The Japanese Buddhist World Map: Religious Vision and the Cartographic Imagination 9780824890056

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The

Japanese Buddhist World M ap

The

Japanese Buddhist World M ap Religious Vision and the Cartographic Imagination

D. M A X MOERM AN

UNIVERSITY OF HAWAI‘I PRESS HONOLULU

© 2022 University of Hawai‘i Press All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America 27 26 25 24 23 22  6 5 4 3 2 1 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Moerman, D. Max (David Max), author. Title: The Japanese Buddhist world map : religious vision and the  cartographic imagination / D. Max Moerman. Description: Honolulu : University of Hawai‘i Press, 2021. | Includes  bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2021009508 | ISBN 9780824886783 (hardcover) | ISBN  9780824890056 (adobe pdf) | ISBN 9780824890063 (epub) | ISBN  9780824890070 (kindle edition) Subjects: LCSH: Buddhism—Japan—Maps. | Buddhist geography. | Buddhist  cosmology. | Cartography—Japan—History. Classification: LCC BQ680.M6 M64 2021 | DDC 294.30952—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021009508 University of Hawai‘i Press books are printed on acid-free paper and meet the guidelines for permanence and durability of the Council on Library Resources. Jacket: (front) Detail from Jūkai, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, 1364. Hanging scroll; ink and color on paper, 177 × 166.5 cm. Hōryūji, Nara. (front and back) Detail from Hōtan, Handy Map of the Myriad Countries of Jambudvīpa, 1710. Woodblock print with hand coloring, 121 × 144 cm. David Rumsey Map Collection, Stanford University Libraries, Stanford, CA. Design by Mardee Melton

This book is dedicated to my teachers Carl Bielefeldt and Bernard Faure and to the memory of those who have passed: Irene Bloom, Donald McCallum, and John Rosenfield.

Contents

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS . . . ix



INTRODUCTION

To Gaze on Sacred Traces . . . 1 1

PILGRIMAGE AND THE VISUAL IMAGINATION

Text, Image, and the Map of the Buddhist World . . . 15 2 ISLANDS OF MEANING

Locating Japan in a Buddhist World . . . 53 3 ANTECEDENTS AND AFTERIMAGES

The Culture and Contexts of Replication . . . 90 4 HYBRID CARTOGRAPHIES

The Buddhist Map and the Tokugawa World . . . 128 5 BUDDHIST CARTOGRAPHY AND PRINT CULTURE

Religious Vision in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction . . . 176 6 WAR OF THE WORLDS

Cosmological Debate and the Epistemology of Vision . . . 221

CONCLUSION

Missionaries, Modernities, and the Optics of Enlightenment . . . 277 NOTES . . . 303 BIBLIOGRAPHY . . . 323 INDEX . . . 347

Acknowledgments

This work would not exist if not for the support and guidance of individuals and institutions too numerous to adequately acknowledge. I owe thanks first to Patricia Crosby and Stephanie Chun of the University of Hawai‘i Press, who oversaw the entire publication process, and to the anonymous readers for the press. A special shout-out goes to the indefatigable Reader #2, whose rigor, patience, and tough love will never be forgotten. Whomever you may be, drinks are on me for the rest of your life. I am deeply grateful to the Fulbright-Hays Program for research support; to the Nitta Fund of the Donald Keene Center of Japanese Culture at Columbia University; to the C-BEAR Monographs Publication Subvention given generously by Paul Yin and Frances Wu for publication support; and to the staff of the Art Gallery of South Australia, the Columbia University Libraries, the David Rumsey Map Center at the Stanford University Libraries, the Harvard University Art Museums, the James Ford Bell Library at the University of Minnesota, the Kobe City Museum, the Kyoto University Libraries, the Map Collection of the Library of Congress, the National Archives of Japan, the Ryūkoku University Libraries, the University of British Columbia Library, and the Yokohama City University Library. I would also like to express my profound gratitude to my colleagues at Barnard College and Columbia University and, in particular, to the following individuals without whose inspiration and intellectual generosity this book would not have been possible: Ryūichi Abe, Abe Yasurō, Micah Auerbach, Marcus Bingenheimer, Cynthea Bogel, Kevin Carr, Angelo Cattaneo, Lucia Dolce, Yulia Frumer, Hiraoka Ryūji, Ide Seinosuke, Itō Satoshi, Michael Jamentz, James Ketelaar, Radu Leca, Joseph Loh, Matsumoto Ikuyo, Miyoshi Tadayoshi, Okada Masahiko, Richard Pegg, Fabio Rambelli, Rachel Saunders, Timon Screech, Jacqueline Stone, Tanigawa Yutaka, Ronald Toby, Melanie Trede, Daniel Tuzzeo, Uesugi Kazuhiro, Kären Wigen, and Yonekura Michio.

ix

INTRODUCTION To Gaze on Sacred Traces

For Japanese Buddhists throughout the centuries, India represented an obscure object of religious desire, a land of origins from which they felt hopelessly removed. Buddhist India, known as Tenjiku 天竺 in Japanese—or more specifically, as Gotenjiku 五天竺, “the Five Regions of Tenjiku”—was not the India of modern geography. Its borders more fluid and undefined, Tenjiku represented a faraway realm, a land beyond the known world of the Chinese cultural sphere and the site of sacred history. The Chinese term, “Tianzhu” (celestial bamboo), suggests other Western paradises in Chinese culture: the Buddha Amitābha’s Western Pure Land and the earthly paradise of Mount Kunlun, the land of the Queen Mother of the West.1 Tenjiku was thus a locus of both alterity and authenticity, a holy land never visited but clearly rendered in the geography of the imagination. “If I had been born in Tenjiku,” wrote the thirteenth-century monk Myōe Kōben 明恵高弁 (1173–1232), “I would simply have made pilgrimage, traveling to my heart’s content, to visit the sacred traces of the Buddha’s life throughout the Five Regions of Tenjiku. I would have felt as if I was seeing the Buddha himself.”2 For Myōe, and for so many other Japanese Buddhists, Tenjiku represented a topography of sacred traces: landmarks of a religious past to be encountered and experienced in the pilgrim’s present. Myōe’s choice of the term “sacred traces” (J. goiseki 御遺跡) is significant. According to T. H. Barrett, the Chinese term “meant footprint, especially animal tracks or spoor, which revealed the existence somewhere of something

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alive and moving but not present and visible to the naked eye. With such an etymology, it is no surprise that the Indian cult of the Buddha’s footprints had no trouble in establishing itself in East Asia.”3 Heather Blair, in another context, has explored the Japanese Buddhist cult of traces as a “spatial soteriology” connecting place and pilgrimage, text and territory.4 For Myōe, encountering the trace was equivalent to “seeing the Buddha himself,” an understanding central to Buddhist visual culture and a goal fundamental to Mahāyāna Buddhists throughout history.5 Yet this common desire was, for Myōe, informed by a particular sense of his time and place in the Buddhist world. Myōe lamented: Born two thousand years after the death of Śākyamuni, in a remote land in the age of the Final Dharma, I could not join the assembly of the Buddha’s disciples during his presence in this world and thus had lost the opportunity to be guided toward the path of enlightenment. Studying the sacred teachings, I understand the Buddha’s essence but when I encounter difficulties and obstacles in carrying out religious practices, I long for the Buddha’s sacred traces in Tenjiku and the Western Regions. In the past, Xuanzang set out on foot to visit those places. People say that Tenjiku is far away and that I will not necessarily reach it. Even if the road is treacherous, even if I die, I should have no fear from that. I must face Tenjiku and start walking with my will set on visiting the sacred traces of Śākyamuni.6

Myōe’s longing “for the Buddha’s sacred traces in Tenjiku and the Western Regions” is thus deeply grounded in the recognition of Japan’s geographical and historical location at the furthest remove, spatially and temporally, from the center of the Buddhist world. Myōe understood himself to be living at the extremity of Buddhist history, “two thousand years after the death of Śākyamuni in a remote land in the age of the Final Dharma.” Myōe’s use of the phrase “age of Final Dharma (mappō 末法)” refers to a long period of religious decline, understood by Japanese Buddhists to have begun in the mid-eleventh century, during which Buddhist faith and practice are thought to have reached their nadir.7 His use of the term “remote land” (hendo 辺土) situates Japan at the periphery of Buddhist geography, as a minor and marginal country at the very edge of the Indic world.8 Myōe’s quest for vision, a quest central to the Buddhist tradition, is thus all the more urgent given his historical and geographical predicament. For Myōe, as for countless Buddhists before him, “the sacred traces of Śākyamuni”—the visible evidence of the Buddha’s life, inscribed across the landscape of India—marked the goal of that quest: a vision beyond the spatial and temporal gulf that brought one into the Buddha’s presence.

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INTRODUCTION

Myōe’s guide on this quest was the famous Chinese monk Xuanzang 玄 奘 (600–664), whose Great Tang Record of the Western Regions 大唐西域記 (Ch. Da Tang xi yu ji; J. Daitō saiikiki; T 2087) narrates a sixteen-year pilgrimage through Central Asia and India “to gaze on the sacred traces and acquire the Dharma with a mind of adoration.”9 Xuanzang, who served as Myōe’s inspiration and model and whose Record served as Myōe’s sacred writ and guidebook, is at the center of this study as well, for Xuanzang’s epic journey, and his written account of it, lies at the heart of the Buddhist world maps that we shall examine. Monk, diplomat, scholar, teacher, translator, and patriarch, Xuanzang was a figure of monumental status, even in his own lifetime. During his pilgrimage to India, Xuanzang visited the sacred sites of the Buddha’s life and legend, studied with Indian masters at major centers of Buddhist learning, and returned to China with 657 Indian Buddhist texts and numerous images and relics. At a state-sponsored translation bureau in the Tang capital of Chang’an, he attracted students from across East Asia and produced seventy-five major translations and commentaries. He is revered as the founder of the Dharma Characteristic 法相宗 (Ch. Faxian; J. Hossō) or Consciousness Only 唯識 (Ch. Weishi; J. Yuishiki) lineage of the Indian Yogācāra school 瑜伽行派 (Ch. Yuqie­ xing; J. Yugagyō), based in Japan at the Nara temples of Hōryūji 法隆寺 and Kōfukuji 興福寺. According to Myōe’s earliest biography: In the spring of 1205, Myōe decided to make a journey to Tenjiku, his earnest desire for so many years. He and five or six like-minded colleagues shared this ambition and had already made their plans. They investigated the records of those who had made the journey concerning the distance of the route from Chang’an to Rājagṛha in Central Tenjiku, and Myōe recorded the results of this research.10

A document, inscribed in Myōe’s own hand, reads: I am unable to contain my affection and longing for Tenjiku, the land where the Buddha was born, and so I have drawn up plans for the journey there. Oh, how I wish I could go there! If I walked seven ri a day, I could reach Tenjiku in 1,130 days, arriving on the twentieth day of the second month of the fourth year [of my travels]. And if I walked five ri a day, I could at long last arrive on the tenth day of the sixth month of the fifth year, for a total of 1,600 days.11

Myōe, however, never left Japan. The local deity of the Kasuga 春日 Shrine in Nara convinced him that such a physical journey was unnecessary. Communicating through the media of spirit possession, the Kasuga deity praised

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Myōe’s “ardor to adore Śākyamuni where he actually lived” yet urged him to visit the Kasuga Shrine instead.12 Myōe followed the god’s bidding, made a pilgrimage to the shrine, and “was before the Kasuga Sanctuaries when he dozed off and dreamed that he went to Vulture Peak and served our Great Teacher Śākyamuni.”13 Myōe thus accomplished his pilgrimage internally; he succeeded in bringing Buddhist India to Japan through the visual and visionary imagination. This study of Japanese Buddhist world maps is about another way Japanese Buddhists attempted to overcome the spatial and temporal distance separating them from the land of the Buddha and locate themselves in a Buddhist world. As with Myōe, this quest entailed a shift in religious practice: the recontextualization of Xuanzang’s pilgrimage from an act of peregrination to one of visualization. Yet as with the devotional calculations for Myōe’s journey to Tenjiku, affect and intellect were inseparable. Within the Buddhist tradition, vision and knowledge are coarticulated: vision is epistemological; knowledge is optical. The Buddha’s wisdom is described in terms such as “knowledge and vision” (Skt. jñāna-darśana), “limitless vision” (Skt. samanta-darśin), and “the universal eye” (Skt. samanta-cakṣus).14 The knowledge developed by Buddhist adepts is expressed as the four powers of heightened vision beyond the physical eye (Skt. māṃsa-cakṣus): the divine eye (Skt. divya-cakṣus), the wisdom eye (Skt. prajñā-cakṣus), the Buddha eye (Skt. buddha-cakṣus), and the dharma eye (Skt. dharma-cakṣus). According to David McMahan, “The modeling of awakened knowledge on the operations of the eye is an important factor in the construction of the epistemic paradigm of Mahāyāna Buddhism.”15 Mahāyāna Buddhist visual culture is thus more than a culture of images; it is a culture of seeing with distinct theories and practices of vision and a specific understanding of the relationship between vision and knowledge. Recognizing the centrality of theories and practices of vision within Japanese Buddhist culture, this study of Japanese Buddhist world maps is concerned with more than imagery. Its subject is also the culture of vision and knowledge that such maps make possible and meaningful. The relationship between vision and knowledge is also crucial to the history of cartography. “A map is a technical and artificial widening of the visible field,” writes Christian Jacob, “a device that presents a new dimension, another degree of reality within the field of vision,” with “the power to create a form of intellectual and visual mastery different from everyday empirical perception.”16 J. B. Harley shares a similar understanding of the role of maps within practices of vision and knowledge: “As mediators between an inner mental world and an outer physical world, maps are fundamental tools helping the human mind make sense of its universe at various scales.”17 The maps at the heart of this study are easily accommodated within Harley and David Woodward’s capacious definition of maps as “graphic representations that facilitate a spatial understanding

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INTRODUCTION

of things, concepts, conditions, processes, or events in the human world.”18 And yet the language of East Asian maps suggests a greater cultural specificity within this broad definition. The term for map that appears in the titles of all the examples examined in this study—zu 圖 (Ch. tu)—has its own cultural history. Although the common term for map in premodern East Asia, zu was not limited to cartography but used for all kinds of technical images, from plans and charts to cosmograms and talismans. Francesca Bray has defined zu as “not a stylistic but a functional category . . . spatial encodings of factual information . . . translating temporal or intellectual sequences into purely spatial terms, and encrypting dynamic processes as static layouts.”19 Sensitive to Bray’s definition, this study is concerned with the functions as much as with the forms of Japanese Buddhist cartography, with the ways in which temporal, intellectual, and dynamic sequences are represented in spatial terms. Informed by Bray’s attention to the performativity of zu, this study approaches cartography as a practice and a process, not simply as an object or image. The increasing dialogue in recent years between historians of Japanese Buddhism and historians of Japanese art has opened up both fields to new materials and methodologies and has suggested the possibility of a truly interdisciplinary study of Japanese Buddhist visual culture. The subject of this study—painted and printed Japanese Buddhist world maps—belongs to both fields but has yet to capture the sustained interest of either. Even within the history of Japanese cartography, such maps have received only limited treatment. The ways in which Japanese Buddhists have mapped the world and the cosmos have largely eluded academic attention. The subject seems to offer neither the textual corpus of interest to scholars of Japanese Buddhism, nor the aesthetic qualities of interest to scholars of Japanese art, nor the empirical data of interest to scholars of Japanese cartography. Yet from at least the fourteenth through the late nineteenth centuries, Japanese monks have created and used maps to construct, represent, and find their place in a Buddhist world. Such maps provide a visual chronology of worldview, articulate the spatialization of religious thought, inform intellectual orientation and cultural identity, and reveal the centrality of India in the Japanese Buddhist imagination. In analyzing the history of these maps, and of their production, reproduction, and reception, this study argues for their significance in the history of Japanese Buddhism, the history of Japanese cartography, and the history of epistemological debates about vision and knowledge. Although these maps represent an important medium of Japanese Buddhist discourse, ritual practice, doctrinal debate, and visual culture—one that was maintained and developed for over five hundred years—historians of both Japanese cartography and Japanese Buddhism have treated them largely as

INTRODUCTION

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curiosities. The tradition of Japanese Buddhist world maps occupies an unsettled (and perhaps unsettling) position within the conventional models of intellectual and religious history, as it suggests a development neither empiricist nor linear. Japanese Buddhist world maps seem to frustrate all teleological expectations by offering a cartography without progress.20 These maps thus present a challenge to positivist models of historical change, in which earlier forms of knowledge and modes of representation are assumed to be abandoned or refined with the advance of scholarly and scientific accuracy. Within such models the early appearance of Japanese Buddhist world maps, before the reception and mastery of European cartography in the seventeenth century, can perhaps be explained away as a naïve example of a prescientific worldview. The persistence of such a tradition, however, from the seventeenth through the nineteenth centuries, can only be dismissed as backward or reactionary. By contrast, this study argues that the continuation and development of a stubbornly ahistorical Buddhist cartography offers the possibility of an alternative history of the religious and intellectual culture of the age. Indeed, it forces us to recognize the continuing role of the Buddhist geographic imaginary in what historians identify as “early modern Japan.” Such chronological designations, predicated on the assumption of a universal trajectory of modernity, are of limited utility for the subject of this study and may obscure, rather than illumine, the culture in which such maps were produced and consumed: one broad enough to encompass multiple cartographic and cosmological views of the world that may seem to us incongruous or incommensurable. Japanese Buddhist world maps, of which the first extant example was produced in the fourteenth century and later examples reproduced into the nineteenth, have, like Myōe, taken Xuanzang as their guide and followed the narrative of his pilgrimage to plot the coordinates of their world. The earliest extant example, an enormous painting over one and a half meters square, is entirely informed by Xuanzang’s journey: a map of Buddhist pilgrimage translated from the literary to the visual (fig. I.1). It presents an image of the world in which every toponym, every topographic detail, and every indication of distance and direction is drawn directly from Xuanzang’s text. A winding red line traces Xuanzang’s itinerary and defines a map coterminous with the pilgrim’s path. Later copies of this manuscript, produced and studied in Japanese temples for the following five hundred years, continued to follow the red thread of Xuanzang’s pilgrimage. Coursing throughout a vast geography like the arteries of a circulatory system, the lines of Xuanzang’s itinerary provided Japanese Buddhists with the physical framework of the world and infused their cartographic imagination with its lifeblood. Xuanzang’s piety of place plotted a spatial hagiography centered on the sites of the Buddha’s past lives, his birth, his enlightenment, his preaching, and

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INTRODUCTION

I.1 Jūkai, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, 1364. Hanging scroll; ink and color on paper, 177 × 166.5 cm. Hōryūji, Nara.

his death. Malcolm David Eckel has argued that “landscape was the dominant factor in determining Xuanzang’s understanding of the Buddha, more important than the texts we now use to study the narrative of the Buddha’s life.”21 Yet Xuanzang’s geography not only charts the Buddha’s life in spatial terms; it also offered a guidebook with which others might envision and follow those sacred traces. It provides a geography of the sacred that brings together the acts of reading and seeing. Michel de Certeau has described hagiography as a genre in which “the very itinerary of writing leads to the vision of the place: to read is to go and see.”22 Xuanzang perceived the Buddha’s physical presence everywhere: at stupas containing his corporal relics (his ashes, his hair and nail clippings, his teeth and bones), enshrining the objects that he used (his begging bowl, his walking staff, his bathing pot, his broom, and fragments of his clothing), and commemorating the holy sites of his life, his past lives, his ministry, and his miracles.23 Xuanzang’s India was a land physically inscribed with the Buddha’s visible traces. He describes one rock bearing “the trace of the Tathāgata’s footprint with the wheel-sign dimly visible, which sometimes emits a light” and another “large flat rock on which the Tathāgata once washed his robe, on which the traces of the robe are still dimly visible.”24 Xuanzang’s journey, like that of the other Chinese pilgrims who traveled to India before and after him, was a quest for vision.25 Yet Buddhist vision belongs to a wider set of South Asian ideas and practices in which “seeing is clearly not conceived as a passive product of sensory data originating in the outer world, but rather seems to be imagined as an extrusive or acquisitive ‘seeing flow’ that emanates from the inner person, outward through the eyes, to engage directly with objects seen, and to bring something of those objects back to the seer.”26 Buddhist vision is an act of engagement: a ritual practice that affects, and is effected by, one’s religious merit. Xuanzang, for example, describes “a huge rock with a footprint of the Tathāgata, which varies in size according to the merits of the measurer.”27 He also recounts a cave wall on which “formerly there was a shadow of the Buddha, resembling his true features with all the good physical marks, just as if he were alive. But in recent years it is not visible to everybody, and even those who see it can only perceive a distinct outline. Those who pray with utmost sincerity may get a spiritual response and see a clear picture, but only for a short moment.”28 It is thus as much an inner quest as an outward journey that leads to the pilgrim’s goal of religious vision. Xuanzang’s pilgrimage to see the sacred sites of the Buddha’s life, and Myōe’s desire to follow him, is one credited to the Buddha himself. According to the Mahāparinirvāṇa-sūtra, the Buddha instructed that after his passing monastics and laity alike should visit the four sites of his birth, his enlightenment, his first preaching, and his death. “And any who die while making the pilgrimage to these shrines with a devout heart will, at the breaking-up of the

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INTRODUCTION

body after death, be reborn in a heavenly world.”29 In the Pali edition of the sutra, the devotee is enjoined to visit the sites in person, to literally “see and be moved by” (dassanīyāni samvejanīyani), but in the Sanskrit version the injunction is simply to “recollect” them (anusmaranīya).30 While seemingly minor, the difference in vocabulary holds profound implications for Buddhist practice. The Pali version of the text defines pilgrimage to the sacred sites of Buddhist India as a physical journey, whereas the Sanskrit version describes it as a meditative act.31 The Chinese translation of the sutra, the translation that Japanese Buddhists read and studied, follows the Sanskrit and describes the pilgrim’s progress as cognitive rather than ambulatory.32 As Jacob writes, “Maps suggest a way of thinking as well as a way of see33 ing.” Accordingly, Japan’s first map of the world is also a cognitive map, a mode of spatial thinking that reveals how Japanese monks conceived of the Buddhist world and their place in it. It is a world defined almost entirely by Xuanzang’s pilgrimage, circumscribed by the ovoid continent of Buddhist cosmology, and situated within an infinite Indian universe. In this world, China is not the Central Kingdom but merely a marginal land at the eastern extremity of a massive Buddhist continent. And if China is only a peripheral presence in Xuanzang’s pilgrimage, Japan is absent altogether. The Japanese archipelago does not, of course, appear in the world of Xuanzang’s text, but nevertheless Japanese cartographic translations of that text inevitably represent the archipelago. It is depicted as a cluster of small islands in a vast eastern sea beyond the boundaries of the continent, almost as if an afterthought, or as a cartographic footnote to the Tang pilgrim’s vast geography (fig. I.2). Although represented at the very

I.2 Jūkai, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku. Detail of the Japanese archipelago.

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margins of the map, Japan’s place in the larger Buddhist world is the major concern of this cartographic tradition and of this book as well. The Japanese understanding of their relationship to the Buddhist past—as conceived spatially and temporally, as negotiated textually and visually, as articulated cartographically and cosmologically—are the central subjects of this study. To us today, Japanese Buddhist world maps may seem to represent an intellectual dead end: the losing side of the cartographic and cosmological debate. Buddhist world maps based on classical cosmology may be understandable in medieval Japan, but their presence in modern Japan may appear discomforting: a reactionary and atavistic embarrassment. The persistent production and consumption of thousands of such world maps—based on Buddhist scripture rather than European science—through the late nineteenth century does not sit comfortably with our common assumptions about Buddhism and modernity or our deterministic expectations of cultural and intellectual development. Yet this very discomfort may be of heuristic value, allowing us to rethink what we long thought we already knew about Buddhism, history, and science. We would do well to look closely at these objects of visual and material culture to begin to examine a history of Japanese Buddhism hidden in plain sight for too long and to consider the reasons for its invisibility. Within this archive of unexamined material are the sources for an alternative history of the intellectual and visual culture of Japanese Buddhism. Such a history, however, can only be explored, or indeed recognized at all, when we avoid the teleological paths that characterize most accounts of Japanese Buddhism. The history of Japanese Buddhist world maps is nothing less than a history of Japanese Buddhist worldviews, yet it is far from straightforward or linear. Like Xuanzang’s route inscribed on the map itself, it follows detours, doubles back on itself, or branches off to trace multiple and at times disparate trajectories. Some of the forms and practices of Buddhist cartography remained durable and resilient, even as others underwent adaptation or redirection. Although the earliest maps of Xuanzang’s world continued to be transcribed essentially unchanged for centuries, other iterations took this classical geography in entirely new directions. They produced hybrid cartographies never before imagined, contentious mappings that at once opposed and appropriated the claims of their critics. The structure of this study follows the irregular and uneven history of these maps. Recognizing the gaps and the silences in the materials themselves, this study is chronological, but not comprehensive. Because the subject of this history resists closure, the content of this study remains necessarily partial. What it seeks to accomplish is selective but not insignificant: to analyze the contents and contexts of the maps themselves, to locate the ambivalent and shifting position of Japan in the process of worldmaking, to trace the forms and practices in the history of transcription, to examine the intellectual encounter

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INTRODUCTION

and negotiation with foreign worldviews, to follow the transformations and technologies of the maps’ mechanical reproduction, and to consider the implications for a global history of Buddhism and science. However circuitous this history, certain fundamental issues endure: the place of India in the Japanese Buddhist imagination, the centrality of vision in Japanese Buddhist culture, and the articulation of Japanese Buddhist identity in a changing world. Chapter 1, “Pilgrimage and the Visual Imagination: Text, Image, and the Map of the Buddhist World,” introduces the earliest extant Japanese world map, a large-format fourteenth-century painting, owned by the temple of Hōryūji in Nara, which depicts the geography of Xuanzang’s journey annotated with textual passages from his Record. To establish the map’s context of production, this chapter presents what is known about the monastic painter to whom the map is ascribed and examines the cultic significance of Xuanzang and his pilgrimage in the culture of the Nara temples to which the painting belongs. It describes the format, content, and structure of the map and compares its modalities of visual narrative with other contemporaneous representations of Xuanzang’s pilgrimage. After identifying the textual sources of the map’s geography and cosmology, this chapter examines the complex relationship between text and image in three modes of representation within the painting: the excerpted passages that frame and situate the geography of the world, the toponymic cartouches that structure and punctuate the pilgrim’s itinerary, and the descriptive annotations that supply narrative depth to the hagiographic landscape. The chapter concludes by tracing Xuanzang’s route as it is inscribed on the map: an exploration and accounting of the topography and kingdoms, temples and monks, relics, ruins, and miraculous images of seventh-century India as visualized in fourteenth-century Japan. Chapter 2, “Islands of Meaning: Locating Japan in a Buddhist World,” departs from the central continent of the pilgrim’s itinerary to explore two sites peripheral to Xuanzang’s narrative but nevertheless central to the concerns of the Japanese Buddhists who made and viewed the map. These are insular realms at the edges of the painting: Potalaka (J. Fudaraku 補陀落), the island paradise of the Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara (J. Kannon 観音), which is accorded only passing reference in Xaunzang’s Record, and the Japanese archipelago, which is entirely absent from the Chinese text. Potalaka is given far greater toponymic and topographic attention in the cartographic image than in Xuanzang’s narrative account, which it ostensibly illustrates. These discrepancies and details reveal an island more East Asian than Indian, conforming to local Chinese gazetteers and informed by the travels and legends of Japanese rather than Chinese monks. This chapter also examines the placement of the Japanese archipelago within the visual structure of the map and within the larger fourteenth-century discourse about the place of Japan within the Buddhist world

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order. The ambivalent status of Japan—both a tiny archipelago at the margins of the Buddhist world and a great country at its center—reveals a range of discursive strategies deployed in the spatialization of Japanese religious identity. As Japan’s place in the Buddhist world represents the map’s fundamental concern, this chapter situates the archipelago within the visual and ritual culture of Japanese Buddhist traditions. The early cartography of Japan, produced from the thirteenth through the seventeenth centuries, provides both context and counterpoint for the analysis and interpretation of the Japanese Buddhist world map. Chapter 3, “Antecedents and Afterimages: The Culture and Contexts of Replication,” examines both the possible precursors of the Hōryūji map and the later history of its replication. As the Hōryūji map has more progeny than precedence, this chapter surveys “the culture of the copy” in Japanese Buddhist practice and situates the map among related works that share formal and ritual affinities. It then studies and compares all known copies of the map, distributed across a wide range of sectarian lineages. The variation within the extant manuscript tradition, together with inscriptions and accompanying texts, suggests a history of production and reception in which the meanings and functions of the map changed markedly over time. Although a traditionalist imperative to adhere to and faithfully reproduce past prototypes characterizes many copies, other examples include radical innovations that point toward a major shift in Japanese Buddhist cartography, culture, and religious identity. Chapter 4, “Hybrid Cartographies: The Buddhist Map and the Tokugawa World,” investigates the context for such transformations in the format and function of the Japanese Buddhist world map. It considers the multiple and composite world maps produced in seventeenth-century Japan after the arrival of European missionaries and merchants. The chapter argues that cartographic and cosmological discourse were as significant to the religious agenda of Jesuit missionaries as to Japanese Buddhists. It interprets the new iconographies and new ways of seeing that belong to the Jesuit visual culture introduced to Japanese audiences in illustrated textbooks, cosmological diagrams, printed atlases, and imported maps. It analyzes European-style world maps painted on Japanese folding screens as local appropriations of foreign worldviews that were adapted rather than simply emulated. Other cartographic sources imported from abroad—the world maps of Matteo Ricci and later Buddhist world maps printed in China—significantly redirected the development of Japanese Buddhist cartography. Two unusual manuscript maps produced in Japan at the turn of the eighteenth century reveal the influence of such new continental sources; signal major departures from earlier models; and suggest bold attempts to engage, incorporate, and respond to new visions of the world produced by European Christians, Chinese Buddhists, Ming encyclopedists, and the Japanese maritime trade. The changing forms and accumulative content of

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INTRODUCTION

the map, incorporating rather than ignoring the presence of new geographies, prepared the way for even more radical Buddhist visions to follow. Chapter 5, “Buddhist Cartography and Print Culture: Religious Vision in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” is a detailed study of the first woodblock-printed Japanese Buddhist world map, Handy Map of the Myriad Countries of Jambudvīpa, published in 1710 by the Kegon monk Hōtan. This chapter reveals the debts that this printed map owes to the late seventeenth-century manuscripts and identifies the acknowledged and unacknowledged bibliographic and cartographic sources that inform it. It surveys the many foreign lands—Middle Eastern, European, and American—newly included and traces the long life of this Buddhist world map in the print culture of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries through the proliferation of reduced-format editions and its inclusion in the most popular encyclopedia of the age. The chapter further analyzes the religious and cartographic claims articulated by the map’s author, who distinguishes his world map from those of the contemporaneous West on the authority of traditional theories of Buddhist vision. Invoking the “wisdom eye” of Buddhist masters, Hōtan argues that the worldview of Western cartography is qualitatively inferior to the insight of classical Buddhist texts and meditative practices. This appeal to the epistemological distinction between the limits of human vision and the unlimited vision of Buddhist exemplars hearkens back to early Indian sutras and commentaries even as it foreshadows the increasing deployment of this scholastic rhetoric of vision by nineteenth-century advocates of a Buddhist worldview. Chapter 6, “War of the Worlds: Cosmological Debate and the Epistemology of Vision,” turns to the cosmological foundations of Buddhist cartography. It follows the implications of Hōtan’s claims about the epistemology of vision through the discourses, diagrams, and devices produced by scholar-monks who rejected Ptolemaic and Copernican cosmology in favor of a vision of the world described in Indian Buddhist texts. Both Buddhist scholastics and their Christian counterparts recognized the inseparability of cartography and cosmology, of the image of the world and the order of the universe. To counter Jesuit claims for the global Earth and heavenly spheres as evidence of a divine plan, Japanese Buddhists reasserted traditional claims for a flat Earth, oriented around a cosmic mountain. Even after Christian elements were expurgated from European astronomical discourse and Buddhist cosmology was subjected to critique from across the Japanese intellectual spectrum, Buddhist monks continued to defend their faith with increasingly quantitative and empirical arguments. Yet throughout their textual and technical productions, advocates of Buddhist astronomy continued to invoke classical Buddhist theories of vision in which the limited optics of the human eye are claimed to be incommensurate with the panopticism of the Buddha.

INTRODUCTION

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The conclusion, “Missionaries, Modernities, and the Optics of Enlightenment,” follows the Buddhist view of the world into the Meiji era, the celebrated age of Japanese modernization and “westernization.” In the face of new threats from the Japanese government and from Western militaries and missionaries, Japanese Buddhists promoted their classical worldview in the defense of contemporary political and religious institutions. Appropriating the language and visual culture of the very science they rejected, Buddhist cartographers and cosmographers maintained the traditional tenet that the true form of the world is invisible to the eyes of the unenlightened. They produced maps, mechanical models, and mathematical arguments to assert that the epistemological vision of Buddhist enlightenment describes the world, and Japan’s place in it, more accurately than government decrees or foreign astronomical instruments. Yet in the end the persistence of Buddhist views of the world into twentieth-­ century Japan is shown to be due less to the efforts of religious, political, or scientific elites than to the popular print media that informed the public culture and the private acts of everyday life. It is, oddly enough, the most quotidian of sources that suggest the possibilities of multiple and indigenous modernities at the turn of the twentieth century and alternative visions of Japan and the world.

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1

PILGRIMAGE AND THE VISUAL IMAGINATION Text, Image, and the Map of the Buddhist World

The earliest extant Japanese map of the world is a fourteenth-century manuscript preserved at the temple of Hōryūji in Nara. Although it bears no title, the map is commonly referred to as Gotenjiku-zu 五天竺図, or Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku. It is listed among the treasured possessions of Hōryūji in sixteenthand seventeenth-century temple inventories.1 Based on an inscription on a later copy, also housed at Hōryūji, the map has been dated to 1364 and ascribed to the brush of a monk named Genshunbō Jūkai 源春房重懐 (b. 1297). The map faithfully charts the progress of Xuanzang’s pilgrimage from China through Central Asia and India; quotes extensively from his narrative; and marks his itinerary with a red line that winds throughout the Buddhist world. The map, painted in colors on paper and measuring over 176 × 166 cm, is overwhelming in scale, scope, and detail. It unfurls the diachronic narrative of Xuanzang’s Great Tang Record of the Western Regions and translates a discursive sequence into a synchronic visual projection: a totalizing and encyclopedic display of spatial knowledge, cosmic order, historical demography, and ethnographic description. Although the earliest example of its kind, it is certainly a transcription of an earlier prototype, no longer extant, originating most likely from either China or Korea. It is far too detailed and comprehensive a production to have been created in Japan ex nihilo. Numerous scribal errors—­transposed characters that reflect the misreading of an obscured detail, numerical mistakes indicating the loss or addition of a single calligraphic stroke—provide ample evidence of its status as

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a careful, if imperfect, copy. Yet despite such infelicities, the map stands as a monumental achievement: a work that memorializes the epic journey of a Chinese saint and patriarch of Japanese Buddhist traditions; an exhaustive visual compendium that collates on a single plane the teachings of Indian cosmology, the geography of the known world, the political, cultural, and natural history of northern, southern, western, and Central Asia, and the sacred traces of the Buddhist past. Like the European mappemonde that it resembles, it is as much a representation of sacred time as of sacred space, a work at once didactic and devotional. This chapter provides a detailed examination of this remarkable map. It introduces the artist responsible for its production, examines the monastic culture that allowed for its preservation, and considers the role of the map’s protagonist in the institutional and cultic life of the temple that houses the map. It then turns to a close reading of the map itself and analyzes its formal qualities, its narrative content, the complex relationship between textual and visual narrative, and the implications of this relationship in the modalities of the map’s reception. Because Xuanzang situated his travels within the wider Buddhist universe, the map also articulates the cosmological order underlying the world it represents. As the map is an intricate composite of text and image, this chapter will examine the multiple levels of text-image relations within the work: in the blocks of quotations that frame the map itself and in the textual inscriptions that complement—and compete with—the work of chorographic figuration. Finally, a guided tour along the pilgrim’s itinerary will allow us to consider the map’s possibilities as a theater of action and religious perception. Xuanzang’s Pilgrimage and the Buddhist Culture of Nara The representation of Xuanzang’s pilgrimage to India, the subject of Jūkai’s painting, was central to the institutional status, genealogical authority, and ideological claims of the leading Japanese temples of his lineage. Jūkai was affiliated with both Hōryūji and Kōfukuji, two Hossō temples with close institutional ties, and his life, religious interests, and cultic activities were emblematic of the Buddhist culture of his time and place. Although Nara had not been the site of the Japanese court since the eighth century, the schools of Buddhist thought established there in the sixth and seventh centuries—Hossō, Jōjitsu 成 実, Kegon 華厳, Kusha 倶舎, Ritsu 律, and Sanron 三論—and the major temples that represented them, such as Hōryūji, Kōfukuji, Tōdaiji 東大寺, and Sai­daiji 西大寺, continued to serve as the intellectual bedrock of Buddhism in Japan. Hōryūji and Kōfukuji, in particular, remained major institutions of Buddhist learning and centers for the study and practice of East Asian Yogācāra. Even by the fourteenth century, the rise of later Buddhist schools—Tendai 天台 and

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Shingon 真言, established in the ninth century; Zen 禅, Pure Land 浄土, and Nichiren 日蓮 in the thirteenth century—had not eclipsed the intellectual and institutional significance of the monks and monasteries of Nara. Indeed, the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries were a time in which monastics associated with the great temples of Nara had a profound influence on Japanese Buddhism and popularized new cults, practices, texts, and images. Prominent among these movements was a renewed focus on the figure of Śākyamuni and an idealization of the Indian past. Relics and images of the Buddha became the objects of new patterns of veneration. In the face of ascendant Pure Land Buddhist movements promoting the recitation of the name of the Buddha Amitābha (J. Amida 阿弥陀) as the form of religious practice most appropriate for the age, the Kōfukuji monk Jōkei 貞慶 (1155–1213) advocated the recitation of praise to the name of Śākyamuni.2 Even as some monks questioned—and at times dispensed with—the monastic precepts, other monks, such as Myōe, Eizon 叡尊 (1201–1290), and Shunjō 俊芿 (1166–1227), advocated a return to earlier Indian forms.3 Hōryūji was also the center of the cult of Shōtoku Taishi, the temple’s legendary founder, whose hagiographies, relics, and images represented him as the Japanese form of the Indian prince Śākyamuni.4 The career of Genshunbō Jūkai aligns with many of these objects of cultic attention and reveals the intimate relationship between Hōryūji and Kōfukuji at the time. Although ordained at Kōfukuji, Jūkai resided at the Hōryūji subtemple, Miroku-in 弥勒院.5 He was appointed one of the Five Masters (Goshi 五 師) of Hōryūji in 1349, but only after consultation with Kōfukuji.6 He participated in Lotus Sutra ceremonies at Kōfukuji in 1350, in rainmaking ceremonies at Hōryūji in 1352 and 1355, and in fundraising campaigns in 1358.7 Like many other monks of medieval Nara, Jūkai was a devotee of the Bodhisattva Kannon and Shōtoku Taishi, as well as Śākyamuni. His fundraising campaign of 1358 involved rituals devoted to Kannon, and in 1360 he compiled the Record of Shōtoku Taishi (Taishiden kenmonki 太子伝見聞記), a biography of the figure venerated as Hōryūji’s founder.8 In 1359 Jūkai transcribed Eison’s autobiography, Kongōbusshi Eison kanjingaku shōki 金剛仏子叡尊感身学正記, and added a postscript detailing Eison’s activities at Hōryūji.9 He is the author of the 1364 temple history Hōryūji engi shirabyōshi 法隆寺縁起白拍子.10 Jūkai was also recognized as a painting master at Hōryūji. In 1354 he painted the sliding doors of the Goshosha 五所社, the shrine to the five deities of Kasuga and Sumi­yoshi who guarded the Eastern Precinct (Tōin 東院) of the temple complex, and in 1359 other paintings of his were installed at the Jōgūōin 上宮王院, the center of the cult of Shōtoku Taishi at the temple.11 Jūkai was thus a specialist both in texts and images, a scribe known to have copied, annotated, and composed important religious records, and a monastic painter whose works graced the halls of Hōryūji’s temple and shrine buildings.

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As the Chinese patriarch of the Hossō school, the tradition of both Kōfukuji and Hōryūji, who represented the crucial link to the lineage’s Indian origins, Xuanzang would have been of obvious interest to a monk such as Jūkai. The figure of Xuanzang had long been central to the ritual life of Kōfukuji. Beginning in 1181, a memorial service for Xuanzang Sanzang (J. Genjō Sanzō 玄奘三蔵), known as the Sanzō-e 三蔵会, or Tripiṭaka Assembly, was held at Kōfukuji on the fifth day of the second month, the anniversary of Xuanzang’s death. Celebrated annually and officiated by the Daijō-in kengyō 大乗院検校, chief priest of the Daijō-in subtemple, the ceremony was one of the Twelve Great Assemblies (jūnidai-e 十二大会) of Kōfukuji and was held in front of a treasured portrait of Xuanzang. In the year 1200, Kōfukuji’s Jōkei composed the Chūshūhōon kōshiki 中宗報恩講式, a liturgical text that celebrated the Hossō lineage and emphasized the critical role of Xuanzang in transmitting the patriarchate from India to East Asia. The liturgy was often performed at Kōfukuji before important audiences, such as in 1217, when the cloistered sovereign Gotoba 後鳥羽 visited Kōfukuji to dedicate a copy of the Yogācārabhūmi-śāstra (J. Yuga shiji ron 瑜伽師地論), the central text of the Hossō tradition translated by Xuanzang, which the sovereign had transcribed in his own hand.12 Xuanzang’s pilgrimage to India was also the subject of the celebrated fourteenth-century Illustrated Life of the Tripiṭaka Master Xuanzang (Genjō Sanzō e 玄奘三蔵絵), described by the courtier Sanjōnishi Sanetaka 三条西実隆 (1455– 1537) as the miraculous treasure (reihō 霊宝) and as the bloodline (kechimyaku sōshō 血脈相承) of Kōfukuji’s Daijō-in.13 Jinson 尋尊 (1430–1508), the abbot of Daijō-in, identified the Illustrated Life as the temple’s lineage heirloom that “illuminates the transmission of our school” and has “been transmitted from generation to generation as the great treasure of this subtemple.”14 The representation of Xuanzang’s pilgrimage to India, the subject of Jūkai’s painting, was thus central to the institutional status, genealogical authority, and ideological claims of the leading Japanese temples of his lineage. Xuanzang’s role as the founding patriarch who confirmed Hossō’s Indian origins was crucial to Kōfukuji’s claims of superiority over Tendai institutions—claims that inspired decades of disputes, armed attacks, and arson carried out between Kōfukuji and Enryakuji in the late eleventh century.15 As a famous Chinese monk, Xuanzang had naturally long been an object of cultic attention within his own culture as well. Paintings of Xuanzang were venerated in China as early as the eighth century. According to Illustrated Record of Translated Scriptures Past and Present, Continued (Xu gujin yinjing tuji 古今譯經圖紀) by the Tang scholar Zhisheng 智昇 (669–740), an image of Tri­ piṭaka of the Great Tang hung in a hall of Daciensi 大慈恩寺 in Chang’an, where Xuanzang had carried out his translation work.16 The statesman, historian, and literatus, Ouyang Xiu 歐陽脩 (1007–1072), who visited the Yangzhou temple

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of Shouling-si in 1036, describes seeing a mural of “Xuanzang acquiring the sutras.”17 The Japanese monk Jōjin 成尋 (1011–1081), who traveled to China, recorded seeing images of Xuanzang holding a sutra in his hand at the Sizhou temple of Puzhouwang-si in 1072.18 In his twelfth-century catalogue of Chinese paintings, Guangchuan huaba 廣川畫跋, Dong You 董逌 (fl. 1127) also lists “a painting of Xuanzang transmitting the scriptures” and describes it as “a depiction of Xuanzang traveling from the Western Regions bearing sutras.”19 Images of the sutra-bearing pilgrim were produced in China for the next five hundred years and served as models for representations of the famous pilgrim in Japan.20 Japanese images of Xuanzang date from the eleventh century, and he appears in two types of devotional paintings produced throughout the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries: as a sutra-bearing pilgrim in paintings known as Śākyamuni Triad with the Sixteen Protectors of the Great Wisdom Sutra and paintings of Hossō patriarchs.21 Narrative and Vision Jūkai’s painting, however, is a portrait less of an individual than of a text, its subject the pilgrimage rather than the pilgrim. Xuanzang’s Record is a classic example of the traveler’s tale: a diachronic passage through time and space, a story of places and progress. Composed long after the journey’s end, the arc of its trajectory is known from the start, its mode ineluctably linear. Yet it is a tale of no ordinary traveler. Revered in both China and Japan as a patriarch, scholar, and saint, Xuanzang soon became a subject of hagiography, a genre, according to de Certeau, in which “the history of a saint is translated into a course of places and changes of scene, which allows readers to enter into the movement of the text, producing an itinerant reading.”22 As we shall see, allowing “readers to enter into the movement of the text, producing an itinerant reading” would prove crucial to the reception history of the map of Xuanzang’s Record in Japan. In China, Xuanzang’s Record soon became the subject of visual and literary elaboration, ornamented with new adventures, populated with additional characters—a continual source of entertainment and moral edification. His own autobiographical account was followed by more colorful versions in three near-contemporary hagiographies: Biography of the Tripiṭaka Master of the Great Ci’en Monastery (Da Ci’ensi Sanzang fashi zhuan 大慈恩寺三蔵法師傳) by his disciples Huili 慧立 (b. 615) and Yancong 彦悰 (fl. 627–649), Acts of the Tri­ piṭaka Master Xuanzang of the Great Tang (Da Tang gu Sanzang Xuanzang fashi xingzhuang 大唐故三蔵玄奘法師行状) by Mingxiang 冥詳 (d. after 664), and in Daoxuan’s 道宣 (596–667) Lives of Eminent Monks, Continued (Xu gaoseng zhuan 續高僧傳). These later retellings replace the dry facts of Xuanzang’s Record— political geography, institutional history, and demographic data—with heroic

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tales of high adventure, encounters with bandits and kings, prophetic dreams, and divine interventions. In Xuanzang’s Record, narrator and protagonist are one; the style is terse, documentary, and ethnographic. The accounts of Huili and others, however, are explicitly hagiographic and conform to the literary expectations of the genre. The protagonist is no longer narrator but narratee: a religious exemplar whose sacred life fits a canonical model of struggle and success. Xuanzang’s famed pilgrimage was to receive its most extensive literary elaboration in Wu Cheng’en’s 吴承恩 1592 Journey to the West (Xi you ji 西遊記), in which Xuanzang is joined on his journey by a trickster monkey with magical powers, a powerful but gluttonous pig, and a monstrous general of the desert. Wu Cheng’en, however, was not the first to transform the pilgrim’s account into a fictional epic. Sculpted and painted images of the pilgrim accompanied by his supernatural companions appear in Chinese art from the eleventh century and in Japan from the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.23 Literary versions of Xuanzang’s adventures date to at least the thirteenth century, the earliest extant copy of which, a Southern Song woodblock-printed edition of Poetic Tale of Tripiṭaka Obtaining the Scriptures (Da Tang Sanzan qujing shihua 大唐三藏取 經詩話), was once in the collection of Myōe’s own temple, Kōzanji.24 In Japan, too, Xuanzang’s story was depicted in text and image in multiple modes. Perhaps the most famous example, mentioned above, is the Illustrated Life of the Tripiṭaka Master Xuanzang: a set of twelve illustrated handscrolls of alternating sections of text and images produced by the court painter Takashina Takakane (fl. 1309–1330) and his workshop for Kōfukuji. Although proximate in both date and provenance, Takakane’s Illustrated Life and Jūkai’s Map pre­ sent a study in contrasts. Most notably perhaps, they illustrate different texts. Takakane’s handscroll is based on the Biography by Huili and Yancong, whereas Jūkai’s painting is based on Xuanzang’s Record. Huili’s hagiography rewrites Xuanzang’s Record in a heroic mode, with the pilgrim as protagonist rather than reporter. As the central subject of Takakane’s Illustrated Life, Xuanzang appears repeatedly in some seventy-six scenes throughout the scrolls. The viewer of the Illustrated Life may thus accompany the pilgrim to many of the holy sites of Buddhist India—the ruins of the palace in Kapilavastu where the Buddha was born; the remains of the Jetavana Monastery where the Buddha preached the Dharma; or the Śāla Grove where the Buddha entered parinirvāṇa—but the experience of these places must conform to the biographer’s order and is always mediated by Xuanzang’s presence. Jūkai’s Map, however, follows Xuanzang’s Record and thus depicts the pilgrimage rather than the pilgrim. As the map is concerned with the itinerary, not the itinerant, its subject—Xuanzang himself—is never represented.25 The very absence of the legendary pilgrim may enable, or even compel, viewers to take his place, to become imaginary participants in the epic journey laid out before

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their eyes. The map may thus encourage viewers, in de Certeau’s formulation, “to enter into the movement of the text, producing an itinerant reading.” The ability of the reader to enter the text and of the spectator to enter the image is an essential quality of the map’s power of seduction and a signal feature of its ritual function. In the act of reading—following Xuanzang’s path with only cartouches, annotations, and images as guide—viewers must perform the pilgrim’s role. But retracing Xuanzang’s route, finding one’s way along the thin red line of the painted itinerary, is no simple feat. Viewers must orient themselves within a dense textual and visual terrain, negotiate a path through an expansive topography of word and image, and supply much of the information that the mapmaker declined to transcribe from Xuanzang’s extensive Record. The map, therefore, presumes an informed reader so familiar with the text as to have internalized it. Not only is the figure of Xuanzang absent but so, too, is much of his text. Passages of Xuanzang’s Record are inscribed throughout the map but only selectively. The text remains partial and relies on the reader’s participation. Routes and landscape elements are drawn; place names, distances, and directions are inscribed; but the vast narrative balance of Xuanzang’s Record is necessarily supplied by the reader—likely both monastic and scholastic—who must mentally fill in the spaces between the visible landmarks: the legends, the miracles, the stupas and relics, and the experience of the Buddha’s presence that Xuanzang’s text describes but about which the map remains mute. Such a mode of itinerant reading is conditioned by the material facts of the object. At more than a meter and a half square, with thousands of inscriptions and countless details of landscape and architectural elements, the map requires physical intimacy and kinesthetic engagement: the performative act of approaching and moving across the painted surface. Visual efficacy, however, depends not only on a close reading but on a distant one as well. The map prescribes a kind of bifocality: the narrative can only be read up close, but the scope of the Buddhist world can be appreciated only from afar. To fully experience the map, one must continually move back and forth, choreographically oscillating between text and image, between reading and viewing. Zu, the Japanese word for “map,” implies such practices of engagement. Bray’s characterization of zu as “a functional category . . . translating temporal or intellectual sequences into purely spatial terms, and encrypting dynamic processes as static layouts” underscores the kinesthetics of reception. “The perusal and decoding,” she writes, is “unfolded into realization and into action.”26 Such dynamic and performative modes of reception are essential to understanding Jūkai’s Map and the other maps in this study as well. They are, in Bray’s words, “templates for action” but not for the ordinary traveler. They are less practical aids for geographic navigation than perspectives on the world, projections of, and itineraries for, journeys of the imagination and for modes of ideological and epistemological argument as well.

