scene 1; the pilgrimage and dream of the wife of Fujiwara no Kuniyoshi 藤原国能 (mid-twelfth century), scroll 5 scene 1; the curing of the daughter of a wealthy man from Matsugimi, scroll 5 scene 4; and a young woman saved from drowning by the miraculous appearance of a white horse, scroll 7 scene 2. Ishiyamadera engi, pp. 40–42. Ishiyamadera engi, pp. 50–51. Ishiyamadera engi, pp. 135–136.

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her offerings, a set of white curtains, which have been placed on a table in the middle of the worship hall (raidō 礼堂 or gejin 外陣). Higashisanjō-in’s presentation of curtains for the temple icon stands out, both within the handscroll itself and in the broader context of Buddhist offerings, as a gesture that is at once an indicator of personal devotion and a public symbol of her official support of the temple as a retired empress. Although Ishiyamadera engi e offers a useful means of approaching the issue of female patronage of Buddhism during the Heian period, it must be kept in mind that the inclusion and illustration of the events in the handscroll were created in response to the attitudes and desires of its fourteenth-century audience. Therefore, it is necessary to consider not only what elite female patrons meant to the temple during Higashisanjō-in’s time, but also what this history meant to the creators and viewers of the handscroll set. Imperial history was of particular interest to members of the court during the first half of the fourteenth century when the power of the emperor was threatened both by discord between two competing imperial lineages and the interventions of the shogunate. Even though the circumstances of elite women had begun to undergo significant changes by the fourteenth century, the patronage of Heianperiod women was still considered a crucial part of Ishiyamadera’s history— something worthy of commemorating and holding up as an example for future temple patrons.

Retired Empress Higashisanjō-in By the time she made her final pilgrimage to Ishiyamadera, Higashisanjō-in was one of the most powerful women, if not the single most powerful, in Japan. Born Fujiwara no Senshi 藤原詮子, the daughter of Fujiwara no Kaneie 藤原 兼家 (929–990) and the older sister of Fujiwara no Michinaga 藤原道長 (966– 1028), she received a variety of court ranks and honors throughout her lifetime. In 978 she became a consort of Emperor En’yū and gave birth to the future emperor Ichijō in 980.19 She received the title of Dowager Empress (kōtaigō 皇太后) in 986 and the title of nyoin 女院 (Retired Consort) when she took the tonsure in 991 during a serious illness.20 Though official nunneries and the ordination of nuns had fallen out of practice by the late Heian period, court

19 20

Eiga monogatari, vol. 31, pp. 90–91; A Tale of Flowering Fortunes, vol. 1, pp. 116–118. Eiga monogatari, vol. 31, pp. 139 and 195–196; A Tale of Flowering Fortunes, vol. 1, pp. 135 and 164–165.

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women regularly took partial or lay vows of nunhood.21 Women who received the title of nyoin, like retired emperors, took formal vows as lay novices (nyūdō 入道), but were not required to live in a monastery or temple, and as a result the ceremony marked an important change in their political status as well as their religious identity.22 Higashisanjō-in was the first woman to be granted the title of nyoin. According to the eleventh-century chronicle Eiga monogatari, this title granted her a status equal to that of a retired emperor, simultaneously freeing her from official court duties and raising her to the highest social position available at court.23 Eiga monogatari is a semi-fictionalized account of the life and legacy of Higashisanjō-in’s brother, Michinaga, written after his death in 1028. It is likely that many of the episodes over-emphasize the splendor of Michinaga and his family’s accomplishments, but there is no disputing that the status of nyoin conferred significant authority upon Higashisanjō-in. Although scholars have often commented on the fact that the Fujiwara married their daughters into the imperial family as a means of gaining power and influence over future emperors, it is clear that Higashisanjō-in held a substantial amount of authority in her own right. Her involvement in court affairs was facilitated by the fact that her son, Emperor Ichijō, ascended the throne in 986 at the age of six, and that her father, Kaneie, served as his regent.24 She held significant power over her young son, who appears to have valued her recommendations on court appointments, but her father, Kaneie, also respected her judgment, and in at least one case granted an appointment to a courtier because the man had received Higashisanjō-in’s approval.25 Although her authority was well-recognized during her lifetime, it was not always appreciated. Courtiers criticized her involvement in court affairs in their diaries, and there was speculation that her illnesses were the result of curses laid on her by a disgruntled rival passed over in favor of another courtier who had her support.26 The strength of her involvement in court politics was remembered even centuries later. Jien 慈円 (1155–1225), the author of the thirteenth-century history Gukanshō 愚管抄 (ca. 1219), wrote of Higashisanjō-in: “We hear that while she was

21 22 23 24 25 26

See Groner, “Vicissitudes in the Ordination of Japanese ‘Nuns,’” p. 69; and Meeks, “Reconfiguring Ritual Authenticity,” p. 54. Meeks, “Reconfiguring Ritual Authenticity,” p. 56. Eiga monogatari, vol. 31, pp. 195–196; A Tale of Flowering Fortunes, vol. 1, p. 165. Ichijō was seven by the Japanese method of counting age. A Tale of Flowering Fortunes, vol. 1, p. 133. Sanae and Watanabe, “From Female Sovereign to Mother of the Nation,” pp. 29–30. Sanae and Watanabe, “From Female Sovereign to Mother of the Nation,” p. 29; Eiga monogatari, vol. 31, p. 231; A Tale of Flowering Fortunes, vol. 1, p. 182.

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alive the state was governed just as she wanted.”27 Jien gives the example that it was at her request that Ichijō promoted her brother, Michinaga, ahead of the expected party, her nephew Korechika, to the position of Imperial Inspector.28 While she was by no means the first dowager empress to play a powerful role in behind-the-scenes politics, as the first nyoin she set the precedent for the power an imperial woman could wield even after abdicating her official role as a consort and mother and dedicating herself to spiritual concerns.29 Like many of her male and female counterparts, Higashisanjō-in regularly took part in sponsoring and attending various rituals and ceremonies, both at the court and at Buddhist institutions. At some point in her life, she vowed to make a pilgrimage to Ishiyamadera once a year. While Ishiyamadera engi e states that she was especially dedicated to Ishiyamadera’s Kannon even before giving birth to emperor Ichijō, Eiga monogatari suggests that she made the vow around the time she took the tonsure as an attempt to avert an illness. There are two scenes depicting her patronage of Ishiyamadera included in the handscroll, and, notably, she is the only lay patron to be represented in the scroll more than once. The first of her two handscroll scenes depicts a pilgrimage in 992, and the following one, which is of most interest here, depicts her final pilgrimage to the temple before her death in 1001.

Nyoirin Kannon and Women Why did Higashisanjō-in and numerous other elite women make pilgrimages to Ishiyamadera? Based on the examples presented in Ishiyamadera engi e, these women sought the help of Nyoirin Kannon, who was known to assist women in a wide variety of circumstances, including the illness of a child, separation from a husband, childlessness, and in Murasaki Shikibu’s case, literary inspiration. Temples dedicated to Kannon, the bodhisattva of compassion, were popular with women, especially if the temple was known as a site of miracles.30 Nyoirin Kannon, in particular, the principal deity of Ishiyamadera, had developed an association with women by the end of the Heian period when the deity was

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Brown and Ishida, The Future and the Past, p. 56. Brown and Ishida, The Future and the Past, p. 56. For other examples of empresses wielding political power, see Sanae and Watanabe, “From Female Sovereign to Mother of the Nation,” pp. 25–29. Ambros, “Liminal Journeys,” p. 304. For more on the popularity of Kannon temples with women see Sherry Fowler’s chapter in this volume.

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sometimes identified as a female incarnation of Kannon.31 Initially, however, this identity appears to have been primarily aimed at men. For example, the twelfth-century ritual manual Kakuzenshō 覚禅抄 identifies Nyoirin Kannon as a “jade woman” (gyokujo 玉女) who takes the role of an imperial concubine and ultimately secures the male ruler’s rebirth in the Pure Land.32 This identity of a female Kannon (or jade woman) taking the place of a concubine in order to relieve men of their karmic transgressions and lead them to paradise appears in the context of monks as well.33 However, Nyoirin Kannon also held a particular appeal for women as a deity who could ensure the conception of children and safe childbirth.34 Ishiyamadera’s Nyoirin Kannon appears to have been revered in this light, and was credited with aiding the birth of several Heian-period emperors, including Ichijō, Goichijō 後一条天皇 (1008–1036; r. 1016–1036), and Gosuzaku.35 The connection between Ishiyamadera and the birth of imperial children lies in part of Nyoirin Kannon’s iconography, the nyoi hōju (如意宝珠 wish-fulfilling jewel), which had symbolic connections with both pregnancy and the imperial family. Wish-fulfilling jewel rituals dedicated to a variety of Buddhist deities, including Nyoirin Kannon, were performed to ensure safe and productive pregnancies for elite women and imperial consorts beginning in the late Heian period.36 It is unclear whether Ishiyamadera had already acquired a reputation for aiding pregnancies before Higashisanjō-in’s time. She is the first individual in the handscroll whose devotion to Nyoirin Kannon is associated with the birth of an imperial heir, but this emphasis may reflect the interests of the fourteenth-century scroll patrons rather than Higashisanjō-in’s personal reasons for making pilgrimages to the temple. Because associations between Nyoirin Kannon and royal births appears to have only solidified by the late Heian period, this may not have been a consideration for Higashisanjō-in, however, the temple’s reputation for miracles may have appealed to her as a solution for the illnesses she suffered later in life.

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Fremerman, “Divine Impersonations,” pp. 1–2. Fremerman, “Divine Impersonations,” p. 2. See the example of Shinran’s dream in Faure, The Power of Denial, p. 206. Fremerman, “Divine Impersonations,” p. 41. Ishiyamadera engi, pp. 80–81. Ruppert, Jewel in the Ashes, p. 215.

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Higashisanjō-in: Patron of Ishiyamadera The first scene to commemorate Higashisanjō-in’s pilgrimages appears as the first scene of the third scroll and depicts a pilgrimage she made in 992. No specific reason is given in the handscroll text to explain her motivation for making this pilgrimage, but given the date it may have been the first of the annual pilgrimages that she made after taking vows in 991. This scene stands out as one of the longest sections of painting in the entire handscroll. The painting depicts a pilgrimage procession of the noblemen, women, and attendants who accompanied her in oxcarts and on horseback—a lavish display that far surpasses in size and detail the depictions of the pilgrimage processions of retired emperors elsewhere in the scroll set. As the fourth, sixth, and seventh scrolls are later recreations made to replace the lost originals of those scrolls, it is impossible to know how the original scenes of the pilgrimages of retired emperors appeared. However, compared to other pilgrimage scenes in the contemporaneous first, second, and fifth scrolls, Higashisanjō-in’s received special attention. For example, the painting of the pilgrimage of her husband, Emperor En’yū, covers only four sheets of paper while Higashisanjō-in’s first pilgrimage takes up thirteen sheets and depicts a much larger entourage. The second scene devoted to her patronage of the temple follows immediately after this one, and commemorates her final pilgrimage to the temple during the ninth month of 1001.37 There are two textual sources that describe Higashisanjō-in’s final pilgrimage—the text in the handscroll itself, and a description in Eiga monogatari. The description of this event in the handscroll is similar to the description of her pilgrimage found in Eiga monogatari, suggesting that text was likely the source for this tale at the time of the handscroll’s creation. However, the two descriptions also differ in some notable ways. Ishiyamadera engi e states that Higashisanjō-in had “for many years held a deep devotion to the temple, and prayed for the birth of a son.”38 According to Eiga monogatari, however, Higashisanjō-in seems to have begun her devotion to Ishiyamadera and its principal icon when she vowed to make annual pilgrimages to the temple during a serious illness in 991.39 Eiga monogatari suggests 37

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According to Gonki 権記, the diary of Fujiwara no Yukinari 藤原行成 (972–1027), the pilgrimage actually began on the twenty-seventh day of the tenth month, 1001 (Chōhō 長保 3). However, the text in Ishiyamadera engi e is consistent with Eiga monogatari in stating that the pilgrimage took place in the ninth month. See note 6 in Eiga monogatari, vol. 31, p. 338; and Ishiyamadera engi, pp. 33 and 135. Ishiyamadera engi, p. 135. Eiga monogatari, vol. 31, p. 195; A Tale of Flowering Fortunes, vol. 1, pp. 164.

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that her recovery from this illness may have been a result of either her decision to become a nun or because of her vows to make pilgrimages to Ishiyamadera and other temples.40 The main reason for the difference between the texts here is likely tied to the desire of the patrons to emphasize Ishiyamadera’s reputation as a temple that could ensure the birth of imperial princes. Both texts list similar donations and rituals. The Ishiyamadera engi e text states that Higashisanjō-in had goma 護摩, esoteric Buddhist fire rituals, performed three times a day along with the mantō-e 万燈会 (ten-thousand lanterns ceremony), and that she donated both vestments for the temple monks and “twill curtain panels” (ayaori mono no michō no katabira 綾織物の御帳の かたびら).41 Eiga monogatari uses the same terms to identify the gifts given to the monks—priests’ robes (hōfuku 法服) and court garments (kazukemono 被け物)—but varies in its description of the curtains.42 Eiga monogatari first describes them as “curtain panels for the Buddha” (hotoke no michō no katabira 仏の御帳の帷), but later also specifies that they were twill curtains.43 The Ishiyamadera engi e text notes that the sponsoring of goma and mantō-e differed from Higashisanjō-in’s usual ritual requests, and Eiga monogatari explains that she sponsored goma rituals in order to burn off past transgressions in preparation for the next life. Eiga monogatari further mentions that she had sutras copied for the occasion, held a vegetarian feast for the monks, and donated a set of silver bowls.44 It should be noted that in the descriptions of Higashisanjō-in’s final pilgrimage, she is the only recipient of the rituals she sponsors; the entire affair is centered on her personal preparation for the next life, not prayers for her son or deceased husband, something that occupied much of the devotional practices of nuns in later periods.45 None of the rituals mentioned are particularly unusual on their own. For example, goma fire rituals are one of the most fundamental rituals for esoteric Buddhist sects, like Shingon, the sect to which Ishiyamadera belongs, and sutra recitations were common across most Buddhist sects. The manto-e stands out as slightly more unusual, due to the large number of lamps the patron would have needed to provide, making it a ritual restricted to wealthy patrons. However, for someone of Higashisanjō-in’s status, it was not unheard of; her 40 41 42 43 44 45

Eiga monogatari, vol. 31, p. 195; A Tales of Flowering Fortunes, vol. 1, pp. 164. Ishiyamadera engi, p. 136. Eiga monogatari, vol. 31, p. 338. Eiga monogatari, vol. 31, pp. 338 and 340. William and Helen McCullough translate hotoke no michō no katabira as “image curtains.” See A Tale of Flowering Fortunes, vol. 1, p. 239. Eiga monogatari, vol. 31, p. 340; A Tale of Flowering Fortunes, vol. 1, pp. 237–239. Faure, The Power of Denial, pp. 39–40.

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brother Michinaga is known to have sponsored manto-e on several occasions.46 Although neither source states it directly, it is likely that the manto-e at Ishiyamadera was commissioned for a similar purpose as the goma, as the custom of lighting and offering ten-thousand lanterns was associated with rites for the repentance of sins.47 The combination of these rituals along with the comment that they were unusual for her and that they were associated with preparations for the next life suggest that this was a special event requiring elaborate rituals focused on Higashisanjō-in’s afterlife. The illustrations accompanying the text of the handscroll offer further insight into how the event of her pilgrimage and donations were presented to viewers. Higashisanjō-in herself is not shown in either of the scenes of her pilgrimages—her presence is represented by an oxcart in the depictions of the procession to the temple (fig. 9.1), and it can be assumed that she would have been seated behind the green bamboo blinds located at the top of the painting of the main hall (fig. 9.2).48 This elision is not incidental, as the faces of emperors and members of the imperial family were rarely illustrated in handscroll paintings. Elsewhere in Ishiyamadera engi e, retired emperors are only partially depicted, so that the edge of a robe peeking out from a carriage or behind blinds is the only indication of their presence. Various aristocrats (male and female) and monks can be seen arrayed along the edges of the space of the main hall, while at the far left, the head of the presiding priest can be seen beyond the red shutters marking off the inner sanctum (naijin 内陣). As with other scenes in the scroll, the shrine encasing the Nyorin Kannon icon is not shown. At the center of the open space in the worship hall is a black table, similar to those used to hold Buddhist ritual implements in the inner sanctum with the curtains donated by Higashisanjō-in spread over it.49 This scene is the only

46 47 48

49

De Visser, Ancient Buddhism in Japan, vol. 1, pp. 246–247; and A Tale of Flowering Fortunes, vol. 2, 643. De Visser, Ancient Buddhism in Japan, vol. 1, pp. 239–240. In other scenes of the main hall in the handscroll, the room behind these blinds is most commonly used as a prayer or sleeping room for elite guests. See for example the pilgrimages of Retired Emperor En’yū (Ishiyamadera engi, p. 20), Sugawara no Takasue’s daughter 菅原孝標女 (1008–1059?) (Ishiyamadera engi, p. 40), Murasaki Shikibu (Ishiyamadera engi, pp. 41–42), and Fujiwara no Michinaga (Ishiyamadera engi, pp. 44–45). For a discussion of the use of this room (tsubone 局) in temple worship halls see Yamagishi, Chūsei jiin shakai to butsudō, p. 170. It is difficult to determine the original color of the curtains, as the pigment has faded over time. The current pale gray color of the curtains is probably the remains of the underpainting, rather than the intended color of the final work.