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The more profound difference between Takakane’s Illustrated Life and Jūkai’s Map may thus be more a matter of format than textual source. The partial view and unidirectional movement of the handscroll offers the very opposite of the map’s synoptic prospect. Between the handscroll and the large-scale hanging scroll lies a profound difference in modalities of reception. Held in the hands of a viewer or narrator, the handscroll is unrolled to reveal successive sections of painted scenes and passages of calligraphic text while the prior section of the scroll disappears as it is rolled up and no longer visible. The handscroll’s format at once guides and restricts the flow of visual narrative to a horizontal movement from right to left. Although the view is intimate, it is always segmented, sequential, and linear. Only once does the Illustrated Life interrupt the relentless linearity of Xuanzang’s pilgrimage to suggest the omniscient perspective of Jūkai’s Map. This is when the Illustrated Life depicts Xuanzang’s dream on the night before his departure in which the monk is offered a totalizing vision of the Buddhist cosmos within which the pilgrimage takes place (fig. 1.1). As the accompanying text describes the scene, Xuanzang has a dream in which he sees a great ocean, at the center of which is Mount Sumeru. He feels compelled to cross the water to reach the mountain, but the waves are wild and there is no boat. Undaunted, he steps out onto the water, and stone lotus calyxes immediately rise up as stepping-stones. Once he has crossed the water, the calyxes disappear. In this way, he reaches the base of the mountain, but there is no way to scale the precipitous peak. Suddenly his body becomes weightless and a wind sweeps him to the peak of the mountain, from where he is able to see infinity in all directions.27

Shared by the readers and viewers of the handscroll, Xuanzang’s unobstructed view of “infinity in all directions” atop Mount Sumeru (J. Shumisen 須弥山), the cosmic mountain at the center of the universe, is a form of vision limited to a Buddha. The power of heavenly vision (Skt. divya-cakṣur-­abhijñā, J. tengentsū 天眼通) is one of the six supernormal powers (Skt. ṣaḍ-abhijña, J. rokujinzū 六神通) obtained by buddhas and other advanced meditators. For the sleeping Xuanzang, however, it is a product of the oneiric imagination: a sight possible only in dreams.28 The handscroll allows the viewer to witness Xuanzang in his dream but not to participate in his visionary experience. This mode of vision, however, is the map’s permanent condition: “The map is a mechanism that shows what no eye could ever see.”29 By inviting the viewer to share in Xuanzang’s gnostic vision, “a perspective that no eye had yet enjoyed,” Jūkai’s Map transforms “the medieval spectator into a celestial eye.”30 The handscroll

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1.1 Takashina Takakane, Illustrated Life of the Tripitaka Master Xuanzang, fourteenth century. Detail of Xuanzang’s dream vision from Mount Sumeru. Handscroll; ink and color on paper. Fujita Museum of Art. Image from Komatsu Shigemi, Genjō Sanzō e.

is limited to the linearity of human movement, its intelligibility bound by the narrative conventions of time and space. The map, on the other hand, offers the infinite perspective of Xuanzang’s dream, a vision not sequential but synoptic: the entirety of the Buddhist world visible in a single glance. Visual Analogues Japanese Buddhist paintings have always been created and utilized within the context of religious practice and, like the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, have served to expand the parameters of religious vision. Although Jūkai’s Map does not conform to any single category of Japanese Buddhist painting, it does share affinities with many of them. A brief examination of these analogues will help to situate the Map within a wider context of iconography, meaning, and use. In scale, the Map is comparable to other large-format narrative paintings produced for display and veneration in temple contexts, a format characteristic of its period. It was in the fourteenth century, according to Kevin Carr, “a time of renewed concerns about religious legitimacy, relationships to continental authority, and Japan’s place in the world—that the large-format narrative became prominent.”31 The cultic interests of Jūkai’s Map—legitimating the Hossō lineage of Hōryūji and Kōfukuji through hagiographic narrative, extending that history beyond China to an ancestral landscape of Indian origins, and situating Japan’s place in a larger Buddhist world—are entirely in keeping with Carr’s characterization of the concerns of the age. The Map combines cartographic, narrative, and iconic modes and allows for a range of readings depending on which modes are prioritized. Carr notes that “from around the early fourteenth century, many types of religious art lost much of their narrative character to an increased use of iconic styles and devotional ritual practice.”32 The Map suggests just such a tension between the narrative and the iconic: the details of textual and visual itinerary are only legible upon close viewing, whereas the iconic totality of the cartographic image can be apprehended only from a distance. The Map’s iconic quality also bears similarities to the painted mandalas fundamental to the ritual and visual culture of Japanese Buddhism. Within the Esoteric Buddhist tradition, the mandala is central to various forms of eidetic contemplation. Although, as Robert Sharf has argued, the Esoteric Buddhist mandala does not necessarily serve as a visual guide to meditation, it nonetheless structures and represents a religious cosmology through which passage is prescribed and performed. Within the Esoteric Buddhist tradition, the term “mandala” may have a limited semantic and ritual range, but in Japan the term soon exceeded the confines of its proper Esoteric usage. In medieval Japan, the term was applied to a wide range of imagery, from the otherworldly landscapes of the sutras and commentaries visualized by contemplatives to the

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local landscapes of temples and shrines visited by pilgrims.33 If Jūkai’s Map shares qualities with the mandala—as a cosmic diagram and as a landscape of contemplation and pilgrimage—then it is in the expanded sense in which the term was applied in Japanese Buddhist visual culture. One example of the wider semantic range of the term “mandala” in Japan is its conflation with hensōzu 変相図 (Ch. bianxiangdu), literally, “transformation images,” described by Sharf as “visual representations of regions of the Buddhist cosmos derived from written sutras and commentaries.”34 In one sense, the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku may be understood as a hensōzu of Xuanzang’s Record, a Buddhist text in the form of an image. Victor Mair’s observation that in Chinese contexts “it is nearly impossible to make any wholly binding distinction between bianxiang (J. hensō) and mandala because their usual functions may overlap in practice” is equally applicable to Japan.35 Indeed, in Japan hensōzu were often termed mandara and functioned primarily as objects of contemplation and devotion. The most famous example of the hensōzu in Japan, the Taima Mandala 当麻曼荼羅, exemplifies this confusion in its very name.36 A miraculous image with transformative powers, the Taima Mandala is a visual representation of Amitābha’s Pure Land, according to Shandao’s 善導 (613–681) commentary on the Sutra on Visualizing the Buddha of Immeasurable Life (Kanmuryōju kyō 観無量寿経)—itself a treatise on the salvific power of vision. In the Taima Mandala, the active role of visualization is signaled by the narrow rows of images and text that flank the central image of Amitābha in his paradise. The sequence of images on the left tells the sutra’s story of an Indian queen, imprisoned and immobile, who finds true freedom only by visualizing Amitābha’s Western Pure Land. The sequence of images on the right depicts the individual stages through which the queen—and, through her, the viewer positioned outside of the image—is to construct a mental image of the Western Pure Land and imagine rebirth therein.37 As with Jūkai’s Map, the observer is invited to assume the position of the narrative’s protagonist through a soteriological act of vision. Another type of Japanese Buddhist painting sharing affinities with the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku depicts the landscapes and pilgrimage routes of shrine-temple complexes such as Kasuga and Kōfukuji, the geographic and cultural milieu of both Myōe’s visionary experience and Jūkai’s map. This genre of painting similarly enabled devotees to make virtual journeys to distant sacred sites. In a diary entry from 1184, Fujiwara no Kanezane 藤原兼実 (1149–1207) offers a detailed description of how he worshipped a painting of the Kasuga shrine and its Nara environs while remaining at home in Kyoto. Kanezane received the painting from the abbot of Kōfukuji and performed an elaborate series of devotions before it. Kanezane concluded, “I and others confirmed in our dreams that the shrine had come here.”38 The painting thus allowed the

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pilgrimage to take place within a different spatial realm. It enabled Kanezane to travel to Nara without leaving his residence in the Heian capital, just as the Kasuga deity enabled Myōe to accomplish his pilgrimage to India without leaving the Nara shrine. Indeed, by the fourteenth century, paintings of the landscape and architecture of Kasuga were commonly used as simulacra of the shrines themselves and as sites for the rituals of pilgrimage. In a diary entry from the year 1325, Emperor Hanazono 花園天皇 (1297–1348) noted, “For the past three or four years, Kasuga mandalas have been used to substitute for the rituals at the shrine. These paintings of the shrines are called mandara. Everyone seems to have one these days.”39 Jūkai’s Map demonstrates certain iconographic, ritual, and functional commonalities with each of these different types of Japanese mandala. It is at once a visual representation of Buddhist cosmology, a pictorial translation of a sacred text, and a guide to a pilgrimage that could be carried out virtually. The Map also shares formal and functional affinities with objects of monastic contemplation from non-Japanese traditions as well. Medieval Christian mappemonde, such as the Hereford or Ebstorf maps, which trace the pilgrimage route, in word and image, from Europe to Jerusalem, are not unlike the map of Xuanzang’s journey to Buddhist India. They, too, are encyclopedic compilations of text and images, combining scriptural accounts and travelers’ tales, oriented around a holy land posited at the center of the world, informed by the recorded itineraries of famous pilgrims, and housed as devotional objects in monastic institutions. Like the omniscient vision of Xuanzang’s dream, “mappaemundi represent that which can only be thought and never actually seen, for the totality of global space is unavailable to the human eye. They are a function therefore, not of the visible order of the corporeal world but rather the invisible order of the intellect. The map’s first order referent is not the world ‘out there,’ but a mental image that exists in the mind, or imaginatio.”40 As with the map of Xuanzang’s travels, these substitute forms of pilgrimage proliferated during an age when the physical journey to the Holy Land was a difficult and rare event. In its place, cartographic representations of the pilgrim’s path served as sensate vehicles for journeys of the religious imagination.41 Japanese Buddhists used their maps of the world, much as European Christians did, to collapse the distance in time and space that stood between them and their religious goals. Cosmology and Landscape The size of Jūkai’s Map is appropriate to the geographic scope of Xuanzang’s text. Measuring 176.6 × 166.5 cm, it is painted in modulated shades of ink and color on paper. The materiality of the painting offers clues to its history of use. Due to the limited size of sheets of paper produced in fourteenth-century Japan,

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the surface is composed of twelve individual sheets arranged in six horizontal bands. The imperfect alignment of many of these sheets suggests a history of periodic remounting. Although it is currently mounted as a large-format hanging scroll, the creases still visible on the paper’s surface reveal that the map was once kept folded, a format allowing the map to be easily stored, taken out for study or display, and widely circulated among communities of monastic viewers and copyists. The map is in surprisingly good condition for a fourteenth-century work on paper. Paint loss is largely limited to the areas where ink has been applied on top of a white gesso-like ground (gofun胡粉). In some areas repairs have been made to the paper backing, and some trimming along the margins may have occurred when the work was remounted over time. The map, the entire world as a graphic microcosm, depicts an ovoid continent oriented to the north amid a roiling sea of cresting waves and whitecaps. The surface of the continent, centered and symmetrical, is covered with rocky mountain peaks, outlined in black ink, and colored in modulated shades of yellow, brown, and green, some accented by clusters of trees and others capped with snow. A double line of black ink filled in with ochre pigment defines the peri­ meter of the land, like a wall offering protection from the sea. A similar double line divides the continent itself into five sections: an upper half labeled by a large cartouche, “Northern Tenjiku” 北天竺, and four lower sections labeled “Eastern Tenjiku” 東天竺, “Western Tenjiku” 西天竺, “Southern Tenjiku” 南天竺, and “Central Tenjiku” 中天竺. “The whole of Tenjiku with its five parts,” as Xuanzang describes it, “broad at the north and narrow at the south.”42 The map, a visual exercise in textual exegesis, represents the entire landscape of Xuanzang’s Record in synoptic condensation and exhaustive detail. A thin red line winds throughout the continent tracing the serpentine route of Xuanzang’s pilgrimage. The names of every kingdom and city through which he passed are all dutifully listed—as is their size, their number of monasteries and monks, their climate and agriculture, and the customs and characteristics of their inhabitants—just as they appear in Xuanzang’s text. Hundreds of place names constitute a comprehensive itinerary of Xuanzang’s journey such that reading the toponyms along the pilgrim’s path becomes a voyage itself. Every significant site along the way is depicted: the temples, caves, and groves in which past masters practiced; the stupas, pillars, and images commemorating the sites of worthy deeds and lives. Identified in text and image are such hagiographic landmarks as “the great rock pass where Prince Mahāsattva sacrificed his body to the starving tigress” (fig. 1.2), the pit into which “Devadatta fell into hell for trying to poison the Buddha,” the Dragon Cave where the Buddha left his shadow, the monastery at Jetavana, Vulture Peak, where the Buddha preached the Mahāyāna sutras, the Śāla Grove where he entered parinirvana (fig. 1.3), and numerous stupas constructed after his passing by King Aśoka,

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1.2 Jūkai, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku. Detail of Great Rock Pass where Prince Mahāsattva sacrificed his body.

1.3 Jūkai, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku. Detail of the Śāla Grove.

containing “hair and fingernail relics of the Tathāgata.” To read the map is a dynamic and performative act; it is to follow the narrative of Xuanzang’s pilgrimage step-bystep and in doing so to be interpolated into the journey. The geography of Xuanzang’s Record, however, takes place within a larger universe. The map depicts the detailed landscape of the pilgrim’s path as well as the formal geometry of the Buddhist cosmos. The ovoid landform is Jambudvīpa, known in Japanese as Nansenbushū 南瞻部州, and is so titled by a large white cartouche at the map’s right-hand margin (fig. 1.4). According to the Buddhist cosmology of ancient India, Jambudvīpa is but one of four lands surrounding Mount Sumeru, each in one of the cardinal directions.43 In East Asia, the most authoritative text on Buddhist cosmology was, in fact, one translated into Chinese by Xuanzang himself: Vasuban­ dhu’s encyclopedic Treasury of Abhidharma (Skt. Abhidharmakośa-bhāṣya; J. Abidatsuma kusharon 阿毘達磨倶舎論), a fifth-century compendium of the scholastic traditions of the Sarvāstivāda school. Within the cosmology of Treasury of Abhidharma, Jambudvīpa represents but a small part. According to the text, the entire universe is cylindrical, with the flat surface supported by lower strata of wind, water, and gold. Mount Sumeru, shaped like a foursided hourglass, rises from the center of the uppermost layer and is itself surrounded by eight concentric mountain ranges, seven 1.4 Jūkai, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku. Detail of the cartouche of Jambudvīpa.

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composed of gold with the final composed of iron, which encircle the flat disclike surface of the world. A separate sea lies between each range of mountains, and in the outermost sea lie the four great world continents, each of a different shape, in each of the cardinal directions: the half-moon-shaped continent of Pūrvavideha in the east, the circular continent of Godānīya in the west, the square continent Uttarakuru in the north, and the world on which we reside, the trapezoid-shaped continent of Jambudvīpa, in the south.44 Xuanzang, who translated, studied, and lectured on the Treasury of Abhidharma, closely follows Vasubandhu’s description in the opening section of his Record. By prefacing his pilgrimage account with a canonical introduction to the Buddhist universe, Xuanzang situates his journey within the traditional parameters of classical Indian cosmology.45 Directly adjacent to the cartouche for Jambudvīpa on Jūkai’s map is a longer white rectilinear panel containing the words “According to the Sutra of the Radiant Kings (Konkōmyō saishōō kyō 金光明最勝王經), this continent is 7,000 yojanas across.”46 According to Vasubandhu, Jambudvīpa has the shape of a trapezoid. However, as three of its sides are thousands of yojanas in length and the fourth, at the base, only 3.5 yojanas, the continent often appears triangular or, when the corners are rounded, ovoid. The continent, named after the jambu tree (Syzygium cumini), one hundred yojanas tall, is located at its center and represented accordingly on Jūkai’s map (fig. 1.5). Beside the jambu tree is another of the map’s distinctive landmarks: a square body of water labeled “Lake of No Heat” 无熱池. This is Lake Anavatapta 阿那婆達多, known in Japanese as Munetsunōchi 無熱悩池 or Munetsuchi 無熱池, which the Treasury of Abhidharma also locates at the center of the great southern continent. At each of the lake’s four sides are four animal heads composed of different precious substances: a silver ox to the east, a lapis lazuli horse to the west, a golden elephant to the south, and a crystal lion to the north. Out of the mouths of these animals flow four great rivers that encircle their source and then radiate in four directions before emptying into the surrounding sea. This detail, too, is spelled out in Xuanzang’s Record.47 The Buddhist cosmology of Mount Sumeru, and the place of Jambudvīpa in this larger world order, were known in Japan from an early date and figured prominently in public expressions of cultural identity at the highest levels of state. According to the Nihon shoki 日本書記, the court-sponsored history composed in 720, three-dimensional representations of Mount Sumeru were created by, and for, visiting foreigners on a number of occasions in the seventh century. In 612 an emigrant from Paekche, with the ability to “make figures of hills and mountains,” was ordered to construct a monument “in the form of Mount Sumeru” in the southern garden of the Imperial Palace.48 In 657 another image of Mount Sumeru was constructed to the west of Asukadera 飛鳥寺 as Empress

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1.5 Jūkai, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku. Detail of the jambu tree and Lake Anavatapta.

Saimei 斉明天皇 was hosting a party of six men and women from the kingdom of Tukhāra 吐火羅, who had been driven by a storm to the shores of Kyushu.49 A third model of Mount Sumeru was erected on the riverbank east of Amakashinooka 甘樫丘 in 659 for an audience of Emishi 蝦夷 from the northern regions of Michinoki 陸奥 and Koshi 越.50 And one year later, yet another Mount Sumeru, “as tall as a temple pagoda,” was built near Lake Isonokami 石上池 when a large group of Manchus 肅愼 was being entertained.51 All of these miniature mountains, it should be noted, were created or displayed on occasions of cultural and political encounter, as if to exhibit Japan’s position within a Buddhist universe to those beyond its borders. An example of one such monument, a four-tiered stone fountain once located at the center of a garden pond, just as Sumeru rises from the center of the seas, was excavated from the site of the ancient capital of Asuka.52 A more elaborate articulation of the Mount Sumeru cosmology was constructed in the eighth century and can still be seen on the original details of the Great Buddha image at Tōdaiji in Nara. This statue of the universal Buddha Vairocana (J. Birushana 毘盧遮那), and the cosmological imagery of its pedestal,

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was presented in a context even more intercultural than those of the seventh-­ century constructions at Asuka. The statue’s dedication ceremony in 752 was attended by monks from China and the Korean peninsula and was officiated by the South Indian monk Bodhisena 菩提僊那 (704–760). The cosmology of Mount Sumeru is but one element in the complex engravings on the twenty-­ eight lotus petals of the Great Buddha’s pedestal, cast in 749. Each of the petals of the pedestal contains seven discrete Sumeru universes beneath twenty-five strata of other Buddha realms. In the outermost sea of each Sumeru universe lie the four world continents in the cardinal directions, with Jambudvīpa the most prominent. The Buddha is depicted within each Jambudvīpa, seated on his Diamond Throne and flanked by the Bodhisattvas Samantabhadra and Mañjuśri.

1.6 Pedestal of Great Buddha (replica), 749. Detail of the Mount Sumeru universe and Jambudvīpa. Bronze. Tōdaiji, Nara. Photograph by author.

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Above the Śākyamuni triad is the square lake of Anavatapta, with the four great rivers flowing from the mouths of the four animal heads, just as they appear in Jūkai’s map (fig. 1.6). Jambudvīpa, as represented in the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, and the larger Mount Sumeru universe to which it belonged, thus had a long history in Japanese Buddhist visual culture: described in the sutras, diagrammed in commentaries, and displayed on public images of monumental scale. As in these earlier examples, the world of Jūkai’s painting is stable and symmetrical, centered on the mythic Lake Anavatapta, and bound by a smooth ovoid perimeter separating it from the surrounding seas. But if the cosmology of the map is orderly, its geography is less so. Lake Anavatapta and the four great rivers belong to Xuanzang’s introductory description of Jambudvīpa, which follows such canonical texts as the Treasury of Abhidharma, rather than his detailed account of the topography through which he passed. Indeed, the invocation of Buddhist cosmology at the opening of Xuanzang’s Record seems perhaps less descriptive than rhetorical. Once on the road, Xuanzang finds the geography of the Western Regions to be far from smooth. He describes a circuitous route across vast deserts, great rivers, high mountains, and deep valleys. The map faithfully traces Xuanzang’s journey—diligently noting each town, city, and kingdom through which he passed and depicting each stupa and monument he mentioned—even as it places this tortuous itinerary within the ordered symmetry of a scripturally precise world. Whereas the map contains the topography of the Western Regions in all of its specificity, the shape of the world remains constrained by the classical cosmology of canonical texts. Word and Image The encyclopedic quality of the map, collapsing hundreds of pages of descriptive narrative into a single image, contributes to a complex interdependence of the verbal and the visual. Panels of text, excerpting passages from Xuanzang’s Record, encroach on the map even as they frame it. Hundreds of place names, each set apart in its own cartouche, are laid out across the landscape: linguistic objects inscribed in black ink within white rectangles at once ornament and obscure the geography. The places and events from the pilgrim’s account are each named, annotated, and described. Text encroaches upon the surface of the painting in three modes, which might be identified as “contextual” (the panels of text surrounding the continent), “toponymic” (the place names inscribed within cartouches), and “annotative” (the descriptive data written across the landscape itself). The pictorial treatment is similarly multiple: the grand chorographic form of the bounded

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1.7 Diagram of text panels from Jūkai’s Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku.

continent; the color and texture of the topography throughout; and the individual temples, stupas, and landmarks on which the Record dwells. Yet as variegated as these levels may be, a more fundamental tension lies between text and image, for these two modes of representation entail fundamentally distinct ways of seeing. Whereas in scope the cartographic image is instantaneous and totalizing, the text on the map requires a slower, more diachronic process of decipherment: a shift from viewing to reading. Of the three modes of inscription within the painting, the textual passages that frame the map itself are, perhaps, the most obvious. Seventeen panels of text hover above the seas surrounding the continent—one L-shaped, the others rectilinear (fig. 1.7). They resemble shikishi 色紙, the square pieces of colored paper that were traditionally inscribed with poems and affixed to the surfaces of Japanese paintings. Religious inscriptions on similar colored paper sheets, or on panels of colored pigment emulating such paper sheets, are common to Japanese Buddhist paintings of the period. The panels on the map are colored white, red, gold, and pale green. The eleven white panels and the three red panels are painted directly on the paper surface, whereas the two golden panels are separate sheets of gilded paper affixed to the painting’s surface. The L-shaped pale green panel is also a separate sheet of paper that seems to have been later applied on top of an underlying panel of white pigment. There is evidence that

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additional paper panels, now missing, may have been affixed to the painting. Although areas of text are missing or damaged on many of the panels, thirteen of the eighteen can be identified as containing passages from the first two fascicles of Xuanzang’s Record that describe the cosmology of Jambudvīpa and the geography, climate, calendrical system, architecture, class structure, educational practices, flora, eating habits, and funerary rites of India.53 With the exception of the light green panel in the lower left, which may represent an attempt to replace or correct an earlier inscription, and a missing panel on the left side of the continent, all of the panels are integral to the conceptual and compositional program of the painting as a whole. As they are not painted on top of the ocean waves but framed within them, the panels are not later additions but rather have been incorporated into the design from the outset. Surrounding the continent like a bibliographic archipelago, the colored geometric bodies of script provide a broader framework of meaning: a textual setting for the central image. They situate the geography within a larger narrative context that offers a general introduction to, and specific exposition of, the larger Buddhist world. Xuanzang’s discourse on India is extensive, and the passages excerpted are equally comprehensive, ranging from universal structures to ethnographic particulars. A second textual mode within this larger narrative frame is represented by the toponyms in cartouches that cover the map. They orient the reader by rendering a foreign landscape legible; they translate terrain into text. Yet this process also requires a kind of double vision. As Jacob has noted, the presence of place names on maps profoundly changes the visual architecture of the document and the conditions of its perception, which must be divided between the two very different operations of reading and seeing. Writing interferes with the drawing, and only through a complex process of visual adaptation can the one be dissociated from the other. Writing and drawing conform to two different forms of graphic logic. The drawing as such uses the possibilities of graphic space and articulates forms and surfaces with variable orientations corresponding to those of real space, which is in fact the source of the irregularities, the dissymmetries, the tortuous lines of the map. . . . Writing follows a different logic: its spatialization is determined by constraints inherent in its very legibility and requires continuous linearity proceeding in a specific direction. . . . Whereas seeing the map is a globalizing process, the reading of toponyms obeys a centrifugal logic that is marked by scatter and profusion. Contrasted to the instantaneity of the global perception of the map is the reading of toponyms, which takes time and appeals to viewing close up.54

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The differences that Jacob identifies between text and image on European maps, however, is perhaps not as pronounced in East Asia, where writing and drawing share not only the same technologies of production and physical media—brush, ink, paper, silk—but also the same conceptions of space and qualities of representational power. The relationship between text and image in East Asian cartography may, then, be more complementary than conflicting. Cordell Yee has argued that in China, “maps were often placed in contexts where they complemented verbal representations of geographic knowledge,” and thus “the usual opposition between visual and verbal, cartographic and pictorial, mimetic and symbolic representation may not apply.”55 In Japan, as in China, “cartography participated in the same economy of representation as poetry and painting.” According to Yee, a map “was intended to complement, not substitute for, the verbal description. The idea that the map and the text were complementary persisted until the end of the nineteenth century.”56 Viewers of the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku may thus have also been simultaneously engaged with a correlative reading of Xuanzang’s Record, oscillating between text and image. This cartographic interdependence of text and image complicates the visual narrative of Jūkai’s Map and resists the possibility of a singular or standard reading. Xuanzang’s Record is diegetic: it establishes an itinerary, a spatial trajectory to be followed. Yet the visual representation of Xuanzang’s telling can undermine the sequence and continuity of its events. The red line of the pilgrim’s path is punctuated throughout by small white rectilinear cartouches, each framed with a thin outline of black ink, listing the names of every kingdom through which Xuanzang passed (fig. 1.8). In many cases, these cartouches are painted directly on top of the pilgrim’s path, the vermilion line beneath bleeding through the white ground of the cartouche. The organic shape of the red line, twisting and turning, at times crossing over and doubling back on itself, awkwardly finding its way across an unknown and uneven terrain, contrasts visibly with the geometric uniformity of the toponymic cartouche. The halting progress of the red line seems to suggest the continuity of Xuanzang’s pilgrimage; the place names, marking his stopping points, divide and structure its linearity, like a table of contents. That is, after all, the form in which they appear in Xuanzang’s text: a list of place names that anticipate and outline the narrative’s sequence. If the toponym is a mnemonic device encapsulating a place in a name, then the itinerary is a spatial narrative composed of those toponymic units: a story of places and the passage between them, a structure with a beginning, middle, and end. But while the itinerary is linear and sequential, the map is planar and expansive. There is no required order to its telling. The narrator or narratee can move forward or backward, experience foreflashes or flashbacks, proceed in any sequence, skip around, dwell on, or ignore

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1.8 Jūkai, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku. Detail of southern Tenjiku.

1.9 Jūkai, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku. Detail of Bamiyan.

any place at any time. Narrative space and narrative time are largely unconstrained. The sequential itinerary of Xuanzang’s narrative is at once augmented and overcome by Jūkai’s panoptic perspective. A third level of textuality is to be found in the annotations written directly on top of the painted landscape. At Bamiyan, a great stone image of the Buddha is depicted, but “an image of the Buddha entering nirvana more than 1000 feet long” and “a copper standing image of the Buddha more than 100 feet tall” appear only as words inscribed beside a temple building (fig. 1.9). The landscape near Satadru is annotated: “Ruins of the places where the Four Buddhas of the Past used to walk and sit.” Beside Ahicchattra is “the Dragon Pond where the Tathāgata preached the dharma for the dragon for seven days.” Kapitha marks “the monastery where the Tathāgata descended to earth after preaching the dharma to his mother in the Trāyastriṃśa Heaven.” Kauśāmbī is known for “an old monastery where Vasubandhu Bodhi­sattva stayed and composed the Vijñaptimātratāsiddhi-śāstra.” And on a rock face at Jetavana are the words “Traces of the Tathāgata’s teaching.” In a conflation between narrated object and narrating subject, the image articulates its own description. This superscription of the landscape, with every character drawn from the Record itself, allows the double action of reading and seeing; it elides the distinction between text and image.

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The Textual Frame The large panels of text surrounding the central landform consist largely of extensive quotations from the introductory sections of Xuanzang’s Record. The passages are drawn from two discrete sections of the text. One is the opening of fascicle 1, in which Xuanzang describes the structure of the Buddhist cosmos before he narrates his departure from China. The other is the opening of fascicle 2, which precedes Xuanzang’s account of the kingdoms and states of India. Xuanzang begins the second fascicle by noting that Tenjiku should properly be called India 印度 before providing an exhaustive account of Indian geography and climate, measurements of time and space, towns and cities, secular and monastic architecture, clothing and hygiene, literature and learning, governance and social order, flora and fauna, food and drink, and all manner of custom. The textual border of the map thus reveals the work to be more than simply an exercise in cartography. It presents a condensed, if fragmentary, encyclopedia of India, a primary source of knowledge for all that is to be known about the land of the Buddha, an instrument of spiritual as well as historical edification. The panels frame both the form and content of the map, at once divide and unite the image and its source, and situate and inform its reception. They are the cartographic equivalent of a paratext, the materials that surround a literary work and provide its “thresholds of interpretation.”57 Such proximity between text and image is, as we have seen, an essential quality of East Asian cartography in which the image is rarely without textual explanation. The textual panels are similar as well to the legends inscribed in external insets at the margins or empty corners of a map and, like them, occupy “a median and hybrid position between the book and the image.”58 Although the current condition of the map of 1364 has left some of the textual panels indecipherable, many can be reconstructed by comparing Jūkai’s map with two extant Edo period copies and with the text of Xuanzang’s Record. The passages that can still be read or reconstructed indicate a conscious sequence in the placement and the content of the panels, in which the world described in Xuanzang’s Record is presented in increasingly reduced orders of magnitude and relative scale from the astronomical to the anthropological. This progression from the cosmic to the human scale follows the sequencing of panels, from right to left and from top to bottom. It begins with the structure of the Buddhist universe and the spatial order of the Buddhist world, proceeds to the topographic landmarks of Xuanzang’s pilgrimage and the sacred sites of Buddhist India, and ends with the social, agricultural, and ethnographic details of daily life on the Indian subcontinent. Although not pictured on the painted map, the larger workings of Indian cosmology are the substrate of this and all later examples of Buddhist cartography. Just as the eighth-century depiction of the

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world incised on the pedestal of the Great Buddha at Tōdaiji is surrounded by the entire universe to which it belongs, so, too, is the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku contained within the textual frame of the Buddhist cosmos. The sequence begins in the upper-right corner of the map with a white rectangular panel (no. 1) containing a quotation from Xuanzang’s description of the cosmos in which the cartography of Jambudvīpa is situated. Although the text from the upper half of the panel is entirely lost, the characters that remain allow for the following reconstruction: “The Sahā world, consisting of one Great Trichiliocosm, is the sphere of spiritual influence of one Buddha. The four continents under the illumination of one sun and moon within the Great Trichiliocosm are the places where the Buddhas, the World-Honored Ones, emerge in their incarnation bodies and manifest birth and death to enlighten saints and ordinary beings.”59 The map, and its readers, are thus initially oriented within the classical Buddhist world picture: the Sahā world 娑婆世界 (Skt. sahā-lokadhātu; J. shaba sekai), literally “the world that must be endured,” within the trichiliocosm 三千大千國土 (Skt. trisāhasra-­ mahāsāhasra lokadhātu; J. sanzen daisen kokudo), or billion-world universe, that constitutes the Buddhist cosmos. Within this cosmic expanse, Jambudvīpa is but one of four continents surrounding Mount Sumeru, beneath the sun and moon. Xuanzang’s account of the world continues in a second panel (no. 2) to the left, which describes the rulers of the four world continents of Buddhist cosmology: “A Gold Wheel King rules over all these four continents, a Silver Wheel King administers all except the Kuru continent in the north, a Copper Wheel King’s dominion does not include the Kuru continent in the north or the Godānīya continent in the west, while an Iron Wheel King controls only the Jambu continent to the south.”60 Although Jūkai’s painting renders Jambudvīpa as a singular and isolated world, the citation from Xuanzang reminds the viewer of its place within the larger structure of the four continents surrounding Sumeru and the cosmic order of Buddhist kingship. A third panel (no. 3) departs from Xuanzang’s text to locate China, and the history of Chinese Buddhism, within the geography of the Buddhist cosmos: “According to oral tradition, within Jambudvīpa is the great Congling Range.” Better known to English speakers as the Pamirs, the Congling Range refers to the mountains separating China from Central Asia, which the mythical Indian patriarch Bodhidharma is said to have crossed when he brought the Dharma from the West. As the passage later states, in Xuanzang’s own words, “Though the Buddha was born in the West, his Dharma has spread to Eastern countries.”61 The passage then returns to Xuanzang’s description of Jambudvīpa: “In the south, the Five Regions of Tenjiku are ruled by the Lord of Elephants; in the west, Persia 波斯國 is ruled by the Lord of Treasure; in the north, the Barbarian

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Lands 胡國 are ruled by the Lord of Horses; and in the east, the Land of the Han 漢士, or Zhendan 震旦, is ruled by the Lord of Men.” In his Record, Xuanzang only refers to the four domains generically, indicating simply their direction and their rulers; he does not name them. The mapmaker, however, names each of the countries to plot the boundaries of the Buddhist world: barbarians to the north, Persia to the west, and China to the east. The religious priorities of the mapmaker are further articulated by the use of the toponym Zhendan, the Chinese transliteration of Cīnaṣṭhāna—the Sanskrit name for China used in Buddhist sources. The next panel inscribed on a gold ground (no. 6) again reduces the scale of magnitude by citing Xuanzang’s account of his journey through the Iron Gate, the famous mountain pass between Bactria and Sogdia in Central Asia, which marks the nexus of Persia, the Pamirs, and the Himalayas: the crossroads of the Buddhist world. From deep in the alpine topography of the Western Regions, the reader accompanies Xuanzang on his perilous descent into the geography of Buddhist India: On both sides of the Iron Gate there are precipitous rocks. Although there is a narrow path, it is hardly accessible. The rocky walls standing on both sides of the path are the color of iron. The door-leaves are strengthened with iron and many iron bells are hanging on them. As it is an impregnable position it is called by this name. Going out of the Iron Gate, one arrives at the city of Tukhara. This territory is over one thousand li from south to north and more than three thousand li from east to west. It borders the Pamir Range in the East, adjoins Persia in the west, touches the Great Snow Mountains in the south, and occupies the Iron Gate in the north, with the great Oxus River flowing westward through the middle of it.62

A large white panel (no. 7) in the upper-left corner of the painting marks a shift in content, and in organizing principles, from geographical space to calendrical time: time as measured in hours, days, months, and years; time as observed through planetary movement, solar and lunar orbits, seasonal change, climatic difference, and the Buddhist ritual calendar. Xuanzang’s attention to these matters, and the prominent place accorded such knowledge on the map, reveals a concern with the temporal as well as spatial dimensions of Buddhist India and the mapmaker’s interest in the link between cosmology and religious geography. As we shall see, such matters as the revolution of the sun and the waxing and waning of the moon would continue to be of central concern to Buddhist cartography, and Buddhist cosmology, from the seventeenth through the nineteenth century.

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On the right-hand side of the map are more rectangular panels on grounds of white and red pigment. As mentioned previously, two adjacent narrow white panels against the map’s very edge orient us geographically and scripturally. One (no. 8) is inscribed with the Japanese name of the continent, Nansenbushū, and the other (no. 9) with the citation from the Sutra of Radiant Kings describing its size. It is one of the rare occasions in which the map reaches outside of Xuanzang’s text to cite scripture: an act at once commentarial and supplementary. A red panel (no. 10) to the left offers another example. It lists the bibliographic sources consulted: “The accounts of Xuanzang, Huili and Yancong, Yijing, Faxian, and the records of later Buddhist holy men who traveled across these regions in the footsteps of Xuanzang.” Although the content of the map refers almost exclusively to Xuanzang’s Record, the mapmaker invokes the authority of other famous pilgrims who traveled to Tenjiku before and after Xuanzang: Faxian 法顯 (320?–420?), whose journey—to Central Asia, India, and Sri Lanka between the years 399 and 414—is chronicled in his Record of Buddhist Countries 佛國記 (Ch. Fo guo ji; J. Bukkoku ki); Yijing 義淨 (635–713), whose journey to Southeast Asia, India, and Sri Lanka between the years 671 and 695 are recounted in A Record of Buddhist Practices Sent Home from the Southern Sea 南海寄歸內法傳 (Ch. Nanhai jigui neifa zhuan; J. Nankai kiki naihō den) and who also recorded the lives of sixty other Chinese and Korean monks who journeyed to the Buddhist homeland in his Great Tang Chronicle of Eminent Monks Who Traveled to the West Seeking the Dharma 大唐西域求法高僧傳 (Ch. Da tang xiyu qiufa gaoseng zhuan; J. Dai tō saiiki guhō kōsō den).63 The citation of these other revered Buddhist pilgrims, whose writings do not appear anywhere on the map and whose names do not appear in Xuanzang’s Record, suggest that the map may also represent a larger hagiographic project: a visual testament to the sacred lives of the eminent monks who charted the extent of the Buddhist world. The next inscription (no. 11), however, immediately redirects our attention to the painting’s central text: According to the Record of the Western Regions, [Xuanzang] took to the road in the autumn of the third year of the Zhenguan Era [629] and returned to Chang’an on the first month of the nineteenth year [645] with 657 Buddhist texts and began to translate them in mid-summer.

The inscription then steps once again outside of Xuanzang’s text to cite Huili’s Biography: According to the Biography of the Tripiṭaka Master of the Great Ci’en Monastery, the Master often regretted that the books obtained and used by

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ancient sages contained miswritten words that led to erroneous interpretations, and that previous scholars heard and taught dubious points that gave rise to confusion. . . . He therefore defied a myriad of deaths to cross the Pamirs and the Ganges, and for the sake of one word he travelled to the Āmravana Garden. On Vulture Peak, he visited the holy sites and saw the wonderful views. At the Deer Park of the Hermits he sought for remnant texts among moth-eaten books. Living through spring and autumn seasons of cold and hot weather, he spent seventeen years traveling through or hearing about one hundred and eight countries. . . . The texts of both Mahāyāna and Hīnayāna schools of the Tripiṭaka in Sanskrit obtained by the Master in India amounted to a total number of 657.64

This passage transforms the bare facts of Xuanzang’s Record into the epic quest more appropriate to the hagiographic mode. The map not only portrays the structure of the known world but also the journey of a Buddhist saint who risked everything to see the Holy Land and visit the sacred sites of the Buddha’s life. The passage also celebrates the heroic task of collecting, correcting, compiling, translating, and transmitting the vast scriptural corpus that constitutes the East Asian Buddhist canon. The following panel (no. 12) returns to Xuanzang’s description of Tenjiku and moves from the geographic and temporal to the social order. It is the first entry in the map’s extensive compendium of Indian lore. A redaction of Xuanzang’s text introduces the anthropology of India with an account of the caste system and marriage rules.65 The passage continues on a large two-part panel in the lower left-hand corner of the map (nos. 13 and 14), one section of which is inscribed on a white ground and the other on a separate sheet of paper, painted light green and laid on top of the surface of the map—apparently as a correction, emendation, or replacement to an earlier inscription. The passage describes the educational curriculum of the Brahmins and explains the contents of the four Vedic treatises on health, worship, ceremonies, and the practical arts.66 A second passage quotes Xuanzang’s summary of Indian geography, describing the countries in the Five Regions of Tenjiku and the climate, soil, and vegetation of the region.67 Described next are the social and architectural orders of India’s urban environments and the clothing, hairstyles, jewelry, and grooming of all social classes, from monarchs and their ministers to merchants and monks, including Xuanzang’s attention to the minutiae of Indian monastic dress. The panel continues with Xuanzang’s discussion of Indian bodily practices associated with food and physical hygiene and concludes with his account of Indian language and learning. Above this panel are two others, both on a white ground (nos. 15

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and 16), which describe the Indian disposal of the dead; the flowers, fruits, grains, and vegetables that are cultivated; the use of dairy, sugar, and oil; and, continuing onto the square red panel above (no. 17), the meats and the spirits consumed, the material culture of the Indian kitchen, the habits of eating, and the commodities of value and exchange.68 This vast map of the known world—encompassing the barbarians of the North, the Indians of the South, the Persians of the West, and the Chinese of the East and centered on Xuanzang’s journey—is thus richly ornamented with a commentarial display of passages excerpted from the pilgrim’s own Record. This textual scaffolding orients the map and its readers to multiple cultural frames—from the cosmological and political to the intellectual and ethnographic—which contextualize the central cartographic content. It offers a network of citation, comprehensive in scope and particular in details, that begins with the trichiliocosm, the four great continents surrounding Mount Sumeru, and the realm of buddhas and universal kings before narrowing its focus to the divisions of India and the details of the Buddha’s homeland. Through selective quotation, it informs the reader of the geography and climate; the astronomical order and calendrical science; the flora, fauna, and agronomy; the caste system, marriage practices, and death rituals; the urban structure and architectural order; the clothing, hairstyles, and bodily ornamentation; the languages and learning; the material culture; and the alimentary and hygienic practices of peoples and places of Buddhist India. These narrative extracts inscribed on monochromatic panels—colorful, calligraphic, and rectangular—mediate between the passages of Xuanzang’s Record, a text that exists outside the map proper, and the cartographic image within. They offer geographic data in another form: discrete discursive units that both demarcate and describe the boundaries of the known world. These textual insets—some defining the outer edges of the cartographic frame, others surrounded on all sides by seas—are at once inside and outside the map. Set along the borders, they offer containment and commentary; tying the image to its textual referent, they signal an object that is at once cartographic and encyclopedic.

The Pilgrim’s Path If the panels of text surrounding Jambudvīpa compose the narrative and pictorial frame, then the topographic detail of Xuanzang’s travels is the painting’s subject. A thin red line winds across the surface of the continent tracing the spatial and chronological passage of Xuanzang’s journey. China, rendered Great Tang 大唐國 and marked by a cartouche bearing the characters for Shintan

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(Ch. Zhendan), a transliteration of the Buddhist Sanskrit toponym, indicates simply the pilgrim’s point of departure and return (fig. 1.10). Located at the continent’s eastern periphery, it occupies one of the few blank areas on a landmass otherwise crowded with detail. The lack of cartographic interest in China, the most familiar of all of the regions, makes clear that the map seeks to represent not the current state of geographical knowledge but the more limited world of Xuanzang’s text. As the geography of China is not mentioned in Xuanzang’s narrative, the country appears as a topographic tabula rasa, inscribed only with the names of the six sites through which the pilgrim passed before his great departure. The red line marking Xuanzang’s itinerary constitutes an exhaustive record of the toponyms, topography, and topics described in Xuanzang’s Record. As a full account of the route marked on the map may be similarly exhausting for the reader, I will only give a brief survey of the itinerary, the landmarks,

1.10 Jūkai, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku. Detail of China.

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and the annotations inscribed to underscore the spatial and spiritual concerns of those who participated in the production and reception of this monumental map. The route marks India and the Western Regions as a deeply hagiographic terrain, the source of sacred relics, images, monuments, miracles, teachers, and texts. Not only does it illustrate Eckel’s claim that “landscape was the dominant factor in determining Xuanzang’s understanding of the Buddha,” it reveals that it was an equally dominant factor for the Japanese monks who took him as their guide. The map, and the manner in which Xuanzang’s route was portrayed on it visually and verbally, provided those who would never be able to lay eyes on the sacred traces of Buddhist India an illuminated manuscript of the Holy Land. Beginning at the capital city of Chang’an 長安, the red line traces the pilgrim’s passage through the Jade Gate 玉門 at the edge of the Gobi Desert, the northernmost outpost of the Tang Empire (fig. 1.11). Following the Northern

1.11 Jūkai, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku. Detail of Xuanzang’s route from Chang’an to Samarkand.

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Silk Road, the pilgrim’s path reaches Agni 阿耆尼國, which the map notes has “fourteen monasteries and two thousand monks who study the Hīnayāna,” and the flourishing Buddhist kingdom of Kucha 屈支國, with “more than one hundred monasteries and five hundred Hīnayāna monks.” As these annotations reveal, Xuanzang’s demography of Buddhist monks and monasteries, his attention to their affiliated schools, and even the texts they study are matters of significant interest to the mapmaker. Of all of the information that Xuanzang provides about the Buddhist lands through which he travels, no other data are so consistently recorded on the map. The path then proceeds through the Ice Mountains 凌山 in the northern Pamirs and continues west to Samarkand 颯秣建國, the mercantile hub of the Silk Road that connected China with Persia. From Samarkand we follow the path to the Iron Gate 鐵門, described in detail in the textual panel directly above it. The itinerary turns southwest to Tukhāra 睹貨邏國 and Bactria 縛喝國, where a new monastery is depicted housing “a hall with the Buddha’s tooth relic” (fig. 1.12). Two pillar-shaped stupas are also depicted with the inscription: “Houses a relic bone of the Buddha.”69 From Bactria the path heads south to Bamiyan 梵衍那國, where a giant standing Buddha, inscribed “stone Buddha image,” is painted on a cliff face. Beside it a monastery is depicted, together with Xuanzang’s description of its contents.70 The path continues south, past “an image of Avalokiteśvara that exhibits divine response” and “a stupa one hundred feet tall” before reaching Nagarahāra 那揭羅曷國, where the Buddha famously left his shadow in a cave. Here the map depicts three stupas constructed by Aśoka, one of which marks the spot where, in a former life, “the bodhisattva Śākyamuni met Dīpaṃkara.” Of the many sacred sites that Xuanzang enumerates in Gandhāra 健駄邏國, the map singles out the monastery “where Vasubandhu composed the Abhidharmakośa,” a text whose explanation of Buddhist geography and cosmology was central to Xuanzang and to the Japanese monks who venerated the map of his pilgrimage. From Gandhāra the path continues north, past the kingdom of Udayana, the legendary site of the first buddha image, and then east to Taxila 呾叉始羅國, where the map depicts and describes a “stupa built by King Aśoka in the place where the Śākya Tathāgata predicted that when Maitreya comes the four great treasures would naturally appear.” Northeast of Taksasilā, at the base of the Great Snow Mountains, is marked “the Great Rocky Pass.” Beside this a large pool of blood, which extends halfway across the base of the Himalayas, depicts the dramatic denouement of a famous Jataka. An inscription on the map announces: “The place where Prince Mahāsattva sacrificed his body to feed a starving tigress.” From here the path heads south to Kashmir 迦湿弥羅國, past four stupas inscribed “all built by King Aśoka, each containing about one sheng of the Tathāgata’s relic bones,” to Takka 磔迦國, where other stupas mark the sites

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1.12 Jūkai, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku. Detail of Xuanzang’s route from the Iron Gate to Taxila.

“where the four Buddhas of the past preached the Dharma and used to walk up and down,” and then on to Cīnabhukti 至那僕底國, “where the Śāstra master Kātyāyana composed the Abhidharma-jñānaprasthāna-śāstra,” another major Sarvāstavāda treatise translated by Xuanzang (fig. 1.13). Next is Mathurā 秣 菟羅國­­, where, the mapmaker notes, “The relics of Upāli, Ānanda, and Rāhula are worshiped”; Brahmapura, with a stupa containing “the hair and fingernails of the Tathāgata”; and Govisāna 瞿毘霜那國, “where the Tathāgata preached the Dharma for the dragon for seven days.” Beyond Kapitha 劫比他國, “where the Tathāgata descended to earth after preaching the Dharma to his mother in the Trāyastriṃśa Heaven,” lie “the ruins of the monastery where Vasubandhu taught,” a stupa “where the Tathāgata once preached the Dharma for three months,” and the place “where Buddhadāsa composed the Mahāvibhāṣā-śāstra.”

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1.13 Jūkai, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku. Detail of Xuanzang’s route from Mathurā to Kauśāmbī.

At Kauśāmbī 憍賞彌國 is “a great temple more than sixty feet high housing King Udayana’s sandalwood image of the Buddha.” South of Kauśāmbī is a stupa enshrining the “traces where the Tathāgata used to walk” and an old monastery “where the Tathāgata once stayed while preaching the Dharma for several years and where Vasubandhu Bodhisattva stayed and composed the Vijñapti-mātratā-siddhi-śāstra.” Beyond lies Visaka 鞞索迦國, “where Devasarman composed the Vijñānakāya-śāstra” and “where

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1.14 Jūkai, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku. Detail of Xuanzang’s route from Śrāvasti to Simhala.

Dharmapala subdued heretics for seven days.” From Kauśāmbī the path turns northeast to Srāvastī 室羅伐悉底國, where the Jetavana grove is depicted as a circle of trees inscribed with the words “the traces of the Tathāgata’s preaching” and just north of it, the pit “where Devadatta fell into hell alive for trying to poison the Buddha” (fig. 1.14). At Kuśinagara 拘尸那揭羅國, a cluster of large, lush trees marks the Śāla Grove where the Buddha entered nirvana and where, it is noted, “His mother descended from her heavenly palace” to witness his passing. To the north is the Deer Park 施鹿林 at Sarnath, site of the First Sermon, and Magadha 摩揭陀國, inscribed with the famous place names of Rājagṛha 王舍城 and Vulture Peak 靈鷲山. Jūkai’s Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku—monumental in scale, comprehensive in scope, exhaustive in detail—exceeds any singular meaning or function. It is a compendium of Buddhist knowledge, a vast visual discourse on panoramic display. It is a narrative itinerary transformed from textual handscroll to pictorial hanging scroll, a form that can only be fully apprehended from afar with a content that can only be read up close. It is an explanation of cosmology and a depiction of geography drawn from a single textual source: a complete world picture enclosed within quotations, punctuated with toponyms, and annotated with commentary. Its outer narrative frame describes an entire universe in which our world is but one of four great continents surrounding Mount Sumeru, itself divided into lesser domains and diverse countries. The surrounding passages, all excerpted from Xuanzang’s Record, offer a comprehensive description of Buddhist India, beginning with its astronomy and geography, climate and agriculture, language and education, and politics and economy, down to the ethnographic particulars of caste, clothing, hairstyle, physical adornment, diet, and death ritual. It is a visual hagiography of epic proportions yet one whose protagonist is never shown. It is the cartographic record of the paradigmatic Buddhist pilgrim, his itinerary inscribed in word and image, describing the directions and distances of each day’s journey and the name, size, customs, and religious beliefs of every kingdom. It is a compilation of Buddhist demography: a geography of monks and monasteries, of schools and sects, of stupas, of miraculous images, and of the sacred sites of Buddhist history. It is a work of translation in the broadest sense. Jūkai’s Map is a translatio, “a movement of relics to people,” an inversion of “the movement of people to relics,” which characterizes pilgrimage.71 It is an act of inscription that transfers the Buddhist cult of sacred traces from distance to proximity. Linguistically, it is the translation of Indian terms into Chinese language and of Chinese writing into Japanese readings, parsed with diacritical and grammatical markings. Visually, it is a translation of text to image, of writing to painting, but one that is partial and incomplete and one in which the verbal and the visual remain interdependent. Narratologically, it is a translation of a linear

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and sequential text into a synoptic visual narrative. The tortuous traceries of the pilgrim’s itinerary require an intimate knowledge, or even the presence, of Xuanzang’s text to decipher its nodes and pathways. According to Vidja Dehejia, “The manner in which one approaches synoptic visual narrative is almost the reverse of the way one hears or reads a story. Rather than putting elements together to make a whole, a whole is given and has to be taken apart in order to be intelligible.”72 Yet perhaps the greatest transformation of the map is one of vision. By depicting Xuanzang’s travels pictorially, the entirety of the Buddhist world is made visible, laid out as evidence for the eyes. A closed text is opened up into a spatial story, or rather a series of stories—too many to be taken in at once—arranged across a painted expanse to be read in an undetermined order. The viewer is invited to enter the map, to follow in the footsteps of Xuanzang, to visit the landmarks of India and the Western Regions, and to experience though this palimpsest of sacred traces a holy land otherwise inaccessible. Situated outside the map and granted the omniscience afforded by the synoptic gaze, the viewer is encouraged to explore the territory within. The map allows for the ultimate of optical illusions: to travel to distant lands while remaining in place, and—like Xuanzang in his dream vision atop Sumeru—to see the entire world in a single glance.

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2

ISL ANDS OF MEANING Locating Japan in a Buddhist World

In this chapter we will redirect our attention from the interior of the Buddhist world continent to the isolated lands that lie beyond its borders by focusing on two landforms that are based on sources other and more recent than Xuanzang’s Record. The inclusion of each site suggests a cartographic intervention to fill the lacunae of Xuanzang’s geography and to bring it in line with the interests of the mapmaker’s contemporaries. One of these sites, the Japanese archipelago, was of primary interest for the monks who produced and viewed the map. The presence of Japan on Jūkai’s Map might seem a minor detail—a tiny cluster of islands protruding from the margins—yet its inclusion is no small matter. Indeed, the place of Japan within the Buddhist world, visualized in the spatial relationship between Japan and Jambudvīpa, was a profound concern of medieval monks. The other site, Mount Potalaka (J. Fudarakusan 補陀落迦山), the mountain paradise of the Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara (J. Kannon Bosatsu 觀音菩薩), was also a significant object of cultic attention for the communities responsible for the production and reproduction of the map. They found Avalokiteśvara’s island paradise of such significance that they departed from Xuanzang’s text, interpolated information from later Chinese cartographic and literary sources, and located the only human figures in the entire painting on its shores. By analyzing these two additions to Xuanzang’s geography, this chapter will examine the map from its peripheries to argue how such marginal sites were central to the Japanese Buddhist imagination.

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Both of these later augmentations to Xuanzang’s seventh-century geography reveal modes of vision and strategies of representation distinctive to fourteenth-​century Japan and mark new ways of imagining Japan and its place in an expanded Buddhist world. The depiction of the Japanese archipelago and of an ancient Indian paradise signals a new understanding of Japan’s place in the Buddhist world and the position of Japan in a transmarine East Asian network of Buddhist monks, narratives, images, and institutions. Both of these insular addenda speak to historically contingent understandings of Japan and its imagined relationship with China and India. Such relations had been the subject of centuries of Japanese Buddhist discourse, historiography, and esoteric lore but only in the fourteenth century were such notions visualized cartographically. The presence of Japan on the Buddhist world map reveals new ways of seeing the structure and status of the country, one hidden to the human eye and accessible only through the esoteric vision of Buddhist insight. Japan in the Buddhist World The most notable set of islands beyond the boundary of Jambudvīpa is an archipelago never mentioned by Xuanzang but one nevertheless crucial to Jūkai and the Buddhist culture of his time and place. In the sea northeast of the continent lies an archipelago of high, rounded mountains rendered in brown pigment highlighted by a soft wash of green. Depicted and named are the islands of Shikoku 四国 and Kyushu (here labeled “Kyukoku” 九国), with the mountainous form of Honshu 本州 rising behind them (see fig. I.2). This may be the earliest representation of the Japanese archipelago in the history of Japanese painting. In a white rectangular cartouche directly beneath the islands, one can just make out the characters for Akizushima 秋津嶋, or “Dragonfly Isles,” an ancient name for Japan that appears in the Kojiki 古事記 and the Man’yōshū 万葉集.1 Another fourteenth-century source, Kitabatake Chikafusa’s 北畠親房 (1293–1354) Chronicle of Gods and Sovereigns (Jinnō shōtōki 神皇正統記, 1339– 1343), also refers to Japan as Akizushima and locates it “in the ocean off the continent of Jambudvīpa . . . to the northeast of both India and China.”2 But what is Japan doing within the cartography of Xuanzang’s pilgrimage? Why is Akizushima included in a map of Jambudvīpa? The location of the archipelago seems almost purposefully peripheral, lying as it does at the very limits of the map. Japan’s place within the Buddhist world, at once included and marginal, is in many ways what the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku is about. It is also the subject position of those who produced and viewed it. The ambivalent place of Japan, and of Japanese Buddhists, within the Buddhist world was a concern not limited to Jūkai’s Map. Rather, the map and its history belong to a larger discourse, articulated textually and visually, about the place of Japan

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in the Buddhist world. The unresolved position of Japan in the Hōryūji painting—at once within the map and yet at its very edge—illustrates a fundamental tension between the marginality and the centrality of Japan in the minds of medieval monks.3 One explanation of Japan’s marginality may be scriptural. According to the sutras and commentaries, the geography of Jambudvīpa includes the Five Regions of Tenjiku, “sixteen great countries, five hundred middle-sized countries, ten thousand small countries, and countless remote countries scattered like millet grains.”4 From the tenth through the fourteenth centuries, Japan was frequently described as a “remote country as small as a millet grain” at the farthest remove from the heart of Jambudvīpa.5 Expressed through such related phrases as “remote land as small as a millet grain” (zokusan hendo 粟散辺土), “remote small country” (henchi shōkoku 辺地小国), “remote millet grain” (henpi zokusan 辺鄙粟散), and “remote small country east of China” (zokusan fusō no shōkoku 粟散扶桑の小国), this common trope appears throughout medieval Japanese literature.6 The literatus Kamo no Chōmei 鴨長明 (1155–1216) refers to Japan as “a small country”; the Zen patriarch Dōgen 道元 (1200–1253) describes Japan as “a remote small country”; and the True Pure Land patriarch Shinran 親鸞 (1173–1263) uses similar expressions in three of his works. Jōkei laments having been “born in the intervening period between the Buddhas in this country as small as a millet grain” and praises the bodhisattva whose powers extend even to Japan, a “remote land as small as a millet grain.” Consciousness of this historical and geographical distance from the land of the Buddha was the very reason that Myōe sought to follow in the footsteps of Xuanzang. “Born two thousand years after the death of Śākyamuni, in a remote land in the age of the Final Dharma,” Myōe wrote, “I long for the Buddha’s sacred traces in Tenjiku and the Western Regions.”7 The vision provided by the Kasuga Deity, however, assured Myōe that “the sacred traces of Śākyamuni” were to be found within rather than beyond the “distant land” of Japan. It was this revelation that allowed Myōe to see the landscape of Buddhist India within the Kasuga Shrine. Such correlations were common within medieval Japanese Buddhist sources. The eleventh-century Origin of Shitennōji (Shitennōji engi 四天王寺縁 起) claims that the Japanese temple was built on the site of Śākyamuni’s first preaching, which had flown from India to Japan.8 Jōkei and Myōe both identified Kasuga’s Mount Mikasa with India’s Vulture Peak.9 The late twelfth-century Shōzan engi 諸山緣起 similarly identifies Mount Omine with Vulture Peak and describes Mount Kinpu as having flown to Japan from China.10 According to the fourteenth-century Keiran shūyōshū, a compendium of Tendai esoteric lore, a section of Vulture Peak flew to China and then to Japan, where it became Mount Hiei.11

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Japan’s distance from India was also commonly expressed through the geographic conceptualization of the three countries (sangoku 三国) of India (Tenjiku), China (Shintan), and Japan (Honchō 本朝). These realms were, however, less bounded than the modern nomenclature of nations might suggest. Whereas Honchō represented a stable site of Japanese subjectivity, Shintan included the kingdoms of the Korean Peninsula as well as those of the Chinese mainland. Tenjiku, the land of the Buddha, so distant it could only be imagined, included South, Central, and Southeast Asia as well.12 Yet however fluid the boundaries of these realms may have been, the three-country worldview remained the cognitive framework of Japanese Buddhist geography. It served as the taxonomy of the Buddhist tale collection, Konjaku monogatari shū, with its stories divided into three sections titled “Tenjiku,” “Shitan,” and “Honchō.”13 It appeared in the titles of such early Japanese Buddhist histories as Kakuken’s 覺騫 (1131–1212) Record of the Transmission of the Lamp [of the Dharma] through the Three Countries (Sangoku dentōki 三国伝燈記) of 1173, Shōchō’s 承澄 Brief History of the Famous Places of the Three Countries (Sangoku meishō ryakki 三 国名所略記) of 1274, Gyōnen’s 凝然 History of the Transmission of the Buddhist Dharma through the Three Countries (Sangoku buppō denzū engi 三国仏法伝通縁 起) of 1311, and Gentō’s 玄棟 Record of the Transmission through the Three Countries (Sangoku denki 三国伝記) of 1431. As these titles suggest, the implications of sangoku are at once comprehensive and teleological. The three countries denote not only the entirety of the known world but also the geography and chronology of Buddhist history. As with the term zokusan hendo, Japan, located at the end of this process and furthest from the source, could be characterized as the last and least of Buddhist lands. According to the common arboreal metaphor used to describe the eastward transmission of the Dharma, India is the root and trunk, China the branches and leaves, and Japan the flowers and fruit of the tree of Buddhist history. But the sequence could also be used to suggest an advance as much as a decline; a development instead of degeneration. Mark Blum has shown how the earliest use of the term sangoku, by the Tendai patriarch Saichō 最澄 (767–822), was to argue “that Japan was the equal of China and India.”14 Other senior clerics, such as the Hossō monk Gomyō 護命 (750–834) and the Tendai abbot Annen 安然 (b. 841), used it to assert the superiority of Japan as a Buddhist country.15 Although the term is to be found in the writings of most of the major Buddhist figures of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries—Dōgen, Shinran, Hōnen 法然 (1133–1212), Jien 慈円 (1155–1223), and Nichiren 日蓮 (1222–1282)—the implications of sangoku were far from uniform. Whereas the concept “binds Japan to an idealized India,” the nature of this bond remained flexible.16 So flexible, indeed, that by the early fourteenth

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century, the bond between Japan and India could be inverted. When monastic scholars interpreted the three-country paradigm in light of the theory of original enlightenment (hongaku 本覚), they employed a “hermeneutics of reversal” to reveal a deeper truth hidden beneath normative terms.17 The familiar family tree of Buddhist history—rooted in India, branching out in China, and flowering in Japan—was inverted by the fourteenth-century Tendai monk Jihen 慈遍, who claimed, “Yamato is the root of the three countries. . . . China acquired its leaves and branches; India obtained its flowers and fruit. . . . One should not speak of [Japan] receiving a transmission [from India and China].”18 A different expression of this ambivalence can be seen in another toponym for the archipelago, contemporaneous with the expression zokusan hendo. The phrase “Great Country of Japan within Jambudvīpa” (Nansenbushū Dainihonkoku 南贍部洲大日本国) seems to express a view of Japan’s religious status diametrically different from that of zokusan hendo, placing Japan at the center rather than at the periphery of the Buddhist world. The phrase first appears in the eleventh and twelfth centuries in the titles of rulers in ritualized communication with deities. What may be the earliest use of the expression is found on the gold-plated copper cylinder in which Fujiwara Michinaga 藤原道長 (966– 1028) interred fifteen sutra scrolls on the sacred mountain of Kinpusen in the year 1007. Michinaga identifies himself in the inscription on the sutra container as “Minister of the Left of the Great Country of Japan within Jambudvīpa.”19 Michinaga’s elaborate ritual, undertaken to preserve the Dharma beyond the Final Age, to assure his own rebirth in paradise, and to pray for the continued prosperity of his extended family, is an articulation of Japan’s place in the Buddhist world enacted at a moment of historical crisis. Kimpusen was understood to be the realm of Maitreya, the Buddha of the Future and the site of his anticipated advent. By burying the sutras at the sacred mountain, Michinaga’s ritual performance at once infused the local landscape with the power of the Dharma and marked Japan as the site of Buddhism’s future. It would be difficult to imagine a more literal representation of the Great Country of Japan within Jambudvīpa. Following Michinaga’s example, the expression “Nansenbushū Dainihonkoku” was used in numerous other sutra burials performed across the country in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, marking the Japanese archipelago as Buddhist sacred ground. The expression was inscribed on copper tubes containing sutras buried in northern Kyushu in 1094, 1103, and 1114; in the mountains of Yamanashi in 1103; on the island of Shikoku in 1126; in the Kanto in 1167; and in the capital region in 1170 and 1188.20 The phrase also appears numerous times in the dedicatory vows for the burial of sutras inscribed on ceramic tiles at the Ise Shrines in 1174.21 In one of the most spectacular sutra burials of the twelfth century, more than 420 ceramic tiles were inscribed with seven different

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sutras, mantras and dharani, together with the Lotus, Womb World, and Diamond World mandalas, all made of the same light-gray clay. The inscriptions located the Ise Shrines “in Mikawa Province, in the Great Country of Japan, in Jambudvīpa.” Buried in “the time of Śākyamuni’s Final Dharma,” tile sutras were dedicated to assuring the Pure Land rebirth of the Head Priest of Outer Shrine, Watarai Tsuneyuki 度会常行.22 Across the archipelago, the proclamation of Japan’s place within the Buddhist world was inscribed on paper, metal, and tile and buried underground at temples, shrines, and sacred mountains. During these centuries, as well, Japan’s most powerful political actors— sovereigns, ex-sovereigns, royal consorts, prime ministers, and regents—located themselves in the Great Country of Japan within Jambudvīpa when performing religious rituals, thereby situating their political position securely within a Buddhist cosmology. In a 1050 prayer to Taishan Fujun 泰山府君, the Chinese deity of good fortune Goreizei 後冷泉 (1023–1068) is identified as “Emperor of the Great Country of Japan within Jambudvīpa.”23 Fujiwara Nobunaga 藤原信長 (1022–1094) refers to himself as “Prime Minister of the Great Country of Japan within Jambudvīpa” when dedicating a Buddhist image hall in 1085.24 Horikawa 堀川 (1079–1107) uses the title “Sovereign of the Great Country of Japan within Jambudvīpa” in ritual oaths to the deified Pole Star (Sonshō-ō 尊星王) in 1103. When the abdicated sovereign Shirakawa 白河 (1053–1129) worshipped the same deity in 1101, he is identified as “Dharma King of the Great Country of Japan within Jambudvīpa.”25 The consort of Horikawa is called “Queen of the Great Country of Japan within Jambudvīpa” in an 1104 prayer for good health.26 In 1117, Fujiwara Tadazane 藤原忠実 (1078–1162) is named “Regent of the Great Country of Japan within Jambudvīpa” in offerings made to the earth god.27 Toba (1103–1156) is referred to as “Abdicated Sovereign of the Great Country of Japan within Jambudvīpa” in offerings made to Emma, the Buddhist lord of the underworld, in 1133. The same title is used for Gofukakusa 後深草 (1243–1304) in a vow made before the deities of the Kasuga Shrine in 1288.28 Goshirakawa was called “Contemplation Dharma King of the Great Country of Japan within Jambudvīpa” when he offered sutras to the Kumano Shrines in 1189 and again when he sponsored lectures on the Lotus Sutra in 1191.29 Throughout this period, the assertion of Japan’s place within the Buddhist world was fundamental to the ritual vocabulary of royal authority and to the cultural identity of the most powerful figures of the age. Thus, from the eleventh through the thirteenth centuries, Buddhist monks, ministers, and sovereigns identified Japan both as a tiny country far from India and as a great kingdom within the Buddhist world. The changing conceptualization of Japan from the terminus to the source of the Dharma should be understood not as a teleological process but rather as a polarity in a continual state of oscillation. This was less a unitary view of the Buddhist world order

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than a discursive field in which multiple contending views of that order were expressed and debated. The unsettled and ongoing nature of such arguments provided the conditions of possibility for a Buddhist discourse on Japan and the cultural context for the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku. Vajras and Mandalas Of evident concern to Buddhist rulers of the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth centuries, the position of the “Great Country of Japan within the Buddhist World” was equally important to Buddhist mapmakers of the fourteenth century and beyond. Japanese maps of the world, and Japanese maps of the country, from their earliest appearance in the fourteenth century, both operated within a distinctively Buddhist geography. The Buddhist context of the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku is stated explicitly: Vasubandhu’s Treasury of Abhidharma and the Sutra of Radiant Kings inform the size and shape of Jambudvīpa, and inscriptions announce that it is based on “the accounts of Xuanzang, Huili and Yancong, Yijing, Faxian, and the records of later Buddhist holy men who traveled across these regions in the footsteps of Xuanzang.” Yet the earliest Japanese maps of the archipelago operate within an equally Buddhist geography: they describe Japan as the original land of the Great Sun Buddha, Dainichi Nyorai 大日如来, in which the gods inhabiting the country’s sacred landscape, from the Sun Goddess Amaterasu Ōmikami 天照大御神 on down, are local manifestations of Buddhist deities. These materials identify Japan as a Buddhist land through a hermeneutic in which the characters Dainihonkoku 大日本国, “Country of Great Japan,” are read as Dainichi no hongoku 大日の本国, “Original Land of Dainichi.”30 In this Buddhist cartography of Japan, the very form and structure of the archipelago is represented within the visual culture of Esoteric Buddhist discourse and ritual. The vajra (J. kongō 金剛), the central ritual implement of the Esoteric Buddhist tradition; the cintāmani (J. nyoi-hōju 如意宝珠), or wish-fulfilling jewel, the powerful treasure associated with the relics of the Buddha; and the mandala, the structural framework of Esoteric Buddhist theory and practice, are deployed to position Japan among the three countries and locate it securely within the continent of Jambudvīpa. A fourteenth-century document, originally belonging to the Shingon temple Ichijō-in 一乗院 in Kyushu, is emblematic of this Buddhist cartography of Japan. It offers a detailed map of the archipelago as a single-pronged vajra, as the twin mandalas of the Esoteric Buddhist tradition and the territory of the primordial Sun Buddha Dainichi Nyorai and the Sun Goddess Amaterasu (fig. 2.1).31 It is a small scroll, 71.5 cm in length, inscribed in black and red ink on three sheets of paper affixed end to end. The map of Japan is drawn on the middle sheet flanked by the mountain landscape of Ben’ichisan 宀一山, or Mount Murō,

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2.1 Map of Japan as Single-Pronged Vajra, 1370. Handscroll; ink on paper, 71.5 cm (length). Bonotsu Historiographical Center, Kagoshima. Image from Fujii Jōji, Sugiyama Masaaki, and Kinda Akihiro, Daichi no shōzō.

the sacred mountain of Murōji, the Shingon temple in the Uda District in what is now southern Nara Prefecture. The scroll bears a colophon in red ink, which reads, “Tenth day of the final month of the first year of Kentoku 建徳 [1370], copied at Kongōjōji 金剛乗寺, Yamakago estate 山鹿庄, Higō Province 肥洲.” The map of Japan on the central sheet depicts the archipelago as a single unit in the abstracted form of a single-pronged vajra: an elongated horizontal shape, wide in the middle and narrow at either end. The single-pronged vajra (tokkosho 独鈷杵), a ritual implement with a four-faced blade at either end, is one of a larger class of vajra (kongōsho 金剛杵), pestle-like objects with pointed ends derived from ancient Indian weaponry (fig. 2.2). Other types of vajra common to the Japanese Esoteric Buddhist tradition include the threepronged vajra (sankosho 三鈷杵) and the five-pronged vajra (gokosho 五鈷杵) (figs. 2.3 and 2.4). The upper edge of the sheet is labeled “North,” and the left edge is labeled “West.” In the upper-right section of the map is the following inscription: “The Great Country of Japan has the shape of a single-pronged vajra. The single-pronged vajra is Dainichi Nyorai, the shape of the single-pronged vajra is the symbolic form (sammayagyō 三昧耶形) of the single Dharma.” Another inscription in the upper-left section reads: “The master of the local manifestations (suijaku jinushi 垂迹地主) is Amaterasu Omikami who is a

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2.2 Single-pronged vajra, twelfth century. Gilt bronze, 21.1 cm (length). Nara National Museum, Nara City, Japan.

2.3 Three-pronged vajra, twelfth century. Gilt bronze, 17.3 cm (length). Nara National Museum, Nara City, Japan.

2.4 Five-pronged vajra, fourteenth century. Gilt bronze, 16.9 cm (length). Nara National Museum, Nara City, Japan.

transformation (ōyō 応用) of Dainichi. The myriad kami are the manifold Buddhas of the Dual mandala. Amaterasu (Heavenly Shining) means that the radiant wisdom of Dainichi shines everywhere.” The “Dual mandala” refers to the Diamond World (Kongōkai 金剛界) and Womb World (Taizōkai 胎蔵界) mandalas, the iconographic and ritual matrix of Esoteric Buddhist theory and practice. The western tip of the country is divided into nine sections and labeled “nine provinces of Western Japan” with the inscription: “Western Japan is composed of nine provinces that represent the western mandala of the Diamond World.” The eastern tip of the country is similarly divided into eight sections and labeled “eight provinces of Eastern Japan” with the inscription: “The eight provinces of Eastern Japan represent the Womb World to the east.” At the center is a cluster of five circles identified as “the five central provinces (gokinai 五畿 内),” the largest of which is labeled “Yamato Province” 大和國. Here the inscription reads: “The five provinces of the central region represent the five great elements and the Five Wisdom Buddhas of the Dual mandala. Mount Ben’ichi is the centermost point of the single-pronged vajra at the very center of Japan.” Multiple fourteenth-century texts associate the landscape of Mount Muro with the vajra, mandala, and jewel. The Ichijōin map, however, seems to have been most closely informed by the mid-thirteenth-century Ben’ichisan himitsu ki 宀一山秘密記, an esoteric text that identifies the nine provinces of Kyushu with the nine divisions of the Diamond Realm mandala, the eight eastern provinces with the eight-petal lotus of the central court of the Womb Realm mandala, the five home provinces with the five elements of the Womb Realm mandala, the Five Wisdom Buddhas of the Diamond Realm mandala, and the secret place where the two mandalas unite. The Himitsu ki describes Japan’s geography as follows: “To the west, the nine provinces of Kyushu represent the nine assemblies of the Diamond World; to the east, the eight provinces of Kanto represent the eight petals of the Womb World. The five central provinces of the Kinai represent the mysterious union of the five great [elements] of the Womb and the five wisdoms of the Diamond with the province of Yamato at the heart of the five [provinces of the] Kinai.”32 This elaborate Buddhist cartography of the archipelago draws on discourses that had developed for at least a century within various Shingon and Tendai lineages, which saw Japan as the original land of the Great Sun Buddha, the primordial deity of the Esoteric Buddhist pantheon, and identified this buddha with the principal kami and shrines of Japan. Thus, the Ichijōin scroll maps the entire country—the eastern, western, and central provinces—according to the iconography of the vajra, jewel, and mandala and marks this sacred geography with Shingon institutional sites. Yet for all of its specificity and complexity, the Ichijōin map is far from unique. It is but one example of a larger Buddhist geography produced by monks throughout the fourteenth century.

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The vision of Japan as a single-pronged vajra, and of other countries as variant forms of this ritual implement, is found in several fourteenth-century Esoteric Buddhist texts. The Tendai Keiran shūyōshū, for example, applies a similar esoteric geography to the three-country structure of the Buddhist world: “Japan has the shape of a single-pronged vajra; China, the shape of a three-pronged vajra (sanko 三鈷); and India, the shape of a five-pronged vajra (goko 五鈷). These three countries are the three vajra that embody the spontaneous origin of all dharmas.”33 A more elaborate numerological interpretation of the three countries as vajra is presented in the fourteenth-century Shingon text Jingi hishō 神祇秘 抄. But as with Jihen’s reading of the three-country paradigm, the Jingi hishō applies a “hermeneutics of reversal” that prioritizes Japan over China and India. In a section of the text titled, tellingly, “On Japan as Divine Country,” we read: Because Japan, the original land of the kami, embodies the single principle of the dharma nature, its shape is that of a single-pronged vajra. From the single principle of the dharma nature emerge the [Buddha’s] three virtues; this refers to China, which is shaped like a three-pronged vajra. The three virtues of the dharma body, wisdom, and liberation unfold as the five wisdoms, corresponding to India, which is consequently shaped like a fivepronged vajra. This is also why one speaks of the Five Regions of Tenjiku.34

The teleological inversion of the Jingi hishō is extended into a Japanese Buddhist triumphalism in the Bikishō 鼻帰書, a Shingon text from 1324 attributed to Chien 智円, which at the same time preserves the germinal metaphor and incorporates the hermeneutics of the mandala: Japan has the shape of a single-pronged vajra, China has the shape of a three-pointed vajra, and India has the shape of a five-pronged vajra. The three-pronged vajra represents the compassion of the lotus section of the Womb World; the five-pronged vajra represents the wisdom of the Buddha section of the Diamond World; and the single-pronged vajra represents the nonduality of the Womb and Diamond Worlds. The [nonduality of the] Diamond and Womb is the seed. Therefore, Japan is the seed from which the wonderful dharma spreads to China and India. The reason our country is called Japan is because it is the source of the virtue and wisdom of the three countries. The clarity of virtue and wisdom is represented by the sun (日) in the name of Japan (日本). Its true meaning is the original land of wisdom. Because it is the country from which the sun rises in the east, it is known as the Great Country of the Origin of the Sun (大日本国).35

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Fourteenth-century texts from both the Tendai and Shingon tradition thus mapped the Japanese archipelago, and its place within the Buddhist world, through the Esoteric Buddhist iconography of the vajra, mandala, and wish-­ fulfilling jewel. These texts present Japan as a distinctively Buddhist country linked to China and India. The passages from the Jingi hishō and Bikishō, moreover, posit Japan, rather than India, as the ultimate source of the Buddhist teachings. The five wisdoms of India unfold from the three virtues of China, but both originate in Japan, which embodies the single principle of the dharma nature. India may represent the wisdom of the Diamond World and China the compassion of the Womb World, but both grow out of Japan’s seed of nonduality, which incorporates and overcomes both. As with Jihen’s reinterpretation of the arboreal metaphor of Buddhist transmission, the standard teleology of the three-country paradigm has been inverted, and Japan has replaced India as the center of the Buddhist world. Gyōki’s Vision Medieval sources that envision Japan, and Japan’s place in the Buddhist world, through the imagery of the vajra also often ascribe this Buddhist vision of the country to Gyōki 行基 (668–749), a Nara-period monk long revered as a bodhisattva celebrated for possessing the power of the “heavenly eye.”36 According to Itō Satoshi, the earliest description of Gyōki’s vision of Japan as a single-pronged vajra is found in a text of oral transmission (kirigami 切紙) belonging to the Anjōji 安祥寺 lineage of the Shingon school. The text, described as “a secret tradition about Amaterasu Ōmikami,” reads as follows: “When Gyōki traveled around the country of Japan he saw that the country was shaped like a single-pronged vajra. Because of this, Buddhism will spread widely.”37 Throughout the medieval period, and particularly during the late thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries, tales of Gyōki’s vision of Japan as a single-pronged vajra appeared in a wide range of Buddhist sources.38 The Keiran shūyōshū describes Gyōki’s vision of Japan in similar terms: “The Bodhisattva Gyōki traveled around Japan and determined the boundaries of the country. . . . At that time, he drew what he saw: the shape [of the country] as a single-pronged vajra.”39 The earliest map of Japan to include the description of Gyōki’s vision is found in a 1402 handscroll of five Buddhist maps, now in the collection of the Harvard Art Museums, titled Map of Japan and of the Myriad Heavens of Sumeru (Nihon shumi shotenzu 日本須弥諸天図) (fig. 2.5).40 Produced by the monk Ryūi 隆意 (1338–1418) from the Shingon temple of Daigoji 醍醐寺 and signed by his master Ryūyū 隆宥 (d.u.), the scroll begins with a map of Japan accompanied by the following inscription: “This is a map of Japan as drawn by the Bodhisattva Gyōki. The shape of the country is like a single-pronged vajra. Because of this,

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2.5 Section from a Buddhist cosmology (Nihon koku narabini Shumi shoten zu) illustrated by Ryūyū with text copied by Ryūi, 1402. Detail of map of Japan and accompanying inscription. Handscroll; ink and color on paper, 29.2 × 723.9 cm. Harvard University Art Museums/ Arthur M. Sackler Museum, Gift of the Hofer Collection of the Printed and Graphic Arts of Asia in honor of Professor and Mrs. John M. Rosenfield. © President and Fellows of Harvard College.

Buddhism continues to flourish. The shape is also like that of a wish-fulfilling jewel. Therefore, the country is blessed with such rare treasures as gold, silver, copper, and iron, and the five grains ripen in abundance.” The inscription goes on to list the country’s “seven roads, sixty-eight provinces including two islands, six-hundred-and-four regions (bu部), and more than thirteen-­thousand villages (gō郷).” It describes the size of the country as “three-­thousand five-­ hundred and eighty ri, and six cho from the capital east to the coast of Mutsu and one thousand nine-hundred and seventy-eight ri and thirty-six cho from the capital west to the coast of Nagato 長門.” Every province on the Daigoji map is demarcated in smooth lines of black ink and inscribed with its name, the number of districts it contains, the number of days required to travel to and from the capital, and the names of the major roads, drawn in vermilion ink, that connect each province to Yamashiro. The Daigoji map is concerned not only with the interior order of the archipelago but also with defining and distinguishing Japan from foreign lands and external threats. It marks each of the cardinal directions as the realms of savages: the characters for Northern Barbarians (Hokuteki 北狄), Southern Barbarians (Nanban 南蛮), and Western Barbarians (Seijū 西戎) are inscribed in the seas surrounding the archipelago, and on the island of Ezo are the characters for Eastern Barbarians (Tōi 東夷).41 Along the Inland Sea, the map names Suma 須磨, Akashi 明石, Takasago 高砂, Murō 室生, Mushiake no seto 虫明の 瀬戸, Itsukushima 厳島, and Mojiseki 門司関. Also listed are a number of small islands off the coast of eastern Japan, such as Enoshima 江の島, Takeshima 竹島, Ōshima, and Makokashima. To the west are included Fujishima 藤島 and Amemishima 雨見島, and the words “the route to Tang [China]” 入唐道 are inscribed north of Kyushu. Also present are the coastlines of two borderlands that long marked the extremities of Japan in cartographic representation: Gandō 鴈道, or the Route of Wild Geese to the north, and “the Land of Demon­ esses,” Rasetsukoku (here rendered Rasetsushū 羅刹州), to the south.42 These two borderlands are also found on maps of Japan that date from perhaps a century earlier, such as the famous examples housed at Shōmyōji and Ninnaji.43 In both the Shōmyōji and the Daigoji maps, Gandō is annotated with the phrase “there is a castle but no people.” Damage has obscured the description on the Land of Demonesses on the Daigoji map, but it is likely that it bore the same warning found on the Shōmyōji map: “Women here, those who come here never return.” Tales of the terrors visited upon shipwrecked sailors by the seductive man-eating demonesses who inhabit this fabled land first appeared in Japan among the stories of India, collected in the Tenjiku section of the Konjaku monogatari. The Konjaku’s direct source, however, is none other than Xuanzang’s Record, in which the tale appears as part of the history of the country of Simhala in the opening section of the eleventh fascicle.

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The scroll unrolls, moreover, to reveal four additional maps, discussed in greater detail in chapter 3, which together situate Japan within an increasingly expansive Buddhist cosmology. Following the map of Japan are two others related in significant ways to Jūkai’s Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku. The first, A Map of Tenjiku according to the Bodhisattva Vasubandhu (Tenjikukoku Seshin Bosatsu zō 天竺圖世親菩薩造), presents a cartography of Jambudvīpa according to the Treasury of Abhidharma and resembles a simplified version of Jūkai’s map (fig. 2.6).44 The second map is a diagram of Lake Anavatapta, the square lake at

2.6 Section from a Buddhist cosmology (Nihon koku narabini Shumi shoten zu) illustrated by Ryūyū with text copied by Ryūi. Detail of map of Tenjiku. Harvard University Art Museums/Arthur M. Sackler Museum, Gift of the Hofer Collection of the Printed and Graphic Arts of Asia in honor of Professor and Mrs. John M. Rosenfield. © President and Fellows of Harvard College.

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the center of the continent, and at the center of Jūkai’s map as well, out of which flow the four great rivers from the mouths of four mythical beasts (fig. 2.7).45 Following this is a plan of Mount Sumeru and its surrounding mountain ranges and seas with the four continents and their inhabitants, whose heads take on the shape of their continents (fig. 2.8). The last illustration, taking up much of the scroll, is a depiction of the entire Mount Sumeru-centered cosmology

2.7 Section from a Buddhist cosmology (Nihon koku narabini Shumi shoten zu) illustrated by Ryūyū with text copied by Ryūi. Detail of Lake Anavatapta. Harvard University Art Museums/Arthur M. Sackler Museum, Gift of the Hofer Collection of the Printed and Graphic Arts of Asia in honor of Professor and Mrs. John M. Rosenfield. © President and Fellows of Harvard College.

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extending from the Eight Hot Hells below Jambudvīpa to the three Realms of Desire, Form, and Formlessness above Mount Sumeru (figs. 2.9–2.14). The scroll thus begins from Japan, described as both vajra and jewel, and then expands the frame of vision with each successive map to place the country within the continent, the world, and the universe of a larger Buddhist order. The Daigoji scroll may be the earliest extant map to cite Gyōki’s vision of Japan as vajra and jewel, but many others were to follow. A similar map of Japan, accompanied by the same inscription ascribing the cartography to Gyōki and describing the country as both a single-pronged vajra and a wish-­fulfilling jewel, appeared in later editions of the medieval encyclopedia Compendia of Miscellanea

2.8 Section from a Buddhist cosmology (Nihon koku narabini Shumi shoten zu) illustrated by Ryūyū with text copied by Ryūi. Detail of Mount Sumeru and inhabitants of the four world continents. Harvard University Art Museums/ Arthur M. Sackler Museum, Gift of the Hofer Collection of the Printed and Graphic Arts of Asia in honor of Professor and Mrs. John M. Rosenfield. © President and Fellows of Harvard College.

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2.9 Section from a Buddhist cosmology (Nihon koku narabini Shumi shoten zu) illustrated by Ryūyū with text copied by Ryūi. Detail of Jambudvīpa and the Eight Hells. Harvard University Art Museums/Arthur M. Sackler Museum, Gift of the Hofer Collection of the Printed and Graphic Arts of Asia in honor of Professor and Mrs. John M. Rosenfield. © President and Fellows of Harvard College.

2.10 Section from a Buddhist cosmology (Nihon koku narabini Shumi shoten zu) illustrated by Ryūyū with text copied by Ryūi. Detail of Mount Sumeru, Palaces of the Nāga Kings, and Terraces of Yakṣas. Harvard University Art Museums/Arthur M. Sackler Museum, Gift of the Hofer Collection of the Printed and Graphic Arts of Asia in honor of Professor and Mrs. John M. Rosenfield. © President and Fellows of Harvard College.

2.11 Section from a Buddhist cosmology (Nihon koku narabini Shumi shoten zu) illustrated by Ryūyū with text copied by Ryūi. Detail of Mount Sumeru, Terrace of the Four Divine Kings, Sun, Moon, and Palace of Indra. Harvard University Art Museums/Arthur M. Sackler Museum, Gift of the Hofer Collection of the Printed and Graphic Arts of Asia in honor of Professor and Mrs. John M. Rosenfield. © President and Fellows of Harvard College.

2.12 Section from a Buddhist cosmology (Nihon koku narabini Shumi shoten zu) illustrated by Ryūyū with text copied by Ryūi. Detail of Heavens in the Realm of Desire. Harvard University Art Museums/ Arthur M. Sackler Museum, Gift of the Hofer Collection of the Printed and Graphic Arts of Asia in honor of Professor and Mrs. John M. Rosenfield. © President and Fellows of Harvard College.

2.13 Section from a Buddhist cosmology (Nihon koku narabini Shumi shoten zu) illustrated by Ryūyū with text copied by Ryūi. Detail of Heavens in the Realm of Form. Harvard University Art Museums/ Arthur M. Sackler Museum, Gift of the Hofer Collection of the Printed and Graphic Arts of Asia in honor of Professor and Mrs. John M. Rosenfield. © President and Fellows of Harvard College.

2.14 Section from a Buddhist cosmology (Nihon koku narabini Shumi shoten zu) illustrated by Ryūyū with text copied by Ryūi. Detail of Heavens in the Realm of Form. Harvard University Art Museums/ Arthur M. Sackler Museum, Gift of the Hofer Collection of the Printed and Graphic Arts of Asia in honor of Professor and Mrs. John M. Rosenfield. © President and Fellows of Harvard College.

(Shūgaishō 拾芥抄). Although the Compendia, compiled by the courtier Tōin Kinkata 洞院公賢 (1291–1360), has been in circulation since the fourteenth century, the earliest manuscript to include the map of Japan is dated 1548.46 Apparently unaware of the Daigoji scroll, historians of Japanese cartography have long identified the maps of Japan in the Compendia as the earliest bearing the Gyōki inscription. Yet the Daigoji map includes the inscription and the cartography a century and a half earlier. Another sixteenth-century map, belonging to the Nara Ritsu temple Tōshōdaiji 唐招提寺, also ascribes its origins to Gyōki and describes the country as both a single-pronged vajra and a wish-fulfilling jewel. Moreover, it articulates Japan’s position within a classical Buddhist geography in its very title: Orthodox Map of Great Japan on the Continent of Jambudvīpa (Nansenbushū Dainihonkoku shōtōzu 南瞻部洲大日本國正統 圖).47 This Buddhist cartography of Japan, articulated in both text and image, soon became standardized and mass produced, and woodblock-printed editions of the Orthodox Map of Great Japan on the Continent of Jambudvīpa were issued throughout the following century.48 The maps of Japan that we have examined—associated with the Shingon temples of Ichijōin and Daigoji and the Ritsu temple of Tōshōdaiji— cartographic­ally articulate a Buddhist vision of the country. The Ichijōin map depicts Japan in the form of a single-pronged vajra, identifies the country as the body of the Sun Buddha Dainichi, whose local manifestation is the Sun Goddess Amaterasu, and projects the Dual mandala of the Diamond and Womb Worlds upon the administrative division of its landscape. The Daigoji map is the first to invoke the Bodhisattva Gyōki’s vision of Japan as vajra and jewel and to locate the country, within an integrated series of nested maps, within a larger cartography of the Buddhist cosmos. And the Tōshōdaiji map provides titular confirmation of Japan’s place within the Buddhist world, even as it standardized the cartography of Gyōki’s vision in maps that were to be mass-produced and circulated throughout the seventeenth century. Yet the Buddhist cartography of Japan, and of the world to which Japan belonged, was neither singular nor final. The oscillating status of Japan, from a small country scattered in the distant seas to a great kingdom within the Buddhist world—from the terminus to the genesis of Buddhist history—produced a creative tension and a discursive space in which multiple visions of Japan’s place in the Buddhist world could be imagined, contested, and articulated in text and image for centuries to come. A Southern Paradise The islands of the Japanese archipelago were not the only ones to appear on the map, inspired by sources outside of Xuanzang’s text and responsive to the cultic interests of the Japanese monks who produced and viewed the painting. Directly

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2.15 Jūkai, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku. Detail of Mount Potalaka.

south of the great continent is another mountainous isle that, although mentioned in passing in the Record, is depicted with a degree of detail at odds with Xuanzang’s succinct account (fig. 2.15). The island, labeled “Mount Potalaka,” is the divine abode of the Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara: an eternal paradise of the sutras, a promised land of Buddhist aspiration. Yet the island shown on the map is something more than the distant utopia of the scriptures and commentaries.

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Rather than the mythic mountain in the Indian Ocean that appears in numerous other fourteenth-century Japanese paintings, Jūkai’s map depicts a pilgrimage site located on an island off the eastern coast of China, which was famous throughout medieval Japan. As with the insertion of the Japanese archipelago into the Buddhist world picture, the cartographic transformation of Potalaka departs from Xuanzang’s text and draws from additional sources to address the religious concerns of medieval Japanese Buddhists, which simply were not present in the text the map purports to illustrate. The description of Mount Potalaka in Xuanzang’s Record is rather brief. It reads, in its entirety, as follows: “To the east of Mount Malaya is Mount Potalaka, which has perilous paths and precipitous cliffs and valleys. On top of the mountain is a lake of clear water, issuing in a big river that flows twenty times around the mountain before passing into the South Sea. Beside the lake is a heavenly stone palace, which is frequented by the bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara. Those who wish to see the Bodhisattva risk their lives to cross the waters and climb up the mountain regardless of hardship and danger but only a few of them reach their destination.”49 The map, however, presents a far more exhaustive geography. Xuanzang’s description of “a lake of clear water issuing forth” and “a stone heavenly palace” are clearly depicted. Yet there are also more than thirty cartouches naming places that do not appear in Xuanzang’s account. Moreover, unlike most of the cartouches listed on the map, these do not bear Sinitic transliterations of Indian place names. They are instead the names of hills, caves, and rock formations of the famous Chinese pilgrimage destination of Putuoshan 普 陀山, a small island in the Zhou-shan 舟山 archipelago, located seventy miles west of the seaport of Ningbo 寧波 in Zhezhiang 浙江 Province. In 1173, the literatus Nanhu Daoyin described the Chinese island in the following terms: Putuoshan is in the great ocean. It is situated southeast of Jin [Ningbo], about a thousand kilometers by the water route. It is no other than the mountain called Potalaka that is declared by the Avataṃsaka-sūtra to be the “isolated palace at the end of the ocean” where “Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva lives.” It is no other than the Mount Potalaka that is declared by the Mahākaruṇā-puṇḍarīka-sūtra to be the location of the palace of Avalokiteśvara, in which Śākyamuni Buddha reveals the heart seal of the Mantra of Great Compassion. . . . Merchants, diplomats, and tribute bearers sailing to and from the various countries in the Eastern Sea would come here to pray for safety.50

The religious geography of this Chinese pilgrimage site was well known in fourteenth-century Japan. A Chinese painting of the island, the Budaluojia Guanyin xianshen shengjing 補恒洛迦觀音現神聖境, produced between the years

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1334 and 1369 and preserved at a Japanese temple, bears a striking resemblance to the depiction of Potalaka on Jūkai’s map (fig. 2.16).51 Like Jūkai’s work, it fuses landscape painting and cartography.52 The Chinese painting, most likely produced as a pilgrim’s souvenir, was based on maps published in contemporaneous gazetteers. Ide Seinosuke has identified the artist’s source as a map of the island found within a gazetteer of 1298.53 The painting was brought to Japan not long after it was produced and remains in the collection of Jōshōji 定勝寺 in Nagano, a temple visited by Yishan Yining, the abbot of Baotusi temple on Putuoshan, in 1299 to promote the cult of the Chinese island in Japan. The painting represents Putuoshan from an imagined aerial perspective, with architectural structures clearly rendered and some eighty individual sites labeled with cartouches. In the seas below the sacred island, pilgrims are arriving in small ships, at what is labeled “Koryǒ Pier,” named for the many merchants and pilgrims from the Korean Peninsula who visited the island in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. In the upper register of the painting, in the clouds above the island, is a figure of the bodhisattva seated on a mat and holding a water vessel, flanked by two attendants who are both devotees of the bodhisattva in the Avataṃsaka-sūtra: the Elder Somachattra, dressed as a Chinese scholar, and the young pilgrim Sudhana. Twelve of the many place names listed in the cartouches of the Jōshōji painting are found on Jūkai’s map as well, including the most famous site on the island, the Cave of Tidal Sounds. The cave is depicted in both paintings as facing the sea, with an opening to the sky above. The Jōshōji painting also shows three pilgrims bowing before a manifestation of the bodhisattva, and in the sea below are three small boats ferrying pilgrims to the sacred isle (fig. 2.17). Well-known mountains of Putuoshan are also listed, such as the Peak of Sudhana 善財峯, named for the pilgrim protagonist of the Gaṇḍavyūha; the Peak of Ananyagāmin 正趣峯, named for one of Sudhana’s guides; the Peak of the White Robed [Avalokiteśvara] 白衣峰, a famous form of the bodhisattva; the Peak of Perfect Penetration 圓通嶺; and the highest and most famous peak on the southern part of Putuoshan, Mei Feng 梅 峯, named for Mei Fu 梅福, the legendary Daoist immortal said to have practiced at Putuoshan in the first century BCE.54 Located at the crossroads of the maritime route between Japan and China, Putuoshan was known to all Japanese travelers to the continent after the midTang. From the tenth through the sixteenth centuries, Mingzhou (modern Ningbo) housed the Offices of Maritime Trade, and the port played a pivotal role in trade with Japan.55 All Japanese ships stopped at a harbor next to Putuo­ shan for customs inspections before arriving in China and, prior to returning to Japan, would wait at the island for good sailing conditions.56 Some travelers from Japan aimed for the island itself. As a major pilgrimage site for devotees of Avalokiteśvara from China and abroad, Putuoshan was familiar to the many

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2.16 (Opposite page) Sacred Image of Putuoshan, fourteenth century. Hanging scroll; color on silk, 112.8 × 56.5 cm. Jōshōji, Nagano.