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figure 9.1 Ox cart of Higashisanjō-in enters the grounds of Ishiyamadera, Ishiyamadera engi e, 14th c., handscroll, ink and color on paper Source: Ishiyamadera engi, Nihon emaki taisei, vol. 18, ed. Komatsu Shigemi (Tokyo: Chūō kōronsha, 1978), pp. 34–35

figure 9.2 Higashisanjō-in offers curtains in the main hall of Ishiyamadera, Ishiyamadera engi e, 14th c., handscroll, ink and color on paper Source: Ishiyamadera engi, Nihon emaki taisei, vol. 18, ed. Komatsu Shigemi (Tokyo: Chūō kōronsha, 1978), pp. 34–35

instance in the scroll where a specific donation is depicted. All other scenes show donations as indicated by the long, wooden boxes that would have been used to transport them (fig. 9.3). The details of the curtain and the offering table on which it is presented are difficult to make out in the original painting, due to loss or deterioration of the paint pigments, but a copy of the handscroll made in the nineteenth-century offers a clearer recreation of how the original painting may have looked (fig. 9.4). Whereas the curtains on the offering table in the original painting appear blurred and faded, the nineteenth-century copy shows sheer white curtains laid on top of a gold lacquer box that was placed on top of the table. In many ways, Higashisanjō-in’s donations follow a pattern similar to other high-ranking aristocrats. Donations of land to temples were common, particularly among elite male pilgrims.50 However, elite women during the Heian

50

Ambros, “Liminal Journeys,” p. 323.

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figure 9.3 Boxes containing donations, from the scene of emperor En’yū’s pilgrimage, Ishiyamadera engi e, 14th c., handscroll, ink and color on paper Source: Ishiyamadera engi, Nihon emaki taisei, vol. 18, ed. Komatsu Shigemi (Tokyo: Chūō kōronsha, 1978), pp. 34–35

figure 9.4 Tani Bunchō, Ishiyamadera engi e (detail), Edo period Source: Ishiyamadera no bi: Kannon, Murasaki Shikibu, Genji Monogatari (Ōtsu: Daihonzan Ishiyamadera, 2008), p. 56

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period also owned, inherited, and passed down property of their own, meaning that they possessed the resources to donate land to temples if they so desired.51 Kesa 袈裟, the vestments worn by Buddhist monks, were another typical donation, as the donation of vestments or the materials to make them was practiced as a merit-building activity early in Buddhist culture.52 Rolls of plain, uncut cloth were also suitable donations to temples. Fujiwara no Kaneie made a donation of both cloth and robes to the priests of Hannyaji 般若寺, and an earlier scene of Ishiyamadera engi e records that Emperor En’yū donated two hundred bolts of chōfu 調布 (a bast-fiber cloth paid to the court as taxes) and three hundred bolts of wata 綿 (silk batting) during his visit to the temple.53 Although formal court robes were given as gifts and rewards by (and to) members of both sexes at court, providing vestments for monks came to be associated with women.54 Women in the Heian period were responsible for providing clothing for their husbands, and the sewing of robes as women’s labor may have contributed to the idea that providing clothing for monks was also best suited to women.55

Curtains in Buddhist Worship Spaces That the curtains are depicted at the center of the scene in the hall suggests that they were considered a particularly important donation. Unfortunately, there are few other examples of curtain donations in diaries and historical records, particularly for the early eleventh century, and due to the tendency for fabrics to disintegrate and be replaced or removed over time, there are no extant curtains of this type. The vagueness of the terms used and the changes in terminology over time also make it difficult to identify the precise style of curtains that she donated and how they were displayed in the temple hall afterwards. However, some clarity can be gained by analyzing the terms used to describe curtains in the context of Buddhist altar spaces and the imagery of curtains utilized throughout Ishiyamadera engi e. Scholarship dealing with shōgon 荘 厳, the adornment of Buddhist icons and ritual spaces, generally omits curtains in favor of banners, canopies, and altar cloths, however, they probably

51 52 53 54 55

McCullough, “Japanese Marriage Institutions in the Heian Period,” p. 124. Amamonzeki, pp. 308–309. Ambros, “Liminal Journeys,” p. 323; and Ishiyamadera engi, p. 20 and 134. Glassman, “The Nude Jizō at Denkōji,” p. 394. McCullough, “Japanese Marriage Institutions in the Heian Period,” p. 125.

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filled a similar role in decorating the altar space.56 Eiga monogatari mentions another instance of curtains meant to be hung around or in front of a Buddha icon, which emphasizes their function as part of the ritual tableau. These curtains are listed among the items Michinaga brought with him on a pilgrimage to Hasedera 長谷寺; however, these curtains are not listed as donations, but as part of the collection of Buddhist implements that Michinaga brought in order to furnish the rituals he wished to have performed.57 Furthermore, the text emphasizes that he brought these items so as not to be a burden on the local governor, suggesting that they would have been costly items to supply. The terminology used to describe curtains for icons has parallels in the terms used for residential curtains, which may offer further insight into how these curtains were used in religious spaces. Curtains in residential settings served as a means of both signaling the elite status of the person enclosed within and of obscuring them from the view of those of lower rank or status, particularly in the case of aristocratic women and members of the imperial family. Based on the Ishiyamadera engi e painting, Higashisanjō-in’s curtains appear to share certain characteristics with curtains that were used in domestic settings at that time, such as kichō 几帳, which were used to divide interior spaces in elite residences (figs. 9.5 and 9.6).58 In the handscroll painting, the edges of kichō spilling out from underneath the bamboo blinds in the upper section of the painting indicate the presence of an elite woman—presumably Higashisanjōin—in that room (see fig. 9.2). Emperors were also shielded by curtains through the use of chōdai 帳台, the curtained platform used as a sleeping area by aristocrats and, at the imperial palace, as a type of throne room or dais (fig. 9.7). Chōdai signaled the importance of the person seated within, while protecting them from the gaze of those seated outside. Elsewhere in Eiga monogatari the same term used to refer to curtains for Buddhist icons, michō, is used to refer to the curtains of an empress’s chōdai, indicating that the term had a general application for the curtains of elites, whether human or bodhisattva.59 Among the aristocracy, curtains were a powerful means of signaling and reinforcing status. Surrounding an icon or high-status person with curtains, whether they effectively hid that object or individual or not, indicated that what was kept within was especially important and worthy of the respect afforded by secrecy. 56 57 58

59

Ann Nishimura and Samuel Morse, Object as Insight, pp. 26–28. Eiga monogatari, vol. 32, 435; A Tale of Flowering Fortunes, vol. 2, 643. As seen in fig. 9.6, kichō are movable curtain stands hung with silk or other fabrics to divide interior spaces or provide a layer of privacy or insulation when placed against exterior blinds. Eiga monogatari, vol. 31. p. 328.

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figure 9.5 Curtains presented by Higashisanjō-in, Ishiyamadera engi e, 14th c., handscroll, ink and color on paper Source: Ishiyamadera engi, Nihon emaki taisei, vol. 18, ed. Komatsu Shigemi (Tokyo: Chūō kōronsha, 1978), pp. 34–35

figure 9.6 Kichō curtain stand from the scene of Murasaki Shikibu’s pilgrimage, Ishiyamadera engi e, 14th c., handscroll, ink and color on paper Source: Ishiyamadera engi, Nihon emaki taisei, vol. 18, ed. Komatsu Shigemi (Tokyo: Chūō kōronsha, 1978), p. 42

Unlike the multicolored, rich fabrics commonly chosen to decorate altar spaces, Higashisanjō-in’s curtains are white and, from what can be understood from the painting, translucent. The color of her curtains is never mentioned in either the handscroll text or Eiga monogatari, and neither are Michinaga’s curtains described as having any particular color. Chōdai curtains were usu-

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figure 9.7 Chōdai curtain platform in the house of Fujiwara no Tadazane, Kasuga gongen genki e, 14th c., handscroll, ink and color on silk Source: Kasuga gongen genki e, Zoku Nihon emaki taisei, vol. 14, ed. Komtasu Shigemi (Tokyo: Chūō kōronsha, 1981), p. 15

ally white, so it does not seem unlikely that michō hung in front of Buddhist icons would be white curtains, rather than the elaborate brocade tochō 戸帳 / 斗帳 of later periods. It is possible, of course, that the fourteenth-century painting cannot be trusted as an accurate representation of eleventh-century altar decorations. However, the image of white curtains hanging in the altar space appears to have been believable, and even significant for the creators of the handscroll. Within the context of Ishiyamadera engi e, Higashisanjō-in’s white curtains continue a motif that is spread across the paintings of the handscroll: the concealment of the Nyoirin Kannon icon from the gaze of the viewer through the use of white curtains. Ishiyamadera’s icon is only fully depicted once in the entire handscroll, when it miraculously flies out of the main hall to escape a fire and is shown resting in a tree outside of the burning temple hall; in other scenes, it is concealed from view with white curtains. This motif first appears during the ritual performed for Kannon on the mountain where Ishiyamadera would eventually stand, when Emperor Shōmu

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figure 9.8 The icon of Nyoirin Kannon enshrined in a white-curtained hut, Ishiyamadera engi e, 14th c., handscroll, ink and color on paper Source: Ishiyama-dera engi emaki shūsei, vol. 1, ed. Aizawa Masahiko and Kuniga Yumiko (Tokyo: Chūō kōron bijutsu shuppan, 2016), p. 16

instructed the priest Rōben 良弁 (689–773) to enshrine Shōmu’s Nyoirin Kannon icon and pray for the discovery of gold (fig. 9.8). The text notes that hihō 秘法 (secret rituals) were performed, while the painting depicts a small hut erected on a hill, the entrance hung with white curtains. The image of the icon hidden by curtains is repeated again in the scene of healing rituals performed for Emperor Goichijō, in which only the lotus pedestal base of the icon can be seen above the edge of a white curtain (fig. 9.9) erected inside the temple hall. The scene of the commencement of rituals dedicated to Aizen Myōō 愛染明 王 (Sk. Rāgarāja) (fig. 9.10) follows the same format, although in this instance the icon hidden from view is presumably one of Aizen Myōō, not Nyoirin Kannon. These curtains differ in form from Higashisanjō-in’s donation; they are daimaku 大幕, long, horizontal cloth curtains temporarily erected around the ritual space in order to conceal the area from lay or un-initiated viewers and removed after the completion of the ritual.60 Rather than actively hiding the icon, however, Higashisanjō-in’s curtains serve as a visual reminder of what remains unseen—the sacred hibutsu of Ishiyamadera. Furthermore, the term that later developed for the revealing of a secret icon, kaichō 開帳 (lit. “opening of the curtains”), suggests a connection between hibutsu and curtains as a device for maintaining secrecy. 60

Nishi, Chūsei mikkyō jiin to shuhō, pp. 60–61.

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figure 9.9 Rituals performed for Emperor Go-Ichijō, Ishiyamadera engi e, 14th c., handscroll, ink and color on paper Source: Ishiyamadera engi, Nihon emaki taisei, vol. 18, ed. Komatsu Shigemi (Tokyo: Chūō kōronsha, 1978), pp. 46–47

figure 9.10

Aizen offerings initiated under Emperor Fushimi, Ishiyamadera engi e, 14th c., handscroll, ink and color on paper Source: Ishiyamadera engi, Nihon emaki taisei, vol. 18, ed. Komatsu Shigemi (Tokyo: Chūō kōronsha, 1978), pp. 89–90

In the case of Ishiyamadera and most temples with secret icons, the closed doors of the small shrine that contained the icon (zushi 厨子) were the primary means by which it was hidden from view. However, curtains hung in the altar space could provide an additional layer of separation and further signal the icon’s high status to visitors. The texts of other scenes in the handscroll imply that curtains were generally hung in front of Ishiyamadera’s Kannon icon. The

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first scene of the fifth scroll depicts the pilgrimage of the wife of Fujiwara no Kuniyoshi 藤原国能 (mid-twelfth century) made sometime between 1124 and 1126, during which Nyoirin Kannon appeared in a dream and presented her with a wish-fulfilling jewel. In describing this apparition, the text states that “she fell asleep and in a dream Kannon appeared from within the curtains.”61 Although the painting of this scene shows Kannon standing outside of the red and black fence that separates the inner sanctum from the worship hall where the wife of Kuniyoshi lies sleeping and not the curtains mentioned in the text, the fact that Kannon is described as coming out from within the curtains suggests that they obscured the icon in the normal arrangement of the inner sanctum. An earlier scene also mentions curtains in a similar context: the text of the fourth scene of the fourth scroll describes a dream that a priest named Gyōson 行尊 (1055 or 1057–1135) had while on pilgrimage to the temple, in which “an old priest in black robes emerged alone from within the curtains.”62 This priest is understood to be an incarnation or representative of Kannon. Other scenes in the handscroll also describe priests appearing in dreams to deliver omens and cures on behalf of Ishiyamadera’s icon. As with the other paintings depicting the main hall, little beyond the fence is shown in either of these scenes, thus preserving the sanctity of the inner shrine but offering no image of the zushi or where these curtains hung relative to it. Although no such curtains hang in the inner sanctum today, that part of the main hall dates to 1096, and thus appears structurally much as it did when the handscroll was created.63 At Ishiyamadera the zushi is not a free-standing container but is built into the rear wall of the inner sanctum.64 The curtains most likely hung in front of this rear wall, and based on the mentions of divine apparitions emerging out of them, would have been clearly visible to pilgrims seated in the worship hall. These episodes also present the curtains as a division between the divine and the mundane, mirroring the function of the white curtains repeated throughout the handscroll paintings. Rather than only serving as the means of hiding the divine from unworthy eyes, however, these episodes also emphasize the drawing back of the curtains as the method by which Kannon interacts with devotees.

61 62 63 64

Ishiyamadera engi, p. 138. Ishiyamadera engi, p. 138. The main hall was destroyed by fire in 1078 and rebuilt by 1096. It is believed that the layout of the present hall generally corresponds to the Naraperiod hall destroyed in the 1078 fire, including the location and format of the zushi. See Fukuyama, Nihon kenchikushi no kenkyū, pp. 484–486.

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The scarcity of references to curtain donations suggests that they were an unusual offering and something only affordable to elite patrons. Higashisanjōin’s choice to dedicate curtains at Ishiyamadera reflected both her status as an elite member of the imperial family and her own personal devotion to the temple and its deity. Furthermore, Higashisanjō-in’s presence at the ritual is represented through the depiction of her offering—not the commonly given offerings of cloth for kesa or the sponsored feast for the monks, but the unique and costly donation of curtains meant to adorn the icon’s shrine in the most sacred part of the temple. In paintings like those found in Ishiyamadera engi e, the most important figures are not shown. Emperors, empresses, and sacred, secret icons are honored by not revealing their mundane, physical forms. In the scene of Higashisanjo-in’s final pilgrimage, the curtains stand for both the icon, carefully hidden by clouds in the image of the hall’s inner sanctum at the far left of the painting, and Higashisanjō-in herself, as patroness and empress. By donating an object that would be hung as close as possible to the icon, Higashisanjō-in could herself draw closer to Kannon, emphasizing both her personal piety and her status as the highest-ranking woman in Japan. Although she herself would not enter the inner sanctum where the icon was enshrined and temple priests would perform the rituals she had commissioned, her donation would have access to this inner sanctum.

For Generations to Come Ideally, Higashisanjō-in’s curtains would have hung in front of Nyoirin Kannon’s shrine long after her death, serving as a testament to the elite patronage Ishiyamadera attracted and perhaps encouraging future acts of patronage. If the empress’ prayers had been answered by Ishiyamadera’s Kannon, then surely this must be a powerful deity. There are no records that explain what happened to the curtains, but it is likely that they were destroyed in the fire that demolished the main hall in 1078. The examples selected for illustration in Ishiyamadera engi e all emphasize moments when the temple attracted the attention of the most powerful people in the country: emperors, Fujiwara family members, and famous monks. While her donation itself might no longer serve as a reminder of the opulence and devotion of days gone by, emphasizing Higashisanjō-in’s patronage and piety could still serve as a model for wealthy viewers of the handscroll, encouraging them anew to turn to Nyoirin Kannon in their time of need and, of course, to honor the deity by making donations to the temple and its priests. The text describing Higashisanjō-in’s final pilgrimage

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ends with the observation that, with her death occurring not long after her visit, this must surely have been a sign that Kannon had responded to her prayers for a good rebirth.65 The example of Higashisanjō-in’s donation within the Ishiyamadera scrolls illustrates the fact that among the Heian-period elite, women can and did participate fully as patrons of Buddhist temples through ritual and material offerings. Furthermore, the fact that Higashisanjō-in’s rituals and donations were dedicated to her personal devotion and salvation, rather than for the benefit of her male family members, also points to the fact that these women pursued Buddhism on their own, not merely for the well-being of their fathers, husbands, and sons. Even as elite women lost the ability to act as patrons on such a grand level in later times, the example of an empress’ donation and devotion was presented to the elites of the fourteenth century as a model of piety and power and a reaffirmation of the temple’s connections and prestige. For the patrons of Ishiyamadera engi e, Higashisanjō-in was an ideal patron herself, an empress whose devotion, according to the handscroll, resulted in the birth of an emperor and contributed to the social power of her family. The handscroll presents her as a predecessor to the Tōin family’s successes, ones which Tōin Kinkata may have hoped to see repeated in a future in which the imperial house regained governmental control under Emperor Godaigo. This future was never to be realized, and the handscroll may not have even been completed before Godaigo’s exile, but Ishiyamadera engi e nonetheless offered a view of a world in which the glory of ages past would be realized again through the mercy of Kannon.

References Primary Sources DNS = Dai Nihon shiryō 大日本資料. Ed. Tōkyō Daigaku Shiryō Hensanjo 東京大学資料 編纂所. Tōkyō Daigaku Shuppankai, 1901–. Eiga monogatari 栄花物語. Vols. 31–33 of Shinpen Nihon koten bungaku zenshū 新編日 本古典文学全集. Edited by Yamanaka Yutaka 山中裕 et al. Tokyo: Shōgakkan, 1995– 1998. Ishiyamadera engi 石山寺縁起. Vol. 18 of Nihon emaki taisei 小松茂美. Edited by Komatsu Shigemi 小松茂美. Tōkyō: Chūō Kōronsha, 1978.

65

Ishiyamadera engi, p. 136.

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Secondary Sources Aizawa Masahiko 相澤正彦 and Kuniga Yumiko 國賀由美子, eds. Ishiyamadera engi emaki shūsei 石山寺縁起絵巻集成. 3 vols. Tokyo: Chūō Kōron Bijutsu Shuppan, 2016. Amamonzeki, A Hidden Heritage: Treasures of the Japanese Imperial Convents. Edited by Patricia Fister and Monica Bethe. Tokyo: Sankei Shinbunsha, 2009. Ambros, Barbara. “Liminal Journeys: Pilgrimages of Noblewomen in Mid-Heian Japan.” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 24: 3–4 (1997), pp. 301–345. A Tale of Flowering Fortunes: Annals of Japanese Aristocratic Life in the Heian Period. 2 vols. Translated, with an introduction and notes, by William H. and Helen Craig McCullough. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1980. Brown, Delmer M. and Ichirō Ishida. The Future and the Past: A Translation and Study of the Gukanshō: An Interpretive History of Japan Written in 1219. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1979. Conlan, Thomas. From Sovereign to Symbol: An Age of Ritual Determinism in FourteenthCentury Japan. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011. de Visser, M.W. Ancient Buddhism in Japan: Sutras and Ceremonies in Use in the Seventh and Eighth Centuries A.D. and Their History in Later Times. 2 vols. Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1935. Faure, Bernard. The Power of Denial: Buddhism, Purity, and Gender. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2003. Fremerman, Sarah. “Divine Impersonations: Nyoirin Kannon in Medieval Japan.” PhD diss., Stanford University, 2008. Fukutō, Sanae and Takeshi Watanabe. “From Female Sovereign to Mother of the Nation: Women and Government in the Heian Period.” In Heian Japan: Centers and Peripheries, ed. Mikael S. Adolphson, Edward Kamens, and Stacie Matsumoto, pp. 15–34. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2007. Fukuyama Toshio 福山敏男. Nihon kenchikushi no kenkyū 日本建築史の研究. Kyoto: Kuwana Bunseidō, 1943. Glassman, Hank. “The Nude Jizō at Denkōji: Notes on Women’s Salvation in Kamakura Buddhism.” In Engendering Faith: Women and Buddhism in Premodern Japan, ed. Barbara Ruch, pp. 383–413. Ann Arbor: Center for Japanese Studies, The University of Michigan, 2002. Goble, Andrew. Kenmu: Godaigo’s Revolution. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1996. Groner, Paul. “Vicissitudes in the Ordination of Japanese ‘Nuns’ during the Eighth through the Tenth Centuries,” in Engendering Faith: Women and Buddhism in Premodern Japan, ed. Barbara Ruch, pp. 65–108. Ann Arbor: Center for Japanese Studies, The University of Michigan, 2002. McCullough, William H. “Japanese Marriage Institutions in the Heian Period.” Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 27 (1967), pp. 103–167.

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Nishi Yayoi 西弥生. Chūsei mikkyō jiin to shuhō 中世密教寺院と修法. Tokyo: Bensei Shuppan: 2008, Meeks, Lori R. “Reconfiguring Ritual Authenticity: The Ordination Traditions of Aristocratic Women in Premodern Japan.” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 33: 1 (2006), 51–74. Morse, Ann Nishimura and Samuel Crowell Morse, eds. Object as Insight: Japanese Buddhist Art and Ritual. Katonah: Katonah Museum of Art, 1995. Ruppert, Brian. Jewel in the Ashes: Buddha Relics and Power in Early Medieval Japan. Harvard East Asian Monographs 188. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2000. Umezu Jirō 梅津次郎. “Ishiyamadera engi e ni tsuite 石山寺縁起絵について.” In Ishiyamadera engi e 石山寺縁起絵, ed. Umezu Jirō, pp. 3–13. Vol. 22 of Shinshū Nihon emakimono zenshū 新集日本絵巻物全集. Tokyo: Kadokawa Shoten, 1979. Washio Henryū 鷲尾遍隆 and Ayamura Hiroshi 綾村宏, eds. Ishiyamadera no shinkō to rekishi 石山寺の信仰と歴史. Kyoto: Shibunkaku Shuppan, 2008. Yamagishi Tsuneto 山岸常人. Chūsei jiin shakai to butsudō 中世寺院社会と仏堂. Tokyo: Hanawa Shobo, 1990. Yoshida Yūji 吉田有之, “‘Ishiyamadera engi e’ nanamaki no rekiho 「石山寺縁起絵」 七巻の歴程.” In Ishiyamadera engi, pp. 112–114. Vol. 18 of Nihon emaki taisei, ed. Komatsu Shigemi. Tōkyō: Chūō Kōronsha, 1978.

chapter 10

Life After Death: The Intersection of Patron and Subject in the Portrait of Jōkō-in Elizabeth Self *

Introduction The Portrait of Jōkō-in 常高院 (who was also known as Hatsu 初, 1570–1633) is an extraordinary depiction of a powerful seventeenth-century Japanese woman.1 (fig. 10.1). Among the existing portraits of the famous three Asai 浅井 sisters, this portrait stands out for its high quality, its use of expensive materials such as silk, and its large size.2 Jōkō-in, an elegant figure in a floral-patterned short-sleeved robe (kosode 小袖) under a transparent brown robe, and Zen surplice (rakusu kesa 絡子袈裟), occupies the central space of the portrait. She sits upon a cloth mat on a raised tatami platform, signaling her high rank. Richly-

* I owe special thanks to Karen Gerhart, Katheryn Linduff, and Mrinalini Rajagopalan, whose kind advice helped shepherd this chapter through to completion. I have also benefited hugely from discussions with Patricia Fister and the other participants in the Women, Rites, and Ritual Objects in Premodern Japan Workshop, held at the University of Pittsburgh in 2016. Finally, I owe thanks to many organizations that contributed to my research, including the University of Pittsburgh, the Mitsubishi Foundation, and the Japan Foundation. 1 The portrait is owned by Jōkōji 常高寺, but kept at Fukui Prefecture’s Wakasa History Museum. It is displayed at the temple occasionally for special events, such as Jōkō-in’s annual death anniversary. 2 The three sisters—Jōkō-in, her eldest sister Yodo-dono 淀殿 (who was also known as Chacha 茶々, 1569–1615), and her youngest sister Sūgen-in 崇源院 (who was also known as Gō 江, 1573–1626) are well known in Japan as the Asai sanshimai 浅井三姉妹 (three sisters), who rose from an uncertain position as daughters of disgraced Sengoku period (1467–1603) daimyo to high status and wealth as the mothers and wives of some of the most powerful men of the seventeenth century. Already familiar to historians, the 2011 NHK historical drama, Gō: Himetachi no sengoku 江〜姫たちの戦国〜, made the sisters known to the public as well. It prompted a deluge of popular and academic books, as well as travel guides and museum exhibitions, on the sisters and their lives and times. The exhibition, named after the television show, was a collaboration between the NHK and the Edo Tokyo Museum. It also traveled to the Fukui Prefectural Art Museum and the Nagahama Castle Historical Museum. See Edo Tokyo Hakubutsukan, Gō: Himetachi no sengoku.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2018 | doi: 10.1163/9789004368194_012

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figure 10.1 Portrait of Jōkō-in, Edo period, hanging scroll, ink and color on silk, 119.5×51.5cm, Jōkōji (now in the collection of the Fukui Prefecture Wakasa History Museum) Source: Edo Tōkyō Hakubutsukan, Gō: Himetachi no sengoku: 2011 NHK taiga dorama tokubetsuten (Tokyo: NHK, 2011), p. 104

decorated curtains and rolled bamboo blinds frame her figure in front of a background of luminous gold, created by the expensive application of gold foil (kinpaku 金箔). Her portrait is one of the most elaborate and impressive of its kind. By contrast, the portraits of Jōkō-in’s sisters are subdued.3 Their portraits depict women wearing modest, dark-colored clothing, sitting quietly against

3 There are three known portraits of the sisters: two of Yodo-dono and one of Sūgen-in. One

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plain backgrounds. Yet of the three sisters, Jōkō-in was arguably the least wellconnected. Although she was the widow of a wealthy daimyo, Kyōgoku Takatsugu 京極高次 (1560–1609), she was childless, and after her husband’s death, she took the tonsure and retired from worldly affairs. By contrast, Yodo-dono and Sūgen-in married and produced heirs for two extremely successful and powerful men of the late Sengoku period: Toyotomi Hideyoshi 豊臣秀吉 (1537– 1598) and Tokugawa Hidetada 徳川秀忠 (1579–1632). During their lifetimes, both of Jōkō-in’s sisters held far more important positions and greater wealth than Jōkō-in. Why, then, was Jōkō-in’s portrait so impressive by contrast? I will argue that Jōkō-in’s magnificent appearance reflected the goals of the patron of this portrait—not a family member, but Jōkō-in herself—to follow the practice known as gyakushu 逆修 (offering prayers for one’s soul while still living). Although the name of the patron of this portrait is not mentioned explicitly in contemporary sources, both visual and written evidence provides support for my claim. Using Jōkō-in’s portrait as a case study, I will also argue that commissioners used portraits like these to create and display distinctive identities for women, even long after their deaths, by linking them to certain lineages and families. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, portraits were primarily seen as ritual objects. After a person’s body was cremated or sealed in a coffin, their spirit would often be transferred to a portrait (painted or sculpted) commissioned for that purpose.4 Offerings, such as incense and food, were then made to the portrait, rather than the corpse.5 After this ritual was carried out, the portrait was subsequently placed in a memorial temple—a bodaiji 菩提寺 or bodaisho 菩提所—such as Jōkōji 常高寺, and family members and retainers subsequently paid for memorial rituals (tsuizen kuyō 追善供養), held upon successive death anniversaries. During these rituals, conducted in the days and months following a person’s death, the portrait was displayed, and offerings were made to it. These memorial rituals took place at regular intervals for a year,

of the portraits of Yodo-dono and the portrait of Sūgen-in are located at Yōgen’in 養源院 in Kyoto; the other portrait of Yodo-dono is in the collection of the Nara Prefectural Museum. However, none of the portraits are inscribed, so the traditional identification of these portraits cannot be confirmed. For more information on these portraits and debates over their true subjects, see Yamane, “Yōgen’in zō Asai-shi kankei shōzōga.” 4 A mortuary tablet (ihai 位牌) with the deceased’s name was often also produced and could be used for the same purpose. 5 Gerhart, The Material Culture of Death, pp. 147–175. For more information about the premodern use of portraits in rituals—particularly in the Chan/Zen Buddhist tradition—in both China and Japan, see Foulk and Sharf, “On the Ritual Use of Chan Portraiture.”

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and then periodically for many decades later, on the person’s death anniversaries (the day of death).6 Memorial rituals like these served a dual purpose: they contributed to the salvation of the deceased and a good rebirth, but they also were a way for descendants of the deceased to acquire merit for themselves.7 From the historiographical perspective, portraits have often been viewed aesthetically as art objects or as a way to understand more about the personality and character of famous historical figures. In Japan, scholarship has primarily been devoted to portraiture of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, viewed as an era of new realism in Japanese art, with studies focused on the highly individualized carved and painted portraits of Zen monks (chinsō 頂相).8 Recent scholarship on female portraits generally focuses on describing and listing the facts about such portraits, although this is beginning to change.9 Scholars have also devoted much energy to deciphering who was depicted in different portraits, and the identity of the artists who painted them. Jōkō-in’s portrait, although often mentioned as a high-quality female portrait of the seventeenth century, has not yet been discussed in detail.10 This essay builds on previous scholarship to place the portrait of Jōkō-in in the social and politi-

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Gerhart, The Material Culture of Death, p. 165. Specifically, memorial rituals were held every seven days after death, for a total of forty-nine days; they would then be held monthly. Subsequently, the frequency would drop, but memorials would often occur at certain intervals such as the one-year anniversary, the seventh-year anniversary, the fourteenth-year anniversary, and so on. The one-year anniversary, which was referred to as the ‘second-year anniversary’ in the Japanese numbering system, was one of the most important. Gerhart, The Material Culture of Death, p. 160. Phillips, The Practices of Painting in Japan, p. 147; Gerhart, The Material Culture of Death, p. 149. There are two special issues of journals that deal specifically with female portraits: Yamato bunka, no. 56 (1972), and Nihon no bijutsu, no. 384 (1998). These are invaluable reference works that catalogue and describe a huge number of female portraits. More recent scholarship on female portraits includes Miyajima, Shōzōga no shisen, chapter 4; and Naruse, Nihon shōzōgashi, chapter 5. Additionally, the catalogue for the Amamonzeki, A Hidden Heritage exhibition (April 14–June 14, 2009) offers considerable details about the painted portraits of medieval nuns. These works engage with female portraiture in the context of social changes occurring at the time, particularly in regard to family relationships and the status of women. Some examples of scholarship that discuss the portrait in passing include Tazawa, Josei no shōzō, pp. 55–56; Miyajima, Shōzōga no shisen, 150–151; Ikeda, “Nagoya-shi Hideyoshi Kiyosei Kinenkan kura,” pp. 27–28.

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cal context of its era. To understand how the portrait functioned in the eyes of contemporary society, I will look at it within a framework of ritual and political motivations. In particular, I will investigate the portrait’s use in the gyakushu ritual in order to make an argument about the identity of its patron. In addition to the question of ritual, this paper also engages with the issue of gender in Japanese art. Furthermore, despite recent strides in scholarship, the history of women in premodern Japan is understudied. Difficulties in studying women and their place in culture can be traced to, among other problems, their absence in official and unofficial records (diaries, letters, etc.)—problems which also present challenges to the study of women and art in other parts of Asia and Europe as well. Portraits of women, like Jōkō-in’s, are an invaluable resource, simply because they provide information about the identities of their subjects. As the art historian Huishi Lee has argued, the lack of written documentation concerning female agency makes women’s visual culture even more important for scholars.11 Jōkō-in and her portrait are particularly suitable subjects for the task of understanding questions of female agency because she left behind documents that demonstrate her concern for legacy-building and the fate of her soul after her death. My study will place her portrait in its historical context to reveal the circumstances and meaning of its creation.

The Portrait of Jōkō-in Who Was Jōkō-in? Jōkō-in was the religious name adopted by Hatsu, one of the three Asai sisters. Jōkō-in, along with her sisters, is a well-known figure in contemporary Japan. However, her life has generally been overshadowed by those of her sisters, and only one brief biography of her has been written.12 She was born in 1570, as the middle daughter. She also had at least two brothers, by different mothers, of a lower rank.13 Her mother, Oichi no kata お市の方 (1547–1583), was the sister of Oda Nobunaga 織田信長 (1534–1582), and her father, Asai Nagamasa 浅井 長政 (1545–1573), was the head of the Asai family and lord of Odani Castle 小 谷城, located on the shores of Lake Biwa in northern Ōmi (present-day Shiga 11 12

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Li, Empresses, Art, & Agency. There are two biographies of Yodo-dono (Kuwata, Yodo-gimi and Fukuda, Yodo-dono), and one of Sūgen-in (Fukuda, Gō no shōgai). Owada Tetsuo has written about all three sisters, see Sengoku sanshimai. For Jōkō-in’s biography, see Shibuya, Jōkōin-dono. The exact number and identity of these additional brothers is unknown. For a detailed discussion of the question of their identities, see Owada, Sengoku sanshimai, pp. 162–165.

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figure 10.2

Asai and Kyōgoku family tree Source: Author

Prefecture) (fig. 10.2). In 1573, Nagamasa sided with the Asakura 朝倉 family against Nobunaga, who besieged Odani Castle. Defeated, Nagamasa committed suicide, while Oichi no kata and her daughters fled the castle, protected by their relationship with Nobunaga. The Asai family was effectively destroyed as political force, and Nagamasa’s eldest son was assassinated by Nobunaga’s retainers. One of his other sons was hidden in a temple and became a priest.14 This second son may be the same person later identified as Asai Sakuan 浅井 作庵 (dates unknown), who played a small role in Jōkō-in’s life.15 By contrast, Nagamasa’s daughters flourished. Prior to her death, Oichi no kata entrusted her daughters to Hideyoshi.16 After her mother’s death, Jōkō-in’s eldest sister, Yodo-dono, became one of Hideyoshi’s secondary wives (sokushitsu 側室) and bore him an heir, Hideyori 秀頼 (1593–1615). Later, Sūgen-in married the son of then-shogun Tokugawa Ieyasu 徳川家康 (1543–1616), Hidetada, who shortly thereafter became shogun himself. Jōkō-in married one of her cousins, Kyōgoku Takatsugu, the head of the Kyōgoku family and the lord of Ōtsu Castle 大津城 in Ōmi Province. Takatsugu initially served Hideyoshi but later sided with Ieyasu at the battle of Sekigahara in 1600. Because of his sup-

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Fukuda, Gō no shōgai, pp. 8–12. Sakuan’s mother would have been a secondary wife or low-ranking servant in Nagamasa’s household. Sakuan later became a retainer of Hashiba Hidetsugu 羽柴秀次 (1568–1595), eventually fighting for the Toyotomi side in the battle of Osaka. Fukuda, Gō no shōgai, pp. 12–13. See also Owada, Sengoku sanshimai, pp. 162–165. This arrangement may have been facilitated by Kyōgoku Tatsuko 京極竜子 (who was also known as Matsu no Maru 松の丸, d. 1634), a cousin of the sisters and also one of Hideyoshi’s secondary wives. Fukuda, Gō no shōgai, pp. 34–35.