2.17 Sacred Image of Putuoshan. Detail of the Cave of Tidal Sounds.

Japanese Buddhists who traveled to China after the tenth century. Indeed, one of Putuoshan’s origin tales credits a ninth-century Japanese monk with bringing the cult of the bodhisattva to the island. According to this legend, a monk named Egaku 慧萼 was returning to Japan after a pilgrimage to Mount Wutai where he had acquired an image of the bodhisattva to install in his homeland. As he neared the island, however, lotus flowers miraculously filled the sea, surrounding his boat, and Egaku was redirected to Putuoshan, where he enshrined the image instead.57 The story appears in the Gazetteer of Siming (Baoqing siming zhi 寶慶四明志) of 1226 and in nearly all the gazetteers of Putuoshan thereafter.58 It was also included in such standard Chinese Buddhist histories as Zhipan’s 志磐 Complete Chronicle of Buddhas and Patriarchs (Fozu tongji 佛祖統紀, 1269) and Jue’an’s 覺岸 Brief History of the Śākyamuni Lineage (Shishi jigu lue 釋 氏稽古略, 1354).59 Egaku’s story was well known in Japan as well, where it was included in such standard Japanese Buddhist histories as Kōkan Shiren’s 虎関 師錬 Annals of Buddhism of the Genkō Era (Genkō shakusho 元亨釈書, 1322).60 Kōkan may in fact have learned of this founding legend when he studied under the abbot of Mount Putuo, Yishan Yining, who visited Japan in 1299.61 It is extremely unusual that one of the most popular Buddhist pilgrimage sites in China would credit a Japanese monk with its founding. Even as a tale of a foreigner humbled by a divinity who refuses to leave China’s sacred soil, the prominent role of the Japanese pilgrim, and his fame in Japanese as well as Chinese hagiographic collections, underscores the strong association between Japanese devotees and the Chinese site. Jūkai’s representation of Avalokiteśvara’s paradise thus brings together the iconography and toponymy of multiple textual and visual sources—Chinese gazetteers, maps, and paintings—far more recent than Xuanzang’s Record. The use of these sources transforms Xuanzang’s scriptural utopia into a local landscape familiar to and visited by Japanese Buddhist monks. Nor is the conflation only textual; it is spatial, and temporal, as well. In drawing on this plurality of sources, the map combines the pilgrimage landscapes of seventh-century India and fourteenth-century China. Although the Potalaka of the map bears the toponyms of the Chinese island, it has been relocated from east of Ningbo to south of Jambudvīpa. The procedure accomplished by the Japanese map goes one step beyond what Chun-fang Yu has described as “the creation of a Chinese Pota­laka.” Potalaka has not only been sinified but has been repatriated back to India’s southern seas as this new “Chinese Potalaka.” Perhaps even more surprising than finding Chinese place names at Avalokiteśvara’s paradise is the appearance of human figures at the site. The map depicts three Buddhist monks arriving by boat at the mountainous isle (fig. 2.18), similar to the detail of pilgrims arriving at Putuoshan in the Jōshōji painting of Mount Putuo. One of the figures, wearing a red robe, is seated in the

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2.18 Jūkai, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku. Detail of ship and figures arriving at Mount Potalaka.

rear of a small boat that has landed on the shore. Another, in a brown robe, lies prostrate on the ground in front it, much like the devotees bowing before the Cave of Tidal Sounds in the Jōshōji painting. A third, wearing a lightly colored robe, stands at the base of Mount Potalaka, facing the peak as if contemplating its ascent. In an earlier version of the painting on which Jūkai’s work is assumed to have been based, the multiple figures may have represented a single person shown in successive temporal moments (a technique known in Japanese as iji dōzu 異時同図, literally “different time, same image”), but in Jūkai’s painting, the different color of the robes would seem to indicate their individuality. It is

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thus possible that Jūkai, or an earlier copyist, misinterpreted the depiction of a single figure represented in three discrete narrative moments as a depiction of three different individuals. Later copies of the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku will be fully explored in the following chapter, but a preliminary examination of later versions of this scene might suggest how so significant a change in narrative meaning can result from a copyist misreading such a minor visual detail. Eleven later versions of the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku reproduce the scene of monks arriving at Potalaka. Of these, only the earliest, a mid-sixteenth-century copy now in the Muroga Collection of the Kyoto University Library, renders the three monastic figures as they appear in Jūkai’s painting: one figure sitting in the rear of the boat, one bowing on the shore with arms outstretched toward the mountain, and one setting out to climb toward the peak (fig. 2.19). The others, however, dating from the seventeenth through the nineteenth centuries, all show the second

2.19 Tsutsui Junshō, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, sixteenth century. Detail of boat and figures arriving at Mount Potalaka. Manuscript; ink and color on paper. Muroga Collection, Kyoto University Library, Kyoto.

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2.20 Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, Edo period. Detail of boat and figures arriving at Mount Potalaka. Manuscript; ink and color on paper. National Archives of Japan, Tokyo.

figure lying like a corpse, faceup in the prow of the boat (fig. 2.20). By misreading a figure bowing facedown on the shore as a corpse faceup in the boat, one copyist, and all who followed him, transformed an act of veneration into a scene of death. A number of later copies also depict the monks in the light-blue robes in which the dead are traditionally clad. Whether these figures at Potalaka represent an image of adoration or of mortality, none represents Xuanzang. He never traveled to Potalaka; the red line marking his itinerary leaves the continent only to journey to Simhala and back. Moreover, although Xuanzang’s pilgrimage is the explicit subject of the map, the pilgrim himself never appears. The notable absence of Xuanzang may in fact be central to the function of the map, for it allows viewers to interpolate themselves into the pilgrim’s position. The three figures at Potalaka are, moreover, the only people depicted in the entire painting. Of the hundreds of individuals described in the text, no other figure is portrayed. What could explain this singular innovation? Why would the sole human figures on the entire map appear to be arriving by boat at the “other shore” of Avalokiteśvara’s paradise? In terms of the painting’s modality of reception, they occupy a rather prominent position. At the center of the bottom of the image, they would appear directly in front of a seated viewer. Although Xuanzang never visited Potalaka, he did mention the possibility of going there: “Those who wish

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to see the Bodhisattva risk their lives to cross the waters and climb up the mountain regardless of hardship and danger but only a few of them reach their destination.” Yet he also describes the activities of countless other individuals, none of whom the map depicts. Although the map’s attention to Potalaka may not concur with Xuanzang’s Record, it is entirely in keeping with the cultic interests of Jūkai and his fellow monastics in medieval Nara. Jūkai was himself a devotee of the bodhisattva and is known to have performed rituals dedicated to Avalokiteśvara during a fundraising campaign of 1358.62 Eison, whose autobiography Jūkai transcribed, was also dedicated to the bodhisattva. Jūkai emphasized this fact by adding a postscript to the Kongōbusshi Eison kanjingaku shōki describing Eison’s restoration and reinstallation of the Hōryūji icon of Cintāmaṇi Avalokiteśvara (J. Nyoirin Kannon 如意輪観音). The cult of Avalokiteśvara, and the representation of his paradise, had a long history at the Nara temples with which Jūkai was associated. A wall painting of the Potalaka Pure Land was made by Fujiwara no Nakamaro (706–764) at the East Pavilion (Tōin 東院) of Kōfukuji in honor of Empress Kōmyō in 761, and another painting of Potalaka existed at Saidaiji as early as 780. Paintings found throughout the temples of medieval Nara of monks arriving at the bodhisattva’s island in small boats and ascending the sacred mountain suggest that Jūkai’s scene would be familiar to his audience. Jūkai’s own temple of Hōryūji houses a thirteenth-century painting, on the interior wall of a miniature shrine, of Mount Potalaka as a mountain in the sea with Avalokiteśvara’s stone palace in a clearing at the top.63 A lone monk is also depicted, reading a sutra on a red book stand, midway up the mountain. The same red book stand, without the monk, is also shown lower down the mountain, perhaps equating the ascent of Potalaka with the process of religious cultivation. A nearly identical, and far better preserved, painting of a monk climbing Mount Potalaka survives on the back wall of another miniature shrine housing the Thousand-Armed Avalokiteśvara in the Senju-dō of the Kaidan-in at Tōdaiji.64 Now in the collection of the Nezu Museum, a thirteenth-century mandala of Potalaka rising above the Kasuga Shrine—another sacred site revered by the monks of medieval Nara—includes two scenes of monks alighting on the shores of Avalokiteśvara’s paradise from small boats quite similar to that pictured in the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku.65 A fourteenth-century painting at another Nara temple, Shōrinji 聖林寺, depicts three monks, one in black robes attended by two in red, arriving by boat at the shores of Potalaka, much like the pilgrims arriving at Putuoshan in the Jōshōji painting, and also at successive narrative moments as they ascend the sacred mountain.66 A fifteenth-century wall painting depicting Mount Potalaka rising dramatically out of the sea, with Avalokiteśvara’s stone palace at its peak, adorned

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the main hall at Kaijūsenji. In this painting, two monks are shown arriving at the island by ship and then again at successive narrative moments as they proceed toward Avalokiteśvara’s palace. Kaijūsenji (Temple of the Mountain in the Sea), originally named Fudaraku Kannonji, was where the Kōfukuji monk Jōkei spent his final years dedicated to the veneration of Avalokiteśvara, and for him the temple represented Mount Potalaka in this world.67 Another fifteenth-­ century painting from Kaijūsenji depicts Jōkei’s “Mountain in the Sea,” and perhaps Jōkei as well, as the bodhisattva and his retinue descend from his heavenly mountain to welcome the rebirth of a lone monk seated, as Jōkei is said to have been seated in his final moments, facing the southwestern direction of Potalaka.68 Golden rays of light connect the figures of the bodhisattva and the monk across the vast expanse of ocean that lies between their heavenly and earthly abodes. In the sea between these realms is a small boat with two monks, much like the craft and the figures in Jukai’s map, that carries the departed to the other shore. In his devotion to Avalokiteśvara, Jōkei composed three liturgical texts (kōshiki 講式) in the final years of his life. These focused increasingly on visualizing Potalaka and praying to be led there at the moment of death.69 Jōkei distinguished Avalokiteśvara’s paradise as a more proximate goal than Amitābha’s Pure Land, a land of refuge within easy reach. If there is someone whose practice and karma are not yet mature and has hindrances to birth in the Pure Land, he can first reside on Mount Potalaka. That mountain is in the great sea southwest from here. . . . Even though it is different in size, it is like facing the Pure Land. Thus, it is part of the sahā-world but not like the sahā-world. Among the wise men and sages who would not aspire to it? It is a pure land but not a pure land. Birth there is truly easy for the unenlightened. Avalokiteśvara himself urged practitioners saying: “You will surely be born in my pure Buddha-­ realm and together with me practice the bodhisattva way. As for my pure land, in the distance there is the Land of Bliss in the west and here at hand is Mount Potalaka.”70

Jōkei’s goal of “birth in the Southern Sea” was not, however, limited to liturgical practices. Japanese monks also sailed off in small boats from a number of sites along the southern coast of western Japan for Avalokiteśvara’s paradise, a practice known as “crossing the sea to Potalaka,” or Fudaraku tokai 補陀 落渡海. These pilgrims to paradise departed from the capes of Muroto 室戸 and Ashizuri 足摺 in Shikoku, Ariake 有明 in Kyushu, and most commonly from the beach in front of the Hama no miya 浜の宮 of the Kumano Nachi Shrine 熊野 那智神宮 on the southern tip of the Kii Peninsula. The monastic traveler was

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sealed inside the cabin of a small boat, outfitted with the ritual architecture of a funerary site, and sent off toward the southern horizon. The intrepid monks who set off for Potalaka were commonly depicted in a popular genre of religious painting known as Nachi pilgrimage mandala (Nachi sankei mandara 那智参詣 曼荼羅), which circulated widely throughout Japan from the sixteenth through the nineteenth centuries.71 The earliest of such voyages to Potalaka is recorded to have occurred in the ninth century and was followed by more than a dozen others before the mid-fourteenth-century date of the map’s creation. Indeed, Jōkei concludes his Kannon kōshiki by praising one such monk who set off for Potalaka in the early eleventh century: During the reign of Emperor Ichijō [986–1011] Gatō Shōnin of Awa Province deeply aspired to go to that mountain and had recurrent dream visions. On the eighteenth day of the eighth month of the third year of Chōhō [1001], together with a disciple, he set off from the coast of Muroto in Tosa Province.72 On a one-leaf boat 一葉船 he continued south like the Naga Girl.73 He reached the Land of Demon Women, continued through the burning heat of a windless sea, and realized his original intention.74 Through Avalokiteśvara’s skill in means he attained rebirth in the place where the Bodhisattva dims his radiance and manifests his body.75

Gatō Shōnin, the monk eulogized by Jōkei, was no obscure ascetic. A disciple of the Tendai patriarch Ryōgen 良源 (912–985), he is credited with restoring the Kyoto temple of Konzōji 金蔵寺.76 Accounts of his journey to Potalaka appear in such Buddhist tale collections as Kamo no Chōmei’s Tales of Aspiration for Enlightenment (Hosshinshū 發心集) and the thirteenth-century Miracles of the Bodhisattva Jizō (Jizō bosatsu reigenki 地蔵菩薩霊験記). Jōkei’s description of his “one-leaf boat” 一葉船 may refer to the means by which Zenzai Dōji (Skt. Sudhana) traveled to the bodhisattva’s paradise in the Avataṃsaka-sūtra. In numerous paintings of Avalokiteśvara at Potalaka, the young pilgrim is depicted sailing toward the bodhisattva on a leaf or lotus petal.77 Nisshū shōnin 日秀上 人 (1503–1577), a priest who sailed off to Potalaka in the sixteenth century, was similarly described as traveling in a reed boat (ashibune 葦船).78 It is unclear if the scene on the map is meant to depict ascetics, such as Gatō Shōnin, who set off in small boats from Japan’s shores; or the arrival of Egaku; or later pilgrims at Putuoshan, such as those depicted in the Jōshōji painting; or if it merely represented the more general promise of birth in Avalokiteśvara’s realm celebrated in contemporaneous paintings of Pota­laka. What is clear, however, is that the bodhisattva’s paradise, represented as a

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mountainous island with temple architecture reached by devotees traveling in small boats, was envisioned both as a physical goal to be attained in the present life and as a place of rebirth in the future. The goal was widely shared in the monastic culture of fourteenth-century Nara. The transformation of the Potalaka of Xuanzang’s narrative into the Putuo of Chinese gazetteers and thence into the Fudaraku of Japanese ritual and liturgical practice represents the profoundly local orientation of the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku. The map’s vision of Buddhist India is informed by a range of East Asian textual and visual sources that supplement Xuanzang’s already comprehensive geography. Containing the entirety of the known world—from China to Central Asia, South Asia, and Persia—the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku casts an outward vision: vast and expansive in scope. The ovoid continent of Jambudvīpa, as defined by the classical texts of Indian cosmology, represents a geography of the imagination more than a landscape of experience, a world beyond that of local knowledge. Yet one also finds, appended to the margins of the scriptural world map, islands of meaning that exceed the boundaries of Xuanzang’s Record: sites of identity and aspiration that address the specific religious concerns of the monks of medieval Nara. The chapters that follow will show that this religious vision was not limited to the medieval period but continued to be expressed and debated, verbally and visually, far into the nineteenth century. The unsettled status of Japan’s position in the Buddhist world and of its relation to India, to China, and in later periods to Europe and the Americas persisted as a source of creative tension for ages to come. The discussion and debate that arose from this tension—the attempts to define and defend Japan’s place in a Buddhist world—remained a fundamental feature of Japanese Buddhist discourse for the next five hundred years. The following chapters examine the ways in which that discourse was articulated visually, argue for the role of maps in advancing and defending religious arguments, and analyze the use of cartography in depicting, enforcing, and contesting religious worldviews. The next chapter will follow the fortunes of the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku and trace the history of its replication, its rearticulation, and its reinterpretation in successive chronological and cultural contexts to show how such a classical vision of the Buddhist order created new meanings in an ever-changing world.

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3

ANTECEDENTS AND AFTERIMAGES The Culture and Contexts of Replication

As the earliest extant Japanese map of the world, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku offers a rare window into the worldview of fourteenth-century Buddhist monks. It reveals how monastics of the time imagined the world and their place in it; testifies to the importance of Xuanzang as patriarch, pilgrim, and chronicler; and identifies his Great Tang Record of the Western Regions as the primary source of geographical, historical, and ethnographic knowledge of the world beyond the Sinosphere. Whereas the map of 1364 reveals much about the state of Buddhist knowledge at the time and place of its production, the afterlife of the object offers something more: a picture of the Japanese Buddhist worldview over the longue durée. For the map, a trace of Xuanzang’s cult of traces, was itself retraced for the next five hundred years. Moreover, this tradition of replication gave the map new life and new meanings even as copyists sought to situate the map in their own historical moment. This chapter explores the scribal and cartographic contexts out of which the map may have arisen, follows the reception history of the map from the medieval to the modern period, and examines the clues that its copies might hold to explain its perpetuation and transformation. We shall see that the tradition of replication, from the fourteenth to the nineteenth century, eventually lead to forms of cartographic hybridity that displayed a radical reimaging of Japan’s Buddhist world.

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Unknown Origins Although the Hōryūji painting of 1364 is the oldest-known copy of the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, it most certainly is not the first of its kind. The Hōryūji map is too complete, complex, and encyclopedic a work to have been created ex nihilo by a single monk in fourteenth-century Japan. Jūkai’s copy is riddled with errors common to transcribed works, such as the confusion of similar characters.1 Although a prototype has yet to be identified, and may never be, scholars have long assumed that Jūkai’s map must have been based on an earlier continental source. A twelfth-century Korean inscription and a thirteenth-­ century Chinese printed book suggest the contours of what remains, however, an inconclusive history. Found on the Korean Peninsula, the earliest extant documentary record of a Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku survives in a stone memorial of 1154, in the Koryǒ capital of Kaesǒng, eulogizing the life of an official named Yun Po. The inscription states that Yun Po presented the Koryǒ king with “a Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku (K. Och’ǒn Ch’ukkuk to), based on the Record of the Western Regions of the Dharma Preceptor Xuanzang of the Tang.”2 Unfortunately, no such map, either Korean or Chinese, is extant. The earliest extant Chinese map based on Xuanzang’s Record was produced a century earlier than the Hōryūji map but bears only limited resemblance to the later Japanese painting. It is a simple woodcut bookplate titled Map of the Western Lands and the Five Regions of India (Xitu wuyin zhi tu 西土 五印之圖), included in Zhipan’s Complete Chronicle of Buddhas and Patriarchs (1269) under the section “Treatise on the Name and Form of the World” (Shijie mingti zhi) (fig. 3.1). Zhipan’s history of Buddhism during the years 581 to 960 circulated widely: His own postscript notes that more than two hundred thousand copies were printed.3 In Japan, the work was first printed in 1390, at the Kyoto Rinzai Zen temple Nanzenji 南禅寺, but Chinese editions must have circulated throughout the previous century.4 Although produced at the end of the Song dynasty, Zhipan’s sources for the map are no more recent than the Tang. Like Jūkai’s painting, the map presents an India preserved in a classical Chinese Buddhist past. Cartouches in the upper right and the lower left identify Xuanzang’s Record as the map’s principal textual source and claim to include more than “one hundred and thirty countries and seventy-five regions” visited by the famous pilgrim. The distribution of toponyms on the Hōryūji painting is similar to that of Zhipan’s map, and the characters for north, south, east, west, and center are scattered among the place names to indicate the region of India to which they belong. Zhipan’s description of the Buddhist world continent even begins with a passage lifted directly from Xuanzang’s Record:

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At the center of Jambudvīpa is Lake Anavatapta. It lies south of Incense Mountain (Skt. Gandhamāda) and north of the Great Snow Mountains (the Himalayas). It is 800 li in circumference. A bodhisattva of the tenth stage, having transformed himself into a Nāga King, lives at the bottom of the lake and supplies pure water for Jambudvīpa. The Ganges River flows from the mouth of a silver ox on the east side, which, after circling the lake once, enters the Southeast Sea. The Indus River flows from the mouth of a golden elephant on the south side, which, after circling the lake once, enters the Southwest Sea. The Oxus River flows from the mouth of a lapis lazuli horse on the west side, which, after circling the lake once, enters the Northwest Sea. And the Śītā River flows from the mouth of a crystal lion on the north side, which, after circling the lake once, enters the Northeast Sea. It is also said that it flows beneath the Jishi (Skt. Aśmakūṭa) Mountains [on the eastern border of the Gobi Desert].5

3.1 Zhipan, Map of the Western Regions and the Five Regions of India, from Complete Record of Buddhas and Patriarchs, 1270. Monochrome woodblock book illustration.

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Both Zhipan and Jūkai follow not only the descriptive geography of Xuanzang’s Record but also Xuanzang’s prioritization of classical models of the Buddhist world order as articulated in texts such as Vasubandhu’s Treasury of the Abhidharma. Although Zhipan’s Map of the Western Lands and the Five Regions of India is accompanied by two others showing “China”—a Map of the Countries of the Western Regions during the Han Dynasty (Han xiyu zhuguo tu 漢西域諸國 圖) and a Map of the Eastern Land of Cīnaṣṭhāna (Dong zhendan dili tu 東眞旦地理 圖)—his cartographic priorities remain centered on India.6 The title of his map of China, Map of the Eastern Land of Cīnaṣṭhāna, decenters the “Middle Kingdom” to the eastern periphery of the Buddhist world and uses the Buddhist Sanskrit term for China. His Map of the Western Lands and the Five Regions of India designates central India with a cluster of cartouches marking the sacred sites of Buddhist hagiography: “Kapilavastu, the birthplace of the Buddha; Śrāvastī, where the Buddha was granted the Jetavana Grove” for his early community; “the Deer Park in Vārāṇasī,” the site of the Buddha’s early teaching; “Nālandā monastery,” the center of Buddhist learning where Xuanzang himself studied; “Rājagṛha in Magadha,” where the Buddha preached; and the “Śāla Grove in Kuśinagara,” where the Buddha entered nirvana. As in Xuanzang’s Record, India remains a set of sacred traces inscribing a Buddhist past, a landscape of memory, hagiography, and religious history. Mount Potalaka, the paradise of the Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara, appears as an oval cartouche in the sea directly below the continent; it is an island, as in Jūkai’s cartography, rather than located on the mainland, as in Xuanzang’s text. The Western Land of Women is depicted as well, but within the continent, at its western edge, rather than as a cartouche in the ocean, as in Jūkai’s map. The swirling seas beyond India’s southern and western coasts are rendered in the manner of other woodcut maps in Chinese gazetteers—and yet the cresting waves, simplified and stylized as they are, bear a certain similarity to Jūkai’s painterly treatment. Zhipan’s Map of the Western Regions and the Five Regions of India includes all of the lands listed by Xuanzang, but the shape of the landmass differs from Jūkai’s isolated continent. Zhipan’s textual claims for a Buddhist cartography, however, are robust and critical: “When Confucians talk about the world, they are ignorant of the Five Regions of India and the Western Sea.” He insists on a geography based on sacred texts and warns that “if those who discuss the size and structure of the world do not rely on the Buddhist scriptures, their knowledge will be inadequate to the task.”7 Zhipan includes illustrations earlier in the chapter that situate his Map of the Western Regions and the Five Regions of India within a larger Buddhist cosmos. The first, a single-page illustration titled Map of the Myriad Mount Sumeru Worlds within the Great Chiliocosm (Daqian shijie wande xumi tu 大千世界萬德 須彌之圖), depicts a cosmic circle of multiple Mount Sumeru worlds set in an

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expansive sea. The second, a double-page spread titled Map of the Four Continents, Nine Mountains, and Eight Seas (Sizhou jiushan bahai tu 四洲九山八海圖), offers a planimetric view of a single Mount Sumeru world of radiating mountains and oceans, with the four great continents in each of the cardinal directions in the outermost sea. And a third, spread across four pages and titled Map of the Great Realm of the Triple World (Daqian sanshijie tu 大千三世界圖), presents a classical diagram of the entire Mount Sumeru world from the foundational layers of space, wind, water, and fire below the seas to the triple realm of desire, form, and formlessness above. Thus, the Western Regions and the Five Regions of India are situated, as in the Daigoji scroll introduced in the previous chapter, in the wider Buddhist universe to which they belonged. Buddhist cartography was, and would remain, inseparable from the larger order of Buddhist cosmography. The geography of the Buddhist Holy Land, and of the entire Buddhist world, would be forever bound to a classical picture of the Indian universe. Produced almost fifty years after Jūkai’s painting but also based on an earlier prototype, another Japanese map suggests a different possible source for the Hōryūji map of 1364. This later Map of Tenjiku according to the Bodhi­sattva Vasubandhu belongs to the aforementioned Daigoji scroll of 1402. The Daigoji map of Tenjiku shares a number of similarities with Jūkai’s Map (fig. 2.6). As with the maps in Zhipan’s compendia, the Daigoji map is also embedded in a larger visual discourse on Buddhist cosmology. Although Xuanzang’s Record of the Western Regions is cited in an inscription within the map itself, the Daigoji map includes neither the many toponyms of Zhipan’s Map of the Western Regions and the Five Regions of India nor the itinerary and vast textual and visual detail of Jūkai’s Map. The greatest distinction of the Daigoji Map of Tenjiku is the complete absence of Japan. Situating Japan within the Buddhist world picture was a central concern of Jūkai’s Map, but the Daigoji map replaces the Japanese archipelago with the Korean Peninsula. Located beyond the northeast boundary of the continent, tethered to Tenjiku by a double line connected to the southern region of Kitan, is a cartouche labeled “Kōrai” (Kor. Koryǒ) 高麗, the name of the dynasty that ruled the peninsula from 918 to 1392. The location of Kōrai in the Daigoji map is nearly identical to that of Japan in Jūkai’s Map and is, if anything, more prominent. Whereas Japan is a fraction of the size of the Great Tang in the later map, Kōrai is nearly equal to China’s size in the former. Japan is, of course, present and even prioritized with the scroll as a whole. As discussed in chapter 2, the series of maps that compose the scroll begin with a large and detailed map of the archipelago. Yet Japan is not to be found in the Daigoji map. The absence of Japan and the presence of Kōrai in its place may mean that the Daigoji Map of Tenjiku is more concerned with the place of Korea than Japan in the Buddhist world picture. Yet whatever the intentions behind it may be, this telling detail

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suggests that the map may not be Japanese in origin but rather, like Jūkai’s map, based on a Korean or Chinese prototype. The Daigoji map depicts the Five Regions of Tenjiku as five squares in a cruciform arrangement in the lower section of the continent; these contain the traditional Sixteen Great Countries of Buddhist geography. The central square is notated “four countries of Central Tenjiku.” Beside a depiction of the Bodhi tree is a smaller square labeled “Diamond Throne” (Kongō-za 金剛座), the seat of the Buddha’s enlightenment. According to Vasubandhu, the authority cited in the map’s title, this Diamond Throne distinguishes Jambudvīpa from all other worlds. It is surrounded by four additional squares labeled the “three countries of Northern Tenjiku,” the “single country of Eastern Tenjiku,” the “seven countries of Southern Tenjiku,” and the “single country of Western Tenjiku.” “Three Ranges of Black Mountains” are drawn and labeled to the north, and, beyond them are the jambu tree, notated “Royal Tree of Healing Herbs, the Great Worshipful Tree,” and the “Great Snow Mountains” of the Himalayas. Farther north still, within a double square, is Lake Anavatapta, here titled “Lake of No Heat” but annotated with the Sanskrit names of the lake as well. To the east of the jambu tree is Tukhara (Tokara koku 都化羅國). Beneath it stands the “Iron Gate” described in detail on Jūkai’s map and in Xuanzang’s Record. To the west of the jambu tree lies the Country of Brahmins (Paramin koku 波羅民國). Large rectangular cartouches abutting the eastern perimeter of the continent identify the thirty-four Barbarian Countries 胡國, Khitan 契丹, Tang China 唐 土, the Southern Domains 南播, Parthia (Ansokukoku 安息國), and Tamralipti (Tamariteikoku 多磨利帝國), or modern Tumluk, the port of embarkation for many Chinese pilgrims to the Western Regions. A long rectangular cartouche abutting the continent’s southern border is identified as Simhala, and a square cartouche lying just outside of the continent’s western boundary is Western Women’s Country, labeled, in what appears to be a scribal error, “Sell Women Country” 買女國. Ryūi, who copied the text of the Daigoji map, seems to have misread the individual characters for “west” 西 and “great” 大 as combined to form the single character “sell” 買. Such a scribal error serves as further evidence that the map of 1402 was copied from an earlier source. Inscribed within the borders of the continent are quotations from Buddhist sources, such as the Sutra of the Radiant Kings, Vasubandhu’s Treasury of Abhidharma, and Xuanzang’s Record, that describe the geography of Jambudvīpa. The citation from the Sutra of the Radiant Kings is the same line, character for character, that appears in the panel on Jūkai’s map: “According to the Sutra of the Radiant Kings, this continent is 7,000 yojanas across.” The citation from Xuanzang’s text provides the same geographical information inscribed within the gold panel on the upper left of Jūkai’s map. It reads, “According to the Record of Western Regions, the Great Snow Mountains are in the exact center of the

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southern continent, and to the east is Cīnaṣṭhāna or the Great Tang. To the west of northern India is Persia, and to the north are the Barbarian Lands.” The quotation from the Treasury of Abhidharma reads, “North of the nine Black Mountains, between Incense Mountain and the Great Snow Mountains, is the Lake of No Heat, each side of which is fifty yojanas long.”8 The length of each of the four sides of the continent are also recorded as “two thousand yojanas” 二千由繕那, although the numerical notation on the northern and southern sides of the continent have “three thousand” 三千 written in smaller characters beside them. An inscription to the left of the map lists the names of the “Sixteen Great Countries of the Five Regions of Tenjiku: one country of Eastern Tenjiku, seven countries of Southern Tenjiku, one country of Western Tenjiku, three countries of Northern Tenjiku, and four countries of Central Tenjiku.” Following this list of toponyms is a verse that praises the same hagiographic landscape of Buddhist India foregrounded in Zhipan’s map: “The Buddha was born at Kapilavastu, attained the way at Magadha, taught the Dharma at Vārāṇasī, and entered nirvana at Kuśinagara.” A similar capsule biography of the Buddha in verse is chanted daily in Chinese and Japanese monasteries and derives from the Imperially Commissioned Rules for the Purity by Baizhang (Chixiu Baizhang qinggui 勅修百丈清規, 1338).9 Copies of a nearly identical map of Tenjiku, with the same inscriptions, made much later than the Daigoji scroll, survive in sixteenth- and seventeenth-century editions of the Compendia of Miscellanea. These are the same editions of the Compendia that historians of Japanese cartography have long identified as containing the earliest map of Japan bearing the Gyōki inscription. Historians of Japanese cartography have similarly identified the Compendia as containing the earliest example of a map of Tenjiku.10 Yet the earliest manuscript of the Compendia to include the Tenjiku map is the same Tenri copy of 1548, which also includes the map of Japan, and another in the National Diet Library, dated 1554 (fig. 3.2).11 The earliest printed edition of the Compendia to include the map was issued in 1642 by the Kyoto publisher Nishimura (fig. 3.3). As the scroll of 1402 predates the Compendia maps by a century and a half, the Daigoji scroll should be recognized as containing the earliest example not only of a map of Japan accompanied by the Gyōki inscription but also of a map of Tenjiku, which would only centuries later appear in manuscript and printed editions of the Compendia. The differences between the Daigoji and the Compendia versions of the map are minor. Like the Daigoji map, the Compendia editions also reveal scribal errors in the transcription of the name of the Great Western Land of Women. The Tenri copy of 1548 misreads the character for “great” 大 as the character for “eight” 八, such that the country is rendered the “Land of Eight Western Women” 西八女國; the National Diet Library edition of 1554 seems to have combined the characters for “great” 大 and for “woman” 女 into

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3.2 Map of Tenjiku, from Shūgaishō, 1554. Manuscript; ink on paper, 24.5 × 36 cm. National Diet Library, Tokyo.

3.3 Map of Tenjiku, from Shūgaishō, 1656. Monochrome woodblock book illustration, 24 × 36 cm. National Diet Library, Tokyo.

the single character for “ease” 安, to render the name as “Land of Western Ease” 西安國. If the Daigoji, Tenri, and Diet Library manuscripts were drawn from a common source, the inscription naming the Great Western Land of Women must indeed have been difficult to decipher, as the copyists rendered three distinctly different misreadings.12 As noted in chapter 2, the Daigoji scroll includes five diagrams of expanding cosmic scale, beginning with a map of Japan. The three maps that follow the “Map of Tenjiku” situate the continent within an increasingly detailed and complex Buddhist universe. As in Zhipan’s Chronicle, this combination of maps and diagrams illustrates the inseparability of cartography and cosmology within the Buddhist tradition. The illustration immediately following the Daigoji “Map of Tenjiku” is an enlargement of one of its details, showing Lake Anavatapta, the “Lake of No Heat,” at the center of Jambudvīpa, its borders marked by a double line (fig. 2.7). Projecting from the four sides of the square lake are the animal heads that spawn the four great rivers, which also appear on Jūkai’s Map. Although Zhipan does not include such a diagram in his compendium, he does preface his map of India with Xuanzang’s detailed description of the square lake, the animal heads made of precious materials, and the four great rivers. The Daigoji scroll, however, arranges the animals, directions, and rivers differently than Jūkai’s Map, which follows Xuanzang and Vasubandhu’s descriptions. The scroll depicts the golden elephant and the Ganges in the east; the silver ox and the Indus in the south; the lapis horse and the Oxus in the west; and the crystal lion and the Śītā in the north. Ryūi was aware of this discrepancy and includes an inscription citing the differing data found in the Treasury of Abhidharma. He also cites variant descriptions from the Mind Ground Contemplation Sutra (J. Shinjikan gyō 心地觀經), the Sutra of Previous Deeds (J. Kōkigyō kyō 興起行經), the Sutra of Ten Stages (J. Jūjū danketsu kyō 十住斷結經), and the Treatise on the Great Perfection of Wisdom (J. Daichidoron 大智度論). The next diagram in the handscroll is a planimetric view of the Buddhist universe titled The Planar Surface of Mount Sumeru as Described in the Abhidharmakośa (倶舍日須弥山面) (fig. 2.8). While it draws upon Zhipan’s Map of the Four Continents, Nine Mountains, and Eight Seas, it adds further details. Sumeru is here shown from above, as in Zhipan’s diagram, as a central square divided into four directional quadrants, each with a different chromatic value, reflecting the material of the four sides of the mountain: gold, lapis, silver, and crystal. The rings of the mountains and seas surrounding Sumeru are depicted in alternating bands of light color, each numbered and notated with the details of their size and material composition. In the outermost sea, in each of the four directions, are groupings of three shapes representing each of the four world continents flanked by a pair of smaller landforms of the same shape: square in the north, triangular in the south, circular in the west, and semicircular in the east.

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Four human figures, representing the inhabitants of the four continents, stand in the four corners of the diagram. The head of each figure conforms to the shape—circle, square, semicircle, or oval—of the continent on which the figure dwells. Inscriptions beside the four figures note the life expectancy, height, and skin color of each. The fifth, and final, map of the scroll is the largest and most comprehensive. Occupying seven sheets of paper and more than half the length of the entire scroll, it offers a topographic view of the entire Mount Sumeru cosmology. Like a more detailed version of Zhipan’s Map of the Great Realm of the Triple World, it begins with a quotation from the Treasury of Abhidharma, listing the names and descriptions of the eight hells, which lie two thousand yojanas beneath the earth’s surface (fig. 2.9). It then depicts and describes the layers of iron, wind, water, and gold that make up the circular surface on which the Mount Sumeru universe rests. Above this is the outermost range of iron mountains, containing the great saltwater ocean and four continents. Jambudvīpa is drawn and named with a human figure within its ovoid form. Encircled by this outermost sea are the seven sweet-water oceans and the seven ranges of the golden mountains. Within the innermost ocean, out of which Mount Sumeru rises, are the palaces of the two Nāga kings Nanda and Upananda, who are shown wrapped around the base of Sumeru (fig. 2.10). Above them are the three terraces of Yakṣas and the terrace of the Four Divine Kings, all of which are annotated with scriptural citations specifying their dimensions with numerical precision. The sun and moon are depicted on either side of Mount Sumeru, and at the top of the mountain are the palace of Indra and the realm of the Thirty-Three Gods (Skt. Trāyastriṃśa) (fig. 2.11). Above Mount Sumeru lie the six heavens in the Realm of Desire (Skt. Kāma-dhātu) (fig. 2.12), the four meditation heavens in the Realm of Form (Skt. Rūpa-dhātu) (figs. 2.13 and 2.14), and the Formless Realm (Skt. Ārūpa-dhātu) containing the heaven of boundless space, the heaven of boundless knowledge, the heaven of nonexistence, and the heaven of neither thinking nor nonthinking. The scroll’s map of Tenjiku, like its map of Japan, is thus situated within a classical Buddhist cosmology that is at once physical and metaphysical. As with Zhipan’s encyclopedic presentation of Buddhist India embedded in the Mount Sumeru world, the scroll incorporates Japan and Tenjiku within the larger Buddhist universe. Buddhist cartography and Buddhist cosmology are necessarily interdependent and coarticulated. The Culture of the Copy Thus, while ample grounds exist for entertaining the possibility of Korean, Chinese, or even Japanese sources for the Hōryūji map of 1364, no extant earlier examples have been identified. But if the prototype of the map remains elusive,

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then later copies are well documented. In Japan, the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku continued to be reproduced from the sixteenth through the nineteenth centuries, in manuscript copies made by Buddhist monks both within and beyond the culture of Nara temples. Two eighteenth-century copies belong to Hōryūji and another, dating from the sixteenth century, is associated with Kōfukuji—temples where one would expect a map of Xuanzang’s pilgrimage to be preserved and revered. Yet numerous other copies belong to various Japanese Buddhist schools: Shingon, Shingon-Ritsu, Jōdo, and Jōdo Shin institutions that would seem to have no sectarian interest in Xuanzang. These copies, produced across chronological periods and across denominational lines, are evidence of a shared and enduring veneration of this classical image of the Buddhist world. Dating from the sixteenth through the nineteenth centuries, the copies span an age in which Japan experienced profound religious, intellectual, and technological change. Yet what is most distinctive about these later copies of the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku is their resistance to change. They are characterized by an almost slavish devotion to accuracy: their goal is replication, rather than innovation. In Japanese visual culture, the act of copying (utsusu 写す) is a fundamental element in the traditional arts of painting and calligraphy. As Yoshiaki Shimizu has noted, terms for copies (utsushi 写し, mosha 模写) “carry none of the pejorative connotations of some English-language counterparts” but rather have the positive valence of reverence and preservation.13 Within Japanese Buddhist culture, the copyist’s act is a form of religious practice that requires the maintenance of strict ritual protocols and produces powerful sacred objects. The reproduction of Buddhist images, like the reproduction of Buddhist texts, generates merit as well as a facsimile that bears an ontological relation to its prototype. In Buddhist culture, in short, the copy is valued, not devalued. The Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku thus belongs to what Donald McCallum has called the “replication tradition” in Japanese Buddhist art. That is, “the process whereby a single sacred prototype . . . became the source for a multitude of copies found in temples throughout Japan.”14 Yet the prototype of the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku remains forever deferred.15 The earliest example, Jūkai’s Map of 1364, is assumed to be a copy of a version no longer extant. A document accompanying one eighteenth-century copy claims that the original map, on which Xuanzang himself inscribed his route, was brought from China by Kūkai and kept at Tōji 東寺, the main Shingon temple in the capital. This legendary Tōji version of the map is also inextant—or rather, exists only as a reference inscribed on later copies. More a mis en abyme than a chronological lineage, we have only a series of copies with no original. McCallum has shown that in Japanese Buddhist visual culture, the chain of reproduction assures a living lineage in which the copy is no less

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authentic—and no less animate—than the original. At work in such traditions is “the magical power of replication,” which Michael Taussig has described as “the image affecting what it is an image of, wherein the representation shares in or takes power from the represented.”16 This fundamental power of images is perpetuated, rather than reduced, through replication. With reference to Japanese Buddhist painting, Karen Brock has also argued for the significance of the replica: “It is precisely the much-copied and much-celebrated images—too often of little interest to art historians—that provide glimpses of beliefs and practices not encompassed by the usual categories and frameworks of study. A single-minded focus on original one-of-akind ‘masterpieces’ runs the risk of ignoring significant issues of audience and reception for works that, by their very popularity over time, have been lost and much copied.”17 Brock’s attention to “beliefs and practice” recalls Walter Benjamin’s claim that “the original use value” of all art finds “its basis in ritual.”18 For Benjamin, “the cult of remembrance offers a last refuge for the cult value of the picture.”19 The cult value of Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, as we have seen, lies in a Buddhist cult of remembrance: a cult of traces that Xuanzang’s journey exemplifies, his Record memorializes, and the map visualizes. If the map is thus to be understood as a sacred object—one with instrumental as well as expressive functions—then the act of transcription must also be recognized as a ritual practice essential to its survival, its transformation, and its meaning. Replicas of the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku should thus signal religious value, not aesthetic deficiency. The Buddhist temples, which served as sites of production and reproduction, suggest the work’s ritual context. One of the two undated eighteenth-century copies of the map owned by Hōryūji is signed by an otherwise unidentified monk named Zenjō 禅成, who notes in an inscription along the right-hand edge that he has produced his copy from the “map made by the monk Jūkai in the Fifth Month of 1364 and kept in the sutra repository of Ritsugaku-in at Hōryūji,” which served as a storehouse for monastic property. Zenjō’s inscription supplies the only documentary evidence for the date and authorship of the earlier painting. Zenjō’s copy, measuring 167.3 × 175.3 cm, follows Jūkai’s painting with a studied precision (fig. 3.4). It does not have the deep colors and rich pigments of its prototype but rather is delicately drawn in ink with the mountains and trees highlighted in green and with yellow and vermilion used sparingly to color the temple buildings. Zenjō’s limited color palette is occasionally supplemented by annotation. Areas that are black in Jūkai’s painting, such as the peaks of the Black Mountains in northern India, are colored with a light-gray ink wash, but small characters for “black” (kuro クロ) are inscribed for clarification. Similarly, in areas where Jūkai has applied an

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3.4 Zenjō, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, eighteenth century. Hanging scroll; ink and color on paper, 167.3 × 175.3 cm. Hōryūji, Nara.

opaque white pigment (gofun 胡粉), such as on the snow-capped mountains of the Himalayas, Zenjō has added the character for “white” (shiro 白) to his application of a light coat of pigment. This sort of annotation is commonly found on sketch copies (funpon 粉本 or shukuzu 縮図) produced by Japanese painters, who render them primarily in ink (hakubyō 白描) but may also include light color and color notation. Another form of annotation is inscribed on the cartouches listing the place names along Xuanzang’s route. Here the Chinese transliteration of Central Asian and Indian toponyms are glossed with the phonetic Japanese syllabary for the benefit of readers unfamiliar with the names of such foreign lands. This annotation of place names, like that of color, suggests the commentarial interests of a copyist concerned with matters of reproduction and study. Zenjō’s copy is incomplete in other ways as well: some of the text from the surrounding panels is not included, and the red line tracing Xuanzang’s route is entirely absent. Zenjō does include, however, the external cartouches for the lands of Western Women, Golden Earth, and Northern Barbarians. Amid the sea of swirling waves, his map faithfully reproduces the outlines of the panels of text from Jūkai’s map. Although the cartouche for Akizushima is not present, seventeen other panels are reproduced, including two additional panels no longer visible on Jūkai’s prototype. Ten of the panels include the textual passages from Jūkai’s map—or in some cases, as much of the inscription as could be deciphered at the time of transcription. Another seven panels are left blank: in these cases, the original calligraphy was apparently no longer legible. Most significantly, Zenjō includes an inscription of his own: “The map, made by the monk Jūkai in the fifth month of the third year of the Jōji Era [1364], is kept in the sutra repository of Ritsugaku-in at Hōryūji. I have borrowed it to make this copy so that [Buddhism] may flourish in the future. Making this copy, I rub my aged eyes and feel as if I myself have traveled through Tenjiku. . . . I reverentially dedicate this work to the Dharma King Shōtoku Taishi, [signed] Zenjō” (fig. 3.5). Zenjō’s dedication of the merit accrued from his pious exertions to Dharma King Shōtoku Taishi—lauded as the founder of Hōryūji and as Japan’s paradigmatic Buddhist royal—and to the future prosperity of the Buddhist teachings indicates the profound religious value produced by the ceremonial act of transcription. Such expressions of votive offering accompany most forms of Buddhist ritual practice. Less common and more revealing, however, is Zenjō’s description of the affective quality of the act itself: “In making this copy I feel as if I myself have traveled through Tenjiku.” Like the Chinese poems on cartography examined by Hilde De Weerdt, Zenjō’s comments indicate something “more than mere emotional responses to an occasional map viewing. They can be seen as secondary instructions . . . suggesting to their readers how to respond to particular aspects and features of maps.”20 In tracing the map of Xuanzang’s

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3.5 Zenjō, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku. Detail of inscription.

pilgrimage, Zenjō feels as if he has himself traveled to the Holy Land. Zenjō’s description of his experience belies Korzybski’s famous dictum that “the map is not the territory.”21 Instead, it better supports Turnbull’s claim that “maps are territories” or perhaps even Baudrillard’s assertion that “the map precedes the territory.”22 For Zenjō at least, the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku functioned iconically. It was for him, and for other Buddhists who copied and venerated the map in various temple contexts, both a devotional object and a ritual means of reenacting, by quite literally retracing, Xuanzang’s journey. The pilgrimage to Tenjiku was for such monks, as it was for Myōe, a contemplative practice and one, moreover, that could be ritually enacted through the use of visual media. Faithful Replicas There are thirteen extant later versions of the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku. The lines of descent are unclear and indirect. From variations as well as inscriptions in the extant corpus, we may presume the existence of prototypes that have now been lost. Two copies, as mentioned above, are owned by Hōryūji itself. Others are in the collections of Kushuon-in 久修園院, a Shingon-Ritsu temple in Osaka Prefecture; Jōgon-in 浄厳院, a Jōdo temple in Shiga Prefecture; Kongōzanmai-in 金剛三昧院, a temple within the Shingon monastic headquarters of Mount Kōya in Wakayama Prefecture; and Chion-in 知恩院, head temple of the Jōdo school in Kyoto. Six further copies, likely once owned by other temples, are now in the collections of the Kyoto University Library, the Ryūkoku University Library, the Kobe City Museum, the National Museum of Japanese Culture and History, the Japanese National Archives, and the Art Gallery of South Australia. Now in the Muroga Nobuo Collection of the Kyoto University Library, the map that may be the earliest extant copy of Jūkai’s Map was formerly in the collection of Professor Ayuzawa Shintarō (fig. 3.6). Measuring 133 × 123 cm, it is painted in ink and color on paper, laid down on additional layers of backing paper, and mounted on silk. Unlike most other copies, it was stored folded, not remounted as a hanging scroll. Today there remains only the lower two-thirds of what was once a larger image. Although it is incomplete and less skillfully painted than Zenjō’s copy, the Muroga map accords with the place names, textual commentary, architecture, and memorials represented in the map of 1364. Xuanzang’s route is drawn in vermilion, the Black Mountains are darkly colored, and the great rivers that flow throughout the continent are painted blue. Jūkai’s cresting waves and roiling seas do not appear, but the map does clearly indicate the islands to the south, the cartouches that identify the Great Western Land of Women, the Land of Gold, and the sites where the Ganges and Indus Rivers empty into the southern seas.

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Although undated, the map does contain the name of the copyist in the lower-­left corner: Tsutsui Junshō 筒井順昭 (1523–1550), a Yamato daimyō of the Sengoku period.23 The powerful Tsutsui lineage controlled Yamato Province for most of the sixteenth century, and it was closely associated with both Hōryūji and Kōfukuji.24 The family held a hereditary Buddhist title and commanded the monastic forces attached to Seishin-in, a subtemple of Kōfukuji. Junshō, the eldest son of Tsutsui Junkō 筒井順興 (1484–1535), succeeded his father as daimyō in 1535. In 1549, after fourteen years of rule, Junshō fell ill and retired to Mount Hiei with several of his vassals and died there the following year. After Junshō’s untimely death at the age of twenty-six, his son, Tsutsui Junkei 筒井順慶 (1549–1584), maintained the family’s control of Yamato under the authority of Oda Nobunaga and Toyotomi Hideyoshi. It may seem odd that the name of a military leader rather than that of a scholar-monk appears on the earliest-known copy of Jūkai’s map. Yet Tsutsui Junshō was closely associated with Hōryūji and Kōfukuji, the two temples with which Jūkai was affiliated, and took the tonsure and joined the monastic community at Enryakuji toward the end of his brief life. His name on the map may suggest an early history of use beyond the temple walls.

3.6 Tsutsui Junshō, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, sixteenth century. Hanging scroll; ink and color on paper, 133 × 123 cm. Muroga Collection, Kyoto University Library, Kyoto.

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The only other copy of the map to include the outer panels of text came to light in 2009. Now in the collection of the Art Gallery of South Australia in Adelaide and painted on paper and mounted on silk as a hanging scroll, it measures 171 × 167 cm and is more expertly rendered and richly colored than either Zenjō’s or Tsutsui’s copy and its calligraphy more fully realized (fig. 3.7). Compared to the relative simplicity of the Zenjō and Tsutsui copies, it seems to replicate the painting of 1364 in every detail, reproducing features from the weight of the calligraphic line to the chromatic tonality of the surrounding panels. The excellent condition and minimal paint loss of the Adelaide copy is of great assistance, as is the Zenjō copy, in reconstructing the damaged and obscured portions of Jūkai’s prototype. The panels of text are drawn in outline and filled in with the same colors found on Jūkai’s Map, and the presence and absence of textual passages within the panels largely correspond to Zenjō’s map, with only minor discrepancies. The Adelaide copy, however, differs from all others by including a painted mounting (kaki-byōsō 描表装) in which the paper surrounding the map is painted to appear as a traditional brocade textile mounting decorated with a combination of flowering paulownia and chrysanthemums upon a foliage scroll pattern known as karakusa 唐草. The painted mounting, which even includes two vertical ribbons (fūtai 風袋) along the top, does not replicate an extant textile mounting on the prototype but rather is the creation of the copyist and suggests that the Adelaide copy was made for purposes of display. The next datable copy, after the Tsutsui example, belongs to Kushuon-in 久修園院, a temple of the Shingon-Ritsu school located in the city of Hirakata, in Osaka Prefecture (fig. 3.8). Painted with great clarity and precision in ink and color on paper, it measures 168 × 172 cm. The pigments used in the Kushuon-in copy are more opaque and more thickly and evenly applied than in Jūkai’s work. The colors are shaded more smoothly and executed more subtly, without the looseness of Jūkai’s brushwork. The surrounding sea, which Jūkai rendered in ink monochrome with only the occasional touch of white to highlight the cresting waves, is here painted in deep shades of green and aquamarine. Unlike all other copies, the words “Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku” are inscribed in thick black ink amid the waves at the top edge of the map, supplying a title on the surface of the painting. The characters for north, south, east, and west are also drawn in the same style and scale in each of the four directions. The Kushuon-in painting includes the cartouches in the sea for the lands of Western Women, Golden Earth, and Northern Barbarians, although the last is left 3.7 (Opposite page) Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, Edo period. Hanging scroll; ink and color on paper, 171 × 167 cm. Art Gallery of South Australia, Adelaide.

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3.8 Sōkaku, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, ca. 1692. Hanging scroll; ink and color on paper, 168 × 172 cm. Kushuon-in, Hirakata.

blank. Absent, moreover, are the panels of text surrounding the continent found on the Jūkai, Tsutsui, Zenjō, and Adelaide maps. In an unusual variation, the red line of the pilgrim’s itinerary extends southwest from Simhala to three islands mentioned—but never visited—by Xuanzang: Narikela, the Solitary Isle, and the Great Precious Island. The monk Sōkaku 宗覚 (1639–1720; a.k.a. Shōjiki 正直) produced this copy around the year 1692. Born in Kyoto into the Nagata 永田 clan, Sōkaku took the tonsure at age twenty-four; he practiced at various temples in the capital for more than a decade before becoming the chief priest of Kushuon-in in 1676, where he remained until his death at age eighty-two.25 Sōkaku was a true polymath. He was a student of music, mathematics, medicine, the military arts, the Chinese classics, astronomy, and cartography. He was also an accomplished painter and sculptor. His explorations in both cartography and astronomy were wide ranging. In 1691 he created a highly detailed hand-­ colored manuscript copy of an enormous map of Ming China that was more than three meters square.26 In 1702 he produced a bronze celestial globe based on a drawing by the bakufu astronomer Yasui Santetsu 保井算哲 (also known as Shibukawa Harumi or Shunkai 渋川春海, 1693–1715). In the following year, he designed the first known Buddhist terrestrial globe. Sōkaku’s globes will be discussed in detail in chapter 6. In addition to the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, he produced a painting of the Buddha’s parinirvāṇa and, in 1679, sculpted an enormous wooden image of Aizen Myōō that is still enshrined at his temple. Sōkaku was also renowned as a restorer of ancient paintings and spent a period of two years, from 1694 to 1696, restoring the famous paintings of the Dual mandala at Tōji, the head temple of the Shingon school in Kyoto.27 Sōkaku’s version of the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku is thus that of an experienced Buddhist painter and copyist who studied and produced cartography and cosmography in multiple modes and media. This unusual example by an unusual monastic painter and scholar is more studied and detailed perhaps than its prototype and, when viewed together with his other works, reveals hints of cartographic experimentation—the emblazoned title, the extended itinerary—that suggests both a dedication to past practices and an exploration of future possibilities. Two other copies of the map, which also include the cartouches for Jambudvīpa and for the lands of Western Women and Golden Earth, are unsigned and undated. One is in the Hōryūji collection and measures 161.8 × 132.4 cm (fig. 3.9). The other, in the collection of Jōgon-in, a Jōdo temple in Shiga Prefecture, measures 159.2 × 133.8 cm.28 Both are executed in ink and color on paper. The surrounding seas in the Hōryūji copy are largely unpainted except for some waves, drawn in ink monochrome, surrounding the islands. The topography is finely done in light colors: The mountainous landscape is expertly rendered and

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3.9 Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, eighteenth century. Hanging scroll; ink and color on paper, 161.8 × 132.4 cm. Hōryūji, Nara.

shaded with washes of greens and browns, the trees are painted in a variety of styles and shades, and the rivers and lakes are colored in light-blue pigment. While the architecture is largely uncolored, many of the stupas are painted a golden yellow. Vermilion is used only to demarcate Xuanzang’s route and to depict a bright-red grove of trees at the base of the Himalayas marking “the great rock pass where Prince Mahasattva sacrificed his body to the starving tigress.” Neither the Jōgon-in nor the Hōryūji copy, however, includes any of the textual passages from Xuanzang that distinguish the Jūkai, Junshō, Zenjō, and Adelaide versions. The earliest-dated eighteenth-century copy of the map is from 1736, though it was destroyed in the Second World War during the firebombing of Tokyo (fig. 3.10). It belonged to Hōshō-in 宝松院 (a.k.a. Taitokuin 台徳院), a subtemple of Zōjōji, the great Pure Land temple in Edo patronized by the Tokugawa family. Zōjōji was the administrative headquarters of the Pure Land school and a major center of Buddhist scholarship in the eighteenth century. Its sub­temple of Hōshō-in memorialized the second Tokugawa shogun, Hidetada (徳川秀忠, 1579–1632). Although the Hōshō-in map was destroyed in the war, a photograph of it is reproduced in the prewar edition of The Complete Works of Japanese Buddhism (Dai Nihon Bukkyō zensho 大日本佛教全書). Also published in the same collection are two manuscript documents that accompany and comment on the map titled Two Notes on a Map of the Western Regions (Saiikizu sofuku nikō roku 西域圖麁二校録).29 The first of the two documents claims that the Hōshō-in map is a third-generation copy of the original map that Xuanzang obtained in India and upon which he himself inscribed the route of his journey. According to the document, Xuanzang deposited his original map at the Qinglong Temple 青龍寺 in Chang’an, where it remained until the Chinese master Huiguo 惠果 gave it to the Shingon patriarch Kūkai, who returned to Japan with the original map early in the ninth century and preserved it at Tōji.30 The document notes that some nine hundred years later, the monk Ekū 慧空, of Komatsudani Shōrinji 小松谷 正林寺 in eastern Kyoto, made a copy of the Tōji map, brought it to Edo, and presented it to Tonshū 頓秀 (1666–1739), the forty-first abbot of Zōjōji. The abbot then had the monk Ninkai 忍海 (1696–1761) make a copy of Ekū’s manuscript.31 Komatsudani Shōrinji is an important temple in the Pure Land tradition. Originally a villa belonging to Taira no Shigemori 平重盛 (1138–1179) and later a mountain retreat of Fujiwara Kanezane, Shōrinji hosted Hōnen’s ordination of Kanezane in 1202 and sheltered Hōnen when he was exiled from the capital in 1207. Although destroyed in the Onin War, the temple was restored in 1733 by Gizan 義山 (1648–1717) and his disciple Ekū, who, according to the document, produced the map lent to Hōshō-in.32 The Hōshō-in document is dated 1736 and signed by seven senior monks of the temple: the abbot, Tonshū, Ninkai,

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3.10 Ninkai, Map of the Western Regions, 1736. Hanging scroll; ink and color on paper. Hōshōin, Zōjōji, Tokyo. Image from Dai Nihon Bukkyō zensho, ed. Bussho Kankōkai.

who drew the map, Ryōseki 了碩, Jōgetsu 定月, Ryōgetsu 了月, Junshin 順眞, and Keigi 奚疑, who compared it to Ekū’s copy and made corrections. The first Hōshō-in document thus attributes sacred origins to the map drawn by Xuanzang himself, deposited at Qinglongsi (a minor temple in China but one long revered in Japan), transmitted (like so much of Japan’s Buddhist patrimony, according to tradition) by Huiguo to Kūkai, preserved at Tōji­—and yet unmentioned for nearly a millennium. This account may therefore seem more pious legend than historical. But while the first document describes the map’s past in hagiographic terms, the second makes a rigorous geographical and bibliographical examination of its content. Together, the two documents reveal that for monastic intellectuals of the Edo period there was no conflict between devotion and critical analysis. The second Hōshō-in document notes that the map was originally titled Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku but, due to the inclusion of Central Asia, should more accurately be called a Map of the Western Regions or Saiikizu 西 域圖, a renaming that underscores the centrality of Xuanzang’s Record.33 The compilers of the document examined and annotated the map with great scholarly care. Variant readings of Chinese, Central Asian, and South Asian place names are provided, distances and directions carefully noted, and Buddhist monuments individually listed. Every toponym and textual notation is examined, commented on, and compared to such authoritative texts as Xuanzang’s Record, Huili’s Life, and other historical and geographic sources such as the Dynastic History of the Tang 唐書. When the examination of Xuanzang’s itinerary reaches Potalaka, moreover, the editors recognize a world beyond the confines of Xuanzang’s text. The document explains that the thirty-three place names that appear in cartouches around Avalokiteśvara’s paradise belong not to the Potalaka of the sutras but rather to the Chinese pilgrimage site of Putuoshan. They list a number of the local place names—Inner Hall 衷堂, Peak of the Correct Goal 正趣峯, Pewter Mountain 盤陀山, Stone Bridge of the Stone Sage 石哲石橋, Stone of Pure Lapis Lazuli 浄琉石, White Robe Peak, Sea of Lotus Flowers 蓮華洋, Cave of Tidal Sounds, Reef of Silla 新羅礁, Sudhana Peak—and even the county (Mingzhou 明州) of the Chinese island. The document not only explains these local toponyms but also corrects their orthography by referring to Chinese gazetteers of Putuoshan and standard Chinese and Japanese reference works.34 The scholarly monks who composed this document thus treated the map as something more than a devotional object: their paper trail suggests a rather different modality of reception than that of Zenjō’s pious inscription. For them, it was also an important geographical resource to be analyzed, evaluated, and compared against other bibliographic reference materials from their extensive libraries. They aimed to construct not only a faithful copy but also a critical edition.

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Whereas Xuanzang’s authorship of the map is certainly apocryphal, a now-lost Tōji version, or at least a copy associated with Shōrinji, may indeed have served as the prototype for later transcriptions of the map. Two other mid-eighteenth-century copies—one dated 1749 in the Akioka Takejirō Collection of the Kobe City Museum, the other, dated 1755, belonging to Chiōn-in— seem to corroborate the existence of such a lineage. The Akioka map, measuring 167 × 133.2 cm, is painted in ink and color on paper (fig. 3.11). The landscape is rendered primarily in ink monochrome, with a limited use of other colors: olive green and light vermilion highlighting the foliage, a light gray-blue indicating water, and a thin red line designating Xuanzang’s route. An inscription in the lower-right corner states: “This is a copy of a painting belonging to Komatsudani Shōrinji in the eastern district of the capital, which was copied by Kataoka Hōgen Yūchiku 片岡法眼幽竹 on the Third Day of the Fourth Month of the First Year of the Enkyō Era (1744).” A second inscription in the lower-left corner, dated the Eighth Month of the Kan-en Era (1749), notes that the Shōrinji painting that Kataoka copied was itself a copy of an original in the Tōji treasury. Thus, the Akioka painting of 1749, like the Hōshō-in painting of 1736, claims to be a copy of a painting belonging to Shōrinji, which was in turn a copy of a painting belonging to Tōji, which the Hōshō-in monks claimed to be the original map from Xuanzang’s own hand. The copy belonging to Chiōn-in is only slightly smaller, 156.5 × 130 cm, and also painted in ink and color on paper. It is nearly identical to the Akioka copy, with only minor differences in coloration: blues are replaced by browns; gofun is used on the cartouches, the snow-capped mountains, and the cresting waves surrounding the islands. It was most likely copied, perhaps even traced, from the same copy that served as the prototype of the Akioka version. An inscription on the back of the scroll states, “This Map of Tenjiku was made in the Eleventh Month of the Fifth Year of the Hōreki Era (1755) from the copy belonging to Komatsudani Shōrinji.” A Chiōn-in temple inventory lists it as a copy of a painting made by Ekū of Shōrinji. A similar early nineteenth-century copy, measuring 152 × 130.7 cm, belongs to the collection of Kongōzanmai-in (fig. 3.12). It resembles the previous examples, with only slight chromatic variation: the blue, ochre, and vermilion pigments are of a deeper hue and more opaque, and gofun is used to mark the boundaries of the continent and the borders between regions. An inscription on the back of the map notes: “This Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku was drawn in the Seventh Month of the Thirteenth Year of the Bunka Era (1816) at Seiganji 青巌寺. The copyist was a monk from Konpiradera 金比羅寺 in Sanuki 讃岐 Province.”35 Two other undated late-Edo-period examples of the Shōrinji type are held by the Japanese National Archives and the National Museum of Japanese

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3.11 Hōgen Yūchiku, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, 1749. Hanging scroll; ink and color on paper, 167 × 133.2 cm. Akioka Collection, Kobe City Museum.

3.12 Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku. Hanging scroll; ink and color on paper, 152 × 130.7 cm. Kongōzanmai-in, Wakayama. Image from Dai Nihon Bukkyō zensho, ed. Suzuki Gakujutsu Zaidan.

History. The map in the National Archives measures 164 × 133 cm and is expertly painted in ink and color on paper (fig. 3.13). Unlike the others, however, it is not mounted on silk as a hanging scroll but folded between wooden covers. They bear the title Tripiṭaka [Master] Xuanzang of the Tang, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku 唐玄奘三蔵五天竺圖. Though nearly identical to the National Archives copy, the National Museum of Japanese History copy is mounted as a hanging scroll (fig. 3.14). It conforms, in nearly every detail, to the other copies but was produced by a less accomplished painter. Neither the quality of the painting nor the calligraphy achieves the refinement of the others. The characters for the four cardinal directions are also inscribed on its four sides. The six copies just described—belonging to Hōshō-in, Chion-in, Kongōzanmai-in, the Akioka Collection, the National Museum of Japanese History and Culture, and the National Archives—all lack the cartouches for Jambudvīpa, the Great Western Land of Women, the Land of Golden Earth, and the Land of Northern Barbarians. A seventh copy, and the third version in the Hōryūji collection, is also very similar but includes the outer cartouches absent from the other six. All seven copies appear to derive from a common model that inscriptions identify as made by Ekū of Shōrinji after an original at Tōji. Unlike the sixteenth-century copy of Tsutsui Junshō, the eighteenth-century copy by Zenjō, and the undated Adelaide copy, these seven do not seem to derive directly from the fourteenth-century version by Jūkai. This has led Muroga Nobuo and Unno Kazutaka to posit a genealogy in which a lost Tōji prototype serves as the source for four different transcription lineages. One line of descent from the Tōji prototype leads to Jūkai’s copy, in turn the source for the Tsutsui, Zenjō, and Adelaide copies. Another line of descent leads to the lost copy by Ekū of Shōrinji, which is the common source for the copies belonging to Hōshō-in, Chion-in, Kongōzanmai-in, the Akioka Collection, the National Museum of Japanese History and Culture, and the National Archives. A third line leads to the copy by Sōkaku of Kushuon-in, who, Muroga and Unno speculate, might have seen the Tōji version during the two years he spent at the temple as a painting restorer. And a fourth line leads to the copy at Jōgon-in, which Unno posits as the source for a copy at Ryūkoku University, to be discussed shortly. Muroga and Unno’s genealogical hypothesis has not gone unchallenged. More recently, Taniguchi Kosei has disputed the positing of a Tōji prototype. He has identified the scribal errors in the Akioka painting of 1749, and in the unsigned Hōryūji copy, as identical to those found in Jūkai’s painting of 1364. Taniguchi argues that rather than referring to the Shingon temple in Kyoto the “Tōji” mentioned in the Akioka inscription in fact refers to Hōryūji’s Ritsugaku-in, the location of Jūkai’s painting according to Zenjō’s inscription. He notes that in the Edo period, the Eastern Cloister (Tō-in 東院) of Hōryūji, where Ritsugaku-in is located, was known as Tōji 東寺. He further observes that the

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3.13 Xuanzang Tripiṭaka of the Tang, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku. Manuscript; ink and color on paper, 164 × 133 cm. National Archives of Japan, Tokyo.

3.14 Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku. Hanging scroll; ink and color on paper, 174 × 137.5 cm. National Museum of Japanese History and Culture, Sakurai.

Buddhist painter Kataoka Hōgen Yūchiku, who is said to have copied the map belonging to Shōrinji, is known to have visited Hōryūji in 1763 in order to make a copy of the temple’s famous painting of Shōtoku Taishi, known as the Tōhon miei 唐本御影.36 For Taniguchi, therefore, the Tōji prototype is none other than Jūkai’s painting of 1364, from which all other Edo-period transcriptions derive. Any genealogy based on lost originals remains incomplete and necessarily conjectural. The historiographical desire to reconstruct and retrieve such lines of descent is, however, quite different than the religious desire that motivated the production and reproduction of the paintings themselves, for the power of the map lies ultimately in the Buddhist cult of traces, which is preserved through reverence and replication. According to the genealogy described in the Hōshō-in document, the original map was transmitted from India to China by Xuanzang, who is said to have traced in vermilion ink the route of his own journey in search of the Buddha’s traces. Within this search for origins, Xuanzang’s imagined map, a secondary tracing of the Buddhist cult of traces and hence a relic twice removed, was transmitted from China to Japan by Kūkai and within Japan by devoted monks for whom further transcriptions of Xuanzang’s pilgrimage allowed them to feel, in the words of Zenjō, “as if traveling to Tenjiku.” For those who produced and consumed these images, the epistemology of the copy mattered more than the documentation of provenance. For such monks, who took transcription as a ritual practice and replication as an act of faith, the reproduction of a sacred object was a matter of participation, rather than innovation. It is even more notable, then, that the latest map in this genealogy, and the final to be considered in this chapter, seems to invert many of the priorities of the replication tradition to which it otherwise belongs. In addition to faithfully preserving the sacred traces of Xuanzang’s pilgrimage, the maker of this map has updated and filled many of the lacunae that had remained unchanged on all earlier copies. It is held in the library of Ryūkoku University in Kyoto and therefore belongs to the Nishihonganji branch of the Jōdoshinshū (fig. 3.15). In this example, which measures 173 × 128 cm and dates from the final decades of the nineteenth century, foreign place names are carefully drawn in black ink, in crisply outlined cartouches on a white gesso ground, often with their Japanese pronunciation notated in a phonetic subscript. The bright and bold use of color also distinguishes the Ryūkoku map from others. Mountains and foliage are rendered in light browns and deep greens; the boundary lines within and surrounding the continent are filled in with an ochre pigment; religious architecture is depicted with white walls, blue roofs, and vermilion beams; waterways are colored a brilliant blue; and the Jetavana Grove is portrayed as a ring of green surrounding a golden ground, representing perhaps the gold with which Anāthapindika is said to have covered the land when he purchased the site for the Buddha. The heads of the mythic animals surrounding

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3.15 Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku. Hanging scroll; ink and color on paper, 173 × 128 cm. Ryūkoku University Library, Kyoto.

Lake Anavatapta—crystal lion, silver ox, golden elephant, and lapis horse—are rendered in pink, white, yellow, and blue, and Xuanzang’s itinerary is drawn in deep vermilion. A single cartouche to the right of the continent is labeled “Jambudvīpa,” one of the two cartouches on the left side is labeled “Land of Golden Earth,” and the other, where the characters for the “Great Western Land of Women” would usually be found, remains blank. There is another significant omission: among the fourteen versions, it the only one not to include the scene of the three figures arriving by boat at Mount Fudaraku. Even more unusual, however, are notable additions not found on any other versions of the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, which seem to value preservation over alteration. The area reserved for China, which was left blank in all other examples—a tabula rasa unexplored in Xuanzang’s account—is filled in on the Ryūkoku map with a highly detailed map reflecting a Qing dynasty geography of the empire (fig. 3.16). The cartography of China, painted in the same bright hues as the rest of Jambudvīpa, is most likely based on one of the many woodblock-printed maps of China produced by Nagakubo Sekisui 長久保 赤水 (1717–1801) in the late eighteenth century. An ochre boundary line marks the border of the Chinese empire, like the ochre lines that separate the other regions of India. And the outlines of some twenty-five small, unnamed islands are drawn off the coast. Hundreds of Chinese toponyms, inscribed in rectangular, oval, circular, and diamond-shaped cartouches, fill the landmass; more than one hundred major mountains, painted in greens and browns and labeled by name, provide topographic texture, and an intricate network of blue waterways threads like veins throughout the landscape. The same vermilion line that elsewhere designates Xuanzang’s pilgrimage route winds its way across China as well, connecting each town and city with the distances between them measured and noted. An entirely new body of contemporary cartographic data, absent from and indeed irrelevant to Xuanzang’s geography, has been added to the map of Jambudvīpa. The classical worldview of Buddhist scripture has been updated and repurposed. What once represented a landscape of spiritual longing and a guide to Buddhist origins has become a cartography of contemporary Asia, one in which China has been fully integrated with the Western Regions and India. But it is not only China that has been reinscribed within Jambudvīpa, for Japan has been given a new shape as well. In place of the depiction that has appeared on every other copy of the map examined so far—an abbreviated painting of the archipelago, with Kyushu and Shikoku foregrounded and Honshu foreshortened—the Ryūkoku map includes a cartography of Japan more complete and more current than ever before. Japan is here represented by a late nineteenth-­century copperplate-printed map, which has been cut out of its original context and glued onto the map of Jambudvīpa (fig. 3.17). Copperplate

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3.16 Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku. Detail of China.

3.17 Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku. Detail of Japan.

engraving, developed in Japan beginning in the late eighteenth century, offered Japanese cartographers greater detail on a finer scale than either painting or xylography allowed. This map of Japan, cut from an early copperplate atlas of the country, marks the boundaries and notes the names of every province within oval cartouches, in Chinese characters, in Japanese syllabary, or both. The names of mountains, rivers, districts, and even the Inner and Outer Ise Shrines are included. This conjunction of cartographies is contextually, chronologically, and cognitively dissonant. The symbolic violence and constructed quality of this map could not be more obvious: the severed edge of the map of Japan reveals the mark of the blade that removed it from the atlas in which it was originally published; the glue affixing it to its new surface has stained the paper the color of dried blood. The radical addition of contemporaneous maps of China and Japan to Xuanzang’s otherwise unchanged Buddhist world continent indicates a markedly different context of reception than all other versions of the map examined so far. This presentist urge to update an essentially Tang vision of the world recalls the scholarly commentary compiled by the Zōjōji monks in the eighteenth century, who sought to compare and correct the map’s ancient landmarks with the latest geographical reference works. However, these same scholar-monks preserved and perpetuated the legend of Kūkai’s transmission of Xuanzang’s holograph. Piety and presentism were not mutually exclusive for the Zōjōji monks or for the compiler of the Ryūkoku map. There remains a difference, however, between commentary and reconfiguration. In producing this work of cartographic bricolage—an assemblage evident in its very facture— the maker of the Ryūkoku version created a hybrid form that had never been seen before: one that looks back to an idealized past and forward to an anticipated future. However unevenly, the Ryūkoku map fuses a copy of a fourteenth-­ century painted map of India and Central Asia, a copy of an eighteenth-century woodblock-printed map of China, and a nineteenth-century copperplate-printed map of Japan. It thus weaves together three different cartographic traditions, three different technologies of reproduction, and three different regimes of visuality, all in the interest of producing a single composite image. The attempt to unify such disparate modes of representation is more experimental than accomplished; its seams and sutures are all too visible, its effort labored and evident. Moreover, the incorporation of new modes of mechanical reproduction into the scribal tradition—Sekisui’s eighteenth-century woodblock-printed maps of China and the nineteenth-century copperplate atlas of Japan—signals the importance of the new media of print culture. To understand how such acts of hybridity could have been not only possible but even necessary, we turn, in the following chapter, to the age in which the encounter with other worldviews occasioned a radical transformation of Japanese Buddhist cartography.

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4

HYBRID CARTOGRAPHIES The Buddhist Map and the Tokugawa World

The cartographic bricolage of the Ryūkoku map—incorporating an eighteenth-­ century woodblock-printed map of China and a nineteenth-century copperplate-printed map of Japan within a fourteenth-century painting of Jambudvīpa—indicates that the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku represented something more than a medieval worldview. Whereas the contemporary viewer may be confounded by such cartographic hybridity, a similar composite quality characterized all the world maps produced in the Tokugawa period. In an age of cartographic pluralism and competition, Japanese world maps were informed by a multiplicity of worldviews—European, Chinese, or Indian in orientation— none of which could claim hegemony or exist in isolation. Their combination in Japan resulted in an extremely heterogeneous cartographic culture—dialogical, indeed at times cacophonous—in which any single map had to address and contend with other possible modalities of representation. Although updated with more recent cartographies of China and Japan, the Ryūkoku map preserves intact the sacred world of Xuanzang’s pilgrimage. Like all of its predecessors, it upholds the traditional sangoku worldview of the three countries of India, China, and Japan. Yet since the late sixteenth century, Japan had entered an age not of sangoku, “three countries,” but of bankoku, “myriad lands.”1 To be certain, the Ryūkoku map does include a Meiji-period copperplate-printed map of Japan, a detail that relies on European modes of cartographic vision and technical production. Aside from this intrusion, though, Europe and its view of the world are otherwise absent from the map.

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To exclude Europe, or its view of the world, was no easy feat in late nineteenth-­century Japan. Rather, we may understand that exclusion as part of a conscious and purposeful rejection of centuries of religious, intellectual, and cartographic incursion into the Japanese Buddhist world. After all, the Europeans who had first arrived in Japan in the middle of the sixteenth century had brought their own maps of the world. By the end of that century, Japanese painters were creating world maps based on these examples of European cartography. And the knowledge and production of European-style world maps did not remain confined to Japan’s “Christian century.” From the second half of the seventeenth century to the end of the nineteenth century, Japanese publishers produced and sold European-style world maps in printed books and as hanging scrolls. Thus, when the continents of Europe, Africa, the Americas, and Antarctica were excluded by the cartographers responsible for the Ryūkoku map—or those responsible for any of the other ten copies of the map, all produced after the seven­teenth century—we may infer that those exclusions resulted not from cartographic ignorance but from religious principle. This chapter takes the Ryūkoku map as a point of departure to explore the challenges posed by the arrival of alternative worldviews and the strategies of Buddhist cartographers who sought to locate themselves in a larger world no longer entirely of their own making. Although European-style world maps were introduced to Japan in the sixteenth century and were soon produced there as well, such foreign models did not entirely supplant earlier forms of cartographic representation. Japanese Buddhist world maps continued to be produced and reproduced, even as new modes of European cartography appeared in painted and printed form and as new maps from China (of both Jesuit and Buddhist origin) informed the visual culture of the era. Some of the Buddhist world maps of the Tokugawa period were the faithful transcriptions, examined in the previous chapter, that carefully cited and devotedly traced earlier models with a pious hand and a veneration of the past. Other Buddhist world maps produced in this period, however, departed from prior patterns, appropriated novel elements, and reconceived and reconstructed entirely new worlds. It was an increasingly diverse cartographic culture that made possible these radical departures in Buddhist worldmaking. Whether produced in Europe or by domestic painters and printmakers, the maps that made up the rich and diverse cartographic culture of the Tokugawa period forever changed the shape of the Japanese Buddhist world. Cartography and Conversion Perhaps the most notable of the new cartographies of the period were those introduced from Europe by the merchants and missionaries who first arrived on Japan’s shores in the 1540s. The Europeans brought much that was unfamiliar

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and strange: new geographies of the continents of Europe, Africa, and the Americas; new technologies of clockworks, astrolabes, and globes; and new universes of Aristotelian physics, Ptolemaic astronomy, and Roman Catholic cosmology. No less than the cartography of Buddhist Japan, the cartography of Christian Europe was embedded in a thoroughly religious worldview. To Jesuits seeking converts, geographic and astronomical knowledge was not incidental but rather integral to their mission. Francis Xavier (1506–1552), who inaugurated the Jesuit mission to Japan in the years from 1549 to 1551, taught the theory of a spherical Earth and Ptolemaic geocentric cosmology upon his arrival in the country. In 1552, Xavier wrote that missionaries should know something of the globe, because the Japanese very much like to know about the movement of the heavens, the eclipse of the sun, the waxing and waning of the moon, as well as the origin of rain, snow, hail, thunder, lightning, comets and other natural phenomena. The explanation of these things is very useful in winning over the people.2

In another letter of the same year, Xavier wrote that the Japanese whom he encountered did not know that the earth was round, neither did they know the path of the sun through the sky. They would ask about these things and others such as comets, thundercracks, rain, snow, and other similar things, until they would state that they were quite content and satisfied. They regarded us as learned men, which helped us greatly in convincing them to believe our word.3

The Jesuit Luis Frois (1532–1597) records numerous instances of Jesuits deploying their knowledge of the cosmos to confront Buddhist monastics and (at least in the author’s account) win respect and converts. He describes a debate in 1560 between Gaspar Vilela and a group of Buddhist monks in Kyoto in which the monks were defeated when “the Padre explained the dimensions of the globe and the distances to India and various other foreign countries.”4 Frois portrays another encounter in Kyoto with a group of Nichiren monks in 1561 as follows: At that time the most eminent astronomer in Japan, the courtier [Kamo no] Akimasa, was present. Akimasa asked the padres about solar and lunar eclipses and about the movement of the heavenly bodies. He held the padres’ knowledge in high esteem and thereafter everyone in the capital did so as well. Akimasa received baptism as did his wife, children, and servants and he took the name Manuel Akimasa.5

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Frois describes a similar encounter the following year between Luis de Almeida (1525–1583) and another group of Buddhist monks: The abbot of Ōsenji was a very learned Japanese mathematician. He asked numerous questions about solar and lunar eclipses, about low and high tides, and about the relationship between air and space. We replied to his questions in writing and also provided him with several diagrams for verification. He believed us at once and was completely satisfied with our explanations. Based on the teachings of Śākyamuni, the Japanese believe that heaven rises above a mountain known as Sumeru, shaped like an hourglass. He explained that the sun was like a child’s top with a string wrapped around it and that it makes one revolution a day around the summit of the central mountain. The world gets warmer in the summer, when the sun draws nearer, and colder in the winter, when it is more distant. He asked me what I thought of this explanation and I replied that the sun does not drift away from the heavens and that our astronomical scholarship was based on reason. The monks were then completely satisfied.6

Frois recounts another meeting, in 1580, between the ruler Oda Nobunaga 織田信長 (1534–1582) and Organtino Gnecchi-Soldo (1530–1609), in which the warlord examined a terrestrial globe and questioned the missionary about cartographic materials and the route he had taken from Europe to Japan.7 In 1581 Nobunaga again used a world map to question Alessandro Valignano (1539– 1606), the Jesuit Visitor of Missions for Asia, about his routes of travel.8 By 1596 a world map and terrestrial globe were on display in the Jesuit church in Kyoto.9 And in 1605 a Japanese convert to Christianity, Fukansai 不干斎 Habian (1565–1621), criticized the Buddhist view “that the Earth is an endless flat surface.” He countered, “Men from Christian countries leave our ports in their ‘black ships’ and travel east toward the sun, day in and day out, and eventually arrive back at the port of departure. Is this not proof that the earth is round?”10 European and Japanese accounts from the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries thus describe maps and globes of the world as central objects in the encounter between Jesuit missionaries and Japan’s religious and political elites. The importation, production, and exhibition of European-style world maps comprised a significant milieu of religious, intellectual, and political exchange. Recognizing the value of geography and astronomy to their mission, the Jesuits prioritized the physical understanding of the world in the curriculum of their Japanese converts. The Compendium Catholicae Veritatis, compiled by the Jesuit Pedro Gómez (1533–1600) in 1593 and translated into Japanese in 1594 under the supervision of Pedro Ramón (1550–1611), served as the principal

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textbook of Jesuit education in Japan until the Jesuits were expelled in 1614.11 The Compendium was composed of three sections: the first, De Sphaera, covered Aristotelian and Ptolemaic theories of astronomy, cosmology, and meteorology; the second, De Anima, was based on Aquinas’s commentary on Aristotle’s philosophy of the soul; and the third, De Sacra Scriptura, presented the salient points of post-Tridentine Roman Catholic theology. De Sphaera was largely based on a work of the same title composed by the thirteenth-century English monk Johannes de Sacrobosco (John of Holywood), which was translated into Portuguese in 1537, and on the influential commentary on Sacrobosco’s text by Christopher Clavius (1538–1612), published in Rome in 1570.12 Clavius’s commentary was extremely significant for European scholasticism and went through eighteen editions between 1570 and 1618. Clavius’s interpretation of Ptolemaic cosmology was particularly influential in East Asia as well, as it was promoted by two of his students: the Jesuits Matteo Ricci (1552–1610) in China and Alessandro Valignano in Japan. As its title suggests, De Sphaera concerns the theory of a spherical Earth: an understanding of the world and the cosmos radically different than the flat Earth of the Mount Sumeru universe. The explicit goal of the text, as stated in its very first lines, is to prove the power and authority of the Christian God through the workings of heaven and earth. Gómez begins his preface by paraphrasing Romans 1:20: “As the Apostle says, these visible things, namely, the machine of the world and the perpetual and immutable order of the heavens, clearly demonstrate the invisible attributes of God.”13 For the Jesuits in Japan, and for the Buddhists as well, the critical link between cosmology and salvation lay in what Gómez describes as “the machine of the world and the perpetual and immutable order of the heavens.” Valignano composed a Catechism of Christian Faith expressly for the Japanese Church during his first visit to Japan between 1579 and 1582. According to Valignano’s Catechism, published in Lisbon in 1586 and later translated into Japanese, “The seat of God is called ‘paradise,’ for He shares the immortal glorious wealth of His own with the blessed souls in this place. Therefore, this place encloses its own delight and inexplicable beauty. It is sometimes called paradise and at other times the empyrean heaven.”14 Gómez, in his Compendium, identifies the astronomical location of paradise with even greater precision. After introducing the ten heavens of medieval scholasticism, he explains, “To these ten heavens that astronomers recognize, theologians add an eleventh heaven, which is called the empyrean because of its fiery splendor.”15 Jesuit cosmology was a deeply theological project: the truth of paradise, the site of Christian salvation, was buttressed by astronomical proof. Jesuit cosmology not only identified the location of paradise and the seat of God but also provided polemical material for a critique of Buddhism. The

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Christian convert Fukansai makes this point in a publication of 1605: “What we call ‘paradise in Heaven’ in Christian teaching has nothing to do with the Triple Realm of Śākyamuni’s sutras. It lies in the eleventh layer of clear blue Heavens that we see above us, where the moon, sun, and stars are fixed. Śākyamuni, quite unaware that the heavenly bodies are in this sky, claimed that the moon, sun, and stars move around the center of Mount Sumeru, carried by the wind. . . . It goes without saying that all of this is absolutely ludicrous. Do not identify any such silly ideas with Christian teachings.”16 The astronomical teachings of the Jesuits, however, did not go uncontested; nor were Buddhist clerics the Jesuit’s only critics. Fukansai’s global Earth was criticized by the Confucian scholar Hayashi Razan (林羅山, 1583–1657). Following the Chinese classics, Razan held that heaven is round and Earth, square. According to Razan’s written account, “their circular map” prompted him to ask, “Does it have a top and a bottom?” Fukansai replied: “Mid-earth being the bottom, above the earth is heaven; and underneath the earth is heaven as well. Our country has sent ships to voyage upon the ocean. The East’s extremity is West; the West’s extremity is East. From this we know that the earth is round.” Razan responded: “This reasoning is impossible. How could there be a heaven under the earth! An inspection of the myriad phenomena reveals that all have an up and a down. To say that there is no up and down is ignorance of reason. . . . You are unaware of the principle that all things have an up and a down and so assert that mid-earth is the bottom and make earth’s shape be round. I cannot help lamenting this delusion! Zhu Xi states that half of heaven rotates about earth’s bottom, but you are unacquainted with this.”17

The map over which Fukansai and Razan argued was most likely the Complete Map of Myriad Countries (Ch. Kunyu Wanguo Quantu, J. Konyo bankokuzenzu 坤輿万国全圖), a large and detailed Ptolemaic projection of a spherical Earth, produced by Matteo Ricci and his colleagues in China (fig. 4.1). In addition to producing a number of terrestrial globes, Ricci published eleven world maps between the years 1584 and 1608.18 Issued in 1602, the Complete Map of Myriad Countries, sponsored by Li Zhizao 李之藻 (1598–1630) and carved by Zhang Wentao 張文燾 (dates unknown), was the third of these maps. Ricci himself estimated that over one thousand copies of this map were produced in China.19 Ricci’s map of 1602 reached Japan soon after its publication in China and was used to teach geography in the Jesuit school in Kyoto by at least 1605. Printed on six sheets, which together measure an enormous 171 × 361 cm, Ricci’s map is based primarily on the world map published in Abraham Ortelius’s

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4.1 Matteo Ricci, Complete Map of Myriad Countries, 1602. Six-panel monochrome woodblock print, 171 × 361 cm. Courtesy of the James Ford Bell Trust in support of the James Ford Bell Library, University of Minnesota.

(1527–1598) Theatrum Orbis Terrarum, the first European world atlas, published in Antwerp in 1570, which was among the gifts Ricci presented to the Wangli emperor in 1601.20 Ricci’s world, however, differs from Ortelius’s in that it is famously centered on China, not Europe. The map is annotated throughout in Chinese. It includes illustrations and explanations of astronomical phenomena in its four corners and an extensive preface that describes the shape and diameter of the earth; the Northern and Southern Hemispheres; the Tropics of Capricorn and Cancer; the lines of latitude and longitude; and the five continents of Europe, Africa, Asia, the Americas, and the antipodal continent then known as Magellanica. Ricci’s preface begins with a description of the world sensitive to the classical Chinese cosmological model, articulated earlier in this chapter by Hayashi Razan, of a spherical heaven and a square Earth. Yet he redefines the term for square (fang 方) to signify the fixity, rather than the shape, of the earth: “The earth and sea are both spherical. Together they form a single globe, situated at the center of celestial spheres, like the yolk in a hen’s egg which is surrounded by the white. Those who said that the earth is square were referring to the earth’s fixed and immobile nature and not to its physical form.”21 Ricci is also, in his use of the egg metaphor, paraphrasing the Later Han astronomer Zhang Heng 張衡 (78–139), who is associated with the classical Chinese theory of spherical heavens (huntian shuo 渾天說).22 Zhang’s theory of a single revolving spherical heaven, which was the basis for the development of the Chinese armillary sphere (hunyi 渾儀), notes that “the heavens are like a hen’s egg and as round as a crossbow bullet; the earth is like the yolk of the egg and lies alone in the center.”23 Zheng’s theory of a spherical heaven did not, as in Ricci’s reading, argue for a spherical Earth. It was entirely compatible with the flat Earth of classical Chinese, and classical Buddhist, cosmology. Whereas Ricci is willing to accommodate traditional Chinese understandings of the earth and the heavens, his attitude toward Buddhist models is less forgiving. Ricci argues that the geographic science of Christian Europe proves the spuriousness of Buddhist cartography and ridicules Buddhist claims about the location of Jambudvīpa and the height of Sumeru: “All countries north of the equator are governed by the North Pole and are thus in the Northern Hemisphere, while countries south of the equator are governed by the South Pole and are thus in the Southern Hemisphere. Thus, the Buddhist claims that the Middle Kingdom is located in the southern continent of Jambudvīpa are false, as are their claims about the height of Mount Sumeru.”24 In a rebuke to the claims of Buddhist cartography, Ricci offers a Christian cosmology and geography as a testimony to religious truth. Much like Gómez’s preface to De Sphaera, the preface to Ricci’s map directly addresses the centrality of astronomical knowledge to the larger Jesuit mission: “By comprehending heaven and earth, one may

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testify to the ultimate kindness, greatness, and oneness of the supreme power of the Lord who rules over heaven and earth.”25 As testimony to “the supreme power of the Lord who rules over heaven and earth,” Ricci includes astronomical illustrations in the four corners of his map. As with the Buddhist cartography of Zhipan’s Chronicle and the Daigoji scroll, Ricci surrounded his map of the world with diagrams of the universe. A celestial globe is depicted in the lower-right corner, the Southern Hemisphere is depicted in the lower-left corner, the Northern Hemisphere and smaller diagrams of solar and lunar eclipses are depicted in the upper-left corner, and a detailed diagram of a nine-sphere universe is depicted in the upper-right corner. At the center of the diagram of the nine-sphere universe is a spherical Earth, surrounded by two oval rings of cold and warm air and a flaming ring of fire (fig. 4.2). Nine heavens of orbiting celestial bodies surround the Earth, each notated with the length and direction of their rotation: Mercury, Venus, the sun, the moon, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, and the twenty-eight constellations. The fourth edition of his map, issued in 1603, adds two more heavens to the diagram, with the explanation: “The eleventh heaven is inhabited by the Supreme Ruler, Lord of Heaven, and the saints and angels of paradise, eternally silent and immovable.”26 Preceding his map, and immediately following its title, Ricci has

4.2 Matteo Ricci, Complete Map of Myriad Countries. Detail of ninesphere universe showing planets revolving around Earth.

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4.3 Wang Qi, Collected Illustrations of the Three Realms, 1609. Simplified version of Ricci’s Complete Geographic Map of the Mountains and Seas. Monochrome woodblock book illustration. Harvard University Libraries, Cambridge, MA.

asserted his theological priorities. Within an astronomical diagram, annotated with mathematical specificity, he has inserted Christian cosmology, complete with “the Supreme Ruler, Lord of Heaven, and the saints and angels of paradise” as the foundational frame for a cartography of the world. Whereas copies of Ricci’s large six-panel wall map enjoyed only a limited circulation in Japan, the small and simplified editions of Ricci’s maps, appearing in printed books first in China and later in Japanese, exerted far greater influence. A simplified copy of the second edition of Ricci’s map of 1600, titled Complete Geographic Map of the Mountains and Seas (Shanhai yudi quantu 山海 輿地全図), appeared in Wang Qi’s (1529–1612) 王圻 Collected Illustrations of the Three Realms (Sancai tuhui 三才圖會) of 1609 (fig. 4.3).27 The appearance of Ricci’s maps in Chinese compendia may have been simplified and schematic, but the Chinese editors supplemented these abbreviated illustrations with extensive quotations from Ricci’s preface. The indivisibility of the visual and the

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verbal is characteristic of traditional East Asian cartography, in which maps “cannot be studied independently of the texts with which they were paired (or from which they were constituted).”28 Although without crediting the source, Wang Qi quotes the entirety of Ricci’s preface, including the statement, “The Buddhist claims that the Middle Kingdom is located in the southern continent of Jambudvīpa are false, as are their claims about the height of Mount Sumeru.”29 As the Jesuit author is nowhere acknowledged, his condemnation of Buddhist geography is removed from the realm of Christian polemic and assumes the voice of encyclopedic authority. The editions of Ricci’s maps published in Chinese compendia later appeared in Japanese publications as well, such as Terajima Ryōan’s (b. 1654) 寺島良安 Japanese-Chinese Collected Illustrations of the Three Realms (Wakan sansai zue 和漢三才圖會) of 1712, which includes a version of Ricci’s map identical to that included in Wang’s work (fig. 4.4). As the title signals, Terajima’s Japanese-Chinese Collected Illustrations of the Three Realms takes Wang’s

4.4 Terajima Ryōan, Japanese-Chinese Collected Illustrations of the Three Realms, 1712. Simplified version of Ricci’s Complete Geographic Map of the Mountains and Seas. Monochrome woodblock book illustration. Waseda University Libraries, Tokyo.

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Collected Illustrations of the Three Realms as its basis, and the entries in the Japanese encyclopedia generally begin by quoting dutifully from its Chinese prototype.30 Terajima’s entry for “earth” (chi 地), illustrated with the Ricci map, quotes passages verbatim from Wang’s entry, which had in turn quoted, without acknowledgment, from Ricci’s preface. Citing Wang, Terajima repeats Ricci’s explanation that “the land and sea are round in shape, and together form a globe, which is situated in the celestial sphere like the yolk of an egg suspended in the white,” as well as the Jesuit’s reinterpretation of the earth as “fixed and immobile, not to a square shape.” Unlike Wang, Terajima does not quote Ricci’s rejection of Jambudvīpa and Mount Sumeru, but he does state much the same message in his own words: “The Buddhists claim that there are 30,000 worlds. This is the foolish talk of those who have not carefully investigated matters.”31 The writings and translations of Matteo Ricci were among the very first works banned in Japan after the proscription of Christian books was promulgated in 1630.32 But although Ricci’s texts were banned in Japan, his map of the world, his description of the universe, and his critique of Buddhist cosmology continued to reach an untold number of Japanese in what was perhaps the most widely read encyclopedia of the age. Global Images, Local Readings An unprecedented example of cartographic exchange between Europe and Japan occurred in the late sixteenth century, when Valignano took four young Japanese converts between fourteen and fifteen years old—Mancio Ito, Miguel Chikiwa, Juliao Nakamura, and Martinho Hara, who were relatives and vassals of three Christian daimyō from Kyushu—as a delegation to the Vatican. The Japanese mission departed for Europe in 1582 and returned eight years later in 1590. Valignano and his young legation presented Pope Gregory XIII with a gift entrusted to the Visitor of Missions by Nobunaga himself: a pair of folding screens produced by Kanō Eitoku 狩野永徳 (1543–1590), the most celebrated painter of the day, depicting the ruler’s Azuchi castle and surrounding landscape. According to the annual Jesuit letter of 1581, “Nobunaga had commissioned the most famous painter in Japan to produce them, and said that this new city with its fortress should be accurately depicted thereon as he did not want anything to differ from reality; the artist should paint the lake, the houses, and everything else as accurately as he could. He spent a great deal of time on the work, for anything Nobunaga thought differed from reality he made him erase and paint again.”33 Presented to the pope in March 1585, the Azuchi screens were described in a contemporaneous source as “a large map of the principal city decorated with many great buildings” and were displayed in the Vatican’s famous Galleria delle

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Carte Geografice.34 Valignano clearly recognized the value of such exchanges. In Goa, prior to his arrival in Europe, he had already written to Rome about a reciprocal gift: It would be good if the Pope ordained to have several screens made in the manner of those which I am sending [Eitoku’s screens of Azuchi]. If they are gilded and painted at Rome with some brilliant designs and are well made, they will be very esteemed as gifts for Nobunaga. And I would like others to be made for use in our houses . . . they will be greatly appreciated if they came from Rome. But, so that what is painted will be to the Japanese taste, it will be necessary that Father Mesquita and the Japanese boys first see the sketches of what is to be painted, for in this manner one will proceed in a more assured way.35

When the young ambassadors returned to Japan, however, they brought back cartographic gifts of a very different sort: European maps, atlases, sea charts, an astrolabe, and a terrestrial globe. Perhaps the most significant of these gifts were volumes from two of the great compendia of sixteenth-century European cartography given to them by the German botanist Melchior Guilandini (1520–1589) in Padua in 1585. These included the 1570 world atlas Theatrum Orbis Terrarum, by Abraham Ortelius, and the first three volumes of the atlas of European cities Civitates Orbis Terrarum, by Georg Braun (1541–1622) and Frans Hogenberg (1535–1590), published in 1572, 1575, and 1581 (fig. 4.5).36 The Theatrum Orbis Terrarum, a collection of seventy maps of different regions of the world, was the first and perhaps the most influential world atlas published in early modern Europe. Printed in Antwerp, then the center of European map production, Ortelius’s atlas was translated into multiple languages and reprinted forty-one times. As a collection of maps from numerous sources, the atlas offered not a uniformity of cartographic vision but a variety of such visions, and it was regularly updated as new maps were produced. Containing four different maps of Japan in its first edition and two more in later editions, Ortelius’s atlas was also instrumental in spreading the image of Japan throughout Europe.37 In his general preface to the Theatrum, Ortelius describes his atlas in terms that we might apply to Japanese maps of Xuanzang’s travels, which were also not so much a practical tool of navigation as a contemplative device allowing viewers to participate, in Ortelius’s words, in “the journeys and pilgrimages of famous men.”38 Referring to a biblical example of pilgrimage, Ortelius explains that “we are greatly served when, having read in scripture of the Israelites’ journey out of Egypt through the Red Sea, we witness this deed, as if we ourselves were present.” He continued: “It is clear that students of history

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4.5 Abraham Ortelius, Typus Orbis Terrarum, from the Theatrum Orbis Terrarum, 1570. Copperplate engraving with hand coloring. Columbia University Libraries, New York.

are hindered, delayed, and even arrested in that very voyage when they have no access to such maps.”39 Even more comparable to Japanese maps of Xuanzang’s travels are those by Ortelius, “characterized by their meditative format and function,” which chart the journeys of such Biblical exemplars as Abraham, Moses, and Paul, “whose steps the viewer retraces by embarking on imaginative pilgrimages.”40 Myōe, Zenjō, and many other Buddhist monks who longed for the India visited by Xuanzang would have appreciated Ortelius’s attention to “the participatory nature of the journeys recorded by the sacred historical maps, their call to the viewer to retrace the voyages of holy men by projecting himself imaginatively into their pilgrimages.”41 Valignano, however, had a somewhat different appreciation of Ortelius’s atlas. For him it was less a means for pilgrimages of the imagination than a primer on the mode of European cartographic vision. After the embassy returned

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from Europe, Valignano composed a retrospective account of the travels of the young Kyushu Christians, conceived as a series of edifying colloquia between the boys and, according to its title, “based on their own diary and put into Latin” to serve as a schoolbook for other Japanese seminarians.42 In the final chapter, Ortelius’s atlas plays a pedagogic role in visualizing the world and Japan’s place within it. Titled “A Summary Description of the Whole World and a Statement as to Which Is Its Principal and Noblest Part,” the chapter has one of the youths, Leo Arima Sunizane, ask his cousin, Michael Chijiwa Seizaemon, “to put before our eyes the picture of the whole of the world and to tell us about the differences between its principal parts.” Michael replies, “That is why I had the Theatrum Orbis brought. You will find it a great pleasure to study the various maps in it. First of all, take a look at this picture, which contains a representation of the whole world, in which you can easily discern the five principal parts into which the whole globe of the world is divided.” “Oh! Is our Japan limited to such a small space?” replies Leo, who then complains “that finding this mistake detracts considerably from the pleasure which I had been taking in viewing this picture.” His cousin chides him for this remark: “Do not say that the map is wrong, but that we are. It is the Japanese who see this map for the first time who always make this mistake, for they don’t understand how scientifically it has been measured.”43 Michael then offers the reader a lesson in the European representation of cartography space: The world is divided up into degrees for purposes of measurement, and these degrees are each seventeen and a half leagues on an exactly south to north path. Now this length of league is absolutely certain, so whether it is a large or a small map that you draw the measurement is always the same, even though more space is assigned to each degree on the larger chart and less on the smaller, since whether the degree occupies a larger or smaller space on the map it is always to be understood as representing seventeen and a half leagues. Thus, on the next map [in Ortelius’s atlas] Europe alone is depicted, and it takes up the same space as the whole world does on this one. That does not mean that a mistake has been made. It merely means that different amounts of space are allotted [on the two maps] to the degrees, though the degrees themselves are always the same.44

For the Japanese viewers—or for their Jesuit ventriloquists, at least—the maps of Ortelius and others presented not only a new picture of the world but a new way of seeing: one that was standardized, certain, and scientific. A source of pleasure, pedagogy, and proselytization, European cartography promised a universal language of representation and a common epistemology of vision.