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port in this battle, Takatsugu earned Ieyasu’s favor and was rewarded with the Obama domain in Wakasa Province (eighty-five thousand koku). A few years later, he received additional land, for a total of ninety-two thousand one hundred koku. Jōkō-in accompanied Takatsugu to Obama, later founding Jōkōji there.17 Jōkō-in was widowed at age thirty-nine when Takatsugu died of illness in 1609; he was buried at the Kyōgoku memorial temple of Seiryūji 清龍寺 in Ōtsu (present-day Shiga Prefecture). Rather than remarrying, she took the tonsure and adopted the name Buddhist name Jōkō-in.18 Following her husband’s death, the battles between the Toyotomi and the Tokugawa intensified, and Jōkō-in was increasingly called upon to act as a messenger between the two sides. In the final months leading up to the defeat of the Toyotomi, on behalf of her sister Yodo-dono, she carried messages back and forth between Ieyasu and the Toyotomi in Osaka Castle, almost succeeding in brokering a peace.19 In the following summer of 1615, however, violence broke out again, resulting in a final loss by Toyotomi forces. Hideyori and his mother committed suicide in Osaka Castle. According to records, Jōkō-in was present in Osaka Castle during this battle, still trying to negotiate peace, and narrowly escaped before the castle fell.20 Fifteen years later, in 1630, Jōkō-in founded Jōkōji, in the Kyōgoku-held Obama domain. She recruited the Rinzai Zen priest Kaidō Shūko 槐堂周虎 (1594–1664) to serve as the temple’s founder21 and sent a retainer called Kawasaki Rokurōzaemon 川崎六郎左衛門 (dates unknown) to oversee construction.22 Although the temple was named after Jōkō-in herself, it was probably initially founded as a memorial temple for the repose of her husband, Takatsugu’s, soul. The year the temple was founded, 1630, was twenty-one years after Takatsugu’s death, an important death anniversary according to Bud-

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Shibuya, Jōkōin-dono, p. 14. Shibuya, Jōkōin-dono, p. 32. It is because she adopted the name “Jōkō-in” during her lifetime, and because it is used in most official documents, that I refer to her by this name throughout this paper. Shibuya, Jōkōin-dono, pp. 34–36. Shibuya, Jōkōin-dono, pp. 38–40. Kaidō Shūko was born in Obama, which may explain why Jōkō-in selected him. According to one scholar, Jōkō-in and Kaidō met when Jōkō-in was conducting memorial rituals for her father, Asai Nagamasa, at a temple called Tōzenji 東禅寺 in Edo. Kaidō later became abbot of the Myōshinji 妙心寺 monastery in Kyoto. Ōsakajō Tenshukaku, Tokubetsuten: Sengoku no onnatachi, p. 129. Shibuya, Jōkōin-dono, p. 41.

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dhist mortuary traditions. In addition, her adopted daughter, Hatsu-hime 初 姫 (1602–1630), had died the same year. According to temple tradition, Jōkō-in also intended to commemorate her parents, and her sister and nephew, who had died in the battle at Osaka Castle.23 Because of these various losses in her life, Jōkōji may have been intended as a memorial temple for all of Jōkō-in’s deceased relatives, not only her husband.24 After a long life, Jōkō-in died in 1633 in the Kyōgoku family residence in Edo. Her body was transferred to Jōkōji in Obama, where a funeral ceremony was held and her body was cremated. Her ashes were interred in a stone pagoda (hōtō 宝塔), which still marks the spot today.25 After her death, Jōkōji functioned primarily as Jōkō-in’s memorial temple.26 The Historical Context of the Portrait of Jōkō-in The portrait of Jōkō-in was likely created during the first half of the seventeenth century, an era when female portraits experienced a boom, becoming both increasingly common and increasingly luxurious.27 Amongst the earliest known examples of portraits in Japan were those of important Buddhist monks, introduced by way of China and Korea.28 Subsequently, textual references to portraits of religious women in Japan begin to appear by the thirteenth century.29 The earliest extant female portrait is likely to be either the portrait of the nun Abutsu-ni 阿仏尼 (1222–1283), which is undated, or the portrait of

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Temple tradition claims that, during the Edo period, Jōkōji enshrined ihai dedicated to Asai Nagamasa, Oichi no kata, Hatsu-hime (Jōkō-in’s adopted daughter), Yodo-dono, Hideyori, and Sūgen-in, as well as Jōkō-in and Takatsugu. This is stated in the exhibition pamphlet for Sengoku no sanshimai: Hatsu—Hatsu no nemuru Wakasa Obama, an exhibition held at the Fukui Kenritsu Wakasa Rekishi Minzoku Shiryōkan (now the Wakasa Rekishi Hakubutsukan) from April 9 to May 8, 2011. Shibuya, Jōkōin-dono, p. 41. Shibuya, Jōkōin-dono, p. 44. Jōkō-in’s death is recorded in Tokugawa jikki 徳川実記, Kan’ei 10 寛永 (1633).8.27 (Shintei zōho kokushi taikei, vol. 39, p. 609). After Jōkō-in’s death, Jōkōji presumably also continued to hold memorial ceremonies for Kyōgoku Takatsugu, but they seem to have been de-emphasized. For example, Jōkōji holds letters from Tadataka 忠高 (1593–1637) (the Kyōgoku heir) mentioning Jōkō-in’s memorial ceremonies, but they give no mention of Takatsugu. (Obama shishi, p. 182). It is likely his ceremonies were held primarily at other temples. Tazawa refers to the Momoyama period (1573–1615) as the “Era of Portraits of Women” for this reason. See Josei no shōzō, p. 35. Gerhart, The Material Culture of Death, pp. 150–153; Hickman and Dallas Museum of Art, Japan’s Golden Age, p. 60. Miyajima, Shōzōga no shisen, p. 153.

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the nun Eishōan-ni 永昌庵尼 (dates unknown), which is dated by inscription to 1379.30 By the fifteenth century, the number of portraits of both genders increased dramatically. This increase has often been attributed in part to social instability, which made dynastic concerns, and thus visual proofs of lineage, paramount. The increased popularity of Zen-style funerals, which required mortuary portraits for ritual purposes, also likely contributed to this increase.31 By the sixteenth century, portraits of both secular and religious women were being produced, primarily for women of the warrior classes.32 However, in the first half of the seventeenth century, the number and quality of women’s portraits increased, with some scholars referring to this era as a golden age for women’s portraits.33 These portraits were unusually large, expensive, and luxurious, and depicted the women of elite warrior families wearing gorgeous, richly-decorated clothing, set against brilliant architectural settings.34 There were multiple copies of portraits produced of some particularly important warrior-family women, such as Kōdai-in 高台院 (Nene 寧々, d. 1624), Toyotomi Hideyoshi’s primary wife, and Seitoku-in 盛徳院 (Kame-hime 亀姫, 1560–1625), the eldest daughter of Tokugawa Ieyasu, reflecting the importance of these women to numerous different groups. Jōkō-in’s portrait was created during this time, and was part of this group of high-quality, large paintings on silk, rather than paper. The Portrait of Jōkō-in Jōkō-in’s portrait was originally owned and preserved by her memorial temple, Jōkōji, in the port town of Obama (present-day Fukui Prefecture); it is now 30

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Naruse, Nihon shōzōgashi, p. 66. Murai Yasuhiko argues that the portrait of Abutsu-ni was probably created posthumously, as a depiction of a historical figure, rather than the result of a contemporaneous desire to portray a real person. He thus classifies it as a ‘figure painting’ ( jinbutsu-ga 人物画). He believes that the oldest extant ‘true portrait’ is the portrait of Myōzen-ni 妙然尼 (dates unknown, but the portrait was said to be created during her lifetime), which is dated by inscription to 1564. Murai, “Josei shōzōga to sono jidai,” p. 2. The portrait of Eishōan-ni is located at Zenkyoan, 禅居庵, a sub-temple of Kenninji 建 仁寺 in Kyoto. Miyajima, Shōzōga no shisen, p. 153. Zen-style funerals (incorporating portraits) were also held by monks of other sects. Gerhart, The Material Culture of Death, p. 177; Hickman and Dallas Museum of Art, Japan’s Golden Age, p. 63. Miyajima, Shōzōga no shisen, pp. 142–143. For example, Murai Yasuhiko refers to the time period from the Tenshō 天正 (1573–1592) to Kan’ei (1624–1644) eras as the “era of women’s portraits” ( josei shōzōga no jidai 女性肖 像画の時代). “Josei shōzōga to sono jidai,” p. 1. For a discussion of this type of portrait, see Tazawa, Josei no shōzō, pp. 50–57.

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kept at the Wakasa History Museum. Jōkō-in was buried at the temple, and her female attendants settled nearby and carried out memorial ceremonies for her in the years that followed her death—likely employing the portrait for these rituals.35 In the eighteenth century, the temple was known as a site of great natural beauty and flower-viewing gatherings were often held there.36 Later, Jōkōji was repeatedly devastated by fires and then abandoned—and exists now primarily as a modern reconstruction—but Jōkō-in’s portrait, along with a few other documents and treasures, survived.37 In her portrait, Jōkō-in is represented as an older woman. Her face is lined, and she is dressed in the manner of a lay nunHer head is covered by a light blue kerchief (zukin 頭巾), and she wears a Zen surplice, over her kosode and transparent brown over-robe.38 She holds a rosary in one hand and sits on a cloth mat, placed over a raised tatami mat, on a lacquered dais. In the background, richly embroidered curtains and rolled up bamboo blinds frame Jōkō-in’s figure against a golden background. The painting is quite large. At 119.5cm by 51.5 cm, it is comparable in size with many portraits of shoguns.39 In fact, it is considerably larger than the two extant portraits of Jōkō-in’s husband, Kyōgoku Takatsugu.40 The portrait’s size, the skillful painting (for example, the delicate handling of the transparent over35

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Shibuya, Jōkoin-dono, p. 45. In particular, Jōkō-in makes a reference in her will (kakioki no koto かきおきのこと), to seven ladies-in-waiting. Their graves can still be found in a graveyard at Jōkōji today. These parties are recorded in a book called Wakasa gunken-shi 若狭郡県志, published in 1714. Tanaka, Kinsei Nihon kaiga, pp. 190–191. Most of the temple buildings were destroyed over the centuries following Jōkō-in’s death. However, a small part of the old temple, the shōin 書院 (audience hall), survived. According to a ridgepole inscription (munefuda 棟札), it was rebuilt in 1789 (although the interior has been extensively changed). The shōin is incorporated into the current temple complex. The portrait of Jōkō-in presumably survived in the shōin and was protected by the head priest’s family, although I have discovered no documentation on the portrait’s location during this time. Although all Buddhist clergy wear kesa, the rakusu, an over-garment with a ring on one side, is associated with the Zen sect in particular, and Jōkōji is a Rinzai Zen temple, affiliated with Myōshinji in Kyoto. In addition, Jōkō-in seems to have studied with the Zen priest Reinan 嶺南 (dates unknown) of Tōzenji in Edo, who later became abbot of Myōshinji. Jōkōji possesses a letter said to be in Jōkō-in’s hand, in which Jōkō-in makes a doctrinal inquiry to Reinan (unpublished). She presumably followed the Zen sect of Buddhism. For example, the portrait of Tokugawa Hidetada at Hasedera 長谷寺 in Sakurai, Nara Prefecture is 125.1 × 56.5 cm. One portrait is located at Tokugen’in 徳源院 (Maibara, Shiga Prefecture) and is 77.8× 40.2 cm; the second is in the collection of the Marugame City Archive, and is 86.4×36.2cm.

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robe), and its expensive materials (silk, with a gold foil background) suggests that it was an important, valuable object. In the relatively small and provincial area of what is now rural Fukui Prefecture, it must have made quite an impression. There is little solid documentation regarding this portrait. Inscriptions on portraits are considered the most reliable source for ascertaining the identity of the portrait’s subject, the date of its production, the artist, and the identity of the patron or commissioner, but the portrait of Jōkō-in does not have any inscriptions, either on the hanging scroll itself or on the box that now holds it. Nor do any documents relating to the portrait’s production survive.41 Instead, scholars must rely on other forms of evidence. The portrait has been identified as Jōkō-in largely because it is in the collection of Jōkōji. Because Jōkō-in was the most prominent, high-ranking woman associated with the temple, its primary financial supporter, and one of the subjects of its memorial services, it is safe to assume that the portrait depicts her. The artist is unknown, although the high quality of the work suggests that it was likely painted by a skilled artist from the capital, perhaps someone of the Kanō 狩野 school.42 The portrait is also undated. However, certain stylistic characteristics of the portrait suggest that it dates to the first half of the seventeenth century. For example, the portrait’s background, in which the figure appears to be sitting in an elaborately decorated and defined architectural space, was common for female portraits during that time. Tazawa Hiroyoshi describes this category of portraits as “adorned” (shōgon sareru 荘厳される) portraits, most of which date from around the first half of the seventeenth century.43 In such portraits, women are shown singly (rather than paired with their husbands), wearing kerchiefs and highly-decorated, expensive robes. They hold rosaries, and sit within a defined architectural space, rather than silhouetted against blank backgrounds. Scholars have argued that this architecture is sacred in character, perhaps resembling the space that a painted or sculpted portrait would be placed within in a temple or shrine setting.44

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Inscriptions that detail the name of the subject and give a date are relatively common. Even these can be problematic for the scholar, however, since it is likely that some inscriptions are added—and dated—later than the portrait’s initial date of production. Inscriptions that specify the commissioner of the portrait are rare, although not unknown. Artists associated with the Kanō school created many portraits in the late Momoyama and early Edo periods. Hickman and Dallas Museum of Art, Japan’s Golden Age, p. 60. Tazawa, Josei no shōzō, pp. 50–57. Hickman and Dallas Museum of Art, Japan’s Golden Age, p. 61.

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Portraits of this type were produced for both men and women. In some portraits, such as those of deified male figures like Tokugawa Ieyasu, the religious architectural setting is made explicit with elements such as hanging metal decorations used in Buddhist temples ( yōraku 瓔珞), shrine-style railings (kōran 高蘭) and statues of Chinese lions (kara jishi 唐獅子) (fig. 10.3). In this case, the background is referred to as “sacred architecture-style” (shinden-fū 神殿 風).45 During the Kan’ei era (1624–1644), female portraits that contained some decorative elements reminiscent of shrine architecture began to be produced, perhaps in an attempt to use the same visual vocabulary as those for elite men. Examples are the portraits of Kōdai-in, Hideyoshi’s primary wife, Seitoku-in, Ieyasu’s eldest daughter, Matsu no Maru 松の丸, a secondary wife of Hideyoshi who was also known as Kyōgoku Tatsuko 京極竜子 (d. 1634), and Tenkyū-in 天 球院 (d. 1635), a sister of Ikeda Terumasa 池田輝政 (1565–1613) (fig. 10.4). In Jōkō-in’s portrait, the architectural setting is less detailed, and only hints at the sacred structure: her figure is framed by brocaded door curtains (tochō 戸 帳 / 斗帳), reminiscent of those used at shrines, but the other shrine-like elements (such as shrine-style railings and statues of Chinese lions) have been eliminated.46 Nonetheless, Jōkō-in’s portrait is still representative of the same “adorned” style, and likely dates to the first few decades of the seventeenth century. In addition, we must consider the ritual context of the portrait’s creation. Since most portraits were made specifically for mortuary and funerary purposes, it was likely painted around 1630 (the time of Jōkōji’s initial construction) to 1633, the date of Jōkō-in’s death.

The Portrait’s Commissioner The Practice of Commissioning Portraits To determine the identity of the commissioner of this portrait, we may first examine how the subject of the portrait is depicted. While some accounts of portrait-making suggest that commissioners were interested in making sure a portrait resembled its subject, in terms of individualized facial features, most portraits of women had simple, stereotyped facial features.47 Thus rather than 45 46

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Tazawa, Josei no shōzō, p. 50. Ikeda Yoko discusses the differing levels of ‘adornment’ in female portraits during her discussion of a portrait of Kōdai-in. See Ikeda, “Nagoya-shi Hideyoshi Kiyosei Kinenkan kura,” pp. 26–29. Phillips, The Practices of Painting in Japan, pp. 157–160. See also Miyajima, Shōzōga no shisen, p. 5.

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figure 10.3 Portrait of Tokugawa Ieyasu, early 17th c., hanging scroll, ink and color on silk, 99.2×44.2cm, colophon by Tenkai, Gokokuin, Tokyo Source: Money L. Hickman and Dallas Museum of Art, Japan’s Golden Age: Momoyama (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1996), p. 77

relying on verisimilitude, the clothing, pose, accessories, and background were considered crucial in ensuring a portrait properly ‘resembled’ its subject.48 Such details revealed the social identity of the subject; in other words, his or

48

Phillips, The Practices of Painting in Japan, pp. 164–166.

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figure 10.4 Portrait of Matsu no Maru [Kyōgoku Tatsuko], Edo period, hanging scroll, ink and color on silk, 112×51cm, Seiganji, Kyoto Source: Edo Tokyo Hakubutsukan, Gō: Himetachi no sengoku: 2011 NHK taiga dorama tokubetsuten (Tokyo: NHK, 2011), p. 92

her particular relationships with different social groups. Here, I use the term ‘social identity’ to refer not to the individual identity of the subject, but to these relationships that constitute a particular person’s identity, such as gender, class, wealth, marital status, status as a nun/priest or a layperson, family, family memberships, and political alliances, and so forth.49

49

Hickman and Dallas Museum of Art, Japan’s Golden Age, p. 60.