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Yet in spite of its global scope, Ortelius’s atlas also offered Valignano evidence for a rather narrow reading in moral geography: a hierarchy of continents in which Asia is ranked far beneath the culture and civilization of Christian Europe. “I judge and frankly declare,” Michael pronounces, “that Europe is the most excellent of all the parts of the world, the part on which God has conferred the most and the best good things.” And again, Ortelius is used to illustrate his argument: Here you see America, very large, but its inhabitants are a most abject people, dark in color, all of who were conquered by a small number of Europeans and now live under their power, so much so that they accept them naturally as their masters. This second part here is Africa, most of the interior of which, and also this area bordering the ocean, is inhabited by negroes, barbarous men with no civilization to refine them. This third part is Asia. From the promontory of Malacca to the kingdom of Cochin, and also India, it has people who are dark, low, and of little culture.45

Valignano’s racist and imperialist reading of Ortelius, however, did not characterize the Japanese reception of the atlas. Upon their return to Japan, the ambassadors’ copy of the Theatrum was presented to Toyotomi Hideyoshi, who by 1590 had replaced Nobunaga as Japan’s military hegemon. Hideyoshi commissioned Kanō Eitoku—the same painter who barely a decade earlier had produced Nobunaga’s “large map of the principal city” that the legation had carried to Rome—to produce more painted screens but this time to decorate them with Ortelius’s world maps.46 Eitoku’s screens are no longer extant, but there survive twenty-one other examples of folding screens painted with European-style world maps, dating from the 1590s to the 1640s.47 The sources for these Japanese paintings included the maps from the atlases that the young ambassadors had brought back to Japan as well as a number of other popular sixteenth- and seventeenth-century printed maps such as those of Gerardus Mercator (1512– 1592), Petrus Plancius (1552–1622), Pieter van den Keere (c. 1571–1644), and Willem Janszoon Blaeu (1571–1638). Yet in transforming these European prints into Japanese screens, the painters—even those trained at Jesuit academies— did not simply reproduce their source materials. Although clearly based on European printed maps, these Japanese screens do not represent a simple transcription of cartographic knowledge. Transforming small-scale monochrome European prints and bookplates into monumental Japanese paintings on folding screens, using traditional techniques and materials, necessarily entailed adaptation and translation in both media and format. Moreover, none of the surviving Japanese screens was based on any single European cartographic model. Instead, each drew upon multiple European sources (or other Japanese paintings based on such sources); combined and reworked various

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components; incorporated pictorial elements and styles already established in the Japanese visual arts; and rearranged and recomposed details for different contexts of use and display. This profoundly hybrid genre of painting in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, then, embodied a level of invention and experimentation far beyond any simple notion of cartographic reproduction. Their negotiation of such radically different visual regimes was a matter of intercultural exchange, of cognitive as well as cartographic adaptation.48 Whereas such maps may reveal the direct influence of Jesuit teachings and were in many cases produced by those trained at the Jesuit painting academy, they were far from faithful to their sources. Disparate elements from a wide range of European print materials were adapted and recombined to suit Japanese tastes and media; standardized cartographic formats were shifted and reconfigured to accord Japan a more prominent position in this new world order. Even the complex religious narratives depicted in these screens may have remained obscure to their intended recipients. Such monumental painted screens of European-style maps functioned not as means of navigation or as documents of scientific study but rather as expressions of social status and objects for the adornment of interiors. In other words, they belong less to a genre of cartography than to a genre of Japanese painting, prominent in the Momoyama and early Edo periods, of pairs of large-format folding screens that conformed to established decorative and compositional programs and were designed for specific spatial and social contexts. As foreign exotica contributing to a visual culture of opulent display, these map screens drew as much upon the vocabulary of Japanese painting as upon European cartography. The painters made liberal use of gold leaf to highlight, ornament, frame, and label various elements of their compositions and to make up the scalloped golden clouds that frame the painting’s subjects. In some of the screens, golden clouds enclose and nearly overtake the European-style world map, suggesting that in these cases, cartographic utility was subordinated to formal and decorative conventions.49 Designed as pairs, these Japanese folding screens were intended to be viewed not individually but as two parts of a larger whole. Such sets typically pair a European-style map of the world with a map depicting Japan with equal size and splendor, emphasizing the place and importance of the archipelago within this new cartographic order. Yet even these gilded displays of European knowledge suggest an uneasy balance of worldviews. One such pair, made circa 1625 and now held by the Tokyo National Museum, reveals this tension in the very language in which the maps are named. The immediate source for the world map screen is Petrus Plancius’s 1592 world map, but the screen shares the title, and even the typography, of Ortelius. Emblazed on the golden screen are the Latin words TYPVS ORBIS TERRARVM (fig. 4.6).

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4.6 Typus Orbis Terrarum and Map of Great Japan within the Continent of Jambudvīpa, 1625. Pair of six-fold screens; ink, color, and gold leaf on paper, 156.3 × 316.3 cm (each). Tokyo National Museum.

The matching screen of Japan, however, situates the archipelago within an explicitly Buddhist geography, with the title rendered in Japanese calligraphy rather than in Latin typography: Map of Great Japan within the Continent of Jambudvīpa (fig. 4.7). Like the earlier maps that share this title, it bears the following inscription describing Gyōki’s Buddhist vision of Japan: “The shape of the country is like a single-pronged vajra. Because of this, Buddhism continues to flourish. The shape of the country is also like that of a wish-fulfilling jewel. Therefore, the land is blessed with such rare treasures as gold, silver, copper, and iron, and the five grains ripen in abundance.” As we saw in chapter 2, by the time these screens were produced this description of Japan’s place in a Buddhist world had already appeared on maps of the country for over two hundred years. Like the Daigoji scroll of 1402, the folding screens of 1625 represent Japan as a Buddhist land, in both form and context. They equate the archipelago with two central symbolic forms of the Esoteric Buddhist tradition—the vajra and the wish-fulfilling jewel—and they locate it within the Buddhist world continent of Jambudvīpa. With this physical and visual pairing of such divergent cartographic regimes, no cognitive dissonance is apparent; the two simply coexist. Nor are the Tokyo National Museum screens the only case of such an unlikely

4.7 Map of Great Japan within the Continent of Jambudvīpa. Detail of inscription.

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union of worldviews. Four other extant sets of screens also conjoin European-­ style world maps and counterparts, titled Map of Great Japan within the Continent of Jambudvīpa.50 The pairing of maps of Japan with European-style world maps in the painted screens of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries could be interpreted as an attempt to situate Japan within a new European world order. The representation of Japan, however, so explicitly embedded in the iconography and vocabulary of Buddhist geography, may challenge such a Eurocentric reading. Indeed, it may be argued that a significant number of these maps are not Eurocentric at all. As seven of the twenty-one examples orient the world around the Pacific Ocean, rather than the Atlantic, a full one-third of these “European-­ style” world maps are decidedly Asia-centric. European Jesuit and Japanese Buddhist views of the world, and of Japan’s place in it, thus existed side by side throughout the seventeenth century. At just the time that Buddhist maps of Japan were being introduced, transformed, and consumed in Europe, European world maps were being introduced, transformed, and consumed in Japan. One telling detail of Buddhist cartography found on all maps titled Map of Great Japan within the Continent of Jambudvīpa, including the 1625 screen in the Tokyo National Museum, is the presence of a coastline south of the archipelago labeled “Rasetsukoku,” or “Land of Demonesses,” accompanied with the inscription “There are women here; should men visit, they never return.” The Land of Demonesses and the description of its dangers first appear on maps of Japan in the early fourteenth-century example from Shomyōji. It appears thereafter on the early fifteenth-century example of the Daigoji scroll; the sixteenth-century example from Tōshōdaiji; and the seventeenth-century example from Tokyo University, introduced in chapter 2. Rasetsukoku also appears on a map of Japan copied out in a European hand, now in the Archivio di Stato in Florence, which describes Rasetsukoku in Portuguese: Nhiun homé esta nesta somente motheres todas e querm vem nesta nad torna ta mais proque os matao (There are no men here, only women. Men who come here never return because the women kill them). The map was most likely produced in association with the 1582 Japanese embassy to Portugal, Spain, and Italy. This strange detail of Japanese Buddhist cartography was not limited to an errant manuscript. Rasetsukoku continued to appear on the standard maps of Japan produced in eighteenth-century Europe. Adrien Reland’s (1676–1718) 1715 map, Le Japon divisé en soissante et six provences, published in the third volume of Jean Frédéric Bernard’s Recueil de voiages au nord, is based on a map of Japan by Ishikawa Ryūsen in which the Land of Demonesses figured prominently. Ryūsen notes that his map is based on “the Map of Great Japan within Jambudvīpa said to be drawn by the Bodhisattva Gyōki.” Reland’s map, which

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was based on Ryūsen’s, which was in turn based on the Map of Great Japan within Jambudvīpa, was reissued in single-sheet prints in 1715, circa 1720, and circa 1740. It was also reprinted by Henri Abraham Chatelain (1684–1743) in his Atlas Historique of 1719 and by Matthaeus Seutter (1678–1757) in his Atlas Novus circa 1740.51 Thus, even the most advanced maps of Japan produced in eighteenth-century Europe belie traces of Buddhist cartography. Ricci’s map of the world was also transformed in Japan. The first European-­ style world map to be printed in Japan, the Map of Myriad Lands (Bankoku sōzu 萬國総圖), was published in Nagasaki in 1645. It was informed by Ricci’s efforts but augmented with toponyms from other early seventeenth-century Mercator projection maps (fig. 4.8).52 A famously distinctive feature of Ricci’s map was its Sinocentrism, displacing Europe by orienting the world around China and the Pacific. Ricci had followed the projection of the Ortelius map, but he adjusted it so that China, which had heretofore appeared at the map’s farthest right-hand edge near the 180° meridian, now would have pride of place at the 0° meridian. The Bankoku sōzu of 1645 followed Ricci’s Pacific orientation, but the directionality of the inscriptions indicates that the map was to be read vertically rather than horizontally. This arrangement reveals its context of reception: the world map was reoriented to accommodate the format of the traditional display alcove (tokonoma 床の間) of Japanese domestic architecture. The popularity of these vertically oriented prints of the Ricci map is suggested by the proliferation of variants. In addition to three undated editions, five others were published in 1651, 1652, 1671, 1688, and 1708.53 The corners of these block-printed maps are decorated with images of Portuguese, Dutch, Chinese, and Japanese sailing ships, situating Japan among the world’s maritime powers. Like the folding screens on which they were based, yet unlike Ricci’s prototype, these maps were commonly produced in sets, issued together with a matching print illustrating male and female couples from forty countries, in which the Japanese are given pride of place among the peoples of the world.54 Chinese Buddhist Imports As discussed in chapter 3, only one Chinese Buddhist world map is known to predate Jūkai’s Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku: the Map of the Western Regions and the Five Regions of India, included in Zhipan’s Chronicle. Although it refers to Xuanzang’s Great Tang Record of the Western Regions, it is a simple woodblock book illustration far less detailed than Jūkai’s map of 1364. Not until the seventeenth century did Chinese printed maps begin to evince more significant elements aligned with the tradition that began with Jūkai’s fourteenth-­ century painting. These Chinese Buddhist maps appeared in the same period as

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4.8 Map of Myriad Lands, 1645. Woodblock print with hand coloring, 113.6 × 55.8 cm. Japanese Maps of the Tokugawa Era, Rare Books and Special Collections, University of British Columbia Library, G3200 1645z .S5.

4.9 Renchao, Map of Jambudvīpa, from Maps of the Configuration of the Dharma­ dhatu, 1607. Monochrome woodblock book illustration.

the publication of Ricci’s maps, and indeed in the same volumes. Their emergence shows that cartographic pluralism was by no means limited to Japan. A woodcut titled Map of Jambudvīpa (Nanzhanbuzhou tu 南瞻部州圖) is included in Renchao’s 仁潮 Maps of the Configuration of the Dharmadhatu (Fajie anli tu 法界安立圖), published in China in 1607 and in Japan in 1654. Although highly simplified in form, it depicts the Buddhist world continent as a rounded trapezoid surrounded by water, not unlike Jūkai’s map of 1364 (fig. 4.9). Renchao’s map is divided across two facing pages, with China to the right and

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Central Asia and India to the left. At the center of Jambudvīpa lies Lake Ana­ vatapta (labeled 阿那達池), the source of the four great rivers that wind through the continent and empty into the surrounding seas. India (here rendered as 印 度, rather than 天竺) is divided into five regions, with the number of kingdoms in each listed: twenty-seven in northern India, fifteen in southern India, twelve in western India, ten in eastern India, and thirty-one in central India. A large jambu tree marks the northern regions, and a smaller Bodhi tree stands beside the Diamond Throne in central India. Cartouches in central India identify such important sites of the Buddha’s life as the kingdoms of Magadha and Śrāvastī and the Jetavana Grove. Mount Potalaka is inscribed within the southern border of the continent, and two rocky islands are located in the sea just beneath. The characters for the Land of Women are written along the continent’s western edge beside another island in the sea just to the west. China, left out of the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, is represented in some detail by Renchao’s map. The Yellow River and the Yangzi are prominently identified, as are the sacred mountains of Taishan 泰山, Huashan 華山, Hengshan 衡山, Hengshan 恒山, and Songshan 嵩山. The crenulated battlements of the Great Wall are clearly drawn. Also listed are the provinces of Guandong, Yunnan, Shanxi, and Shandong. To the south lies Jiaozhi 交阯 (modern Vietnam) and to the north, the region of Xiongnu 匈奴地. Beyond the Great Wall lies the Gobi Desert, marked with dots and annotated with the character for sand and, farther west, the first two place names listed on Xuanzang’s itinerary and on all copies of the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku: Guochang and Agni. Other toponyms mentioned by Xuanzang and included on Japanese maps of his journey are also to be found: Thousand Springs, Iron Gate, Shiguo (Kasanna), and the Great Snow Mountains of the Himalayas. In other cases notes such as “thirty-­ four countries west of the Snow Mountains” suggest other lands too numerous to name. Although only a limited number of toponyms are included on the map, small squares and rectangles indicate many other places. In the sea east of China lie four oval islands. One is left blank, but the other three contain place names, making the islands appear not unlike floating cartouches. The southernmost is labeled “Ryūkyū” 琉球; above it is the Land of Wa 倭國, an early Chinese name for Japan that appears in the History of the Liu Song 宋書; the Three Han 三韓, which refers to the southern part of the Korean Peninsula; and Koryǒ 高麗. In its relative simplicity and in the representation of Koryǒ as a large island northwest of Jambudvīpa, Renchao’s map of the Buddhist world bears a certain similarity to the map of Tenjiku in the Daigoji scroll or to later editions of the Shūgaishō. Like Zhipan’s Chronicle and the Daigoji scroll, Renchao’s cartography is situated within a larger Buddhist cosmology. His map of Jambudvīpa is preceded by a map of the author’s native land—given, as in Zhipan’s earlier compendia, the Indo-centric title of Eastern Cīnaṣṭhāna 東眞旦國圖.

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That map is in turn followed by two diagrams of Jambudvīpa within the larger Mount Sumeru universe. Renchao signals his religious priorities by dating his text not to the Chinese reign year of the Wanli emperor but to the year 2942 of the Buddhist era.55 At the time in which Ricci’s maps were in wide circulation throughout China, Renchao deliberately rejects European cartography. He declares that Buddhist knowledge “is not something these overseas visitors of today, with their art of sailing the seas and their empty and inconsequential scholarship, can match.”56 Another early seventeenth-century Chinese map titled A Comprehensive Map of Chinese and Barbarians of the Four Seas (Sihai hua yi zongtu 四海華夷總 圖), appearing in Zhang Huang’s 章潢 (1527–1608) Compilation of Illustrations and Writings (Tushu bian 圖書編) of 1613, provides a slightly more elaborated image of Jambudvīpa (fig. 4.10).57 In a textual insert, Zhang notes that this map is not of his own devising but has been copied from another titled Jambudvīpa amidst the Four Great Seas (四大海中南瞻部洲之圖), which he collected from an unspecified Buddhist source. In comparison with the relatively smooth and solid contour of Renchao’s Map of Jambudvīpa, published only six years earlier, the perimeter of the continent in Zhang Huang’s map is inordinately convoluted. Here, too, Lake Anavatapta marks the center of Jambudvīpa, but the rivers that flow from it follow increasingly meandering patterns; they seem to fissure the continent into multiple realms, divided by bodies of water and desert regions. The Korean Peninsula, now labeled 朝鮮, sits on the east side of the continent. It is symmetrically balanced by another peninsula, labeled “Byzantium” 弗懔, on the continent’s western edge.58 Siberia 羅荒野 lies to the north and Persia 波 刺斯 to the west. Rome 大秦國 appears as another peninsula beyond the Western Land of Women and across the Western Sea. The islands that surround the continent on the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku are also represented here: Japan to the east; the Western Land of Women to the west; Simhala, Mount Potalaka, and Mount Malaya to the south. Additional islands appear as well. Near Japan we find the islands of Wa, the larger and smaller Ryūkyūs, and Java 耶摩提 farther to the south. Stranger lands dot the surrounding seas. In the southeast is the Land of Dwarves 小人 國 and in the northeast, the Land of the Long-Legged 長脚國 and the Land of the Long-Armed 長臂民. These mythic realms date back to the fourth-century Classic of Mountains and Seas (Shanhaijing 山海經), but they gained an increasing currency in the Ming. The Classic of Mountains and Seas was published in a woodblock edition in 1597; its legendary lands were augmented and described in greater detail in the Compilation of Illustrations and Writings and other Ming compendia, such as the Collected Illustrations of the Three Realms. These same fantastical lands would continue to appear on Japanese world maps throughout the nineteenth century.

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4.10 Zhang Huang, Comprehensive Map of Chinese and Barbarians of the Four Seas, from Compilation of Illustrations and Writings, 1613. Monochrome woodblock book illustration. National Diet Library, Tokyo.

The Buddhist World, Redrawn By the mid-seventeenth century, therefore, a wide range of world maps had become available to producers and consumers of Japanese cartography. The established Japanese Buddhist maps, known since the fourteenth century, were now joined by newly imported cartographies from Europe and China. Buddhist world maps circulated as woodcut illustrations in religious compendia such as Zhipan’s Chronicle and Renchao’s Maps of the Configuration of the Dharmadhatu as well as in popular Ming encyclopedias such as the Compilation of Illustrations and Writings. In the late sixteenth century and early seventeenth centuries, European cartography appeared in large-format painted screens as well as the multipanel woodblock-printed maps of Matteo Ricci and had become virtually ubiquitous in seventeenth-century Japan. In Ming China, Christian and

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Buddhist cartographies appeared side by side. The Compilation of Illustrations and Writings, for example, included both a map of Jambudvīpa amidst the Four Great Seas and a simplified edition of Ricci’s first map of 1584. Yet as we have also noted, Buddhist world maps, based on medieval proto­ types, continued to be produced in Japan from the seventeenth through nineteenth centuries. All but one of the later copies of the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku were created long after the Japanese were fully conversant with European modes of mapping the world and with the Chinese Buddhist world maps included in Ming and Edo period compendia, yet they betray no sign of any of these new cartographic influences. The copies that date from these later centuries, however, were not the products of cartographic ignorance. They were purposeful and faithful reproductions of revered prototypes associated with sacred ancestors of the Buddhist tradition in India, China, and Japan. The Buddhist monks who replicated the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku were well aware of other contemporaneous cartographic traditions. Sōkaku, for example, who transcribed the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, also created a Buddhist terrestrial globe based largely on the Riccian cartography of popular printed Maps of Myriad Countries. He also produced a large and extremely detailed map of the Ming empire in 1691 based on the latest Chinese sources, yet he left China a tabula rasa on the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku produced the following year. With the notable exception of the innovations added to the Ryūkoku map, all Edo-­ period copies of the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku were products of a transcription tradition that eschewed invention and venerated antiquity. Even while the production of self-contained ovoid maps of Xuanzang’s pilgrimage continued, apparently unaffected by the new forms of cartographic representations from Europe and China, other Japanese Buddhist world maps began to augment Xuanzang’s geography with data from a range of new sources. The final decade of the seventeenth century and the first decade of the eighteenth century marked a turning point in the history of Japanese Buddhist cartography. These years saw the production of two extremely unusual large-format Buddhist world maps that amounted to a sea change in the Japanese picture of the Buddhist world. They transformed the traditional geography of Xuanzang’s pilgrimage from the bounded continent of Jambudvīpa, neatly contained within the text of the Great Tang Record of the Western Regions, to a fractured and irregular terrain surrounded by an ever-proliferating array of foreign lands. A late seventeenth-century manuscript now in the Muroga Collection of the Kyoto University Library is the first of these two maps to depart from the traditional Japanese cartography of the Buddhist world (fig. 4.11). Painted in ink and color on paper, it measures 138 × 154 cm, making it similar in scale to the previously discussed versions of the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku.

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4.11 Map of Jambudvīpa, ca. 1695–1708. Hanging scroll; ink and color on paper, 138 × 154 cm. Muroga Collection, Kyoto University Library, Kyoto.

Jambudvīpa still sits at the center and is still identified by the square Lake Anavatapta and the spiraling rivers that surround it. The mythic jambu tree also rises out of the center of the continent and, except for a large grove far to the south beside the country of Koṅkaṇapura, is the only flora represented on the map (fig. 4.12).59 Although the map preserves such recognizable landmarks, the overall shape of the continent has changed dramatically. No longer bounded by the smooth, ovoid perimeter of all earlier examples, the world continent now resembles an inverted teardrop and comes to a sharp point in the south. The coastline, moreover, is rendered with far greater intricacy, with numerous inlets, peninsulas, and small islands. Bays and deltas fragment the continent, and networks of rivers vein its surface. However, the northern and northwestern region of the continent, territory beyond Xuanzang’s pilgrimage route, is left empty. Although its coastline is drawn in precise detail, its northern interior remains a blank and unmarked terra incognita. Mount Malaya and Mount Fudaraku are still represented, although now elongated and irregular in form; here they are located immediately to the east, not to the south, of the narrow tip of southern India labeled “Malakūta” 秣羅 矩吒國. The scene of the monks arriving by boat at the shores of Kannon’s paradise found on all but two copies of the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku is notably absent. Other elements, however, are depicted in far greater detail. The Country of Western Women, until this point represented only by a cartouche, now appears as an undulating coastline protruding from the map’s western margins. The coastal outline of the Muroga map may reflect the map of the Compilation of Illustrations and Writings, which had represented the Country of Western Women as a large island. Peninsular Southeast Asia is also depicted in significant detail: A thin black line designates the borders of the countries, each of which is named in both kanji and kana and marked with its distance from Japan (fig. 4.13). Among the regions of Southeast Asia with names and distances to Japan noted are Kōchi 交趾 (1,600 ri), Tonkin 東京 (1,600 ri), Champa 占城 (1,660 ri), Cambodia 柬捕寨 (1,700 ri), Melaka 母羅伽 (1,700 ri), and Siam 遮摩 (2,190 ri). The Gulf of Tonkin and the Gulf of Thailand are clearly drawn, and a number of islands lie off the coasts of southern China, Southeast Asia, and eastern India, such as Taiwan (640 ri), Luzon (800 ri), Macao (900 ri), Batan (1,000 ri), Malacca (1,500 ri), Kuiran (2,190 ri), and Sumatra (2,400 ri). Farther still to the south, northeast of Lanka, is a large island divided into three regions: Bantan (3,300 ri), Java (3,500 ri), and Jakarta (3,400 ri). No longer the tabula rasa of earlier maps, China here is filled with lakes, rivers, and the names of provinces and major cities (fig. 4.14). Numerous mountains are drawn and labeled, such as Mount Kunlun 崑崙山, the earthly paradise of the Queen Mother of the West; Mount Wutai 五台山, the realm of the

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4.12 Map of Jambudvīpa. Detail of jambu tree and Lake Anavatapta.

4.13 Map of Jambudvīpa. Detail of Southeast Asia.

4.14 Map of Jambudvīpa. Detail of China.

Bodhisattva Mañjuśrī; and the five sacred peaks that appear in the earlier Maps of the Configuration of the Dharmadhatu and Compilation of Illustrations and Writings: Taishan in the East, Huashan in the West, Hengshan (Nanyue) in the South, Hengshan (Beiyue) in the North, and Songshan in the center. Provinces are named and their boundaries clearly marked; the crenellated Great Wall is delicately drawn along the northern and northwestern borders of the empire. With the notable exception of the Ryūkoku copy, the only Chinese cities listed on earlier versions of the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku were those mentioned in the accounts of Xuanzang or Huili. On the Muroga map, however, all of China is crisscrossed with a fine network of red lines connecting nearly twenty other sites, with each city named and the distance between them noted. Chang’an, the pilgrim’s point of departure, which was inscribed in oversized characters at the eastern extremity on earlier maps, is here but one city among others, relocated to the interior of the continent and undistinguished from those that surround it. The interior of the Korean Peninsula is also represented in detail, including the Yalu and Tumon Rivers and Mount Paektu. The boundaries of the eight provinces of the Chosǒn state are clearly drawn, as are the five major rivers and the prominent mountains that were the object of state sacrifice. The Muroga map accords a new prominence to Japan, as well (fig. 4.15). No longer sketched in the abbreviated form common to the earlier maps, the archipelago is here shown in its entirety, with provincial boundaries demarcated and the Kinai outlined in yellow. Japan is drawn on a scale disproportionately greater than that used in the other landforms represented on the map. Both Kyoto and Edo are marked with the same icon, which designates major cities

4.15 Map of Jambudvīpa. Detail of Japan.

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elsewhere, and Lake Biwa and Mount Fuji are depicted as well. Although the Japanese archipelago bears no toponyms, the islands surrounding it are all clearly labeled. Ezo, drawn as a large island, is named in both kanji and kana, its size noted as “300 ri from east to west.” The Oshima Peninsula is represented as an island lying between Ezo and Honshu, with the distance to Ezo given as ten ri, the distance to Tapisaki on Tsugaru’s northwestern tip given as five ri, and the distance to Mutsu’s northeastern tip as six ri. Central Asian and Indian toponyms are based largely on Xuanzang’s Record, as is the notation of each country’s size, but other Buddhist pilgrimage accounts, such as those of Faxian and Yijing, also seem to inform the Muroga map. To judge by the phonetic spelling of one of the place names, the creator of the map seems to have relied on a Japanese edition of Xuanzang’s Record published in 1653.60 In the depiction of East Asia, the mapmaker has also relied on other seventeenth-century sources. China is evidently based on a Ming map published in Japan in 1613 (Ch. Huangming yudi zhi tu, J. Kōmeiyochi no zu 皇 明輿地之圖); Korea seems to have been based on a map of the peninsula that appeared in the Collected Illustrations of the Three Realms; and the representation of the Japanese archipelago is similar to that found on late seventeenth-­ century printed maps, such as the Fusōkoku no zu 扶桑國之圖 of 1662–1666 and the Dai Nihon zukan 大日本圖鑑 of 1678.61 The red line of Xuanzang’s itinerary, the map’s traditional concern, also features in the Muroga map, but in an augmented role. As in the copies of the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku introduced in the previous chapter, the red line passes through all of the nearly two hundred cities and kingdoms of India and Central Asia visited by Xuanzang, with the size and distances between each listed and the name of each labeled in Chinese characters and glossed phonetically in Japanese. On this expanded map of Jambudvīpa, however, the red line for the first time extends to sites the Tang pilgrim did not visit—in northern China, on the Korean Peninsula, and, as in Sōkaku’s map of 1692, on the three islands southeast of Simhala. On all previous maps, Chang’an marks only the point of Xuanzang’s departure. Yet on this map, the Tang capital is the nexus of multiple red lines: one to the south toward Sichuan, one to the southeast toward Hunan, one to the east toward Henan, and one to the northeast toward Shanxi, all with distances noted. The lines that had earlier only indicated the path of a historic pilgrimage now compose a network of trade routes connecting all of the major urban centers of contemporaneous China. Nor are the red lines limited to the territory of what is today China: another red line extends to the Korean Peninsula to include the eight provinces of Chosǒn and then proceeds farther northwest, to the lands of the Jurchen 女 真. Yet another line extends northwest from Liaoxi, beyond the Great Wall, to the region of Khitan 契丹. Three more red lines originate from Kyushu. One

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line extends west from Nagasaki to the Ming capital of Nanjing. Its distance is noted as 340 ri. Another extends north from Hirado, past the islands of Iki and Tsushima, to Kǒje, on the southeastern tip of the Korean Peninsula, a distance of 126 ri. A third extends 200 ri south from Kagoshima to the Ryūkyūs. Other red lines mark the maritime routes and distances to more distant foreign ports: 550 ri to Fujian 福州, 880 ri to Guangzhou 廣州, 1,660 ri to Champa 占城, and 3,600 ri to the Kingdom of Funan 扶南国.62 This interest in numerical data extends to all places that appear on the map. Jūkai’s Map of 1364 and the copies transcribed for the following half millennium note only the size of the kingdoms and cities through which Xuanzang passed. By contrast, the Muroga map supplements this data with distances between every node in the extended web of transport routes from Nagasaki to Persia. In other words, the red line seems now to serve not a qualitative function but a quantitative one. The pilgrim’s meandering path has become a system of straight lines measuring the distances between major cities. The place names of the new foreign lands, and the distances noted, largely align with those given in Thoughts on Trade and Communication with the Civilized and the Barbarian (Kai tsūshō kō 華夷通商考, 1695), by Nishikawa Joken 西川 如見 (1648–1724). A Nagasaki scholar of geography and astronomy, Nishikawa served as advisor to other Nagasaki tradesmen and, later in life, to Tokugawa Yoshimune 徳川吉宗 (1684–1751). His two-volume Thoughts on Trade was treasured as an important compendium of information about the lands and the peoples, with whom the Japanese carried out commerce, and was reissued in an expanded edition in 1708. In the Muroga map, the measurements adduced for a number of the specific routes and the orthography for a number of Southeast Asian place names are identical to those in Nishikawa’s 1695 edition: Tonkin, Champa, and Kochin, in what is now Vietnam; Pattani, Ligor, and Malacca, on the Malay Peninsula; and Cambodia and Siam.63 The Muroga map is thus indebted to textual sources far more recent than Xuanzang’s eighth-century Record. The cartographer’s reliance on the latest foreign knowledge from Nagasaki and the recording of the exact distances between Japan and the lands beyond imply an empiricism of a type not seen in earlier examples of Buddhist cartography. The interest in numerical data and the incorporation of non-Buddhist sources suggest a cartographic culture qualitatively different from the tradition of replicating the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku. This seventeenth-century example of Buddhist cartography represents something more than an act of faith: it inaugurates a serious engagement with radically different, and potentially challenging, worldviews. The second of the two maps, dated to 1709, is now in the Namba Collection of the Kobe City Museum (fig. 4.16). While closely related on the Muroga map, it is even more detailed. The Namba map is painted on paper in various

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4.16 Map of Jambudvīpa, 1709. Hanging scroll; ink and color on paper, 152 × 157 cm. Namba Collection, Kobe City Museum.

shades of red, yellow, brown, and green, and it measures 152 × 157 cm. As is the case for the Muroga map, its creator is unknown, but the formal and calligraphic similarities of the two maps allow for the possibility that the same person produced them. The Namba map comprises separate sheets of paper that, unlike the Muroga map, seem to have been added or modified over time. In many cases the place names have been inscribed on small slips of paper affixed to the map’s surface, a technique suggesting an extended process of production and revision. The multiple layers of paper reveal an accumulative procedure. The central continent was created first, and the paper on which the surrounding islands are drawn was added later, leaving a visual record of cartographic bricolage and of a history of construction that remained open and subject to change. The Namba map replicates the distinctive inverted teardrop shape of Jambudvīpa found in the Muroga map. Like every other example of Buddhist cartography examined so far, it depicts Lake Anavatapta, the four animal heads, and the mythic jambu tree at the center of the world (fig. 4.17). In an elaborate rendition of the axial lake, the painter has depicted a jagged tower of rock at the center of the continent from which the jambu tree rises ramrod straight, its branches adorned with bright-red fruit. At the peak of the rocky tor are the heads of a horse, elephant, and ox (the lion, presumably on the north face of the peak, cannot be seen), from which flow the great rivers to encircle the peak. Far to the south of the continent, two craggy peaks, Mount Malaya and Mount Fudaraku, rise precipitously out of the sea (fig. 4.18). The depiction of Mount Fudaraku, with a lake at its peak and a waterway spiraling to its base, closely follows Xuanzang’s text, which notes that “on top of the mountain is a lake of clear water, issuing in a big river that flows twenty times round the mountain before passing into the South Sea.”64 The other familiar islands that surround the Buddhist world continent—Japan to the east, the Land of Women to the west, and Simhala to the south—are common to all previous Japanese Buddhist world maps. However, the continent here is even more fissured and fractured by waterways than any of its predecessors, such that Jambudvīpa itself comes to resemble a vast archipelago in its own right. The seas surrounding the central continent, which had remained relatively empty in the various versions of the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, are now filled with more than two hundred islands, variously colored and named. A dozen new islands appear in the seas north of Japan; over one hundred islands fill the waters below Japan, in the southeast corner of the map; and nearly as many fill the map’s southwest corner. The Namba map presents an archipelagic world of insular profusion. It is also a substantially complete world, with the exception of its depiction of Japan, whose provinces to the east of the Izu and Noto Peninsulas have been lost to damage (fig. 4.19). Although incomplete, the Japan that

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4.17 Map of Jambudvīpa. Detail of Lake Anavatapta and jambu tree.

4.18 Map of Jambudvīpa. Detail of Mount Potalaka and Mount Malaya.

4.19 Map of Jambudvīpa. Detail of Japan.

remains—western Honshu, Shikoku, and Kyushu—is otherwise similar in size, shape, and detail to that of the Muroga map. The capital is marked by the same small square that designates other kingdoms along Xuanzang’s route. Lake Biwa and the rivers that flow from it are drawn as well. Each province is not only clearly delineated but colored. Indeed, the entire map is characterized by chromatic variation, with each geographic designation—region, kingdom, province, or island—outlined or filled in with shades of yellow, orange, red, brown, green, or white. The handful of islands that appear in the Muroga map—such as Taiwan, Luzon, Macao, and the Indonesian archipelago—appear here as well. They share a similar shape and location but include neither the kana transcriptions nor the distances that characterize the Muroga map. Among the islands to the south and southeast are a variety of South and Southeast Asian place names: Malaba, Khambat, Kerala, and Kataram; Java, Sumatra, Malacca, Brunei, Batan, Gelan, and Kalimantan (fig. 4.20). Also to the southeast is a large island labeled “Dashiguo” 大食國, the Tang term for Arabia. Yet these few familiar realms, recorded in contemporary texts such as Nishikawa’s Thoughts on Trade, are surrounded by hundreds of others with less recognizable names and sources (fig. 4.21). Many of these islands—in particular, those to the north of Japan—are drawn from such early seventeenth-­ century Ming compendia as the Collected Illustrations of the Three Realms. Some also appeared on the map in the Compilation of Illustrations and Writings, such as the Land of Dwarves, the Land of the Long-Legged, and the Land of the LongArmed. But the Namba map encompasses new mythic realms as well: the Land of Giants (Chōjinkoku 長人國), the Land of Mononculi (Ichimokukoku 一目國), the Land of Women (Nyōninkoku 女人國), the Land of Immortality (Fushikoku 不死國), the Land of People with Holes in Their Chest (Kōyokukoku 穿胸國), and, in the northern reaches of the continent, the Land of the Three-Headed (Sanshukoku 三首國). All of these legendary lands are recorded, and illustrated, in Ming editions of the Classic of Mountains and Seas, Collected Illustrations of the Three Realms, and Compilation of Illustrations and Writings. Also among the array of islands to the east of the continent lie two mythical realms that are not found in Ming sources but have appeared on maps of Japan since at least the fourteenth century, such as the Gyōki-style maps discussed in chapter 2, marking the northern and southern boundaries of the known world. In the far north is the Land of the Path of the Geese (Gandō) and in the south, the Land of Demonesses (Rasetsukoku). Both of these lands appear on the late seventeenth-century printed maps of Japan that served as sources for the cartography of Japan on the Muroga and Namba maps. One additional land labeled “Shujukoku” 朱儒國 and annotated as “4000 ri south of Japan, where the people are 34 feet tall,” comes from a much earlier Chinese source: the geographical

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4.20 Map of Jambudvīpa. Detail of Southeast Asia and islands.

4.21 Map of Jambudvīpa. Detail of islands from the Chinese encyclopedic tradition.

section of Zhipan’s thirteenth-century Chronicle.65 The fantastic beings catalogued in compendia from the Classic of Mountains and Seas to Wang Qi’s Collected Illustrations of the Three Realms and the foreign lands listed in geographies as diverse as Zhipan’s Chronicle and Nishikawa’s Thoughts on Trade are all to be found within the map’s encyclopedic archipelago. On the Muroga map, the northern and northeastern region of the continent—nearly half of the landmass—has been left blank. On the Namba map, however, these regions are entirely filled with landforms and text: countries are named and mountains, forests, rivers, deltas, bays, and inland seas are carefully drawn and colored. As in the Muroga map, the Korean Peninsula protrudes from the east side of the continent. Unlike the Muroga map, however, the Namba map matches the Korean Peninsula, with a peninsular form protruding from the continent’s western side labeled “Byzantium” (fig. 4.22). A similar symmetry characterizes the Chinese Buddhist world map in the Compilation of Illustrations and Writings. The northern region of this new landform is annotated “grasses and trees do not grow [here]” 草木不生, and the distance is noted as “three years from the capital.” Beside Byzantium is Syria 大泰, or the Eastern

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4.22 Map of Jambudvīpa. Detail of Byzantium.

Roman Empire, described as “40,000 ri from Nanjing.” The place names listed in this region, as in other areas of the continent left blank on the Muroga map, are often annotated with the abbreviated titles of the bibliographic sources from which they were drawn. Syria and four of the place names in this region are cited as coming from the Collected Illustrations of the Three Realms, two others are notated simply “from the Collected Works” 出全集 and left unspecified, and one is associated with the character for Tang 唐, perhaps referring to one of the Tang dynastic histories. These sources are listed beside other place names throughout the map. Again, resembling the Muroga map, the Namba manuscript marks Xuanzang’s route in straight red lines—in some instances with distances supplied— that link the square nodes of each city and kingdom. The red line, however, follows a somewhat different pattern than in the Muroga map. Although China proper is rendered in much the same manner as in the Muroga map, here the red line does not extend beyond China’s western border to the country’s interior. Although the red line extends neither to the Korean Peninsula nor to the Japanese archipelago, it does describe a number of routes within China absent from both Xuanzang’s Record and the Muroga map. Whereas the additional red lines on the Muroga map extended from Xuanzang’s traditional itinerary to lands beyond, the new routes on the Namba map are entirely separate from the path of the Tang pilgrim. Now four discontinuous routes connect cities and kingdoms north of the Great Wall through the lands labeled “Jurchen,” “Mongol,” “Tangut,” and “Uighur.” Shorter lines in red connect place names in the northwestern region of the continent and some of the islands in the southeast. In the far northwest corner of the continent falls another group of islands new to Japanese Buddhist cartography (fig. 4.23). Not scattered but conforming to the curved chorography of the continent, these seem to be late additions; neither a single landmass nor a dispersed archipelago, they resemble a loosely assembled marquetry or the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that have been aligned yet not combined. Unlike the topography elsewhere in the map, they are rendered only in outline and, except for the occasional wash of green on mountains, are otherwise uncolored. Despite their uncertain status, the appearance of these not-quite-continental lands marks an important shift in premodern Japanese cartography: they are inscribed with European place names. At the center of this European archipelago is Holland, labeled with the Chinese characters that Nishikawa reads as Oranda 阿蘭陀 and Kōmō 紅毛, or “Red Hairs,” a popular Japanese designation for the Dutch. The map also follows Nishikawa in labeling it “Oruranto” and adduces the distance from Japan as 77,400 ri. The conventions for naming the European countries that appear on the Namba map follow the 1708 edition of Nishikawa’s Thoughts on Trade but not the calculations of their distances to Japan. Beneath Holland is

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the largest island in the archipelago: “The Country’s Seven United Provinces” 國合七州, with each province of the Netherlands named in kana as it appears in Nishikawa’s 1708 edition: Holland (Oranda), Gelderland (Gerutoranto), Over­ ijssel (Oibuiseru), Friesland (Furīsuranto), Groningen (Guruinege), Utrecht (Uitarekito), and Zeeland (Zeiranto).66 In a topographic embellishment testifying to an unfamiliarity with the famously flat Dutch landscape, five mountain ranges divide the provinces. Together, the Netherlands fills the landmass on which the Bankoku sōzu locates Portugal, Spain, Castile, France, Italy, Germany, Poland, Hungary, and Romania. Just north of the Netherlands lie Denmark (Deinumaruka), Germany (Toichranto), and Norway (Nōruwaiki). To the east are Sweden (Sueite) and Poland (Pōlen), which also appears in the northwest with an alternative toponym (Poloniya).67 To the west is England, which, as in Nishikawa’s account, is named in both Chinese characters (請厄利亞) and in two different phonetic variants (Ekeresu and Ikirisu).68 And west of England is the island of France (Furansu). Like Poland, “France” reappears elsewhere as a second island—under its Dutch name, Frankrijk (Furankareki)—and, for the second time, so does Denmark (Taniya).69 This rendering of northern Europe also has a Land of Dwarves 小人国. This is the third appearance of this country on the map: one Land of Dwarves is found as an island north of Japan, and another lies at the southern tip of the Byzantine peninsula. Nishikawa mentions this land as well. It appears on the spherical world map included in the 1708 edition of Thoughts on Trade. Nishikawa’s map is based on simplified editions of Matteo Ricci’s world maps. Ricci’s map of 1602 also includes a Land of Dwarves (矮人國) in northern Europe, and simplified editions of Ricci’s world map published in both China and Japan throughout the second half of the seventeenth century prominently included this detail, renaming the region with the same characters found on the Namba map. Ricci describes the Land of Dwarves as follows: “The men and women of this kingdom are only a little more than one foot tall. At the age of five they already have children, and at eight they are already old. Constantly devoured by cranes and hawks, they live in caves for safety. Here they wait until the third month of summer, when they come out and destroy the eggs of their enemies, riding on goats.”70 Nishikawa also describes a Land of Dwarves in the northern seas where the people live in caves and are pursued by cranes.71 It is unclear, however, whether Ricci is drawing from East Asian or European sources. Geranomachy—the battle between pygmies and cranes—is mentioned by both Homer and Aristotle, and it appears in Chinese sources as early as the fourth or fifth century CE.72 Whatever Ricci’s ultimate source may have been, it is an ethnographic detail that commonly appears on Japanese world maps into the nineteenth century. Farther north still, beyond the Land of Dwarves, are numerous islands labeled “Land of Night” 夜國. Nishikawa locates such lands in

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the seas north of Holland and applies the name to four islands in the northern reaches of the spherical world map reproduced in his text.73 Ricci’s map of 1602 also identifies a Land of Night in the polar region, and islands labeled “Land of Night” are ubiquitous on the popular European-style world maps printed in late seventeenth-century Japan that follow Ricci’s model. Such fabulous realms as the Land of Dwarves and the Land of Night, the origins of which lie in the European as much as the East Asian geographic imaginary, reveal the global sources of Tokugawa-period world maps. The similarities between the representation of Europe in the Namba and simplified editions of Ricci-style world maps, often titled Bankokuzu, also strongly suggest that these popularly printed world maps informed the way in which the Namba map depicted and included Europe. Such maps were in wide circulation by the time of the Namba map’s compilation and were included in the expanded 1708 edition of Nishikawa’s Thoughts on Trade, which served as the sourcebook for so many of the foreign place names on the Namba map. The curved contour of the European archipelago, fitting neatly into the inverted-­ teardrop outline of the Namba map, echoes the form of Europe as it appears in the northeast corner of the Bankokuzu’s oval projection (fig. 4.24). Yet while the Namba map reproduces the European chorography of the Bankokuzu, it also redistributes the countries’ names rather freely. England and Holland, for instance, remain in place, but many others are relocated or transposed. What the Bankokuzu labels “Sweden” and “Norway” become Germany and Denmark on the Namba map. The Bankokuzu identifies Portugal, Spain, Castile, France, Italy, Germany, Poland, Hungary, Romania, and Albania on a large landform. The Namba map replicates the shape of this landform, down to the distinctive contour of its coastline, but here the entire territory is identified as Gelderland, Overijssel, Friesland, Groningen, Utrecht, and Zeeland—six of the Seven United Provinces of the Netherlands. As the preceding description suggests, the Namba map is a cartographic palimpsest. Constructed over time, with paper and ink added to expand its size and contents, overlaid to amend and correct earlier iterations, the map reveals the facture of an expanding world. Xuanzang’s route remains central to the map, and yet the pilgrim’s path has been transformed from a circuitous itinerary to a diagrammatic network of distances extending into northern frontiers and tracing the maritime trade routes of the South. In drawing on an unprecedented range of European, Chinese, and Japanese print sources, it represents a turning point in Japanese Buddhist cartography. It is informed by the maps collected in Buddhist and non-Buddhist geographic compendia, the popular encyclopedias of the Ming, the multiple versions of Matteo Ricci’s world maps that appeared in Chinese books and Japanese woodblock prints, and the most recent accounts of Japanese overseas trade published in Nagasaki.

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4.23 Map of Jambudvīpa. Detail of Europe.

4.24 Map of Myriad Lands, 1645. Detail of Europe. Japanese Maps of the Tokugawa Era, Rare Books and Special Collections, University of British Columbia Library, G3200 1645z .S5.

The Namba map encompasses a vast archipelago of islands known and imaginary, the distant lands of Arabia and Byzantium, and a detailed geography of Europe. By the end of the seventeenth century, Japan had received, produced, and enjoyed a plurality of worldviews: copperplate prints and atlases from Europe bearing the world maps of Blaeu, van der Keere, Plancius, Ortelius, Braun, and Hogensberg; woodblock books from China containing the cartographies of Ricci, Wang Qi, Zhang Huang, and Renchao; and the various Japanese appropriations and the reimagining of these worlds from luxurious painted screens to popular woodblock prints. The manuscript maps in the Muroga and Namba collections are informed by all of these sources but not tethered exclusively to any specific predecessor. Rather, they reveal a high level of experimentation and adaption, offering a momentary snapshot in the ongoing process of Buddhist worldmaking. They also established a new paradigm for the Buddhist world maps that were to follow, maps that would replace the brush with the printing block and propel the Japanese Buddhist vision of the world from the cloistered realm of the temple to the popular world of Edo print culture.

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5

BUDDHIST CARTOGRAPHY AND PRINT CULTURE Religious Vision in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction

The Muroga and Namba maps traced a contemporary Buddhist world beyond the traditional boundaries of the Five Regions of Tenjiku. They might have ended as little more than curious cartographic experiments had they remained, like the other Buddhist world maps created centuries before and after, within the manuscript collections of Japanese monasteries. But they did not. Instead, the Muroga and Namba maps departed the cloistered culture of the temple archive to enter what Mary Elizabeth Berry has called “the library of public information”: a cultural transformation, around the turn of the eighteenth century, that represents “a quiet revolution in knowledge—one that divides the early modern period from all previous time.”1 In the year 1710, a Japanese Buddhist world map first appeared as a large-­ format, multisheet woodblock print. This signaled a public assertion of Buddhist views of the world, and of Buddhist views of knowledge, into the intellectual and visual culture of Japan that would reverberate for the next two centuries. The advent of a Japanese Buddhist world map within the world of print culture brought its religious claims into radically different contexts of production, reception, and use. It marked the advent of a radical change in the format, content, and concept of the Buddhist world picture: a mode of representation and an instrument of vision that included, engaged, and contested Europe and European views of the world. In an age of mechanical reproduction and commercial circulation, this augmented and disputatious picture of the Buddhist world reached forms of pictorialization and classes of consumers never before imagined.