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Commissioners were concerned with ensuring that portraits represented their subjects with the appropriate social identity. A good example of this is the portrait of Hino Tomiko 日野富子 (1440–1496), wife of Ashikaga Yoshimasa 足 利義政 (1436–1490), the commissioning of which was described in great detail in Sanetaka-kō ki 実隆公記, the diary of the courtier Sanjōnishi Sanetaka 三条 西実隆 (1455–1537).50 Hino Tomiko is well-known in Japanese history as a politically powerful woman and, as the wife of an Ashikaga shogun, she was perhaps the highest-ranking woman in Kyoto during her lifetime. Upon her death, a portrait was commissioned for her funeral and subsequent memorial rituals, but the painter was unsure how to represent such a powerful woman appropriately. As a result, it was suggested that he use as a model an earlier portrait of the empress Karakumon-in 嘉楽門院 (1411–1488). The painter complied, using the details of Karakumon-in’s clothing, color, and background as a reference for the portrait of Hino Tomiko.51 As this anecdote demonstrates, it was crucial for a portrait to accurately convey depict the subject’s social identity through the use of surrounding details, and the commissioner was often closely involved in this process. A given subject’s social identity was not an objective and fixed thing, but something subject to manipulation by the creator of their image. For those whose identity was in flux, such as the three hegemons (Nobunaga, Hideyoshi, and Ieyasu) who labored to unify Japan from the middle of the sixteenth through the early seventeenth century, portraits could create and emphasize very particular identities. Whether portraits of these powerful men were commissioned by the subjects themselves or their descendants, great care was taken to ensure that the subjects appeared as the rightful possessors of legitimacy and political authority. Hideyoshi and Ieyasu, for example, in their posthumous portraits, were portrayed not as earthly daimyo, but as deified humans, their special identities signified through clothing and surroundings. Portraits of them produced shortly after their deaths standardized their facial features and clothing, and placed them in sacred architecture (shinden 神殿) settings, thereby marking their new identities as the deities Hōkoku daimyōjin 豊国 大明神 (Hideyoshi) and Tōshō daigongen 東照大権現 (Ieyasu).52 Therefore, although theoretically portraits were intended as religious statements of filial

50 51 52

Sanetaka-kō ki has been published as a set of 13 volumes. For entries regarding this portrait, see Sanetaka kō-ki, Meiō 明応 5 (1496).5.22 and 28. This incident is discussed in the context of portraiture in Phillips, The Practices of Painting in Japan, p. 160; and Takeda, “Kinsei shoki josei shōzōga,” p. 12. Tazawa, Josei no shōzō, p. 50.

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piety, portraits of elites could also be employed as political statements and used for political legitimation. Portraits of women, too, were sometimes used for making claims to affiliations with important lineages or for political reasons. For example, several portraits of Kōdai-in, Hideyoshi’s vastly wealthy widow, were commissioned after her death by members of her natal family in order to emphasize their connection with their most important relative.53 In considering the identity of the commissioner of the portrait of Jōkō-in, therefore, we must scrutinize even the smallest attributes, and consider what they may have signified about Jōkō-in to those who created and viewed the portrait. Who were the possible commissioners of this portrait? As portraits were typically created for funerary and memorial rituals, we have to first consider those who attended and paid for these rituals.54 Typically, the duty of paying for these rituals, and the associated objects like portraits and offerings, fell to the deceased’s closest relatives, often his or her children.55 Inscriptions mention that portraits were commissioned for the sake of filial piety,56 and both daughters and sons donated such portraits.57 In the case of this portrait, Jōkō-in had no natural children with her husband, and he had died many years before her, eliminating such individuals as possible commissioners. She did, however, adopt three children. During her husband’s lifetime, she formally adopted the son of a low ranking secondary wife of Takatsugu, Tadataka 忠高 (1593–1637), who became Takatsugu’s heir.58 Later in life, she also adopted Hatsu-hime, the fourth daughter of her sister Gō and Tokugawa Hidetada; Hatsu-hime was later married to Tadataka. Finally, Jōkō-in adopted Kona-hime 古奈姫 (dates unknown), the daughter of one of Takatsugu’s sisters (name/dates unknown) and Ujiie Yukihiro 氏家行広 (1546–1615), a warrior who had served Ishida Mitsunari 石田三成 (1559–1600) and died fighting for the Toyotomi in the 1615 Battle of Osaka Castle. Jōkō-in adopted Kona-hime after her father’s death, and she

53 54 55 56

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Ikeda, “Nagoya-shi Hideyoshi Kiyosei Kinenkan kura,” p. 29. Gerhart, The Material Culture of Death, chapter 5. Gerhart, The Material Culture of Death, pp. 158–159. In one interesting case, the portrait of the wife of Hosokawa Akimoto 細川昭元 (1548– 1592), Oinu no kata お犬の方 (d. 1582), has a dated inscription stating that it was made by her filial child, even though her children were only infants at the time of the portrait’s creation (and thus were presumably not directly involved). Miyajima, Shōzōga no shisen, p. 173. Naruse, Nihon shōzōgashi, p. 74. This was not an unusual practice at the time. For more about warrior family adoptions of heirs, see Spafford 2014.

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was eventually married to Imadegawa Tsunesue 今出川経季 (1594–1652), head of the Imadegawa (also known as the Kikutei 菊亭) court family.59 Hatsu-hime died before Jōkō-in, eliminating her as a candidate for the portrait’s commissioner, but both Tadataka and Kona-hime possessed the financial capability to commission a portrait of their adoptive mother. The majority of Jōkō-in’s close other relatives had also died by the time the portrait was probably created (1630–1633). Her parents were long dead, and she outlived both of her sisters. A number of nieces and nephews did survive Jōkōin. The most prominent of these were Tokugawa Iemitsu 徳川家光 (1604–1651) and Tōfukumon-in 東福門院 (Tokugawa Masako 徳川和子, 1607–1678), both of whom were children of Sūgen-in. However, it would be very unusual for a more distant relative like a niece or nephew to commission such a portrait. The final possibility is that Jōkō-in commissioned the portrait herself. Neither of Jōkō-in’s children were related to her by blood, and Jōkō-in, having witnessed the rapidly shifting fates of her relatives during the Sengoku period, may have doubted whether they would be able to fulfill their duty. In addition, the practice of gyakushu (conducting memorial ceremonies for oneself while still alive), was fairly common at this time. The gyakushu rite appears to have originated in the Heian period (794–1185), arising from Pure Land texts.60 It was later adopted more broadly, and practiced by a variety of sects, and by the medieval period, participants included followers of Soto and Rinzai Zen (to which Jōkōji, and perhaps Jōkō-in, belonged).61 By participating in this practice, Jōkō-in could ensure that she received merit while she was still alive to oversee her own memorial rituals.62 As part of this practice, women and men both sometimes commissioned portraits of themselves, which were important elements in such rituals. The portraits were typically placed in bodaiji or bodaisho, the memorial temples where these rituals were carried out. Since Jōkō-in’s portrait could plausibly be dated to her lifetime, and since it was located at a memorial temple funded by Jōkō-in herself, it is possible that the portrait was also commissioned by Jōkō-in. The lack of inscriptions makes it impossible to definitively prove the identity of the portrait’s commissioner, but in the following pages I will examine the visual and historical evidence, ultimately arguing that Jōkō-in commissioned her own portrait.

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Shibuya, Jōkoin-dono, pp. 20–21. Itō, “Chūsei no Nihon Zenshū no gyakushu,” p. 687. For a number of examples, see Itō, “Chūsei no Nihon Zenshū no gyakushu.” For a good overview of the scriptural origins of gyakushu practices and their use over time, see Kawakatsu, “Gyakushu shinkō no shiteki.”

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Jōkō-in’s Concern for Her Soul While there are no documents that record that Jōkō-in conducted gyakushu rites or commissioned the painting, below I will discuss the historical evidence and analyze the aspects of the portrait that suggest such a scenario. First, there was a precedent at this time for self-commissioned portraits of women. It was quite common for women to found memorial temples for their husbands that also functioned, during their own lives, as de facto locations for their own gyakushu practices. Tenkyū-in, the sister of the daimyo Ikeda Terumasa, founded a sub-temple (also called Tenkyū’in) at Myōshinji 妙心寺 in Kyoto in 1631. The temple’s records state that she founded the temple because she had no children to pray for her after her death, and that memorial ceremonies for her were carried out there before her death, as gyakushu. There is a portrait of Tenkyū-in at her temple, and although the date of it is not known, it may well have been commissioned by Tenkyū-in herself.63 Finally, there is at least one extant inscription, on the back of a wooden sculpture of a woman, which suggests that women did commission portraits of themselves during their lifetimes for the purpose of gyakushu.64 Jōkō-in founded Jōkōji in 1630, three years before her death, at which time she may have been prompted to think about the fate of her soul after death and perform gyakushu rituals before this portrait. Like Tenkyū’in, Jōkō-in had no surviving children or husband to do this for her. She was the last surviving Asai sister, and therefore the final representative of the main branch of her family.65 She may have felt it was crucial to take action herself to ensure that she acquired sufficient merit to have a good rebirth after her death. Jōkō-in’s concern about her soul after death is made clear by a remarkable document, which grants us a surprising insight into her thoughts around the time of her death. In 1633, about a month before her death, Jōkō-in wrote a will (kakioki no koto かきおきのこと), in the form of a letter to Tadataka, her

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Tazawa, Josei no shōzō, p. 55. According to Miyajima, this is a sculpture of the wife of Hōjō Ujitsuna 北条氏綱 (1487– 1541), Yōjū-in 養球院 (d. ca. 1527). However, according to the inscription (which Miyajima reproduces), this is actually a sculpture of Yōshō-in 養勝院 (dates unknown), the wife of Ujitsuna’s son, Tamesama 為昌 (1520–1542). Miyajima, Shōzōga no shisen, pp. 154–156. Sakuan, who may have been Jōkō-in’s half-brother, was still living at the time of her death, but he was never listed in Asai family genealogies as the head of the family. Most biographies comment that the Asai family was destroyed after the death of Nagamasa. Some official genealogies, such as the Kan’ei shoka keizu den 寛永諸家系図伝 (compiled at the order of the Tokugawa shogunate in 1643), list Asai Masashige 浅井政重 (d. 1652), a member of a distant branch family of the Asai, as Nagamasa’s successor. According to

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adopted son who was at that time lord of Wakasa and head of the Kyōgoku family.66 The first part of the document concerns Jōkōji, her bodaiji, and reads as follows: I entrust the temple that I founded in Wakasa to the lord of Wakasa. Regarding Jōkōji, I sincerely request this: even if control of Wakasa changes [kunigae 国替え], please continue the temple; please ask this [of others who come after you]. Please care for the head priest [chōrō 長老] of Jōkōji, as I have up until this time. Please keep the name of the temple Jōkōji the same as my posthumous Buddhist name [kaimyō 戒名], as it always has been […] This I humbly ask.67 Thus, in her will, Jōkō-in demonstrates great concern for the survival of her temple after her death. Her specific request that the name of the temple not be changed, in particular, suggests that she was afraid that without descendants to continue her memorial ceremonies, her soul would be neglected and her legacy forgotten. In order to ensure that this did not happen, Jōkō-in also requested in her will that her ladies-in-waiting and other servants build “nun-houses” (ama-yashiki 尼屋敷) near Jōkōji, take the tonsure, and carry out memorial services for her soul, and she asked that Tadataka provide them with the necessary stipends and living quarters. This seems to support Jōkō-in’s wish that even after her death, she would continue to receive proper memorial services. Ultimately, Jōkō-in’s last desires were respected. In 1634, Tadataka bestowed a stipend of three hundred koku on Jōkōji, deriving from Jōkō-in’s personal fief, which was confirmed by Tokugawa Iemitsu in 1638.68 Seven of Jōkō-in’s ladiesin-waiting settled near Jōkōji, where they took the tonsure and held memorial services for her in perpetuity.69 The residences for these lay nuns survived until

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this record, he became a Tokugawa retainer at age thirteen. Saiki, Hayashi and Hashimoto, Kan’ei shoka keizuden, vol. 12, pp. 186–187. A copy of this letter is in the collection of Jōkōji. An identical copy can be found at Eishōin in Gifu City, originally one of the convents founded by Jōkō-in’s ladies-in-waiting. According to the header of the copy, the original of the document was located in the Tatsunō domain, Harima Province (present-day Hyogo Prefecture). (Tatsunō was the domain of the Kyōgoku after they were transferred out of Wakasa, so the document was presumably brought there by descendants of Tadataka.) Ōsakajō Tenshukaku, Tokubetsuten: Sengoku no onnatachi, p. 129. The status of the original document is unknown. Jōkōji’s version of the will is reproduced in Obama shishi, p. 180. Reproduced in Obama shishi, pp. 182–183. Their names were Koshōshō 小少将, Shintayū しん太夫, Taki 多芸, Oshimo お志毛,

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the Meiji period, functioning as convents.70 After their deaths, the seven original lay nuns were buried near Jōkō-in’s own grave at Jōkōji. The Sources of Jōkō-in’s Wealth Jōkō-in certainly had the motivation to create the portrait. However, it is a luxurious item—grandiose in size, highly detailed, and with a gold-leaf background71—and would have been an expensive endeavor. As I will demonstrate, Jōkō-in was more than capable of paying for it. She possessed a considerable private income and would have been in an excellent financial position to commission the portrait. In addition, her links to members of the elite in Edo and Kyoto also ensured that she possessed the connections necessary to commission an important and highly skilled artist to create her portrait. Although it is often stated that women in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries had little control over their finances, Jōkō-in was one of the many women for whom this was not the case. While she was likely financially supported by Tadataka as Takatsugu’s widow, she retained her own fief (chigyō 知行), which was given to her by Hideyoshi, as well. A few days before his death, in 1598, Hideyoshi issued a red-seal license (shuinjō 朱印状) transferring the land rights of two villages in Ōmi Province to Jōkō-in, one for 1487 koku and the other for 556 koku, a total of 2043 koku.72 This was a respectable sum at the time, and would certainly have enabled Jōkō-in to commission a very elaborate portrait. A visual analysis of the Jōkō-in portrait also suggests another reason that Jōkō-in was the most likely commissioner. While the identity of the artist who painted the portrait is unknown, it is unusually large in size and complexity and was painted on an expensive silk, rather than paper, backing. This suggests a talented, experienced portrait artist, perhaps a member of the Kanō school,

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Ochiyaho お知也保, Yōrin 陽琳, and Sōsen 相旭. According to Ōno Masayoshi, they were each assigned a stipend out of Jōkō-in’s fief. Ōno, “Jōkō-in-ate no tegami,” p. 69, n. 59. According to the exhibition pamphlet for Sengoku no sanshimai the convents were collectively called Eishōin, also the name of temple that now holds some of Jōkō-in’s documents. See footnote 62 for more information about this temple. In a personal conversation on April 18, 2016, Arima Kaori, a curator at the Wakasa History Museum, suggested to me that the portrait was made using the urahaku 裏箔 technique whereby gold leaf is applied to the back of translucent silk, creating a subdued and elegant effect. These were the villages of Osata-mura and Noda-mura in Gamō county, Ōmi Province (here called Gōshū). The letter from Hideyoshi is kept in the Marugame City Archives 丸 亀市資料館, and is reproduced in Owada, Sengoku sanshimai, p. 153. As I mentioned earlier, the three hundred koku stipend bestowed upon Jōkōji after Jōkō-in’s death came from this land grant.

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such as Kanō Sanraku (1559–1635), who is known to have worked with the Asai family extensively, or Kanō Tan’yū (1602–1674), who often painted portraits.73 There is no solid evidence for the identity of the painter, however, and this is pure speculation, but Jōkō-in would have had access to such an important school of artists through her connections in Edo and Kyoto. In her later years, she lived in Edo, at the Kyōgoku family residence, and often visited Edo Castle.74 In addition, through her sisters, she was connected to some of the most elite men and women in Japan at the time. Remaining letters reveal that she corresponded with and exchanged gifts with her sister, Sūgen-in (the wife of the shogun Hidetada), Toyotomi Hideyori (the son of Hideyoshi and her nephew), Tokugawa Tadanaga 徳川忠長 (the son of Hidetada and also her nephew, 1606– 1634), and Tokugawa Yoshinao 徳川義直 (son of Ieyasu and the eventual head of the Owari 尾張 branch of the Tokugawa family, 1601–1650).75 She also sent one of her ladies-in-waiting to serve Empress Tōfukumon-in (Jōkō-in’s niece) in Kyoto upon her marriage to Emperor Gomizunoo 後水尾天皇 (1596–1680; r. 1611–1629), and likely corresponded with her as well.76 Finally, Jōkō-in knew Ieyasu, and served as a messenger and peacemaker between the Tokugawa and Toyotomi families during the various battles that led up to the eventual deaths of Hideyori and Yodo-dono in 1615.77 In addition, Jōkō-in’s portrait was not just expensive and skillfully painted. It was also quite similar in composition to a portrait of the shogun Tokugawa Hidetada, held by the Matsudaira 松平 family (fig. 10.5). The similarities in the two portraits suggest that the artist who painted Jōkō-in’s portrait was familiar with the portrait of the shogun, and thus may have been an important figure who also served important, high-ranking members of the shogunate.78 In both portraits, the curtain is shown turned back on itself, revealing a pattern

73 74 75 76

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Yamane, “Yōgen’in zō Asai-shi kankei shōzōga,” p. 24. Shibuya, Jōkōin-dono, pp. 42–43. These letters are enumerated in Ōno, “Jōkō-in ate no tegami.” There is a letter sent from Sūgen-in to her sister, Jōkō-in, which discusses this lady-inwaiting. It also mentions the birth of Hideyori. Ōno, “Jōkō-in ate no tegami,” pp. 49–54. See also Fukuda, Gō no shōgai, p. 155. Jōkō-in’s role as messenger is recorded in many contemporary sources, such as Sunpuki 駿府記, entries for Genna 元和 1 (1615).3.15 and 4.24. It is discussed at length in Fukuda, Yodo-dono, pp. 226–233. Some of these similarities are raised in Tazawa, Josei no shōzō, p. 56. The portrait, formerly in the collection of Matsudaira Naohisa 松平直富 (1885–1965), appears to no longer be extant, but an early twentieth-century copy is owned by the Historiographical Institute (Shiryō Hensanjo) of the University of Tokyo.