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The Buddhist World in Print The Handy Map of the Myriad Countries of Jambudvīpa (Nansenbushū bankoku shōka no zu 南瞻部州萬國掌菓之圖) was drawn in 1709 by the Kegon monk Hōtan 鳳潭(1659–1738), also known as Rōkashi 浪華子. In the following year, it was published in Kyoto, first by Bundaiken Uhei 文臺軒宇平 and later by Nagata Chōbei 永田調兵衛 (fig. 5.1). Except for the name of the publisher, these two editions of Hōtan’s map are identical: They both bear the date of 1710 (寳永 7), measure 121 × 144 cm, and are otherwise indistinguishable. The order of issue is unrecorded, but extant copies of the Bundaiken edition generally exhibit far less wear to the printing blocks than the editions issued by Nagata. Bundaiken Uhei, moreover, remains an otherwise unknown figure, whereas Nagata Chōbe was a leading Buddhist publisher in Kyoto active from the seventeenth century to the present day.2 It is thus likely that Bundaiken first issued the map and that the printing blocks were later acquired by Nagata, a common practice in publishing at the time. Stretching over a meter in each direction, Hōtan’s map is similar in scale to the manuscript maps examined in this study thus far. Like the manuscript maps, Hōtan’s print is composed of multiple sheets of paper folded into the standard format of 24.5 × 18.5 cm. More than twice the size of previously published Japanese world maps, it resembles a wall map in scale and format and may have been published for didactic display in temples and other sites of religious education. But if Hōtan produced the map to be studied and taught in temple environments, the Edo-period boom in literacy and commercial printing meant that his vision of a Buddhist world reached a far wider audience. Hōtan’s map remained in print for over a century, and extant copies number in the hundreds. It was published by Nagata until at least 1815 and was also copied and issued in various simplified and reduced-format editions through the mid-nineteenth century. With Hōtan’s map, the pious efforts of monastic scribes were replaced with the technical effects of mechanical reproduction. In the preface to his map, Hōtan explicitly celebrates the power of print culture, proudly announcing: “Woodblock printing has been used, so that it may be propagated forever!” Hōtan, who restored the Kyoto temple of Kegonji, was a major figure in the revival of the Kegon school in the Edo period. A prolific author of Buddhist commentaries, Hōtan also played an active role in the doctrinal debates of the period.3 His published writing, which numbers thirty-one titles in seventy-five volumes, includes major studies of such fundamental texts of the Kegon tradition as Fazang’s 法藏 commentary on the Awakening of Faith in the Mahāyāna (Dasheng qixinlun yiji 大乘起信論義記), his Essay on the Five Teachings of Huayan (Huayan yisheng jiaoyi fenzhai zhang 華嚴一乘教義分齋章), and Yuanhui’s

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5.1 Hōtan, Handy Map of the Myriad Countries of Jambudvīpa, 1710. Woodblock print with hand coloring, 121 × 144 cm. David Rumsey Map Collection, Stanford University Libraries, Stanford, CA.

圓暉撰 commentary on Vasubandhu’s Treasury of Abhidharma. Equally numerous were Hōtan’s critical debates with other scholarly monks of the Shingon, Tendai, Zen, Jōdo, Jōdo Shin, and Nichiren traditions. Like his map, his commentarial and polemical writings were published and circulated widely throughout the print culture of the age. Hōtan was deeply versed in multiple Buddhist traditions. Like Myōe, Hōtan planned, unsuccessfully, to travel to India and thus “consoled himself,” in the words of Takakusu Junjirō, “by bathing his feet in the seawater at a beach in the province of Kii and by indulging in the thought that the water extended to the shore of the motherland of Buddhism.”4 He began his training under the Obaku Zen master Egoku Dōmyō 慧極道明 (1632–1721), who represented the most recent form of Buddhism from the continent. The Obaku lineage was responsible for distributing the latest Ming printed edition of the Buddhist canon in Japan, fueling a growth of Buddhist scholarship among monks of the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries. Hōtan went on to study Tendai on Mount Hiei and at various temples throughout the Kansai region before specializing in the Kegon tradition at Tōdaiji. Nor was he ignorant of the latest in Western learning. He had traveled to Nagasaki at the age of twenty to pursue foreign studies and had become familiar with European cartography.5 In its own way no less learned and disputatious than his voluminous output of scriptural commentary and sectarian critique, Hōtan’s map is best understood as a work of polemic scholarship and innovative Buddhist worldmaking. The title that Hōtan gave the map offers a clue to this new mode of cartographic interest: Nansenbushū bankoku shōka no zu combines the nomenclature of two cartographic traditions that had heretofore remained distinct. It is at once a Map of Jambudvīpa (Nansenbushū no zu) and a Map of the Myriad Countries (Bankoku no zu). The former shares the title of most earlier Buddhist world maps, but the latter had previously been limited, with scant exception, to the popular woodblock-printed European-style world maps deriving from those of Matteo Ricci. This portmanteau of a title reveals Hōtan’s project as both classical and radically innovative. He appropriates the vocabulary and cartography of Ricci into a view of the world that the Jesuit father had adamantly rejected. Moreover, Hōtan’s title—translated more literally as Map of the Myriad Countries of Jambudvīpa Seen Like a Fruit Held in the Hand—uses religious terminology to denote not only a Buddhist vision of the world but also the very quality of Buddhist vision itself: discriminative knowledge attained through meditative insight. Hōtan’s preface identifies “a fruit held in the hand” (shōka 掌菓) as an object of omniscient Buddhist vision. It states, “The wisdom eye of the sage is far more powerful than the human eye, and sees the boundless tenthousand-fold world, just like a fruit held in the hand.” The phrase “fruit held in the hand” enjoyed a long history in Buddhist scriptural and commentarial

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literature. In the Vimalakīrti-nirdeśa, composed in the first or second century of the Common Era, Aniruddha, the disciple of the Buddha foremost in divine sight, is asked, “How far can this heavenly eye of yours see?” The Buddha replies, “I can see the boundless ten-thousand-fold world as though I were peering down at a fruit in the palm of my hand.”6 The Commentary on the Sutra on Contemplation of Amitāyus (Guan wuliangshou jing yishu 觀無量壽經義疏), by Yuanzhao 元照 (1048–1116), similarly states that the “heavenly eye sees the thousand-fold world like a fruit in the hand.”7 In the more popular Japanese Buddhist literature of the twelfth-century Konjaku monogatari, it is stated, “The heavenly eye enables one to see the things in the three-thousand worlds as if reading one’s own palm.”8 Informed by such scriptural claims, Hōtan explains the qualitative difference between Buddhist and ordinary human vision: There are innumerable realms, as countless as the leaves of mustard grass, beneath the four heavens. Our realm of Jambudvīpa is like a single grain within a great storehouse of millet. The ordinary person can see no more of the world than someone inside a cave peering through a tiny hole. Not even Li Zhu 離婁, who could see something as minute as an autumn hair from the distance of a hundred paces, and sought the dark pearl of the Yellow Emperor, had such vision. Human vision is as limited as that of the horned owl that can catch a flea at night but cannot see a hill at mid-day. The vision of an ordinary person is as far from the vision of the wisdom eye as that of a blind person is from the sighted. He can say nothing of the worlds as numerous as atoms. He is like a frog in a well discussing the vast oceans.

Hōtan’s polemic is thus as much about epistemology as it is about cartography. His case for the qualitative difference between the perspective of Buddhist insight and ordinary human sight relies on the classical Buddhist understanding of vision as a root metaphor for knowledge. Hōtan’s use of the term “wisdom eye” (J. egen 慧眼, Skt. prajñā-cakṣus) refers to the power of vision to discern the true nature of all things. It is one of the five levels of vision, or “five eyes” (J. gogen 五眼, Skt. pañca-cakṣūṃṣi), within the traditional Mahāyāna classification of discriminative knowledge. The five eyes include the physical eye (J. nikugen 肉眼, Skt. māṃsa-cakṣus), which discerns the material aspects of things; the heavenly eye (J. tengen 天眼, Skt. divya-cakṣus), which sees the causes and effects of all things; the aforementioned wisdom eye, which sees the true nature of all things; the dharma eye (J. hōgen 法眼, Skt. dharma-cakṣus), which sees the impermanence of all things; and the Buddha eye (J. butsugen 仏 眼, Skt. buddha-cakṣus), which includes all of the previous levels.9

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In Hōtan’s context, this Buddhist vocabulary of vision addresses both a mode of perception and the world thusly perceived. As we shall see in the following chapter, numerous Buddhist critics of Western science in the nineteenth century would employ this classical distinction to argue for the superiority of the heavenly, wisdom, dharma, or Buddha eye over the imperfect vision of the physical eye. To this Buddhist technical vocabulary Hōtan adds allusions to classical Chinese thought, invoking mythic and historical exemplars celebrated for the power of their vision and citing allegories from the Zhuangzi 莊子 to illustrate the limitations of conventional perception.10 Hōtan’s title and preface thus promote a particularly Buddhist view of the world, as well as a particularly Buddhist view of knowledge. It is within this overarching program that Hōtan also addresses specifically cartographic matters. His preface criticizes the limitations of earlier Buddhist geographies and their bibliographic sources. He distinguishes his own work from previous efforts, portraying it as offering a more comprehensive picture of the world and as based upon a more extensive bibliography: This world reaches beyond the distances travelled by such wise men of the past as Tai Zhang 太章 and Shu Hai 豎亥 or the remote regions explored by Ban Chao 班超 and Zhang Qian 張騫.11 Not even the famous Buddhist monks Faxian and Xuanzang, who risked their lives traveling to Tenjiku and other distant lands in search of the Tripiṭaka, tell of it all. Although they described the Five Regions of Tenjiku, the realms of the barbarian tribes, the Pamir Mountains, and the Land of Snows, they knew nothing of the foreign lands overseas. They did not even visit Korea, Japan, the Ryūkyūs, Siam, or Java—countries as minor as scattered millet-­ seeds. Not even the successive generations of Indian and Chinese writers describe the entirety of this world. Relying only on the Book of History, future readers will be confounded and unable to understand. Therefore, although I have been often confused by the pronunciation of Indian and Chinese place names, I have drawn on such sources as the Collected Illustrations of the Three Realms (Sancai tuhui), the Compilation of Illustrations and Writings (Tushu bian), and the Unified Gazetteer of the Great Ming (Ming yi tong zhi 明一統志) in identifying the names and locations of all countries from the southern seas to the northern deserts.12 Large countries may appear small, and vast regions may be reduced to tiny areas. I have not even been able to represent the Five Regions of Tenjiku in much detail. The place names are those that are found in “The Name and Form of the Cosmos” of Zhipan’s Complete Chronicle of Buddhas and Patriarchs, whose map of the Western Regions and the Five Regions of Tenjiku is well known. Because I have consulted these

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sources, I have been able to include such places as Tokhara, Mungān 瞢 徤, the Iron Gate, Krisma 訖栗, Alni 阿利尼, and the Pamir Mountains in the northeast.

As this passage reveals, Hōtan recognizes the limitations of classical Chinese records and claims that the reports of the revered Buddhist pilgrims of the past, such as Faxian and Xuanzang, need to be updated with more recent data. He is particularly concerned with the geography of Central Asia and India, the focus of the manuscript maps of Xuanzang’s pilgrimage, and seeks to correct and augment it. He expresses regret that East and Southeast Asia, “countries as minor as scattered millet-seeds” in medieval Japanese parlance, do not appear in their accounts. And while he acknowledges his debt to the Song dynasty maps of Zhipan, he supplements them with information from the latest Ming publications.13 Hōtan finds the existing cartographic record even less reliable than the bibliographic sources on which it rested. He criticizes the many manuscript versions of the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, chastising their flaws and disputing their utility: Many errors are to be found on maps of the Five Regions of Tenjiku. Such errors are not found in bibliographic sources such as Xuanzang’s Great Tang Record of the Western Regions, Huili’s Life of Xuanzang, or [Daoxuan’s] Account of the Regional Spread of Buddhism (Shijia fangzhi 釋迦方 誌).14 Such maps misrepresent the rivers and regions of distant lands. They include such errors as locating Mount Potalaka east of Simhala or failing to include Mount Lanka. In the past, maps of the Five Regions of Tenjiku have been venerated in famous temples throughout Japan. I have examined these maps, but I have found them to be inferior to those in the Complete Record of Buddhas and Patriarchs. They have even confused Mount Potalaka with Mount Putuo and have thus located Potalaka at the edge of China, rather than along the shores of the southern seas, a discrepancy of some ten thousand ri! The place names of China and India are in disarray and the boundaries of the Five Regions of Tenjiku are obscured. It is inexpressibly lamentable. Such maps are worthless.

Hōtan’s critical approach to the manuscript tradition anticipates the evaluation of the scholar-monks of Zōjōji who, as described in chapter 3, submitted their edition of Xuanzang’s map to a similarly bibliographic analysis. Having examined the various maps of the Five Regions of Tenjiku “venerated in temples across Japan,” Hōtan finds them less reliable than earlier textual sources

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from the Tang and Song. Like the monks of Zōjōji, Hōtan notes the confusion of Potalaka with the Chinese island of Mount Putuo and identifies the errors and inaccuracies of the scribal tradition. Unlike his fellow scholar-monks of Zōjōji, however, Hōtan is interested in more than cartographic correction. Understanding the powerful optics of cartography, by which “large countries may appear small, and vast regions may be reduced to tiny areas,” he claims not only that his map unifies all geographic knowledge but also that it allows this knowledge to be held in the hands and apprehended with the eyes. In other words, Hōtan asserts that users of the map could grasp the true structure of the world both conceptually and physically through the act of vision. More than a visual display of quantitative information, the map offers a new way of seeing—total, unencumbered, and commanding. Hōtan explains: “I have integrated all of the mote-like countries of Jambudvīpa, and reduced the scale, so that it may be held in one’s hands. I have thus entitled this publication ‘A Map of the Myriad Countries of Jambudvīpa That May Be Held Like a Fruit in the Hand.’ With this map, one may take in the entire world in a single glance; one may visit distant places, without ever traveling beyond one’s garden gate; and one may point out the various countries of the world just as easily as pointing out the stars in the night sky.” For Hōtan, the map offers a panopticism akin to Xuanzang’s dream vision from atop Mount Sumeru. Like Myōe’s interior pilgrimage or Zenjō’s experience transcribing the geography of Xuanzang’s journey, Hōtan’s map allows one to “visit distant places without ever traveling beyond one’s garden gate.”15 Such celebration of the powers of cartography in East Asia long preceded Hōtan. In the preface to his world map of 1602, Ricci praised his work as “enabling the spectator to travel about while reclining at ease in his study” and “to be able to scan all of the countries of the world in turn without going out of doors.”16 In his preface to the 1603 edition of Ricci’s map, Feng Yingjing 馮應京 articulated the same notion, writing that viewers of Ricci’s map “will get from it the pleasure of travelling while reclining at their ease . . . and the impression, though remaining in one’s own room, that one is travelling throughout the entire world.”17 This mode of imaginary travel, literally “travelling while lying down” (Ch. woyou; J. gayū 臥遊), was an East Asian aesthetic ideal that extended from classical Chinese landscape painting to Edo-period print culture.18 It was an ideal shared by Chinese Buddhist pilgrims as well. “If you read this Record of mine,” wrote Yijing (635–713), who journeyed to India some fifty years after Xuanzang, “you may, without moving one step, travel in all of the Five Regions of India.”19 Yijing concluded his Record, moreover, by stating, “My real hope and wish is to represent Vulture Peak in the small rooms of my friends.”20 Hōtan’s contribution to this discursive history is to emphasize the epistemological insight of this theory of response: “With this map one may take in the entire world in a single glance.”

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Hōtan claims that cartography is necessary not simply for an accurate and complete understanding of the scriptures but also for the very survival of the Buddhist tradition in a changing world. If Japanese Buddhist intellectuals were to compete successfully in the marketplace of ideas, then their geographic knowledge would have to equal, or surpass, that of their intellectual competition. In this sense, Hōtan ascribes as much religious value to cartography as Xavier or Ricci, and for much the same reasons. He concludes his preface with a warning and a call to action: If Buddhist scholars do not examine this map when they consult the sutras, then their investigations will be incomplete. Confucian scholars have debated geography and discussed distances for generations. [If Buddhist scholars do not pursue cartographic studies,] our knowledge will be as insufficient as that of a frog in a well. There is so much still unknown about the Five Regions of Tenjiku. We must seek as much understanding of distant lands as we do our own, and even more so, of Mount Sumeru at the center of the universe and the vast trichiliocosm itself, just as Sudhana sought the Flower Realm and the vast world of Indra’s Net.

Hōtan begins this, the final section of his preface, by echoing Zhipan’s warning: “If those who discuss the size and structure of the world do not rely on the Buddhist scriptures, their knowledge will be inadequate to the task.”21 Yet Hōtan concludes with a gesture toward the larger cosmic vision of the Buddhist tradition. He invokes the pilgrim Sudhana, whose journey toward enlightenment is the subject of the Gandavyūha, the final section of the Avataṃsaka or Kegon Sutra, the eponymous scripture of Hōtan’s lineage. The Flower Realm, or the Lotus Store World (Skt. Kusumatalagarbha-vyūhālaṃkāra; J. kezō sekai 華藏世界), sought by Sudhana refers to the pure land of the Buddha Vairocana, a cosmology of infinite world systems. Likewise, the world of Indra’s Net (Skt. Indra-jāla; J. Taishaku mō 帝釋網) is another image of limitless space and vision: an endless net hanging from Indra’s heavenly palace atop Mount Sumeru in which each strand is joined with jewels that reflect each other ad infinitum: an interconnected network of worlds within worlds. Sudhana achieved his quest for insight only at the end of his pilgrimage—and significantly, with a visionary experience of the entire structure of the Buddhist universe. “Stripped of a delusion,” Sudhana “became clairvoyant without distortion” and “with the unobstructed eye of liberation, saw all objects without hindrance.”22 The goal of Hōtan’s map is nothing less than this soteriological vision of the world. In spite of Hōtan’s innovations and aspirations, his map is deeply indebted to the work of earlier cartographers. It is so closely modeled on the Namba map

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that in places it appears as if it were traced from the manuscript. Hōtan also follows the earlier manuscript in representing the world continent broken into a vast archipelago shaped like an inverted teardrop. In his map, Jambudvīpa maintains the nuclear form of the square Lake Anavatapta and the four great rivers that flow from the mouths of mythic beasts that had characterized all previous Buddhist geographies (fig. 5.2). So, too, are India and Central Asia still at the center of this world; their place names follow the Record of the Western Regions, with every kingdom listed sequentially and with the size of each given exactly as it appears in Xuanzang’s seventh-century text. Therefore, though Hōtan criticized the reliance of earlier Buddhist cartographers on outdated texts and announced his own use of the latest Ming sources, he nevertheless opted to preserve a geography that was in his day already more than a thousand years old. Nor was the map of 1710 Hōtan’s first attempt at Buddhist cartography. Three years earlier he had already drawn another map of Jambudvīpa, included in his fourteen-fascicle edition of Yuanhui’s commentary on Vasubandhu’s Treasury of Abhidharma published three years earlier (fig. 5.3). Yet his first map of Jambudvīpa was also not limited by Vasubandhu’s fifth-century source. As had all earlier Japanese Buddhist world maps, it relied on Xuanzang for the place names, and it traced the pilgrim’s route with straight lines, connecting each toponym in the order of Xuanzang’s itinerary. Here, too, Lake Anavatapta lies

5.2 Hōtan, Handy Map of the Myriad Countries of Jambudvīpa. Detail of Lake Anavatapta.

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5.3 Hōtan, Map of Jambudvīpa, from Kanchū kōen kusharon jushakusho, 1707. Monochrome woodblock book illustration. Author’s collection.

at the center of the map, and the deserts, lakes, rivers, and mountains mentioned in Xuanzang’s Record are all duly illustrated. Only one additional detail distinguishes this map from earlier representations of Xuanzang’s travels: Hōtan’s distinctive representation of the Iron Gate, the narrow mountain gorge in the Pamirs between Bactria and Sogdia. Xuanzang described it as follows: “The door leaves are strengthened by iron and many iron bells are hanging on them.”23 Apparently inspired by Xuanzang’s description, Hōtan depicts the famous mountain pass quite literally as a shuttered iron gate resembling the closed metal doors of a Japanese storehouse and as tall as the very mountains themselves. He reproduces this telling detail on his map of 1710, and it would continue to be reproduced into the nineteenth century. On Hōtan’s 1707 map, Xuanzang’s Western Regions fills two-thirds of the space, and China comprises the rest. Hōtan relegates Korea, Japan, the Ryūkyūs, and Luzon—countries he would later describe “as minor as scattered millet-­ seeds”—to the eastern edge of the map, from which their partial coastlines

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protrude. The western extremities of Jambudvīpa are labeled “Persia,” “Byzantium,” and “Arabia.” Beyond them, in the sea at the map’s westernmost limit, are the characters for [the Great Land of] Western Women. Southeast Asia is included as a peninsula, and a small cluster of islands is compressed in the space between China and India. A narrow strip of characters below and against the map’s southern perimeter note that “Simhala and Mount Lanka lie twenty thousand ri to the south” and “three thousand ri from Simhala lie Mount Fudaraku and Mount Malaya.” Hōtan’s source for the geography of China was even more recent than Xuanzang’s text. He relied on Wang Junfu’s 王君甫 General Map of the Ming and All of the Surrounding Countries (Ch. Daming jiubian wanguo renji lucheng quantu; J. Daimin kyūhen bankoku jinseki rotei zenzu 大明九邊萬國人跡路程全 圖) originally published in China in 1663 and reprinted in Kyoto by Umehara Yahaku 梅村弥白sometime before 1706 (fig. 5.4).24 Wang’s Chinese map was itself informed by elements of Jesuit cartography—in particular, the maps of Matteo Ricci and Giulio Aleni (1582–1649). These Jesuit sources had already been incorporated into earlier seventeenth-century Chinese world maps, such as Cao Junyi’s 曹君義 1644 Complete Map of the Allotted Fields, Human Traces, and Routes within and without the Nine Borders under Heaven (Tianxia jiubian fenye renji lucheng quantu 天下九邊分野人跡路程全圖. Compared to his map of 1707, Hōtan’s Handy Map of the Myriad Countries of Jambudvīpa derives from even more sources. To the left of the map’s title, along the upper margins of the sheet, a long text box lists the 102 works consulted: Buddhist sutras, commentaries, monastic codes, histories, hagiographies, encyclopedias, and dictionaries; Chinese dynastic histories and gazetteers, geographical compendia, encyclopedias, and literary works. Hōtan’s extensive bibliography prioritizes the canonical works of Indian Buddhist scripture, commentary, and law, followed by the records, hagiographies, and compilations of the great Chinese Buddhist pilgrims and scholars and then the Chinese dynastic histories and geographies, the encyclopedias of the Ming, the anthologies of famed Chinese literati, the foundational texts of classical antiquity, and finally, regional gazetteers and local maps. It is an impressive reading list, but one that emphasizes religious authority over geographic content. Although Hōtan strove for bibliographic comprehensiveness, he did not display a similarly exhaustive concern for Xuanzang’s route. Whereas Hōtan inscribed that route in its entirety on the 1707 map of Jambudvīpa, he included only part of it on the map of 1710 (fig. 5.5). The very beginning of Xuanzang’s pilgrimage is marked with an arcing line connecting six small squares representing the first stops on Xuanzang’s path across the Gobi Desert that is notated, following Xuanzang’s Record, “800 ri in length.” The line ends abruptly, almost as if the cartographer had suddenly changed his mind, when it reaches the other

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side of the desert at Gaochang, the first of the foreign lands named along Xuanzang’s journey.25 Xuanzang’s pilgrimage is instead distilled into the names and sizes of the kingdoms through which he passed. The Western Regions have become only one part of the myriad lands of a larger world. Evidently, Hōtan’s purpose in mapmaking diverged from that of his predecessors. To be sure, Hōtan’s 1710 map is continuous with its predecessors in other respects. It remains oriented on India, and its presentation of Jambudvīpa and many of its other details are clearly based on the Namba map. Again, like the Namba map it depicts Japan on an oversized scale (fig. 5.6). Every province is demarcated and named; Mount Fuji is featured prominently, the outline of its triple peak extending the entire length of Suruga Province. Mount Fuji, with a similarly stylized triple peak, is the only mountain drawn on the Fusōkoku no zu, the seventeenth-century map of Japan listed in Hōtan’s catalogue of sources. The islands immediately south of the archipelago are copied from the same seventeenth-century Chinese map, Wang Junfu’s General Map of the Ming— itself informed by the cartography of Ricci and Aleni—that had supplemented Hōtan’s earlier map of 1707. In Wang’s map, Japan appears only as a large cartouche of text, but to its west is an island labeled “Land of Women,” and to its south are three other legendary lands from the Collected Illustrations of the Three Realms: the Land of Dwarves, the Land of Hairy People, and the Land of People with Holes in Their Chests.26 All four of these islands appear on Hōtan’s map of Jambudvīpa, retaining the configuration in which they are found on the General Map of the Ming.27 To the east of Japan, meanwhile, Hōtan drew three landforms abutting the very border of the map: Fusōkoku 扶桑国, a toponym associated both with the Japanese archipelago and with a Daoist realm of the immortality; Kudokoku 狗 奴國, the “Land of Dog People”; and Daikankoku 大漢國, all from the Collected Illustrations of the Three Realms.28 Farther north, beyond the Kirils, stretches a thin strip of land along the very edge of the map labeled the “Thousand Island Archipelago of Ezo” (Chishima Ezoshima 千嶋 蝦夷嶋). Above this, another landform, filling the upper-right corner of the map, is decorated with clusters of mountains and connected to North Asia by an isthmus (fig. 5.7). Although the landform remains unnamed on Hōtan’s map, it corresponds in topography and location to the North American continent in the General Map of the Ming. We are at a loss to account for Hōtan’s decision to depict an isthmus between the Asian and North American continents, but the proximity of a cartouche and a peninsula on the Chinese map may have given the appearance of such a landform. Muroga and Unno have speculated that Hōtan must have misread the unclear lines on Wang’s map as an actual land bridge.29 Another possible source for Hōtan’s unusual representation of North America, however, may be found in European maps of the later seventeenth and

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5.4 Wang Junfu, General Map of the Ming and All of the Surrounding Countries, 1663. Woodblock print with hand coloring, 123 × 121 cm. Yokohama City University Library.

5.5 Hōtan, Handy Map of the Myriad Countries of Jambudvīpa. Detail of the beginning of Xuanzang’s pilgrimage route.

5.6 Hōtan, Handy Map of the Myriad Countries of Jambudvīpa. Detail of Japan.

5.7 Hōtan, Handy Map of the Myriad Countries of Jambudvīpa. Detail of North America.

early eighteenth centuries, which represented and described the possibility of a land bridge between Asia and North America. Nicolaas Witsen’s 1687 New Map of Northern and Eastern Asia and Europe (Nieuwe Lantkaarte van het Noorder en Ooster deel van Asia en Europa) was perhaps the most complete and influential map of Northeast Asia produced in seventeenth-century Europe.30 Based primarily on Russian sources, his map represents what is now known as the

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Chukchi Peninsula, the northeasternmost point of the Asian continent, as a narrow and mountainous strip of land extending toward the very margins of the map’s upper-right corner, much as it appears on Hōtan’s map. The end of the peninsula remains uncompleted on Witsen’s map, and a legend notes that “the end of this Head is unknown.” The earliest appearance of this landform, and this legend, is on a Russian map of 1673 in which the peninsula bleeds into the very frame of the map and is annotated: “Mountain range, it has no end.”31 The same inconclusive peninsula was included on Russian maps used in the negotiations over the 1689 Treaty of Nerchinsk, which established the border dividing the Russian and Chinese Empires and appeared thereafter on Chinese and Jesuit maps as well.32 The Jesuit Jean-François Gerbillion described the peninsula’s appearance on the Russian map as “a chain of mountains projecting far into the sea. They could not reach the end of the mountain-ridge, for it is inaccessible.” Gerbillion went on to note, in a phrase that might well have described Hōtan’s map, that “if Asia is in any point connected with America, it ought to be just here.”33 The peninsula also appears on a map sent the following year by the Jesuit Antoine Thomas from Peking to Rome, where it is similarly noted, “It is unclear whether or not this connects to America.”34 The possibility of an Asian-American land bridge continued to echo throughout European cartography for nearly a century. A map by the British cartographer John Thornton, circa 1700, notes: “It is not known whether this joins to America or not.” A French map, published in 1706, similarly states: “We do not know where these mountains end, nor whether it joins another continent.”35 And a similar depiction and notation is found on a German edition of 1707.36 Indeed, Hōtan’s unlikely land bridge has precedents and parallels on European maps from 1687 until at least the 1770s.37 If North America lurks as an unnamed presence on Hōtan’s map, with possible sources in Chinese or European maps, South America is more explicitly included. Yet South America, like North America, is diminished in size and significance throughout its inclusion in Hōtan’s Buddhist world. As North America appears as an anonymous blob in the northeast margins of Hōtan’s map, South America appears as a lonely archipelago a fraction of the size of Japan. Following the location, topography, and toponymy of Wang’s prototype is a group of islands collectively labeled “South America” 亞墨利加, with the same Chinese characters used on Matteo Ricci’s world map to designate this region (fig. 5.8). Other place names follow the General Map of the Ming, which follows those used by Ricci for Brazil 伯西児, Chile 智勒國, Castilla del Oro 金加西蠟, Guatemala 瓦的馬輩, and Peru 宇露. Ricci described the native people of Patagonia, at the southern tip of South America, as ten feet tall, and both Wang and Hōtan identify a Land of Giants 長人國 there. To the northwest of the archipelago on both maps are smaller islands that do not derive from Ricci: the [Land of

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5.8 Hōtan, Handy Map of the Myriad Countries of Jambudvīpa. Detail of South America.

People with] Three Heads 三首, the Land of [People with] Three Bodies 三身國, both listed in the Collected Illustrations of the Three Realms, as well as the Land of [People with] Golden Teeth 金齒國, and still another called Fragrant Mountain 香山, described as “a place mentioned in the poetry of Wen Tian Xiang 文天祥.” Numerous more familiar South and Southeast Asian place names appear on Hōtan’s map: Cochin, Tonkin, Annam, Champa, Cambodia, Siam, Ligor, Malaysia, Malacca, Pegu, Pagan, Surabaya, Jakarta, Java, Bantam, Chola, and the Solomon Islands, among them. The names, shape, and location of some twenty of these lands reveal the Namba manuscript as their source. The Namba map also served as the source for many of the lands northeast of Xuanzang’s travels, such as

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Persia, Parthia, and Arabia, itself divided into the lands of the White-Clad Arabians and the Black-Clad Arabians. South of the central continent, Hōtan has drawn Fudaraku with the same shape found in the Namba map and has even followed the manuscript in placing a small square on the island (fig. 5.9).

5.9 Hōtan, Handy Map of the Myriad Countries of Jambudvīpa. Detail of Mount Potalaka and Mount Malaya.

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Yet there are also examples of Hōtan departing from the Namba map in favor of Xuanzang’s Record. The depiction of Simhala and Mount Lanka do not follow the chorography of the Namba map. Hōtan shows the island of Narikela but gives it a different shape and includes Xuanzang’s note that “the people are short in stature, about three feet tall. Although they have human bodies, their mouths are like the beaks of birds.”38 Farther west, Xuanzang describes “a solitary islet with a stone image of the Buddha.”39 On the Namba map, it is labeled “Solitary Islet,” whereas Hōtan names it “Stone Buddha.” Hōtan also depicts the “great precious island” 大寳洲 that Xuanzang mentions but that does not appear on the Namba map. The peninsula labeled “Byzantium” that the Namba map locates on the western edge of Jambudvīpa is maintained by Hōtan but only selectively (fig. 5.10). He has excised the heart of the landform and represented it as a smaller cluster of islands off the west coast of the continent. Although some of the place names have been relocated, eleven names from this section of the Namba map are found. However significant the manuscript map may have been, Hōtan was clearly working from multiple sources.

5.10 Hōtan, Handy Map of the Myriad Countries of Jambudvīpa. Detail of Byzantium.

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5.11 Hōtan, Handy Map of the Myriad Countries of Jambudvīpa. Detail of Europe.

Perhaps the most notable effect that the Namba map had on Hōtan’s cartography is in the representation of Europe (fig. 5.11). As we have seen, the Namba manuscript was the first Japanese Buddhist world map to include Europe. Yet, as with the Americas, Hōtan seems to have simultaneously included and marginalized Europe, and to have done so through the use of East Asian sources with origins in Jesuit cartography. With Hōtan’s duplication in toto of the precise shapes and arrangement of the Namba manuscript’s European “archipelago,” Europe assumed an enduring place on Japanese Buddhist world maps. With but a single exception, Hōtan rearranged all of the names of places in Europe. As we have seen, the European place names on the Namba map of 1709 were drawn from the 1708 expanded edition of Nishikawa’s Thoughts on Trade and the arrangement of landforms informed by the popular Bankokuzu published throughout the second half of the seventeenth century. The creator of the Namba map, however, distributed the place names among the landforms in no recognizable pattern. Hōtan reallocated those place names, principally following not the Namba manuscript but European-style world maps produced in Japan, such as the Bankoku sōzu of 1644–1647 and the Bankoku sokaizu of 1708.

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In the upper-left corner of the map is a region designated, in Japanese phonetic characters, Europe (Europa), composed of an archipelago of islands: Holland (Oranda/Kōmō), France (Suransa), England (Inkeresu), Iceland (Isurantea), Norway (Noerujiya), Sweden (Sukoshiya), Greenland (Korukunteya), Frisland (Hiritaniya), Denmark (Tāniya), Moskovia (Sukafuya), Poland (Poloniya), Hungary (Umakari), Turkey (Turuko), Albania (Aruhaniya), Italy (Itariya), and Greece (Hemaniya).40 Northeast of Europe is the Land of Long Hairs 長毛国 and Dwarves 小人 and farther west still, at the very edge of Europe, Siberia (Samo). Hōtan’s cartography has reduced Europe to a cluster of small islands in the northwest margins of the map. South America is likewise demoted to the status of a minor archipelago, and North America remains wholly unknown and unnamed, pushed beyond the map’s northeastern boundaries. These are significant choices for Hōtan to have made. By the seventeenth century, Europe and its imperial outposts played an increasingly visible role in Japanese diplomacy and trade and in Japanese intellectual and popular culture as well. By the year 1700, a range of reproductions made available the cartography of Abraham Ortelius, Petrus Plancius, Pieter van den Keere, Matteo Ricci, Ferdinand Verbeist, Willem Janszoon Blaeu, and others. In spite of this body of data, Hōtan gives no prominence either to the New World or the Old World of European cartographers. His map of Jambudvīpa derives less from the European cartographic model of the five continents than from the Japanese Buddhist paradigm of the three countries. This Indo-centrism relegates Europe and the Americas to the status of remote lands as numerous and insignificant as millet grains. Just as a unitary historicist narrative would presume a turn toward Western models, Hōtan’s Buddhist cartography offers instead a provincializing of Europe and the Americas. Reissues and Reiterations Even as it remained in print in the original large-format edition, Hōtan’s map was also reproduced in numerous simplified and reduced-format editions from the mid-eighteenth through the nineteenth centuries. Just as Matteo Ricci’s highly detailed, large-format monochrome world map served as the basis for numerous colorful maps of abbreviated scale and content, so, too, did Hōtan’s world map spawn multiple popular editions. Such editions differed in scale, detail, and even orthography, with the abstruse Chinese characters and classical grammar given glosses in the phonetic vernacular. The Map of all the Countries in Jambudvīpa (Nanenbudai shokoku shūran no zu 南閻浮提諸国集覧之圖), one simplified version of Hōtan’s map first issued in 1744, was drawn by Hananobō Heizō 華坊兵蔵 and published by Honya Hikoemon 本屋彦衛門 (fig. 5.12).41 Hananobō produced numerous Buddhist

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5.12 Hananobō Hyōzō, Map of All the Countries in Jambudvīpa, 1744. Published by Honya Hikoemon. Woodblock print with hand coloring, 47 × 61 cm. Yokohama City University Library.

texts in the late eighteenth century, including biographies of Śākyamuni, Shōtoku Taishi, and Shinran, as well as editions of Nichiren’s work. Measuring 43.5 × 61 cm, Hananobō’s map is a mere one-quarter the size of Hōtan’s original. The precision and detail of the larger prototype are accordingly attenuated. Hōtan’s extensive bibliography is missing, and the preface is inscribed in a flowing cursive syllabary in place of Hōtan’s formal Chinese characters, which now have phonetic glosses when they do appear. The title as well is glossed phonetically, indicating that it was produced for a less scholarly market. The thousands of place names found on Hōtan’s map have been reduced to a mere hundred. But one place name has also been added. The unnamed mountainous landform in the upper-right corner of Hōtan’s map, connected to Asia by a land bridge, which corresponds to the North American continent in Wang’s map and to the Chukchi Peninsula on the European maps that follow Witsen, has

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5.13 Honya Hikoemon (publisher), Map of Myriad Lands, 1744. Woodblock print with hand coloring. Kyoto University Library, Kyoto.

here been labeled “Ezo.” The map was issued together with an explanatory volume, the title of which further underscores the continued relevance of the Buddhist three-country paradigm: A Discussion of Lands of Japan, China, and Tenjiku (Shūrui sankō Nihon Kara Tenjiku shokoku banashi聚類参考日本唐天竺諸國噺).42 In the same year, Honya Hikoemon issued yet another world map titled simply A Map of Myriad Lands (Bankokuzu 萬國圖) (fig. 5.13). While it initially seems to be little more than yet another popular edition of Ricci’s world map, it is no mere derivative. The map preserves the American, African, and Antarctic continents of Ricci’s cartography, but the Eurasian continent is that envisioned by Hōtan, with Lake Anavatapta at the center and the four great rivers spiraling around it (fig. 5.14). Decades after Hōtan sought to combine the Buddhist model of Jambudvīpa with the Jesuit model of myriad countries, popular purveyors of Edo print culture were producing the same formula for the commercial market. For Japanese publishers and consumers, then, the Buddhist and Jesuit views of the world were not necessarily mutually exclusive. Cartographic pluralism was no mere anomaly; it was the norm.

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5.14 Honya Hikoemon (publisher), Map of Myriad Lands. Detail of Asia.

Other titles could be similarly misleading. The version of Hananobō’s Map of All the Countries in Jambudvīpa, published in Edo by Mikuniya Ryūsuke 三國谷龍助, bears the same title, date, and cartographer’s name of the Honya Hikoemon edition, but its contents are wholly new (fig. 5.15). The format is slightly larger (56.5 × 86 cm) and closer to Hōtan’s prototype in topographic detail. Mikuniya, however, derived his representation of China from yet another later source, Nagakubo Sekisui’s 長久保赤水 1789 Historical Atlas of China (Tōdo rekidai shūgun enkaku chizu 唐士歴代州郡沿革地圖).43 The Mikuniya map also includes images of five sailing ships in the lower-left panel, which the Hon’ya edition had reserved for text. Three ships, each with three masts, are labeled in cartouches as the vessels of Beijing 北京船, Nanjing 南京船, and Siam さやむ船. But beside each cartouche are characters that identify the three ships with the Three Realms of China (唐), Japan (日), and Tenjiku (天竺), yet another cartographic example of the continued currency of the Buddhist three-country paradigm. Beneath them are two larger four-masted ships, one labeled “Dutch ship” 阿蘭陀船 and the other, “Dutch carrack” おらんだ舟. A third Dutch ship is drawn within the map itself, amid the islands of Europe, with a cartouche identifying its country of origin as Holland. The map also signals its maritime interests

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5.15 Mikuniya Ryūsuke (publisher), Map of All the Countries in Jambudvīpa.

by using dotted lines to mark the sailing routes, with distances noted, around the Japanese islands and that connect the archipelago to Ezo, the Ryūkyūs, and the Korean Peninsula. Six of the major mountains of Ezo are also named, and Hōtan’s land bridge between Asia and North America has been severed. Contemporaneous concerns with trade routes and nautical navigation, first seen a century earlier on the Muroga and Namba manuscripts, are here on full display in popular editions of Hōtan’s Buddhist world map. A third simplified edition of Hōtan’s map, undated but probably produced during the mid-nineteenth century, is the color woodblock printed Handy Map of the Myriad Lands (Bankoku shōka no zu 萬國掌菓之圖) (fig. 5.16). This title omits the reference to Jambudvīpa but retains the Buddhist “fruit in the hand.” Measuring 47 × 65 cm, it is closely based on the Kabō Hyōzō’s map but includes a Chinese-style junk in the southwest seas. Still simpler, and smaller, editions

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5.16 Handy Map of the Myriad Lands. Color woodblock print, 47 × 65 cm. Yokohama City University Library.

of Hōtan’s map continued to appear in the mid- to late nineteenth century. Hōtan’s map thus remained in print for more than a century in its original format, as well as inspired numerous reduced-format popular editions. The variations found in these later editions notwithstanding, all prioritized a classical Buddhist worldview. This is articulated in the very first lines of the passage that replaced Hōtan’s preface in the lower corners of the maps. The textual insets of all three reduced popular editions of Hōtan’s map begin with the following: “Jambudvīpa is located south of Mount Sumeru and is composed of sixteen great countries, five hundred middle-sized countries, ten thousand small countries, and countless remote countries scattered like millet grains.”44 As these multiple simplified and decorative editions reveal, the Buddhist view of the world remained not merely viable within the marketplace of Edo print culture but prominent and popular as well.

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Encyclopedic India In addition to the long publishing history of the original large-format map and numerous later reduced-format variants, Hōtan’s map reached even more readers through its reproduction in printed reference books. Such reference works, based initially on Ming encyclopedias, were perhaps the most influential genre of printed book in the Edo period. Ranging from specialized compilations exceeding one hundred fascicles to thick single-volume compendia of everyday knowledge, such publications were the essential sources of information for members of all classes. One of the most popular and important examples was Terajima Ryōan’s Japanese-Chinese Collected Illustrations of the Three Realms. First issued in 1712, it remained a standard reference work throughout the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Terajima’s 105-volume compendium was modeled upon the same Chinese encyclopedia that supplied many of the place names on the Namba map of 1709: Wang Qi’s Collected Illustrations of the Three Realms of 1609. Like its Ming prototype, Terajima’s work is organized into three realms of heaven, human, and earth. Volume 55, which begins the fifty-­ volume section on geography, opens with the very same simplified edition of Matteo Ricci’s world map, Complete Geographic Map of the Mountains and Seas, which had appeared in Wang Qi’s encyclopedia a century earlier. As noted in the previous chapter, Terajima, in the entry accompanying Ricci’s map, echoes the critique of Buddhist cosmology found in Wang’s entry and Ricci’s preface. But if Terajima rejected the Buddhist view of the universe, his images fully incorporated the Buddhist view of the world. Remarkably, Terajima chose not to follow Wang and Ricci in every respect. Rather, he opted to supplement the Jesuit’s image of a spherical Earth with Hōtan’s flat Buddhist world. Volume 64 of the Japanese-Chinese Collected Illustrations of the Three Realms reproduces the central section of Hōtan’s map, titled Map of the Western Regions and the Five Regions of Tenjiku (Saiiki Gotenjiku no zu 西域五天竺之圖), to accompany Terajima’s entries on the Western Regions 西域 and Tenjiku 天 竺 (fig. 5.17). While Terajima dismissed Buddhist cosmology in a few words, his collected illustrations reproduced every detail of Hōtan’s Buddhist cartography. From Muscovia in the northwest to Mount Lanka in the southeast, Terajima’s map of Asia relies entirely on Hōtan’s map of Jambudvīpa. The divisions of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, the names and size of its many kingdoms, and the four 5.17 (Opposite page) Terajima Ryōan, Map of the Western Regions and the Five Regions of Tenjiku, from Japanese-Chinese Collected Illustrations of the Three Realms, 1712. Monochrome woodblock book illustration. Author’s collection.

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great rivers spiraling from its center all derive from the classical account of Xuanzang’s pilgrimage. Even Terajima’s entry for Tenjiku opens with a citation from Xuanzang’s Record.45 Terajima’s Map of the Western Regions and the Five Regions of Tenjiku, however, represented only one part of Hōtan’s world map. Terajima included other sections of Hōtan’s map but in a segmented and sequential manner, interleaved throughout the remaining pages of the volume. Another map appears eight pages later in Terajima’s encyclopedia, following the conclusion of the entry on Tenjiku. Spread across three separate pages (18b–19a) and titled Map of the Barbarian Countries of the North 北地諸狄之圖, it, too, is drawn from Hōtan and extends the territory covered in the previous map from Europe in the west to Japan in the east. The lands of Europe conform to the shapes Hōtan has drawn and preserve his toponymy as well. Terajima has even included the distinctive Arabian archipelago, which Hōtan had placed south of Europe, as well as the Western Land of Women. The Japanese archipelago occupies the map’s eastern extremity, but it has been moved farther south to make room for Ezoshima to its north. Also preserved is the isthmus to the northeastern landform that Hōtan’s Chinese prototype labeled “North America” but that Terajima has renamed Karafuto (Sakhalin). The central section of the map, comprising India and Central Asia, is rendered with minimal place names and chorographic detail. But if Terajima’s Map of the Western Regions and the Five Regions of India is oriented vertically and laid over his Map of the Barbarian Countries of the North, it produces a composite map that agrees with Hōtan’s cartography in nearly every respect. Across the two pages that follow (20a–20b), a Map of the Barbarian Countries of the Southwest 西南諸蠻之圖 depicting the islands of Southeast Asia provides the final piece of the cartographic puzzle (fig. 5.18). Terajima the encyclopedist thus allowed for multiple worldviews. The logic of his compendium was cumulative rather than reductive. Wang’s Collected Illustrations provided only a starting point for Terajima, an encyclopedia of sinitic knowledge to be addended, updated, and complemented with other bibliographic and cartographic sources. For Wang, Ricci’s map replaced and falsified the Buddhist worldview. For Terajima, Ricci’s global Earth was but one worldview among others and an abbreviated one at that. Far more detailed was Hōtan’s Handy Map of the Myriad Countries of Jambudvīpa, segmented, retitled, reoriented, rescaled, and spread out over seven pages. The Japanese-Chinese Collected Illustrations of the Three Realms, the standard and most popular reference work of the Edo period, offered its readers a cartographic pluralism. The Christian world of Ricci and the Buddhist world of Hōtan coexisted within the pages of Terajima’s vast and inclusive compendium. Terajima’s entry for Tenjiku is similarly inclusive and draws on a remarkable diversity of sources. Classical Chinese histories and Ming encyclopedias,

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5.18 Terajima Ryōan, Map of the Barbarian Countries of the North (1 and 2) combined with Map of the Western Regions and the Five Regions of Tenjiku (3) and Map of the Barbarian Countries of the Southwest (4 and 5), from Japanese-Chinese Collected Illustrations of the Three Realms, 1712. Monochrome woodblock book illustration. Author’s collection.

Buddhist hagiographies and pilgrimage accounts, and contemporaneous castaway narratives are all cited in his description, offering a capacious definition of Tenjiku and a textual example of the cartographic pluralism of his compendium. The entry for Tenjiku in Wang’s encyclopedia occupies a mere three lines, but the entry in Terajima’s fills seven pages. Terajima quotes from Xuanzang’s Record even before quoting Wang, to whose authority he appeals at the start of nearly all of his other entries: “According to the Record of the Western Regions, the Great Snow Mountains lie at the center of the southern continent. China lies to the east, Tenjiku to the south, Persia to the west, and the Barbarian realm to the north. Tenjiku is comprised of five regions—east, west, north, south, and central—consisting of sixteen great countries.”46 Only then does Terajima cite Wang, noting that Tenjiku encompasses “the Land of the Diamond Throne in Magadha in central India where Śākyamuni attained enlightenment.” From there he has recourse to the Biographies of Eminent Monks (Kōsōden 高僧傳) and the fourteenth-century History of Western Regions (Xiyuzhi 西域志) to describe the climate and calendar of the region. After surveying such standard Chinese texts, Terajima then quotes extensively, and without attribution, from an even more recent Japanese source that deeply informed the popular image of Tenjiku in the late-Edo imagination: the castaway narrative of Tokubei Tenjiku 徳兵衛天竺, a maritime merchant whose ship drifted to Tenjiku in 1627 and who returned to tell of the many wonders of that distant land. The earliest account of Tokubei’s adventures, Tokubei Tenjiku monogatari, appeared in 1707 and was followed by some forty-five versions, including numerous dramatic treatments for the puppet theater and kabuki stage, between 1737 and 1878.47 Terajima’s entry includes the following passage, lifted verbatim from the Tokubei Tenjiku monogatari: Before the Fifteenth Year of the Kanei Era (1638) numerous Japanese traveled to Tenjiku and wrote accounts of their journeys. A sailor from Takasago in Harima Province who travelled to Tenjiku departed Nagasaki on the sixteenth day of the tenth month of the third year of the Kanei Era (1626). He arrived in the Kingdom of Magadha in Tenjiku on the third day of the third month of the following year. He sailed south from Nagasaki 640 ri. He arrived in Taiwan and from there sailed 650 ri to the west, arriving at the deepwater port of Canton. He navigated at night by the stars in the southern sky, what in Japan and China is known as being guided by the northern stars. He then sailed 300 ri to the south and 300 ri to the west to Kōchi, from there sailed 400 ri to the south to Champa, and then another 400 ri south to Kabochya. He sailed 200 ri farther south to Shamu [Siam] and then 800 ri northwest to the mouth of the Ryusa River in Magadha. In all 3,700 ri from Nagasaki.

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At the castle of Hanteiya, 3 ri upriver, he presented the Japanese vermilion seal. He then traveled 27 ri upriver to the castle at Bangkok and another 20 ri to the city of Kurihisara, where long ago Kūkai of Japan and the bodhisattva Mañjuśri are said to have engaged in a battle of wisdom. Another 25 ri upriver is the capital city known as Taikai. From the mouth of the Ryusa River to here is 75 ri. One cannot travel farther upriver from here by ocean vessel. At the temple of Tehiyatai are the remains of the dwelling of the Buddha’s disciple Sudatta. Over the next 7 ri there are three temples to Śākyamuni with standing, sitting, and reclining images of the Buddha as their main icons. The temples are dug out of a large mountain and the Buddha images are constructed of natural elements. There is a street of houses in front of each temple. Each of the temples is 2 ri square; their pillars are 160 ken thick and the fingers of the Buddha images are 3 ken thick. The Buddha images are made of earth and stone and pilgrims have been applying sheets of gold leaf to them for thousands of years so that they now appear as if made of gold. Vulture Peak is one ri in height and lies 42 ri upriver from the capital city of Taikai. An eight-day market is held here every year between the third and fourth month. 43 ri farther up the Ryusa River is Meditation Rock. It is 32 cho tall and hangs over the Ryusa River. It is an extremely mysterious rock.