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Portrait of Tokugawa Hidetada, early 20th c. copy (original, Edo period), hanging scroll, ink and color on silk, 93.8 × 53.4 cm, Matsudaira Family Collection Source: Historiographical Institute at the University of Tokyo’s Reproduction of Portraits Database (http://wwwap.hi.u‑tokyo.ac .jp/ships/shipscontroller‑e)

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of golden dragons on a white background on the back of the cloth. Furthermore, both portraits have unusually long curtains that curve outward, away from the subject, and a similar presentation of the upper area of the painting, with bamboo blinds fading into golden clouds. Both paintings also show the subject seated on a cloth mat placed upon a raised tatami mat with ungenberi 繧繝縁 edging.79 Even more distinct is the black-and-gold lacquered object at the bottom of both portraits, likely a raised dais, which does not appear in any other portraits of this type. These striking similarities, not replicated in any other portraits I have seen, suggest that the same artist may have painted both portraits, or at least had access to Hidetada’s portrait for reference. The similarity also elevates Jōkōin’s social position by linking her to shogun Hidetada, her brother-in-law. This brings up the question of Jōkō-in’s adopted children, Tadataka and Kona-hime. While they may have possessed the financial capabilities to commission her portrait, these adopted children probably would not have had the connections necessary to commission a portrait from an artist who had also painted the shogun. By contrast, Jōkō-in, as I have shown, had many connections to the shogunate, and often visited Edo. The Asai Family Crest The strongest evidence for Jōkō-in as commissioner can be found by closely analyzing how her social identity is depicted in this portrait. Specifically, Jōkōin is shown as a member of the Asai family, with ties to the Tokugawa and imperial family—ties that were formed through her relationship with her sisters and other family members and that continued to be strong throughout her life. The elaborately decorated brocade curtain that frames Jōkō-in’s figure provides the strongest link to the Asai family. The scarlet curtain is decorated with a hexagonal, geometric tortoiseshell pattern called kikkō 亀甲. Inside each of the hexagons is one of two patterns: either a six-dot pattern like a plum flower (umebachi 梅鉢) or another four-leafed blossom called a water caltrop (hanabishi 花菱). The second motif, a four-leafed water caltrop inside a hexagon, is the family crest (mon 紋) of the Asai clan.80 The Asai clan crest further is emphasized by the bright colors employed in this pattern.81 79 80 81

Ungenberi is a method of decorating the edges of tatami mats with cloth bindings. It was employed for tatami used by high status people or in shrine and temple buildings. Ikeda, “Nagoya-shi Hideyoshi Kiyosei Kinenkan kura,” pp. 26–27. In addition to the Asai family crest on this brocade curtain, there may also be another crest—the golden chrysanthemums that appear to be placed over the pattern of the curtain, almost as if they were metal attachments or embroidered on to the curtain itself.

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The use of crests on clothing or curtains was common in portraits of both men and women. Men’s portraits, of course, primarily used the crest of their own clans. For example, in the portrait of Asai Nagamasa at Jimyōin 持明院, the Asai clan crest appears on both of the shoulders of Nagamasa’s costume (fig. 10.6). Crests could also be placed on curtain fabric, as seen in an Edo-period portrait of Oda Nobunaga from Daiun’in 大雲院 in Kyoto (fig. 10.7). By contrast, women’s portraits sometimes used the crests of their husband’s family, and sometimes those of their natal family. For example, the aforementioned portrait of Matsu no Maru, Hideyoshi’s secondary wife and the sister of Kyōgoku Takatsugu, uses the Toyotomi crest, the paulownia flower (see fig. 10.4). The date of the portrait’s creation is unknown, but its general style and background, strikingly similar to the portrait of Jōkō-in, place it in the early seventeenth century.82 Suspended in front of the rolled-up bamboo blinds, at the top of the portrait, are very prominent hanging decorations in the shape of five- and seven-blossom paulownia flowers (goshichi kiri 五七霧), the crest of the Toyotomi. Similarly, a portrait of Kōdai-in, Hideyoshi’s primary wife, at Kōdaiji temple, shows the Toyotomi paulownia crest on her clothing. On the other hand, many portraits of women depict the crests of their natal families, such as the portraits of Seitoku-in and Ryōshō-in 良正院 (Toku-hime 督姫, 1565–1615), both daughters of Tokugawa Ieyasu.83 Although Seitoku-in and Ryōshō-in were married to prominent daimyo, their portraits paint them first and foremost as Tokugawa family women, with the hollyhock (aoi 葵) prominently depicted on their clothing or the curtains. In sum, for portraits of women, the crest used was typically that of the most powerful family related to the woman. (Of course, deciding on who was the most powerful family may have depended on the commissioner of the portrait.) As the examples above show, for the daughters of the Tokugawa, the Tokugawa were so overwhelmingly dominant in the politics of the day that their natal lineage overruled their marital connection. However, for the women who married into the Toyotomi, their original natal family was overshadowed by their

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The chrysanthemum is the emblem of the imperial family, and here it may in some way reference Jōkō-in’s connection with her niece Tōfukumon-in, who had married Emperor Gomizunoo in 1620. Matsu no Maru died in 1634, just a year after Jōkō-in, so it is likely the portraits were made around the same time. The portrait originally belonged to Seiganji 誓願寺, and is now kept at the Tokyo National Museum. There are numerous portraits of Seitoku-in; the one discussed here is from Kyūshōin 久 昌院. The portrait of Ryōshō-in is at the Tokyo National Museum.

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figure 10.6 Portrait of Asai Nagamasa, 1589, hanging scroll, ink and color on silk, 99.5×43.2cm, Jimyōin, Koya-san, Wakayama Prefecture Source: Edo Tokyo Hakubutsukan, Gō: Himetachi no sengoku: 2011 NHK taiga dorama tokubetsuten (Tokyo: NHK, 2011), p. 28

marital connections to Hideyoshi and his family. Kōdai-in was said to have originated as the daughter of a low-ranking farmer, while Matsu no Maru was the daughter of the powerful Kyōgoku family, but in both cases the portraits depict them with the crests of their marital family—the vastly powerful Toyotomi— rather than their natal family. While these portraits were likely painted after the fall of the Toyotomi, Hideyoshi’s memory still lingered on.

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figure 10.7 Portrait of Oda Nobunaga, Edo period, hanging scroll, ink and color on silk, 81.2×36.4cm, Daiun’in, Kyoto Source: Edo Tokyo Hakubutsukan, Gō: Himetachi no sengoku: 2011 NHK taiga dorama tokubetsuten (Tokyo: NHK, 2011), p. 46

The choice of the Asai crest in the portrait of Jōkō-in was thus anomalous. By the time of Jōkō-in’s death, the male line of the Asai clan had been eliminated. Her parents and brothers were dead, and their lands dispersed to other clans. In contrast, the Kyōgoku were increasingly successful. Although classified as tozama 外様 daimyo (those who were not hereditary vassals of the Tokugawa, and thus outsiders), the Kyōgoku family had supported all the right people during the tumultuous years of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and the Kyōgoku clan head, Tadataka, had an income of almost one-hundred thousand

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koku. In the past, too, the Asai were ranked lower than the Kyōgoku family. In fact, they had been vassals of the Kyōgoku, and had only broken away in the era of Asai Nagamasa’s grandfather, Sukemasa 亮政 (1491–1542). Why, then, did the portrait emphasize Jōkō-in’s Asai relationship, and not her marriage ties to the Kyōgoku? As previous examples have shown, the portrait could easily have employed the Kyōgoku crest instead. The emphasis on those relationships in the portrait, rather than on her marital lineage, points to Jōkō-in herself as the commissioner. The other primary candidates for commissioner, her two adopted children, were indebted to the Kyōgoku clan. Tadataka’s link was most obvious, since he was the new Kyōgoku clan head, but Kona-hime was also related to the Kyōgoku, through her mother, Takatsugu’s sister. Jōkō-in alone would have had the motivation to show herself as a member of the now-defunct Asai clan. Historical evidence indicates that Jōkō-in, like her other sisters, identified as a member of the Asai family, valued her Asai lineage and connections, and cared a great deal about preserving her family’s name. Throughout her life, Jōkō-in maintained connections with her Asai sisters, Yodo-dono and Sūgen-in. As I have noted, she exchanged letters with Sūgen-in throughout her lifetime, and even adopted one of her daughters, Hatsu-hime, when she was not able to have children herself. This kind of adoption amongst family members was not uncommon at that time, but Jōkō-in took it a step further. She married her adopted daughter Hatsu-hime to Tadataka, her husband’s heir by another wife, ensuring that despite her own inability to have children, Asai blood would continue in the Kyōgoku clan.84 In addition, Jōkō-in’s will suggested that she continued to care deeply about the fate of the remaining Asai clan members, such as her half-brother, Asai Sakuan. After the destruction of the Asai, he participated in the battles of Sekigahara and the final battle of Osaka Castle in 1615, both times on the losing side, opposing the Tokugawa. He reputedly became a priest and adopted the name Sakuan in order to escape the wrath of Tokugawa supporters and fled to the protection of the Kyōgoku family. They gave him a stipend of five-hundred koku, presumably because of his connection to Jōkō-in. In her will, Jōkō-in specifically requests that Tadataka continue to take care of Sakuan after her death, although it would be “a great trouble to them” (meiwaku 84

Jōkō-in likely had some input into this marriage, since it happened after her husband’s death. Tadataka and Hatsu-hime never had children, and they were reputed to have had a contentious marriage. She died of illness in 1630, and according to some documents, Tadataka angered Hatsu-hime’s real father, Hidetada, because he callously refused to leave a sumo match he was watching when he received news of her death. Fukuda, Gō no shōgai, p. 156.

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迷惑), presumably because of Tokugawa disapproval.85 It is clear that Jōkō-in’s

connections with the Asai clan ran deep. Her continuing use of the Asai crest demonstrates one way that this woman navigated familial and marital bonds in a politically tumultuous era.

Conclusion Jōkō-in’s portrait, whether made posthumously or while she was alive, continued to perform an important ritual function long after her death. In exploring the political and social meaning of the portrait, I do not wish to neglect its role in mortuary and memorial rituals. The person who commissioned this portrait most likely believed that it would function as a stand-in for Jōkō-in’s soul, and that commissioning it was a spiritual and ritual act. Jōkō-in’s appearance in her portrait, as a lay nun, suggests that she was strongly devoted to Buddhism and Buddhist rituals. In particular, perhaps because had no biological children of her own, she seems to have been deeply concerned about the condition of her soul after her death. In her will, she funded her memorial temple in perpetuity, and made provisions for her ladies-in-waiting to continue performing memorial ceremonies on her behalf. Thus, it seems quite possible that she might have also financed a portrait of herself, in order that she could perform gyakushu rites before her death. Jōkō-in’s portrait also performs another important function for scholars. In Japanese exhibition catalogs, Jōkō-in’s portrait is often labeled simply “The Wife of Kyōgoku Takatsugu.”86 Even today, it is common practice for portraits of women to be identified only with reference to their husbands. This is understandable, since the practice of only occasionally using names for women, or only identifying them in relationship to their husbands or temporary locations, was common at the time the images were created. Yet, as I have shown, her portrait depicted Jōkō-in as a devout lay nun, a woman who created and named a memorial temple after herself, and who continued to identify herself as a member of her natal family, and describing her only as an accompaniment to her husband elides and flattens her identity in life, since in both real life and in her portrait, Jōkō-in’s most important relationships—and much of her identity—

85 86

Ōsakajō Tenshukaku, Tokubetsuten: Sengoku no onnatachi, pp. 129–130. For example, in Takeda, “Kinsei shoki josei shōzōga,” almost all of the portraits of women are identified as “the wife of” their husbands, including the Jōkō-in portrait. More recently catalogs have moved away from this tendency.

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were separate from that of her husband. Close analysis of her portrait allows us to glimpse parts of her life that would never be recorded in more typical written sources. Because women so seldom had a public face, their lives often go unrecorded in official records and documents of the time. Mentions of Jōkō-in in the Tokugawa jikki, for example, are limited to discussions of her participation in the peace negotiations between the Toyotomi and Tokugawa, and a brief acknowledgement of her death. Because of this invisibility in written records, the portrait of Jōkō-in offers scholars a unique insight into her life and position in society. This is also true of many other portraits of famous women, such as the portraits of Kōdai-in, Seitoku-in, which have traditionally been little studied. By making use of these invaluable resources, scholars can better understand women’s lives in the early modern period, from both a secular and religious perspective. More broadly, studying women’s portraits will help scholars better understand the complex relationship between families by marriage and natal families, and the changes in social structure that occurred in the early modern period.

References Primary Sources Kan’ei shoka keizuden 寬永諸家系図伝. 17 vols. Edited by Saiki Kazuma 斉木一馬, Hayashi Ryōshō 林亮勝, and Hashimoto Masanobu 橋本政宣. Tokyo: Zoku Gunsho Ruijū Kanseikai, 1980–1997. Obama shishi: shaji monjo hen 小浜市史社寺文書編. Edited by Obama Shishi Hensan Iinkai 小浜市史編纂委員会 and Suma Chikai 須磨千荄頴. Fukui-ken Obama-shi: Obama Shiyakusho, 1976. Sanjōnishi Sanetaka 三条西実隆. Sanetaka-kō ki 実隆公記. 6 vols. Tokyo: Taiyōsha, 1931–1944; 13 vols. Tokyo: Zoku Gunsho Ruijū Kanseikai, 1958–1967. Tokugawa jikki 徳川実記. Vols. 38–47 of Shintei zōho kokushi taikei 新訂増補国史大系. Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 1964–1966.

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Fukuda Chizuru 福田千鶴. Yodo-dono: ware Taikō no tsuma to narite 淀殿： われ太閤 の妻となりて. Kyoto: Mineruva Shobo, 2007. Fukuda Chizuru 福田千鶴. Gō no shōgai: Tokugawa shogun-ke midaidokoro no yakuwari 江の生涯：徳川将軍家御台所の役割. Chūkō shinsho 中公新書 2080. Tokyo: Chūō Kōronsha, 2010. Gerhart, Karen M. The Material Culture of Death in Medieval Japan. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2009. Hickman, Money L. and Dallas Museum of Art. Japan’s Golden Age: Momoyama. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1996. Ikeda Yoko 池田洋子. “Nagoya-shi Hideyoshi Kiyomasa Kinenkan zō Kōdai-in (O-ne) gazō ni kan suru kōsatsu nōto 名古屋市秀吉清正記念館蔵高台院 （おね） 画像 に間する考察ノー ト.” Nagoya Zōkei Daigaku kiyō 名古屋造形大学紀要 18 (2012), pp. 25–33. Itō Yoshihisa 伊藤義久. “Chūsei no Nihon Zenshū no gyakushu to sono shisō haikei 中 世の日本禅宗の逆修とその思想背景.” Indo gaku bukkyō gaku kenkyū イン ド學仏 教學研究 57:2 (2009), pp. 687–691. Kawakatsu Masatarō 川勝政太郎. “Gyakushu shinkō no shiteki kenkyū 逆修信仰の史 的研究.” Ōtemae Joshi Daigaku ronshū 大手前女子大学論集 6 (1972), pp. 147–165. Kuwata Tadachika 桑田忠親. Yodo-gimi 淀君. Jinbutsu sōsho 人物叢書 7. Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 1958. Li, Huishu. Empresses, Art, & Agency in Song Dynasty China. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2010. Miyajima Shin’ichi 宮島新一. Shōzōga no shisen 肖像画の視線. Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 1996. Murai Yasuhiko 村井康彦. “Josei shōzōga to sono jidai 女性肖像画とその時代.” Yamato Bunka 大和文華 56 (1972), pp. 1–11. Naruse Fujio 成瀬不二雄. Nihon shōzōgashi: Nara jidai kara Bakumatsu made, toku ni kinsei no josei, yōdōzo wo chūshin to shite 日本肖像画史：奈良時代から幕末まで、 とくに近世の女性、幼童像. Tokyo: Chūō Kōron Bijutsu Shuppan, 2004. Ōno Masayoshi 大野正義. “Jōkō-in-ate no tegami 常高院宛の手紙.” Yūsei kōko kiyō 郵 政考古紀要 5 (1981), pp. 48–70. Ōsakajō Tenshukaku 大阪城天守閣, ed. Tokubetsuten: Sengoku no onnatachi: sorezore no jinsei 特別展： 戦国の女たち： それぞれの人生. Osaka: Osaka Tenshukaku Tokubetsu Jigyō Iinkai, 1999. Owada Tetsuo 小和田哲男. Sengoku sanshimai: Chacha, Hatsu, Gō no sūki na shōgai 戦 国三姉妹：茶々、初、江の数奇な生涯. Tokyo: Kadokawa Gakugei Shuppan, 2010. Phillips, Quitman E. The Practices of Painting in Japan, 1475–1500. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 2010. Shibuya Mieko 渋谷美恵子. Jōkōin-dono: Kyōgoku Takatsugu fujin 常高院殿： 京極高 次夫人. Obama-shi: Obama Shiritsu Toshokan, 1977.

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Spafford, David. “What’s in a Name? House Revival, Adoption, and the Bounds of Family in Late Medieval Japan.” Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 74: 2 (2014), pp. 281– 329. Takeda Tsuneo 武田恒夫. “Kinsei shoki josei shōzōga ni kan suru ikkō satsu 近世初期 女性肖像画に関する一考察.” Yamato Bunka 大和文華 56 (1972), pp. 12–22. Tanaka Toshio 田中敏雄. Kinsei Nihon kaiga no kenkyū 近世日本絵画の研究. Tokyo: Sakuhinsha, 2013. Tazawa Hiroyoshi 田沢裕賀. Josei no shōzō 女性の肖像. Nihon no bijutsu 日本の美術 384. Tokyo: Shibundō, 1998. Yamane Yūzo 山根有三. “Yōgen’in zō Asai-shi kankei shōzōga ni tsuite 養源院蔵浅井 氏関係肖像画について.” Yamato bunka 大和文華 96 (1996), pp. 14–29.

Index Note: Page numbers in italic type indicate illustrations. Abe no Seimei 21 Abe no Yoshihira 26, 35, 41–42 Amaterasu Ōmikami and mirrors xvi, 38–-39 connection to the imperial family 157– 158 role in the Daijōsai ritual 155 role in the Niinamesai ritual 159–160 Amida (Sk. Amitābha) Amida Triad at Hōryūji 143, 163, 165–166, 167 image of placed in a gorintō 208 role in the performance of keka 153, 173, 176 Annen 58–67, 69 and the Gushi nintai sanshō himitsu hōshū 54–56, 57, 65, 69, 71, 72, 82, 83, 84 as a disciple of Ennin 58, 59n13, 59–60 as a disciple of Henjō 61, 68–69 attempted study in China 60–61 disciples of 54n2. See also Genjō; Son’i Antoku, Emperor See Tokihito Asai family 373–374, 386n65 family crest 391 family tree 374 Asai sanshimai (three Asai sisters) 369n2 See also Jōkō-in; Sūgen-in; Yodo-dono Asai Masashige 386n65 Asai Nagamasa 373–374, 386n65 portrait of 392, 393 Asai Sakuan 374, 386n65, 395–396 Asai Sukemasa 395 Atsuhito, Prince. See Daigo

fertility rituals 56, 62, 64, 71–84 Kōgū osan tōjitsu shidai. See medicine and health late pregnancy rituals 100–104 labor rituals 104–120 maternity sash ceremony (chakutai no gi) 96–99 newborn rituals 123–127 Osan buruiki. See medicine and health Osan oinori mokuroku. See medicine and health placenta disposal rituals 104, 105, 114, 121, 128 politics of 130–132 post-labor rituals 120–122 performed by ajari (esoteric Buddhist masters) 113, 126 performed by genja (practitioners who specialize in spirit possession) 110, 113, 119 Ususama ritual (ususama hō) to have a baby boy 103 See also Annen; ‘Gushi nintai sanshō himitsu hōshū’; Taira no Tokushi Bishamonten (also known as Tamonten) figure at Hōryūji 142, 143, 145, 163, 164, 177 role in Kichijō keka 166–167, 169–170, 172, 173, 174, 176 pairing with Kichijōten 150, 162–163 See also Four Heavenly Kings Bōkaku involvement in the birth rituals for Prince Tokihito 103n50, 110, 126, 127 See also birth rituals, performed by genja Buddhism Baidō Kunimasa esoterism 58–61, 66–67 Saigoku, Bandō, Chichibu hyakuban Kanreception in Japan 22, 154–157 non reigenki (Record of one hundred relic veneration in 182, 184, 185–186, 203, miraculous Kannon from the Saigoku, 206–207, 208, 209, 213–214 Bandō, Chichibu pilgrimages), art 237 women and 204, 211, 221–222. See also See also Saigoku pilgrimage route dharma lineage birth rituals Buddhist image-making after-care rituals 127–129 and adornment (shōgon) 167, 184, 358– early pregnancy rituals 94–95 359

402 for birth rituals 99, 102, 117–119 for the Golden Hall at Hōryūji 165–166

index dharma lineage and imperial lineage 202–203, 209– 210 and women 275 of the Rinzai school 270, 291, 304–305 See also Keiaiji, lineage of abbesses Dōji kyō (Sutra of Child Attendants) 98n31 and birth rituals 65, 97 dokujin (earth god) 23, 31–33, 45, 47 See also ‘kami’ beliefs Dōkyō 155, 157, 158, 161

childbirth pollution from 91, 101, 104, 122, 126–127, 133 See also birth rituals Chōtokuin (temple) 321–322, 336 presentation of Mugai Nyodai’s kesa to Shinnyoji by 298, 320 See also Shōkokuji cloth bast fiber 37 donations to temples and convents (general) 354, 358, 365 donations to temples and convents (curtains) 343, 349, 354, 356–357, 360, 365 ritual uses of curtains 30, 38, 105, 108, 120, 358–365 See also ‘hibutsu’; ‘kesa’ convents bikuni gosho (nun’s palaces) system 278 established by the ladies-in-waiting of Jōkō-in 387–388 Five Mountain Convent (Amagozan/ Amadera Gozan) system 270, 278, 313–314 kokubunniji (state-sponsored nunneries) 148 See also Daishōji; Hōkyōji; Hōjiin; Keiaiji

Eiga monogatari (A Tale of Flowering Fortunes) 350 Emperor Yu 42n65 See also house-moving rituals, spirit pacification Emishi tribes See funerary rituals Enkōin 182, 197 burial of gōrinto at 183–187, 203, 210 Ennin 59–60 Nittō guhō junrei kōki (Records of pilgrimage in search of the Dharma upon entering the Tang kingdom) 59n14 transmission of the rite of āveśa (Abisha hō) 110n64 En’yū, Emperor 343, 349 pilgrimage to Ishiyamadera depicted in the Ishiyamadera engi e 353, 357, 358

Daigo, Emperor 69, 70–71 Daigoji (temple) 208, 210, 213 Sanbōin sub-temple of 206, 213 See also Enkōin; Shunjōbō Chōgen; ‘Sonshō darani hō’ Daijōsai (Great Thanksgiving) ritual 155– 156, 159–160, 161 See also ‘kami’ beliefs; Kōken-Shōtoku Daishōji (convent) 13, 269, 276, 277, 278, 281 onki honoring Mugai Nyodai held at 283, 287, 289, 291, 294, 298, 299, 300 portrait of Mugai Nyodai at, inscribed by Taikyo Kenrei 284, 285, 297 See also convents; Mugai Nyodai death pollution from 186 taboos against mourning 45–46, 199 See also funerary rituals

five elements (gogyō) xi, 22, 29–30, 31, 33, 187–188 See also ‘gorintō’; ‘onmyōdō’ Four Heavenly Kings (Shitennō) 141n2 figures at Hōryūji 141, 143, 163, 164-–165, 167, 177 role in Kichijō keka 153, 162 Fujiwara line of regents (sekkanke) 68, 84, 131–132 funerary rituals of 199 Fujiwara no Akirakeiko (Meishi) 67, 68 Fujiwara no Kenshi (Katako) 182–215 birth of Prince Atsufumi 210 birth of Prince Taruhito 210 burial at Enkōin 185, 197–198, 201–203, 213 gorintō reliquary of 183–187, 184 memorial halls dedicated to 202

index Fujiwara no Kuniyoshi’s wife pilgrimage to Ishiyamadera depicted in the Ishiyamadera engi e 348n15, 364 Fujiwara no Michinaga and Higashisanjō-in 351, 355 and the Fujiwara line of regents 202 and ritual uses of curtains 360 funerary rituals for the female relatives of 198–200 in the Eiga monogatari 350 Midō-kanpaku-ki 23, 35 move to the Higashi Sanjō Palace 25n11, 26, 46 Fujiwara no Michitsuna’s mother acts of pilgrimage 227, 348n15 involvement in house moving rituals 48n74 Fujiwara no Morozane and Fujiwara no Kenshi 197, 204, 208 and Rinshi 200, 204 move to the Kazan’in residence. See housemoving rituals Fujiwara no Mototsune 69 and the Gushi nintai sanshō himitsu hōshū 70–71 Fujiwara no Muneko See Tōin-no-tsubone Fujiwara no Norimichi 199 Fujiwara no Onshi (Yasuko) 69, 70–71, 75, 84 birth of Prince Yasuakira 70 Fujiwara no Sadako (also known as Imabayashi no Sadako) 314–315 Fujiwara no Sanesuke move to the Ono no Miya Palace 26, 41– 43, 46–47 Fujiwara no Senshi See Higashisanjō-in Fujiwara no Tadachika See Nakayama Tadachika Fujiwara no Tadazane 200–201 Chūgaishō [diary] 198 Fujiwara no Tokihira 69, 70–71 Fujiwara no Yoshifusa 67–68, 71 funerary rituals burials of women 198–205 cremation 186–188, 197, 199–200, 371, 376 gyakushu (death rituals before you die) 6, 321, 371, 373, 385, 386–388, 396

403 internment of bones inside statues and altars 183, 201, 204–205, 210 of the northeastern Emishi tribes 214 onki (memorial ceremonies). See Daishōji; Hōkyōji; Hōjiin; Shinnyoji; Shōkenji See also ‘gorintō’ Fushimi, Emperor patronage of Ishiyamadera 346n12 Gakuin Ekatsu (also known as Busui Seizoku Kokushi) kesa associated with 320–322 Genjō 54n2, 66n38 Genpei War 92n13 Gettei Munin See Keiaiji, lineage of abbesses Gien 187, 192, 205 Daigoji shin’yōroku 192–198, 195, 196 Gihan 186, 208, 213 and the Sonshō butchō shuhō ritual 206 relationship with Hanjun 210–211 Godaigo, Emperor 255, 366 politics at the court of 344–346 rebellion against the Kamakura shogunate 346 gogyō See five elements Golden Light Sutra, the King of Sutras (Konkōmyō saishōōokyo) 146, 147–150 during the Shushōe New Year service 167, 170, 174 function in Kichijō keka 154, 156, 157, 161– 162, 164, 175 placement of Buddha figures at Hōryūji and 165, 166, 167, 176 See also Gosaie Gomizunoo, Emperor and Shinnyoji 279 goō hōin (paper talismans) 9, 170, 172, 175, 175 gorintō (five-elements pagoda) 183–185, 187– 191, 205–215 and Buddha relics 182, 185, 187, 208 and the Sonshō darani hō 183–184 bronze gorintō of Jōdoji 191, 193 gilt bronze gorintō of Konomiya Shrine 184, 191, 192 in the Goji jōshin zu 190 in Kakuban’s Gorin kuji hisshaku 189, 191, 205–206

404 interment under 186–187, 188, 208– 210 origin of 191, 206–207. See also Gihan; Hanjun rock crystal gorintō of Amidaji 191, 193 stone gorintō at Chūsonji 205 triangular gorintō shape 205–207, 208 See also Fujiwara no Kenshi; Shunjōbō Chōgen Gosaie (Misaie) New Year ritual 162–163, 166, 176n93 See also ‘Kichijō keka’ Goshirakawa, Emperor 84, 92, 131 commissioning of the Hikohohodemi-nomikoto emaki [illustrated handscroll] 122 conflict with Taira no Kiyomori 94, 133 involvement in the birth rituals for Prince Tokihito 105, 110–112, 130n125 See also ‘insei’ era Gushi nintai sanshō himitsu hōshū (Collection of Secret Methods on Seeking Offspring, Pregnancy, and Childbirth) 53–85 and the cult of Kariteimo 54, 57, 77–84 birth rituals discussed in 55–56 female infertility discussed in 62–63, 64, 71–77 pregnancy complications discussed in 65 translations of Buddhist scriptures contained in 56, 62–64, 72–74 gyakushu See funerary rituals Hakuin Ekaku Oniazami (Wild Thistles) 292 portrait of Chiyono [Mugai Nyodai] 292, 293 visits to Imperial convents 292, 292n59– 60 See also Mugai Nyodai Hanjun 213 and the Sonshō butchō shuhō ritual 207 relationship with Gihan 210–211 haraobi (protective sash for pregnancy) at Nakayamadera 257–258, 259, 260 at Suitengū Shrine 258 Hasedera (temple) pilgrimage to 227, 359

index Hatsu-hime 376, 384, 385, 395 Heike monogatari (Tale of the Heike) 90n6, 93, 106–107, 112 Heike monogatari emaki (Illustrated handscrolls of the Tale of the Heike) 106, 107 Heike nōkyō [Heike Lotus Sutra] 211–212 hibutsu (secret icons) 228 at Ishiyamadera 347, 362 Higashisanjō-in 343–344, 345, 349–351 pilgrimage to Ishiyamadera 353–358, 356, 359–361, 360, 362, 365–366 Hikohohodemi-no-mikoto emaki (Illustrated handscrolls of Prince Hikohohodemi) 122, 123 Hindu deities in Japan 147 Hino Tomiko 383 See also portraiture Hoke kyō (The Lotus Sutra) 117, 147 Hokkeji (convent) 154, 249–250 Hōkyōji (convent) 269, 271, 276–278, 279, 281 kesa transmission document preserved at 309, 310. See also Keiaiji, lineage of abbesses onki honoring Mugai Nyodai held at 283, 287, 294, 298, 300 portrait of Mugai Nyodai, inscribed by Taikyo Kenrei, at 283–287, 286 Seizan (alternate name of) 283n35 See also convents; Tokugon Rihō Hōjiin (convent) 269, 310 onki honoring Mugai Nyodai held at 299n76, 300 portrait sculpture of Mugai Nyodai at 271, 272, 279, 281, 283, 284 See also convents; Keiaiji Horikawa, Emperor 182, 197, 201, 203, 205, 215 birth rituals for 121n99 burial of 208–211 Hōryūji (temple) 141 exposition of the Golden Light Sutra at 167, 170 founding by Prince Shōtoku 176–177 Kichijō keka performances at 146, 163– 167, 168–169, 175, 176, 177 list of icons in the Kondō nikki (Diary of the Golden Hall) 164–166 Shushōe New Year services at 167–175 See also Kichijō keka

index Hosshōji (temple) founding by Emperor Shirakawa 202, 203–204 Hosshōji (temple) earliest surviving representation of a gorintō at 205 house-moving rituals (shintaku ishi) 21–22, 24–49 Buddhist participation in 46–47 house-protecting talismans 26–27, 47 Kamo no Michihira, house-moving order (ishi sahō kamon) for Fujiwara no Morozane 27–47, 28 participation of women in 30, 32, 38–41, 48–49 spirit pacification ritual (henbai) 41–43 use of horse tack in 36–37 use of oxen in 31–32 Ikuhoōmon-in (Princess Teishi) burial of 199, 204 insei era (rule of the retired emperors) 112n70, 202–203, 211 See also Goshirakawa; Uda Ise Shrine See ‘kami’ beliefs, Niinamesai Ishiyamadera (temple) 343, 366 Nyoirin Kannon of 351–352, 361–364 pilgrimage to 227, 345, 347–349, 351, 353– 358 Ishiyamadera engi e (Illustrated legends of Ishiyamadera) 343–366, 356, 357, 360, 362, 363 and the Tōin family 344–347 copy by Tani Bunchō 357 Itsukushima Shrine Heike nōkyō offered at 212 rituals for Taira no Tokushi’s pregnancy performed at 94–95, 106, 130 Jianzhen (Jp. Ganjin) monastic rules for kesa by 333 Jien Gukanshō 203, 208, 350–351 Jikokuten See Four Heavenly Kings Jitsuzen involvement in the birth rituals for Prince Tokihito 95, 110, 126, 127

405 See also birth rituals, performed by genja Jōkō-in (also known as Hatsu) 369, 373–376, 384–385, 386–391, 397 ladies-in-waiting of 387–388 portrait of 370, 376–380, 388–389, 391, 394–395, 396 See also Asai family; Kyōgoku family; portraiture Jōkōji (temple) 371, 385, 386–388 founding and construction of 375–376 portrait of Jōkō-in at 369n1, 377–378, 379 Jōnen Gyōrinshō (Compendium on walking in the forest) 65, 82 Jōsaimon-in involvement in the birth rituals for Prince Tokihito 129 Junnin, Emperor 154, 155 Kakukai involvement in the birth rituals for Prince Tokihito 108–110, 115, 117n81 Kakuzei involvement in the birth rituals for Prince Tokihito 114n77, 117n81 kamadogami (cooking stove god) 23, 34–36, 44–45 kami beliefs 23, 30, 37, 44–47, 158–159 and mirrors 38–39 household kami ( yakatsukami/takushin or iegami) 44–45, 46 Kannamesai (festival of the deities’ tasting) 159 Kichijō keka and 142, 160–161 Niinamesai (festival of the new [crop] tasting) 159–160 See also ‘dokujin’; ‘kamadogami’ Kanimanji (temple) 236, 238 See also Mimurotoji Kannon (Sk. Avalokiteśvara, Ch. Guanyin) and birth rituals 64, 68, 95 and women 351–352 figure at the Yumedono Hall, Hōryūji 242 gendered identity of 248–251 Gyoran Kannon (Fish-Basket Kannon) 248, 251 Jibo Kannon (Compassionate Mother Kannon) 251

406 Jūichimen Kannon (Eleven-Headed Kannon) 153 Maria Kannon (Mary) 251 six manifestations of (roku kannon) 102 See also ‘Kannon pilgrimage’; ‘Saigoku pilgrimage route’ Kannon gyō (The Kannon Sutra) 117, 225– 226, 300 Kannonji See Kannonshōji Kannon pilgrimage 226–229 Gyoranji (temple) 251 Ōura Kannondō (temple) 258 Nichienji (temple) 224 thirty-three-stop routes 226n10, 227 See also Saigoku pilgrimage route Kannon reigenki (Chronicle of Kannon miracles) [woodblock print series] 222, 260 Kannonshōji print 244–247, 246 Mimurotoji print 233–237, 235 Okadera print 230–231, 232 production of 233n25 Kannon reijōki zue (Illustrated record of sacred Kannon places) [illustrated handscroll] 224–225 Mimurotoji section 242–243, 244 Okadera section 229–230, 230 Kannonshōji/Kannonji (temple) 221, 244– 248, 260 See also ‘Kannon reigenki’ Karakumon-in portrait of 383 Karin Egon 335 See also Keiaiji, lineage of abbesses Kariteimo (Sk. Hārītī) 54, 57, 98n31 as depicted in the Kakuzensho 79, 82–83 Kishimo (alternate name) 11, 54 role in fertility rituals 77–84 role in maternity sash ceremony 98–99 kechien (formation of karmic bonds with a Buddhist deity) See ‘ofuda’ Keiaiji (convent) 308–309 and the Five Mountain Convent system 335 connection to Daishōji and Hōkyōji 276– 278, 290 destroyed in the Ōnin wars 271, 309

index founding by Mugai Nyodai 270, 304, 307 lineage of abbesses 309–316 transfer of a portrait sculpture of Mugai Nyodai to Hōjiin 271 Wuxue Zuyuan and 334 See also Mugai Nyodai, transmission of Nyodai’s kesa keka 150–154 See also ‘Kichijō keka’ Kenkaku involvement in the birth rituals for Prince Tokihito 96–97 Kenreimon-in See Taira no Tokushi Kenshōin (sub-temple of Keiaiji) and the kesa of Mugai Nyodai 314, 316, 320, 335–336 kesa and investiture rituals 308–309, 316–318 fabric patterns and weaves 284, 321, 322, 323–330, 328, 329, 330, 331, 333, 334, 335 depicted in portraits 279, 283, 284, 294, 297, 369 displayed during onki 298 nine-panel 278, 305, 320–321, 321, 334– 337 rakusu (five-panel) 327, 378n38 seven-panel 289, 321 dating of 327, 329–330 twenty-five panel 278, 332–333, 333 See also Mugai Nyodai Kichijō keka 141–177 at Hōryūji 146, 163–176 at Tōdaiji 154 at Yakushiji 146 during the Shushōe New Year service 167–176 earliest performance of 154, 156–158 performances recorded in the Shoku Nihongi 154–158, 161 See also ‘Golden Light Sutra’; Kichijōten; Kōken-Shōtoku Kichijōten (Kisshōten) 142, 146, 147–150 figures at Hōryūji 143, 144, 151, 163, 164, 166 figure at Yakushiji 150, 152 pairing with Bishamonten 150, 162–163 role in Shushōe New Year service 167, 169–170, 174, 175–176

index See also Hindu deities in Japan, ‘Kichijō keka’ Kōdai-in (also known as Nene) portrait of 377, 380, 384, 392–393, 397 Kōgyoku, Emperor performance of keka under 153, 158 ruled as Saimei, Emperor 3 Kōhō Keishū 335 See also Keiaiji, lineage of abbesses Kōhō Kennichi 308n13 also known as Bukkoku Kokushi 277 kesa associated with 327 Mudai Nyodai’s letters to 277, 308, 315 portrait sculpture of 288 See also Musō Soseki Kōken-Shōtoku, Emperor 142, 154–155, 157 embrace of Buddhism 155–156 establishment of the Kichijō keka ritual 154, 156–158, 161 famine during the reign of 160 Kōmokuten See Four Heavenly Kings Kōmyō, Empress 154, 250 Kona-hime 384–385, 391, 395 Kōnin, Emperor 157, 158, 161, 241 Koretaka, Prince 67 Kudokuten See Kichijōten Kūkai as depicted in the Kannon reijōki zue 229–230, 230, 231 See also Okadera Kyōgoku family 394–395 family tree 374 memorial temple (Seiryūji) 375 See also Asai family Kyōgoku Tadataka 384–385, 386–387, 394– 395 Kyōgoku Takatsugu 371, 374–375 portrait of 378 Kyōgoku Tatsuko See Matsu no Maru Kyōmuro Eshō See Keiaiji, lineage of abbesses Liji (Book of Rites) 128 Madenokōji Jishō 309, 316–318, 336 See also Keiaiji

407 Madenokōji Jishun 316 Madenokōji Tokifusa 316, 317–318, 336 mani jewel (hōju) 184–185, 207–208, 211 becoming the mani jewel in death 208 conflation with the jewel of the Japanese imperial regalia 214–215 rituals performed to ensure safe childbirth 352 Mantei Ōga (also known as Hattori Ōga) Saigoku, Bandō, Chichibu hyakuban Kannon reigenki (Record of one hundred miraculous Kannon from the Saigoku, Bandō, Chichibu pilgrimages), text 237 Matsu no Maru 374n16 portrait of 380, 382, 392–393 medicine and health Āyurveda 74–76 causes of illness 25, 32–33, 35, 45 Kōgū osan tōjitsu shidai (Procedures during the Day of the Royal Consort’s Labor) 55, 77n66 medical manuals 55–56, 67n40, 120 Osan buruiki (Miscellaneous Records of Royal Childbirths) 56, 77n66 Osan oinori mokuroku (List of rituals for royal birth) 55, 77n66, 83, 255 senshōshi herbal medicine 97 Tanba no Yasuyori Ishinpō, (Essentials of Medicine), 55, 56n6, 72, 75n58, 89, 120 See also ‘Gushi nintai sanshō himitsu hōshū’ Meiji, Emperor, birth of 257, 260 Mieidō fire at 192–194 See also ‘gorintō’ Mimurotoji (temple) 221, 233–243, 260 See also ‘Kannon reigenki’; ‘Kannon reijōki zue’ Minamoto no Tamenori Sanbō ekotoba (Illustrated account of the three jewels) 162–163 See also Gosaie mirrors xvi–xvii, 38–40, 39 in funerary rituals 39 in house-moving rituals 38, 40, 48 Montoku, Emperor 59, 67–68

408 Mt. Hiei 59–60, 221 See also Buddhism, esoterism Mt. Koya 221 See also Buddhism, esoterism Mudan See Keiaiji, lineage of abbesses Mugai Nyodai as a discipline of Enni Ben’en 270 as a disciple of Wuxue Zuyuan 270, 274, 291, 305, 306–307 biographies of 270n2, 283, 291n55, 292, 299, 306, 308 childhood name of 306, 332 Chiyono Nyodai oshō ki (Story of Chiyono) 332 founding of Shōmyakuan (Shinnyoji) 271 interment at Shōmyakuan (Shinnyoji) 278 kesa associated with 278, 304–337 memorialization of 269–301 marriage to Kanazawa Sanetoki 306n6 Mujaku (pseudonym) 270n2, 307, 332 Nyodai zenshi shoden (Tale of Mugai) 332 portraits of xiii, 271, 272, 278–279, 280, 281, 282, 283–287, 285, 286, 294, 295, 296, 297–298 transmission of kesa belonging to 309– 316 waka poem by 276, 277 writings of 275–278 Mugaku Sogen See Wuxue Zuyuan Murakami, Emperor move to the Reizei’in Palace 30 Murasaki Shikibu viii, ix and other women writers xii, 23 pilgrimage to Ishiyamadera 348, 351 Musō Soseki 271, 322 as a disciple of Kōhō Kennichi 313 development of the Five Mountain Temples (gozan) system 313, 335 disciples of 272, 312 kesa associated with 322, 336 portrait sculpture of 288 Myōshinji (temple) 386 See also ‘gyakushu’ Nakayamadera (temple) 221, 248–258, 260 and safe childbirth 255–257

index Nakayamadera engi (Legend of the founding of Nakayamadera) 250, 253, 355 Shiunzan Nakayamadera ki (Records of Nakayamadera, Purple Cloud Mountain) 251, 255–256, 257 Nakayama Tadachika involvement in the birth rituals for Prince Tokihito 98n28, 104, 117n81 Sankaiki 90, 108, 116 Nakayama Yoshiko birth of Emperor Meiji 257 Ninnō gyō (The Benevolent Kings Sutra) 147 and birth rituals 102 and house-moving rituals 46 Nyoutsu/Nyokū See Keiaiji, lineage of abbesses Odani Castle 373–374 Oda Nobunaga portrait of 392, 394 ofuda (printed talismans) acquisition from temples 223–224, 242, 260 from Nakayamadera 250, 252, 253 and kechien 223–226, 258, 260 ritual consumption of 224–225, 260 Oichi no kata 373, 374, 376n23 Okadera (temple) 221, 229–233, 260 Ryūgaiji (formal name) 229 See also ‘Kannon reigenki’; ‘Kannon reijōki zue’ onmyōdō (yin-yang practice) 21, 22–24 Otomae ix–x pilgrimage See Ishiyamadera; Kannon pilgrimage; Saigoku pilgrimage route portraiture 371–373 and adornment (shōgon) 379 commissioning of 380–385 deified figures in 380, 383–384 Kanō school artists and 388–389 of women 376–377, 384, 386, 396 use of family crests in 391–396 Reishi burial of 204, 214 Richō, Abbess successor of Tokugon Rihō

291

index Richū, Abbess (also known as Kōtoku-in) 281 Rien See Keiaiji, lineage of abbesses Rihō See Fujiwara no Sadako Rikō See Keiaiji, lineage of abbesses Rinshi (also known as Takatsukasa-den) 198–200, 201, 204, 209 Rishū (daughter of Emperor Gokōmatsu) See Keiaiji, lineage of abbesses Rishū (daughter of Emperor Gotsuchimikado, attributed) See Keiaiji, lineage of abbesses Ryōshō-in (also known as Toku-hime) portrait of 392 Ryūkatei Tanekazu Kahada mura kojo (The Dutiful Woman of Kahada Village) from Kokon honcho meijo hyaku den (One hundred stories of famous women of our country, ancient and modern), text 238n35 Ryūken involvement in the birth rituals for Prince Tokihito 113 See also birth rituals, performed by ajari Saichō 59 Saigoku (Saikoku) pilgrimage route 226–261 Kannongyō ryakuzukai (Kannon Sutra with abbreviated illustrations and annotations) 225–226 Kegonji (temple) 227 Kinshōji (temple) 251 Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon reigenki zue (Illustrated record of the miracles of the Saigoku thirty-three) 237 Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon rishōki (Record of divine favor of the Saigoku thirty-three) 233, 234, 238, 239 Saigoku sanjūsansho Kannon rishōki zue (Illustrated record of divine favor of the Saigoku thirty-three) 237, 242, 243 Rokkakudō (Chōhōji). See ‘ofuda’ Seigantoji (temple) 227 See also Kannonshōji; Mimurotoji; Nakayamadera; Okadera

409 Śākyamuni (Jp. Shaka) and Kariteimo 78 and Kichijōten 149, 167 and Śrīmālā (Jp. Shōman Bunin) 249 Shaka Triad at Hōryūji 141, 143, 163, 164– 166, 170, 177 figure at Shinnyoji 290 Sanbōin See Daigoji Seitoku-in (also known as Kame-hime) portraits of 377, 380, 392, 397 Shinga and the Nyoirin Kannon ritual 68 Shinkōan See Shinnyoji, ‘onki’ for Mugai Nyodai at Shinnyoji (temple) 269, 271, 278–281, 290– 291 as a mortuary temple for Hōkyōji 279– 281 onki for Mugai Nyodai at 270, 283–289, 294, 298–299 portrait of Mugai Nyodai by Imei Shukei, inscribed by Daiten Kenjō 294, 296, 297–298 portrait sculpture of Mugai Nyodai at 278–279, 280 restoration of portraits by Tōji Jōkei 298 See also convents shintaku ishi See house-moving rituals Shirakawa, Emperor 182–183, 197, 199, 201, 213, 214–215 and the politics of funerary rituals 202, 203–205, 210–211 burial at Kōryūji 208–209 Shōkenji (temple) 269, 281–283, 291, 292 kesa preserved at 278, 331–333, 333, 334 (detail), 335 (detail), 337 onki for Mugai Nyodai held at 283, 289– 290, 294, 298, 299, 300 portrait of Mugai Nyodai by Nakami, inscribed by Myōkō Kanjin, at 294, 295 portrait sculpture of Mugai Nyodai by Hanbei at 281, 282, 283 restoration by Hōkyōji abbesses 281 See also convents

410 Shōkokuji (temple) affiliation with Shinnyoji 271, 298 and the Five Mountain temple system 314 kesa preserved at 304, 305, 318–320, 320–331, 328 (detail), 329 (detail), 330 (detail), 331 (detail), 336 Shōmu, Emperor and the Golden Light Sutra 148, 154 patronage of Ishiyamadera 345, 361– 362 Shōmyakuan/Shōmyakuin (temple) See Shinnyoji Shōtoku, Prince and the legend of the founding of Kannonshōji 244–245, 246 and Kannon prints from Nakayamadera 249–250, 252 role in Kichijō keka 170, 173, 176 Shukaku involvement in the birth rituals for Prince Tokihito 97n25, 101, 109, 114, 115 Shungyō involvement in the birth rituals for Prince Tokihito 110, 126, 127 See also birth rituals, performed by genja Shunjōbō Chōgen 191, 205–207, 213 See also ‘gorintō’ Shushōe 142 See also Hōryūji; ‘Kichijō keka’ Somedono no kisaki See Fujiwara no Akirakeiko (Meishi) Son’i 66n38 Sugawara no Michizane 70 Sūgen-in (also known as Gō) 371, 374, 385, 395 Gō: Himetachi no sengoku (Taiga drama and exhibition) 369n2 communication with Jōkō-in 389 portrait of 370–371 See also Asai family Taira family involvement in the birth rituals for Prince Tokihito 94–99, 101–107, 115–119, 120– 121, 123–124, 129 Taira no Kiyomori 92, 101–102 conflict with Goshirakawa 94, 133 political aspirations of 95, 131

index Taira no Shigemori 101–102, 112 Taira no Tokiko 92, 130, 133 Taira no Tokushi (Kenreimon-in) 92–93 birth of Prince Tokihito 92, 120–122 ladies-in-waiting of 120 pregnancy 94–120 presentation of the Heike nōkyō on behalf of 212 rituals performed at temples and shrines for 106 Takakura, Emperor marriage to Taira no Tokushi 89, 92, 94 political struggle with his father, Goshirakawa 131, 133 ritual role during the birth of Prince Tokihito 97, 125–126, 128, 129, 130, 131 talismans See ‘goō hōin’; house-moving rituals; ‘ofuda’ Tamonten See Bishamonten; Four Heavenly Kings Tanba no Yasuyori Ishinpō (Essentials of Medicine) See medicine and health Taruhito, Prince See Horikawa, Emperor Tekkan See Keiaiji, lineage of abbesses Tenryūji (temple) 313, 327 Tōdaiji (temple) gorintō placed inside the Daibutsu at 213 Tōfukumon-in 321, 385, 389 Tōhō E’nichi 335 See also Keiaiji, lineage of abbesses Tokihito, Prince (Emperor Antoku) 89, 92– 93, 93n14, 110, 113n74 birth of 120–122 birth scene in the Heike monogatari emaki 106–107, 107 See also birth rituals Tōin family 345–347 See also ‘Ishiyamadera engi e’ Tōin Kinkata 344–345, 366 Tōin Kōshu 344n4 Tōin-no-tsubone involvement in the birth rituals for Prince Tokihito 120, 123, 124, 124n105, 132

index Tōin Saneo 345 Tōin Yakushu 344n4 Tokugawa Hidetada 371, 374 portrait of 389–391, 390 See also Sūgen-in Tokugawa Iemitsu 385, 387 Tokugawa Ieyasu conflict with the Toyotomi family 374– 375, 389 portrait of 380, 381, 383–384 Tokugawa Masako See Tōfukumon-in Tokugon Rihō 290, 290–292 Kochō no yumegatari (Story of the dream of a butterfly) [biography of Mugai Nyodai] 291n55, 308 poems comparing Rihō to Mugai Nyodai 292 presentation of Mugai Nyodai’s dark brown twenty-five panel kesa to Shōkenji 332 Tōritenjōji (temple) and safe childbirth 256 Toyotomi Hideyori 374, 389 Toyotomi Hideyoshi portraits of 383–384 relationship with the Asai family 371, 374, 388 See also Yodo-dono Tsūgenji (convent) 313 Uda, Emperor 69–70 and the development of the insei system 202 Utagawa Hiroshige ii See ‘Kannon reigenki’ Utagawa Kunisada (Toyokuni iii) See ‘Kannon reigenki’ Utagawa Kuniyoshi Kahada mura kojo (The Dutiful Woman of Kahada Village) from Kokon honcho meijo hyaku den (One hundred stories of famous women of our country, ancient and modern), art 238, 240 See also Ryūkatei Tanekazu

411 Wuxue Zuyuan (Jp. Mugaku Sōgen) also known as Bukkō Kokushi 270, 305, 332 also known as Bukkō Zenshi 310 also known as Enman Jōshō Kokushi 274n15 as a teacher of Kōhō Kennichi 308n13 as a teacher of Mugai Nyodai 270, 274, 291, 305, 306–307 Bukkō Kokushi goroku (Sayings of Zen Master Wuxue) 306–307 portrait sculpture of 288 transmission of his kesa to Mugai Nyodai 310, 332 Yakushi (Sk. Bhaiṣajyaguru) figure at Hōryūji 141, 143, 163, 164–167, 176 rituals performed to during the birth of Prince Tokihito 95, 102, 115–117, 125 rituals to 61 role in childbirth rituals 91 role in Kichijō keka 153, 174 Yasuakira, Prince 70 Yodo-dono (also known as Chacha) 369n2, 371, 374, 375, 389, 395 portraits of 370n3 See also Asai family Yokoyama Katsurako (poet) pilgrimage to Nakayamadera 256 Yijing (Jp. Gihō) (translator) and the Golden Light Sutra 147–148, 166, 167, 176 See also ‘Gushi nintai sanshō himitsu hōshū’ Zekkai Chūshin 271–274 also known as Butchi Kōshō Kokushi 271 eulogy for Mugai Nyodai 269, 274–275 poem for Mugai Nyodai’s death anniversary 308n18 Zengen involvement in the birth rituals for Prince Tokihito 95, 113, 126 See also birth rituals, performed by ajari Zōchōten See Four Heavenly Kings