Terajima’s entry reflects the popular Edo understanding of Tenjiku, a Buddhist wonderland not reducible to India, at least in our contemporary understanding of that country. Instead, the sacred geography of Buddhist origins extended well into Southeast Asia. The ancient Indian kingdom of Magadha in Central Tenjiku—where the Buddha’s disciple Sudatta once lived, where Kūkai is said to have sparred with Mañjuśri, and where Śākyamuni preached the Mahāyāna sutras on Vulture Peak—was to be found in Siam.48 “The names of the places in Tenjiku” according to the Tokubei Tenjiku monogatari include “Tonkin, Kōchi, Champa, Luzon, and Kabochya,” lands within the modern borders of Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, and the Philippines. Even for Nishikawa Jōken, whose Thoughts on Trade represented the most current geography of the day, Tenjiku begins west of the Mekong River and includes the islands of Mindanao and Borneo.49 Such an expansive understanding of Tenjiku was, of course, nothing new. According to Frois’s History of Japan, Francis Xavier was introduced to Japanese leaders in 1550 as someone who had arrived from “Tenjiku, the land of the Buddha, that is Siam.”50 The Portuguese traders who arrived in Japan as early as 1543 had, after all, sailed from the port of Ayutthaya, in Siam.51 Frois noted that children saw the Europeans and cried out “Tenjikujin! Tenjikujin!”

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He explained that this meant “a person from Siam, as Siam was thought to be the birthplace of Śākyamuni, Amitābha, and the other Buddhas.”52 Tenjiku, as the homeland of the Buddha, had become so identified with Southeast Asia that seventeenth-century Japanese travelers believed the Cambodian temple complex of Angkor Wat to be the Buddha’s Jetavana monastery of ancient Magadha. Japanese travelers left inscriptions at Angkor in the early decades of the seventeenth century, and the oldest illustrated plan of Angkor is a Japanese drawing identified as an image of Jetavana, produced by an interpreter from Nagasaki “sent on a pilgrimage to the holy Buddhist sites by Iemitsu, the third Tokugawa Shogun.”53 From Painting to Print (and Back Again) The production and popularity of Hōtan’s Buddhist world map, its inclusion in Terajima’s encyclopedia, and the proliferation of simplified versions resulted from the enormous growth of commercial printing in the eighteenth century. While the Edo period has been celebrated as a great age of print culture, the rise of commercial printing did not mean the end of the manuscript. Rather, print culture and scribal culture coexisted, interacted, and informed each other. In an age of mechanical reproduction, manuscript editions appeared in print, and print editions appeared as manuscripts.54 This had long been the case with maps of the world, many of which, imported from China or Europe, first appeared in printed form to be reinterpreted in Japan as painted screens and then transformed once again into commercial prints for a popular market. Even the enormous monochrome woodblock-printed world maps produced by the Jesuits in China were reproduced as colorful painted manuscripts in Japan. The relations between printed and painted maps were fluid, their boundaries permeable and their formal transformations not limited to the movement from manuscript to print. For example, Iseya Shichibei 伊勢屋七兵衛 reproduced Hōtan’s printed map as a colorful painting that was later mounted on a three-fold screen with a decorative gold-flecked ground, much as earlier Japanese painters had translated European printed maps onto folding screens (fig. 5.19). Measuring 111.2 × 149.3 cm, nearly the exact size of the original printed map, the countries of East Asia and the Five Regions of Tenjiku are each color coded.55 Together with the change in media from print to manuscript is the change in contexts of display and reception that attend the social use of colorfully painted folding screens. Another color manuscript copy of Hōtan’s map, this time transcribed from Terajima’s printed encyclopedia and including an inscription bearing Terajima’s entry for Tenjiku, is preserved in the Yoshiokake Monjo Collection in the Tohoku Historical Museum.56

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Fig. 5.19 Iseya Shichibei, Handy Map of the Myriad Countries of Jambudvīpa. Three-fold screen; ink and color on paper, 111.2 × 149.3 cm. Tatsuno City Museum of History and Culture.

Perhaps the most unusual painted version of Hōtan’s map, extant as an undated nineteenth-century manuscript in the Namba collection of the Kobe City Museum, takes more liberties with the print. Painted in ink and color on paper, the map measures 127.5 × 152.2 cm. Like Iseya’s version, this map closely follows Hōtan’s original in overall scale and topographic detail (fig. 5.20). The square Lake Anavatapta is depicted at the center of the continent, with the four great rivers flowing from the mouths of the four mythical beasts (fig. 5.21). Even Hōtan’s idiosyncratic details are transcribed: the single five-element stupa southeast of Anavatapta that he copied from the manuscript map of 1709 and his literal representation of the Iron Gate in the Pamirs.

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5.20 Map of Jambudvīpa, nineteenth century. Hanging scroll; ink and color on paper, 127.5 × 152.2 cm. Namba Collection, Kobe City Museum.

5.21 Map of Jambudvīpa. Detail of Lake Anavatapta and the Iron Gate.

Given this high degree of fidelity, it is surprising to find that Hōtan’s major contributions to the earlier manuscript maps of Jambudvīpa—the continents of North America, South America, and Europe—are either abbreviated or gone altogether. All that remains of South America is a tiny island below Japan retaining the Patagonian “Land of Giants.” The “archipelago” of Europe, which Hōtan transcribed with such precision, is entirely absent. In its place sails a large Dutch ship labeled 阿蘭陀船—recalling the ship in European waters in the

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5.22 Map of Jambudvīpa. Detail of airship.

simplified edition of Hōtan’s map published by Mikuniya but here placed in an otherwise empty sea. The Namba manuscript map does retain some European countries—Holland, Spain, Portugal, England, Italy, Russia—but they are now reimagined as islands jutting from the ocean near the northern coast of Jambudvīpa. These new European isles, moreover, differ from Hōtan’s chorography and the orthography. Additional foreign ships—inscribed with their place of origin: Korea 朝鮮 船, Beijing 北京船, Nanjing 南京船, Fujian 福洲船, and Canton 唐船廣東—also navigate the seas surrounding the continent. Sailing ships commonly adorned European world maps during the age of exploration. From the seventeenth through the nineteenth centuries, they also appeared on many Japanese painted and printed world maps, including the Mikuniya Nanenbudai shokoku shūran no zu. Such details are not merely decorative. They suggest both the origin and the application of the cartographic knowledge the map represents. They also articulate the economic, military, and political interests of the time, the pursuit of which the map made possible. More recent developments in the means of exploration are suggested by a seventh vessel on the Namba manuscript: an airship, floating above the continent, just to the left of the islands of Italy (イカリ), Russia (ラヒヤ), and England (インキリス) (fig. 5.22). Beginning in the 1780s, Japanese popular literature evinced a fascination with the possibility of air travel or flying machines.57 News of the first successful dirigible flight, by the brothers Montgolfier in Paris in 1783, reached Japan within months, and tales and pictures of airships soon proliferated. A pair of hanging scrolls attributed to Shiba Kōkan

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(1747–1818), also from the early nineteenth century, similarly juxtaposes different worldviews. One panel of the diptych shows a manned dirigible very similar to the example in the Namba map—a wooden ship in full sail with paddle wheel and rudder and a hot-air balloon at the top of its mast—floating high above the clouds. The facing panel depicts Adam’s Peak, the mountain in modern Sri Lanka that Sinhalese Buddhists venerate as Vulture Peak, the fabled site of many of the Buddha’s sermons. Kōkan published similar images of the airship and Adam’s Peak in Morishima Chūryō’s 森島中良 1787 compendium of European exotica, Red Hair Miscellany (Kōmō zatsuwa 紅毛雑話).58 The airship flying over the highest peaks of Jambudvīpa in the Namba map reiterates the disjunctive pairing of the modern technology of European travel and observation with the traditional sacred mountains of Buddhist Asia. Nothing in the map suggests that this pairing of worldviews is in any way irreconcilable. The bird’s-eye view that the hot-air balloon affords is subsumed within the panopticism of the Buddhist map. The very mechanism that might otherwise challenge the classical Buddhist vision of a flat Earth is here incorporated into its proof. The immediate source for the balloon and many other details of the manuscript map, however, is neither Kōkan nor Hōtan but an anonymous Map of the Myriad Countries of the World (Sekai bankoku no zu 世界萬國之圖) printed in the popular single-volume encyclopedia (setsuyōshū 節用集) titled Complete Compendium of Urban Knowledge (Taisei kun’yaku zukai, tokai setsuyō hyakka­ tsū, zazoku ruiji ryōten大成訓譯圖解, 都會節用百家通, 雅俗類字兩點) (fig. 5.23). Setsuyōshū, meaning “compilations for occasional use,” first appeared in the fifteenth century as literary dictionaries for the composition of poems and letters. By the early nineteenth century, the genre had developed into reference works of practical knowledge providing the general reader with the basic facts of astronomy and geography, divination and calendrical science, ethics and etiquette, government offices and military clans, and arts and religion. The Complete Compendium of Urban Knowledge, edited by Takayasu Rooku 高安蘆屋 (d. 1793), was first published in Osaka in 1796 by Ōnogi Ichibei 大野木市兵衞 and later reprinted in 1801, 1811, 1819, and 1836. The Complete Compendium’s Map of the Myriad Countries of the World is itself a work of considerable cartographic hybridity: It excludes the Americas, and it merges Asia, Africa, and Europe into a single world continent whose lower pendant form combines elements from the simplified reproductions of both Ricci’s and Hōtan’s maps. South Asia is labeled “India” in katakana, even as the Five Regions of Tenjiku are preserved and named. To the east of Tenjiku is an Eastern Women’s Land; to the northwest, a Land of Women; and to the north, a Land of the Mononculi. In other words, this map features all of the elements of the Namba map that do not derive from Hōtan. Not only the airship but the

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5.23 Map of the Myriad Countries of the World, from Complete Compendium of Urban Knowledge, 1801. Monochrome woodblock book illustration, 21 × 34 cm. Columbia University Libraries, New York.

six other foreign vessels as well are identical in nautical detail and perspectival view to the Compendium’s map. Also drawn from the Compendium, rather than Hōtan’s map, are the Land of Night and the orthography, spelling, and layout of European place names; even such minute details as the tiny archipelago labeled “Myriad Islands” 万島 off the coast of southern Tenjiku are drawn from the Compendium’s map rather than Hōtan’s. The airship flying over Jambudvīpa is thus not a figment of the imagination of an anonymous Buddhist cartographer but rather was drawn from a popular encyclopedia of everyday knowledge. Yet even more surprising is the fact that Hōtan’s single vast continent, centered on the Five Regions of Tenjiku, informed the view of the world reproduced on the opening page of a popular encyclopedia in the early nineteenth century. It belonged to the “library of public information” and the iconography of everyday life. If the reinscription of Hōtan’s cartography in Terajima’s encyclopedia illustrates the centrality of the Buddhist world map to the visual and intellectual culture of eighteenth-century

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Japan, then the Map of the Myriad Countries of the World in the Complete Compendium of Urban Knowledge reveals the degree to which this classical Buddhist view of the world continued to inform the cartographic imagination, and visual common sense, of nineteenth-century Japan. Hōtan’s map brought a Buddhist view of the world, previously limited to the guarded manuscripts of a monastic elite, into the commercial sphere of Edo print culture. The dissemination of this religious vision, from the cloistered confines of clerical scholarship and devotion to the marketplace of public information, entailed a transformation in form and materiality, in the means of reproduction and distribution, and in the contexts of use and meaning of the Buddhist world picture. Within this new commercial environment, Hōtan’s Buddhist world map remained in print and in circulation in its original edition for nearly a century; was adapted and included in the most popular encyclopedia of the age; was pirated, plagiarized, and appropriated in numerous popular editions; moved back and forth across the formats of printing and painting, manuscript and book; and was incorporated into compendia of the practical knowledge of the day. The painting of a foreign airship on a nineteenth-century Japanese Buddhist world map—a map that marginalized Europe and erased the Americas— requires us to radically rethink the teleological assumptions that underlie our models of Japanese Buddhism. The history of the Japanese Buddhist world map is both multidirectional and multivalent. It offers a case study in transculturalism, “a process of transformation that unfolds,” according to Monica Juneja, “through extended contacts and relationships between cultures.”59 It is the history of an image that begins as a fourteenth-century Japanese painting of a seventh-century Chinese account of the Buddhist world of Central and South Asia, adapts and transforms the cartography of seventeenth-century Christian Europe through the medium of the folding screen, challenges European world­ views with an epistemology of vision articulated in an eighteenth-­century woodblock print, and returns to painted form via the popular print culture of nineteenth-century Osaka. Exemplifying the “process through which forms emerge in local contexts within circuits of exchange,” the Japanese Buddhist world map, through centuries of interaction and entanglement, of resistance and appropriation, may allow for a reorientation and even a countermapping of the Japanese Buddhist world.60

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WAR OF THE WORLDS Cosmological Debate and the Epistemology of Vision

“Our realm of Jambudvīpa is like a single grain within a great storehouse of millet,” asserts Hōtan, merely one of “innumerable realms, as countless as the leaves of mustard grass, beneath the four heavens.” His Map of the Myriad Countries of Jambudvīpa implores its viewers to “seek as much understanding of distant lands as we do our own, and even more so, of Mount Sumeru at the center of the universe and the vast trichiliocosm itself.” The viewer is enjoined to emulate Sudhana, the pilgrim protagonist of the Gandavyūha, whose “unobstructed eye of liberation” saw the infinite universe of “the Flower Realm and the vast world of Indra’s Net.” Hōtan may present a cartography of the terrestrial world, but his ultimate goal is a visionary experience of Buddhist cosmology. As we have seen throughout this study, the imbrication of cartography and cosmology is an essential characteristic of the Buddhist world picture. The earliest Japanese image of Jambudvīpa, engraved on the eighth-century Great Buddha of Tōdaiji, is but a single grain within the Mount Sumeru universe and the vast Lotus Store World that expands around it. The Buddhist maps of Japan, Tenjiku, and Jambudvīpa inscribed in the fifteenth-century Daigoji scroll are similarly nested within the cosmology of Mount Sumeru, as are the canonical examples from Zhipan’s Chronicle and Renchao’s Maps of the Configuration of the Dharmadhatu.

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Even those who attacked Buddhist views of the earth and the universe agreed that cartography is inseparable from cosmology. Ricci produced a world map to prove that “the Buddhists’ claims” about “the southern continent of Jambudvīpa are false, as are their claims about the height of Mount Sumeru.” Fukansai displayed a “circular map” in an attempt to convince Razan “that the earth is round.” Across the centuries that followed, European, Chinese, and Japanese representations of the world continued to challenge both the flat Earth and Mount Sumeru universe of the Buddhist tradition. In response to this global threat, Japanese monks of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries expanded their efforts from mapmaking to worldmaking. Deployed in public lectures, seminary curricula, printed books, hanging scrolls, maps, and astronomical clocks, Japanese Buddhists transformed a classical and canonical cosmology into a contemporaneous and critical astronomy of their own. Waged through visual discourse, this war of the worlds was, in the end, a dispute over vision. It was not a battle of East against West, of the premodern against the modern, or of religion against science. Such simple dichotomies obscure what all participants shared: the practice of cosmography and the claims to represent the invisible. Astronomical Challenges Even after the Jesuits were expelled in the early seventeenth century, European astronomical theory continued to circulate in Japan. In 1630, Tokugawa Iemitsu ordered that all books entering the county at the port of Nagasaki be inspected for Christian content. An office of Inspectorate of Books (Shomotsu Mekiki 書物目利) was established at the Nagasaki temple of Shinyokuji and staffed by successive generations of the temple’s abbots.1 Among the very first books banned was a compendium of thirty-two theological and scientific texts compiled by Matteo Ricci, his fellow Jesuits, and their Chinese students. In addition to fifteen explicitly Christian titles, including a polemic against Buddhism (Bianxue yidu 辯學遺牘), the compendium included two works on astronomical theory, five works on mathematics, five works on instrumental techniques, and a translation of the first six books of Euclid’s Elements.2 Ricci’s astronomical compendium may have been proscribed in Japan, but his world maps, which offered visual explanations of Ptolemaic astronomy and Aristotelian physics, remained in the country in their original form, as manuscript copies, as decorative folding screens, and as popular prints. Texts and images do not necessarily travel together and may follow independent and unexpected trajectories. The details and inserts from Ricci’s maps and from other European print sources— images of ships circumnavigating a terraqueous globe, of hemispheres and polar

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regions, of eclipses and celestial orbits—continued to decorate cartographic painted screens. Even if European astronomical texts were strictly prohibited, the global and astronomical models they advanced circulated widely within the realm of Japanese visual culture. Stripped of Christian ideas, material from Gómez’s De Sphaera also reappeared in the mid-seventeenth-century Outline of Terrestrial and Celestial Globes (Nigi ryakusetsu 二儀略説) by Kobayashi Yoshinobu 小林義信 (a.k.a. Kentei 謙貞, 1601–1684).3 Another work to propound Aristotelian and Ptolemaic cosmology was the four-volume Heaven and Earth with Commentaries (Kenkon bensetsu 乾坤辯説), based on a Latin treatise confiscated from the Jesuit mathematician and astronomer Francisco Cassola when he arrived in Japan in 1643. It was translated by the apostate Portuguese missionary Christovão Ferreira (1580–c. 1650) and edited with commentaries by the Confucian scholar Mukai Genshō 向井玄升 (1609–1677).4 Genshō—the author of seventeen books on topics as varied as medicine, natural history, Christianity, and Zen—was the first Confucian scholar to accept the theory of a spherical Earth publicly in Japan.5 Following Ricci, Genshō emphasized the essential agreement between Confucian and Christian cosmology. He drew on the same ovoid imagery used by Ricci in his exposition of a spherical universe, and upon Ricci’s interpretation of the Chinese character fa (J. hō 方), to counter the traditional understanding of the earth as square: That the world or body of the earth is round is a theory similar among the scholars of the world. The theory of Confucians is that the shape of the substance of the heavens and the earth is like a chicken’s egg. The heavens envelop the outside of the earth, as the eggshell envelops the outside of the white. The earth is in the middle of heaven, as the yolk is in the middle of the white, its roundness being said to be like that of a cannon ball. . . . Confucian writings also describe the heavens as round and the earth as “square.” This does not mean that the shape of the earth is square, but that it is divided into the four directions of east, west, south, and north. . . . The theory of the Southern Barbarian scholars is not in error. . . . Confucianism teaches that heaven and earth are spherical.6

Because both Outline of Terrestrial and Celestial Globes and Heaven and Earth with Commentaries circulated only in manuscript form and were never commercially printed, their influence was attenuated.7 The Chinese text Inquiries into Classic of Heaven (Ch. Tianjing-huowen; J. Tenkei wakumon 天經或問,) by

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You Yi 游藝, appeared around 1675 and was more widely disseminated. Introduced in Japan by the Confucian scholar Nanbu Sōju, Inquiries into Classic of Heaven was well known long before 1730, when it was published in a Japanese edition by the bakufu astronomer Nishikawa Masayoshi (1693–1754).8 It helped to popularize Ptolemaic astronomy and the notion of a spherical Earth.9 Reprinted in multiple annotated editions, it remained a standard work late into the nineteenth century.10 Nor were Japanese intellectuals obliged to rely on Jesuit or Chinese authorities for critiques of Buddhist cosmology. As early as the turn of the seventeenth century, the Japanese scholar Sakanoue no Irin’an 坂上韋林庵 (1589– 1664) offered a refutation of Buddhist cosmology as antiquated and irrational: “The Buddhists say that the earth is flat because six of the twelve divisions of the day are dark. The period of darkness is explained as the light of the sun being blocked by Mount Sumeru. . . . According to Buddhists, the solar and lunar eclipses are caused by fighting between Indra and the asuras and thus cannot be predicted. . . . The waxing and waning of the moon is explained as devas wearing black and white clothing who exchange places each day.”11 In 1688, Iguchi Tsunenori 井口常範 published his popular five-volume Astronomy Illustrated (Tenmon zukai 天文圖解). Written for the nonspecialist, Iguchi explains the general principles of Chinese astronomy and calendrical science and the method of calculating the relative location of the sun, moon, and major planets and illustrates these theories with diagrams of armillary spheres and star maps. Yet he also presents, and advocates for, the European theory of the global Earth. On facing pages Iguchi pairs a traditional image of Mount Sumeru with Matteo Ricci’s diagram of a nine-sphere universe, noting their radii and periods of revolution, and asserts the supremacy of Western astronomy over Buddhist cosmology (fig. 6.1).12 Like Irin’an, Iguchi ridiculed the Buddhist explanation of eclipses as the struggles between heavenly deities. He also dismissed the Buddhist claim of superhuman sight: The Buddhist sutras say that there are thirty-three heavens above Mount Sumeru around which revolve the sun and moon, and that lunar and solar eclipses are the result of fighting between Indra and the asuras. The Buddhists say that they can see the form of Mount Sumeru with the power of the heavenly eye. Astronomers, however, have only the power of ordinary human eye and therefore must rely on theory. Yet the astronomers’ explanations of the solar and lunar eclipses are correct and those of the Buddhists are not. To say that the eclipses are the result of battles between Indra and the asuras is nonsense. How can the results of such heavenly battles be so invariable?13

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6.1 Iguchi Tsunenori, Astronomy Illustrated and Explained, 1688. Monochrome woodblock book illustration. Waseda University Libraries, Tokyo.

Cosmological Responses Buddhists replied to such critiques by returning to their traditional texts and reproducing them in printed editions throughout the seventeenth century. Among these was the earliest Japanese work to explain the Mount Sumeru universe, the Teaching of the Three Worlds (Sangaigi 三界義), by the Tendai monk Genshin 源信 (942–1017). Previously an obscure tenth-century cosmological treatise, it was dusted off and printed three times in the first half of the seventeenth century alone.14 A commentary on the text, Brief Explanation of Teaching of the Three Worlds (Sangaigi ryakkai 三界義略解), was issued in 1666, and a popular edition in Japanese phonetic script was printed in 1695.15 Yet, as Iguchi’s critique reveals, by the end of the seventeenth century Buddhist monks were also actively refuting European astronomical theory by marshalling the same discourse of Buddhist vision that Hōtan had deployed in his map, asserting that the power of the heavenly eye confirmed a universe invisible

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6.2 Yūhan, Illustrations of Solar and Lunar Movement as Explained in the Dhātu Section of the Abhidharmakośa, 1700. Monochrome woodblock book illustration. Yokohama City University Library.

to the human eye of astronomers. They advanced their claims by reformulating an ancient Indian cosmology into contemporary astronomical treatises that used numerical calculation and explanatory diagrams to propound the empirical reality of a Buddhist universe. Their arguments, like those of their opponents, were overwhelmingly pictorial in nature. Disputations about the shape of the world and the structure of the universe were made with illustrations, diagrams, and images. Cosmological discourse in eighteenth- and nineteenth-­ century Japan was a diverse field. Debate raged not only across but within sectarian lines. Nor was the rebuttal limited to Buddhists. Confucians, Nativists, and theorists of all traditions sought to claim, dispute, and depict the picture of the universe. Outright rejection of European astronomy began in earnest at the beginning of the eighteenth century. The scholarly clerics who composed and circulated such rejections repeatedly returned to Vasubandhu’s Treasury of Abhidharma, which they understood as the locus classicus of Buddhist

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6.3 Imai Shirō, Illustrated Explanation in Japanese of the Solar and Lunar Orbits, 1699. Monochrome woodblock book illustration. Yokohama City University Library.

cosmology and geography. In 1700 the monk Yūhan 宥範 published Illustrations of Solar and Lunar Movement as Explained in the World Section of the Treasury of Abhidharma (Kusha sekenbon nichigatsu gyōdō zuge 倶舍世間品日月道動圖解) (fig. 6.2). Yūhan’s treatise, and his diagrams, are quite similar to a presentation of the Buddhist theory of solar and lunar movement: Illustrated Explanation in Japanese of the Solar and Lunar Orbits (Nichigetsu sentenzu wagoshō 日月旋転圖 和語鈔), published the previous year by Imai Shirō 今井氏老 (fig. 6.3). Hōtan’s fourteen-fascicle commentary on the Treasury of Abhidharma, containing the map of Jambudvīpa discussed in the previous chapter, also included explanatory diagrams of the orbits of the sun and moon around Mount Sumeru (fig. 6.4). Other monks sought not to reject the new notion of a global Earth but to reconcile it with the cosmology of the Mount Sumeru universe. Sōkaku, whose 1692 copy of the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku was introduced in chapter 2, explored a range of cosmological possibilities in a variety of representational media. In 1702 he created a copper celestial globe based on a Chinese model

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6.4 Hōtan, diagrams of solar and lunar orbits and four continents from Kanchū kōen kusharon jushakusho, 1707. Monochrome woodblock book illustration. Author’s collection.

produced by the bakufu astronomer Shibukawa Shinkai. He later produced a Buddhist terrestrial globe of his own design (fig. 6.5). Created barely a decade after the first Western-style terrestrial globe was produced in Japan, Sōkaku’s device is made of papier-mâché and rotates on a pegged wooden base. Three metal rings encircle the globe. One vertical metal ring holds the wooden peg at the base of the globe; a cylindrical piece of clear rock crystal at its apex represents Mount Sumeru. Metal rings of two different diameters encircle Sōkaku’s globe horizontally; they may be adjusted to indicate the sun’s orbit between the summer and winter solstice. The surface of the globe is crisscrossed with lines—four longitudinal and ten latitudinal. The landforms, indicated in ink and light colors, roughly approximate the geography found on contemporary woodblock-printed world maps in wide circulation, such as Ishikawa Ryūsen’s Bankoku sekaizu of 1688. A large black continent surrounding the rock crystal Mount Sumeru at the top of the globe is labeled “Land of Night,” the name given to the northern regions of the earth, where the sun is not seen in the

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6.5 Sōkaku, Terrestrial Globe, c. 1708. Papier-mâché, bronze, rock crystal, ink, colors. Kushuon-in, Hirakata. Photograph courtesy of Masahiko Okada.

winter months, on the maps of Matteo Ricci and on the Japanese maps based on Ricci’s cartography.16 Sōkaku’s unusual globe, and in particular the unusual rock crystal Mount Sumeru, may have been informed by an illustration that Mori Shōken 森尚謙 (1653–1721) published in 1707. In his ten-volume Treatise for the Defense of the Dharma (Gohō shijiron 護法資治論), Shōken warned that “Western geography and astronomy are great disasters that must be defeated to ensure the future of Buddhism.”17 Mori’s Treatise included a diagram of a spherical Earth with an image of Sumeru at its apex nearly identical to Sōkaku’s globe (fig. 6.6). A Confucian scholar, Mori Shōken may seem an unlikely author for a ten-volume

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6.6 Mori Shōken, Diagram of Mount Sumeru and Global Earth, from Defense of Buddhism, 1707. Monochrome woodblock book illustration. Author’s collection.

defense of Buddhist cosmology. The son of a doctor, he studied medicine in Osaka, with Fukuzumi Dōyū 福住道祐, and Confucianism in Kyoto, with Matsunaga Shōeki 松永昌易. Later he joined the group of Mito retainers gathered at the invitation of Tokugawa Mitsukuni 徳川光圀 (1628–1700) to assemble the encyclopedic history of Japan known as the Dai Nihonshi. Shōken adopted a similarly ecumenical approach to cosmology. He consulted Buddhist, Confucian, Daoist, and Shinto texts before concluding that, like the sun and the moon, the earth, too, must be spherical. In his rapprochement between Chinese and Indian cosmologies, he identified Mount Kunlun, the earthly paradise of the Queen Mother of the West, with Mount Sumeru. Shōken wrote his Defense in response to Kumazawa Banzan’s 熊澤蕃山 Japanese Collection of Principles (Shūgiwasho 集義和書, 1672), in which Banzan had claimed that “the explanations of ancient saints and sages are no longer believed, and people say that Buddhist images of heaven and earth and calendrical calculations are incorrect.”18 Yet Shōken’s and Sōkaku’s attempts to reconcile the flat Earth of Buddhist cosmology with the spherical model of the world were far from “the explanations of ancient saints and sages.” Their efforts to integrate Mount Sumeru and a global Earth were radical, experimental, and new.

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In 1754 the Pure Land monk Monnō 文雄 (1700–1763), also known as Musō 無相, published a vindication of Buddhist cosmology titled Defending the Theory of the Nine Mountains and the Eight Seas (Kyūsen hakkai gechōron 九山 八海解嘲論) in which he advanced a now-familiar Buddhist formulation of the epistemology of vision: “The Mount Sumeru universe is what the Buddha Śākyamuni sees from the perspective of absolute truth, it cannot be seen by ordinary humans” (fig. 6.7).19 Monnō published Defending the Theory of the Nine Mountains and the Eight Seas together with a second tract titled Refuting Inquiries into the Classic of Heaven (Hi Tenkei wakumon 非天經或問), in which he rebuts the popular Chinese introduction to European astronomical theory that had been published in a Japanese edition in 1730.20 Monnō underscores the importance of visual argument when he announces his intention to “use pictorial explanations to attack the falsehood” of Western astronomy.21 With copious use of diagrams and illustrations, he attempts

6.7 Monnō, Defending the Theory of the Nine Mountains and the Eight Seas, 1754. Monochrome woodblock book illustration. Yokohama City University Library.

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to account for the movement of the sun and moon, the mechanisms of lunar and solar eclipses, and the process of seasonal change. Citing such classical texts of Buddhist cosmology as the Sutra of the Great Conflagration, the Sutra on the Arising of Worlds, the Lokasthānābhidharma-śāstra, and the Treasury of Abhidharma, Monnō argues: “The world is flat and round and contained within vast seas like water in a basin.” In response to the Chinese text that popularized the principles of Western astronomy throughout East Asia, he writes, “The spherical earth spoken of in the Inquiries into the Classic of Heaven is an absolute heresy!”22 Nor was this the only apologetic text in which Monnō inveighed against attacks on the Buddhist cosmological scheme. He wrote another polemic, Against “Emerging from Meditation” (Hi shutsujō kōgo 非出定後語), denouncing the publication of the same name, from 1745. The subject of Monnō’s critique is the most substantial extant work by Tominaga Nakamoto 富永仲基 (1715–1746), a short-lived but iconoclastic scholar of Osaka merchant stock. Tominaga describes the Mount Sumeru universe as a product of pre-Buddhist Brahminical traditions that the Buddha himself accepted merely as “skillful means” (Skt. upāya, J. hōben 方便), the term used by Buddhists to distinguish teachings of only provisional value inessential to the true import of the Dharma.23 Tominaga writes: “The theory of Mount Sumeru is an ancient Brahminical teaching. And thus Śākyamuni used it to explain the cosmos in his exposition of the Buddhist way. In taking them as astronomical teachings, later scholars have lost sight of the Buddha’s intention. They are not fundamental to the Buddha’s teachings. He was concerned with the urgency of people’s liberation and had no time for such trivialities. Such matters are what is known as ‘skillful means.’”24 Monnō offers a point-by-point rebuttal of Tominaga’s work. More significant than the specifics of his argument, though, is the manner of his critique. Like Hōtan, Monnō deploys the language and imagery from the Zhuangzi in an attempt to point out his interlocutor’s fundamental epistemological limitations. He likens Tominaga to a cicada, whose life lasts only a single summer and therefore knows nothing of the other seasons, and to Zhuangzi’s turtle, who prefers to drag his tail in the mud and thus knows nothing of the vast oceans.25 Not all Buddhist intellectuals shared Monnō’s literalist interpretation of Mount Sumeru cosmology. One objection came from Monnō’s contemporary, the Pure Land-Ritsu monk Fujaku 普寂 (1707–1781). Fujaku concurred with the claim, made independently by Tominaga, that the model of the Mount Sumeru universe was in fact nothing but the Buddha’s “skillful means.” In his Explanation of Astronomy (Tenmon benwaku 天文弁惑) of 1777, Fujaku writes, “The Mount Sumeru universe and the Lotus Treasury World are but shadow images (Skt. pratibimba; J. eizō 影像) formed in the meditative experiences of Indian

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sages.” Subjecting the Buddhist universe celebrated by Hōtan to a thoroughgoing Yogācāra analysis, Fujaku sees even the Mount Sumeru universe and the Lotus Treasury World as nothing more than the projections of consciousness. According to Fujaku, “Even though astronomy is an exceedingly elaborate science, from the perspective of Buddhist enlightenment, both the theory of the Mount Sumeru universe and the theory of a global earth are equally meaningless.” Viewing European and Buddhist cosmology through the same critical lens of the Mahāyāna teaching of emptiness (Skt. śūnyatā, J. kū 空), Fujaku sees neither worldview as more valid than the other. “What is called true phenomena (genjitsu no jishō 現実の事象) is simply the gathering and dispersal of atoms (genshi 原子), which are intrinsically empty.”26 Monnō’s arguments drew adherents and detractors alike from across the intellectual spectrum. The eminent Nativist scholar Motoori Norinaga 本居宣 長 (1730–1810) denounced Monnō’s work more than thirty years after its original publication in his Refutation of the Śramaṇa Monnō’s “Defending the Theory of the Nine Mountains and the Eight Seas” (Shamon Monnō Kyūsen hakkai gechōron no ben 沙門文雄九山八海解嘲論の辯). Motoori attacked Monnō’s argument as vague and inconsistent. He asserted that “as the theory of the Mount Sumeru universe is fundamentally false, Monno’s critique of the theory of the spherical earth is groundless.”27 Nor was Motoori’s dissatisfaction with contemporaneous astronomical theory limited to Monnō. In On the True Calendar (Shinrekikō 真暦考, 1782), he bemoaned the hypothetical nature of the astronomy of his day and idealized the experience of time, the seasonal changes, and the movement of heavenly bodies of a Japanese antiquity that he imagined preceded the imposition of the Chinese calendar.28 Motoori, moreover, was familiar with Inquiries into Classic of Heaven and with Japanese versions of European calendars as well. He even transcribed a copy of Ricci’s world map of 1602.29 That Monnō’s treatise provoked so wide a range of interlocutors reveals the degree to which Edo intellectuals contributed to the climate of cosmological debate from many intellectual standpoints. With its attendant theories of heliocentrism and a spherical Earth, the Copernican astronomy introduced and popularized late in the eighteenth century challenged the worldviews not only of Japanese Buddhists but also of Confucian and Nativist thinkers. Some Confucian scholars, such as Asaka Gonsai 安積艮斎 (1791–1861) and Yasui Sokken 安井息軒 (1799–1876), who taught at the official shogunal school in Edo (Shōheizaka Gakumonjo 昌平坂学問所), asserted that these apparently new Western theories were originally Chinese and searched the classical texts for passages ambiguous enough to support such claims.30 In a similar manner, Motoori’s disciple Hattori Nakatsune 服部中庸 (1756– 1824), in his Thoughts on the Three Great Realms (Sandaikō 三大考), claimed that Western astronomy actually corroborates the heliocentric cosmology of

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the eighth-century Kojiki. He dismissed “the theories of India” as “women’s fairy tales and blind speculation” and “the theories from China” as “man-made ideas.”31 Hattori wrote: “Recently, the people of countries in the far west have mastered navigation and sailed around [the world]. They have surveyed the world and [learned that] it is round. They have been able to determine that the world floats in the sky and to determine the movements of the sun and moon. . . . [Ancient Japanese explanations], when viewed with [European explanations] do not depart from [the latter] even a little. Thus, one can realize the truth of the ancient transmission.”32 Just as the proponents of Buddhist cosmology had done, Hattori and his followers supplemented their argument with diagrams explaining the relationship between the sun, earth, and moon (fig. 6.8).33 According to Hattori’s cosmogony, the sun, earth, and moon disaggregated from a primordial unity to form three separate planets with the sun the domain of the Sun Goddess Amaterasu and the High Plain of Heaven (Takamagahara 高天原) and the moon the domain of the Moon God Tsuku-yomi-no-mikoto and the Land of the Dead (Yomi-no-kuni 黄泉の国). The self-appointed inheritor of Norinaga’s legacy,

6.8 Hattori Nakatsune, Thoughts on the Three Great Realms, ca. 1792. Monochrome woodblock book illustration. National Diet Library, Tokyo.

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Hirata Atsutane 平田篤胤 (1776–1843), appropriated and altered Hattori’s cosmology and cosmological diagrams in his True Pillar of Spirit (霊の真柱 Tama no mihashira) of 1812 (fig. 6.9). Atsutane’s major change to Hattori’s cosmology was to assert that the Land of the Dead is not on the moon but below the earth. The scholar Satō Nobuhiro 佐藤信淵 (1769–1850), whose education included a stint at Atsutane’s academy, furthered his teacher’s attempts to use European astronomy to prove Nativist narratives of Japan’s divine origins. Satō’s cosmological speculations, however, reveal a far deeper engagement with the astronomical models of the contemporary West than either Atsutane or Hattori. In his Record of the Pillar of Heaven (Tenchūki 天中記), written between 1822 and 1825, Satō reviewed the creation narratives of Japan with those of Chinese, Indian, Persian, Greek, Roman, Egyptian, and biblical traditions. He concluded that the creation myth of the Kojiki corresponds more closely to contemporary astronomical theory. In text and image, Satō then presented a heliocentric universe in which the earth and the moon, as well as the planets Mercury, Venus, Jupiter, Saturn, and Uranus, operate according to a system of natural laws generated by the action of the Creator God Ubusuna no Ōkami. With cosmological

6.9 Hirata Atsutane, True Pillar of Spirit, 1812. Monochrome woodblock book illustration. National Diet Library, Tokyo.

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diagrams, Satō sought to explain the movement of stars, comets, satellites of Jupiter and Saturn, solar and lunar eclipses, and even tidal and seasonal change. Another follower of Atsutane, and a contemporary of Satō, Tsurumine Shigenobu 鶴峰戊申 (1786–1859), attempted to reconcile the mythology of the Kojiki not only with European astronomy but with Buddhist cosmology as well. Such an ecumenicism, even within the famously sectarian Nativist tradition, reveals that experimentation in cosmological theory was not limited to Buddhists. The son of a shrine priest, Tsurumine studied Kokugaku under Yamada Mochifumi 山田以文 (1761–1835) and astronomical physics at the private academy of the Tsuchimikado lineage. Tsurumine’s True Pillar of Heaven (Ame no mihashira 天の御はしら), published in 1821, identified the High Plain of Heaven, realm of the Sun Goddess Amaterasu, with the Thirty-Three Heavens above Mount Sumeru; the mountains and seas surrounding Mount Sumeru with the planets Venus and Mercury; and the four great continents with the planets Earth, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. As we shall later see, this radically inclusive cosmology was to be reproduced through the nineteenth century in popular printed almanacs. Into this proliferation of cosmological treatises authored by Japanese scholars came a new influx of European texts translated into Japanese. In 1720 Tokugawa Yoshimune relaxed the ban against foreign books, which had limited the importation and circulation of European knowledge during the previous century. Interested himself in Western astronomical instruments, Yoshimune encouraged the translation of Dutch texts on the natural sciences. These policy changes allowed for the import of astronomical works composed in Chinese by such Jesuit missionaries as Jacob Rho, Johann Adam Schall von Bell, Ferdinand Verbiest, and others.34 By the 1770s, official government translators in Nagasaki were at work on Dutch editions of European works. The year 1772 saw the first mention in Japan of Copernican heliocentrism, in Motoki Ryōei’s 本木良永 Dutch Illustration of the Globe (Oranda chikyū zusetsu 阿蘭陀地球圖説), a Japanese translation of the Dutch edition of Louis Reynard’s Atlas de la navigation et du commerce qui se fait dans toutes les parties du monde. Between 1772 and 1773, Ryōei translated a 1770 Dutch edition of George Adams’s 1766 Treatise Describing and Explaining the Construction and Use of New Celestial and Terrestrial Globes. Ryōei’s translation of Willem Janszoon Blaeu’s Use of Celestial and Terrestrial Globes (Tweevoudigh Onderwiis van de hemelshe en aardsche Globen) appeared the following year as Tenchi nikyū yōhō 天地二球用法.35 However, these translations remained in manuscript and under strict government control during Ryōei’s lifetime. Although they proved extremely influential among a small group of scholars, the popularization of these new European ideas would fall to others—such as the proponent of European painting and science, Shiba Kōkan.

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Kōkan, whose illustrations of Vulture Peak and hot-air balloons were discussed in chapter 5, was also among the earliest figures in Japan to promote European astronomy and its cartographic corollaries to a wide public. In 1787, the same year in which he executed the illustrations for Chūryō’s Miscellany, Kōkan traveled to Nagasaki, delivering lectures on geography along the way with the aid of a European world map. By Kōkan’s own account, at least, he posed no threat to the Buddhist faithful. As he explains in his diary: I took out my map of the world and explained it. A woman of about thirty-­six who was listening drew closer to me and said that she understood from my explanation where the Buddha Śākyamuni lived in India, but wanted to know where the Pure Land was, for she hoped to go there while still alive. In that area of the country, many people belong to the True Pure Land school of Buddhism, which teaches that everyone can go to the Pure Land after death, but she felt that priests would be embarrassed by a request to be taken to the Pure Land during her life. I thereupon explained why no one can go to the Pure Land while alive. I said that this world is a globe, as can be seen on this map, and that there are many other globes like ours in space, that the space between globes is what we call the sky, and no living person can fly through this space unless he becomes a deity. The woman understood, and said, “this means that we have to rely on the Buddha Amitābha.”36

Kōkan’s encounter with the devout woman serves to remind us that European cartography and astronomy may not have appeared to all of the Buddhist faithful, as it did to more scholarly clerics, as threats to the foundations of their religious beliefs. To the woman on the road to Nagasaki, as to many believers today, the physical world and the spiritual world did not seem to pose an inevitable conflict. Between the years of 1792 and 1793, Kōkan produced two world maps engraved as copperplates, with accompanying explanatory text. Both were based on a French world map, designed by Covens and Mortier and printed in Amsterdam, in the possession of Kōkan’s friend Ōtsuki Gentaku 大槻玄沢 (1757– 1827). The first copperplate map, titled Complete Map of the Earth (Yochi zenzu 輿地全圖), was accompanied by a text titled Brief Explanation of the Earth (Yochi ryakusetsu 輿地略説), which explicated the geocentric universe, as well as the seasons, solar and lunar eclipses, and five continents. Kōkan issued a revised edition the following year, titled Complete Map of the Globe (Chikyū zenzu 地球 全圖) (fig. 6.10), with a new accompanying text, Brief Explanation of the Complete Map of the Globe (Chikyū zenzu ryakusetsu 地球全圖略説), which described both geocentric and heliocentric theory.37 Beneath one of the hemispheric projections, Kōkan included an engraving of Vulture Peak, the legendary site of the

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Buddha’s preaching. Although named Vulture Peak (靈鷲山), the Chinese characters are glossed phonetically as Adam’s Berg (アダムスベルギ) and located, according to an inscription, on “the island of Ceylon in Tenjiku.” Kōkan had previously published a similar image of Vulture Peak in Morishima Chūryō’s 1787 Red Hair Miscellany.38 Neither of Kōkan’s world maps, however, were available to the general public. Although he obtained permission to publish them, they could not be commercially sold. In contrast, Kōkan’s 1796 volume on Dutch Astronomy (Oranda tensetsu 和蘭天説) was the first comprehensive introduction of heliocentrism written for a popular Japanese readership. It was followed by the publication in the same year of a set of ten etchings, Complete Illustrations of the Heavens (Tenkyū zenzu 天球全圖), which included images and explanations of an orrery, the sun, the moon, the elliptical motion of the earth, the heliocentric and geocentric universes, the earth in space, and the ebb and flow of the tides. In 1808 he published an Illustrated Explanation of Copernican Astronomy (Kopperu tenmon zukai 刻白爾天文圖解) and a booklet, Illustrated Explanation of the Celestial Globe (Chitengi ryakuzukai 地轉儀略圖解), which included a diagram with moving parts.39 As these publications show, Kōkan’s interest lay not only in the content of European imagery but also in its mode of representation and its mimetic power. “The technique employed in this art,” Kōkan wrote in his 1799 Discussion of Western Painting (Seiyō ga dan 西洋画談), “produces a true representation of reality, greatly different than the style used in Japan. . . . The written word in black and white cannot possibly recreate an accurate image of the true form. For this reason, the pictures drawn in Western countries are regarded even more highly than writing.”40 Kōkan’s faith in the power of the image was shared by all schools of cosmological thought in his age—Buddhist, Christian, Confucian, Nativist, and European theories of the universe alike. Nor was the epistemic virtue of visuality limited to the astronomical. The primacy of the visual was a characteristic of all forms of Tokugawa culture. It was an age in which “accurate and detailed illustrations,” as Federico Marcon has argued, “developed as a new cognitive apparatus.”41 A contemporary of Kōkan and a fellow polymath, the physician Tachibana Nankei 橘南谿 (1753–1805), issued his findings on related issues in a 1798 volume titled Journey to the West (Saiyūki 西遊記). The title alludes, of course, to the Ming dynasty tale of Xuanzang’s overland journey to India, but Tachibana himself could go no farther west than Nagasaki. There, he collected not the Buddhist texts sought by Xuanzang but information about optical devices used by the Dutch residents: telescopes, periscopes, microscopes, and others. In his book, he claimed that the power of perception they offer “exceed[s] even the heavenly eye of the Buddhas.”42

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6.10 Shiba Kōkan, Complete Map of the Globe, 1792. Copperplate engraving with hand coloring, 53 × 45 cm. Waseda University Libraries, Tokyo.

The heavenly eye of the Buddha and the empirical eye of the astronomer had thus defined the terms of cosmological debate for over a century. In 1689 Iguchi had written, “The Buddhists say that they can see the form of Mount Sumeru with the power of the heavenly eye. Astronomers, however, have only the power of the ordinary human eye and therefore must rely on theory. Yet the astronomers’ explanations of the solar and lunar eclipses are correct and those of the Buddhists are not.” With his map of 1710, Hōtan countered such claims by asserting, “The wisdom eye of the sage is far more powerful than the human eye and sees the boundless ten-thousand-fold world, just like a fruit held in the hand.” This same optical epistemology, maintaining a distinction between the heavenly eye of Buddhist knowledge and the physical eye of human observation, continued to characterize Buddhist apologetics into the nineteenth century. In 1806 the monk Mitsuan Shakusōen 密庵釈僧慈 reformulated Iguchi’s critique to valorize the Buddhist position: “The explanations of Buddhist texts rely on the heavenly eye. Astronomers cannot see by such means and have only the laws of computation.”43 Yet if the terms of the cosmological debate remained relatively stable, the modes of discourse, display, and demonstration were soon to be transformed. Countering the Copernican Revolution Buddhist cosmological discourse in nineteenth-century Japan revolved around the Tendai monk Fumon Entsū 普門円通 (1755–1834), the figure at the center of the most comprehensive counterresponse to the Copernican revolution. He led a movement to create a distinctly “Buddhist astronomy” known as Bonreki 梵暦 or Butsureki 佛暦, a significant intellectual tradition both ecumenical and polemical taken up by scholarly monks across sectarian lineages throughout the nineteenth century.44 Although Entsū is today a largely forgotten figure in the history of modern Japanese Buddhism, his work and his legacy informed, and in many ways transformed, the ways in which Japanese Buddhists conceived of the world and of their place in it for more than a century. Born into the Yamada clan of the Inaba domain (in modern Tottori Prefecture), Entsū took the tonsure at age seven at a Nichiren temple. He later studied at the Tendai headquarters on Mount Hiei and at the major (Gozan) Zen temples in Kyoto. He met the Shingon-Ritsu monk Jiun Onkō 慈雲飲光 (1718– 1804), a scholar of Sanskrit who advocated for a return to the early traditions of Buddhist India; received the monastic precepts at Enryakuji from the influential Tendai monk Gōchō Kankai 豪潮寛海 (1749–1835); and underwent an additional ordination as a Ritsu monk. Entsū also studied astronomy, calendrical science, and the Dutch language in Kyoto.45 He resided at the Shōgo-in 聖護院 subtemple of Shakuzenkyō-in 積善教院 in Kyoto, and he lived out his final years at Esho-in 恵照院, within the Pure Land temple complex of Zōjōji in Edo.46

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Entsū founded a society for Buddhist astronomy (Bonrekisha 梵暦社) and composed more than forty works, including the five-volume Astronomy of Buddhist Countries (Bukkoku rekishōhen 佛國歴象編) of 1810. In this and later publications, Entsū promoted a unique defense of Buddhist cosmology based in the exhaustive reading of scriptural sources; on the comparative analysis of Chinese, Arabic, and European astronomical theories; and on his own detailed mathematical calculations. However innovative its practical method, his Astronomy still relied on the established epistemology of vision and enlightened sight: The unsurpassed enlightenment attained by the Buddha, the World Honored One, sees clearly the innumerable worlds. Calendrical science and the structure of phenomena were one of the five fields of learning in ancient India and are an essential part of the Great Way. The laws of karma explain the universe, even the creation and destruction of Mount Sumeru and the Triple World, and the movement of the sun, the moon, and the stars. These forms of Indian knowledge are far superior to the reasoning of contemporary scholars, which, compared to the wisdom of the Buddhas and bodhisattvas, is as insubstantial as the leaves of bamboo scattered by a whirlwind. The practitioners of Indian knowledge apprehend true reality (shinjitsu 真実) and perceive everything in the world with the power of the heavenly eye.47

For Entsū, classical Indian learning—not contemporary European science—is the source for the true understanding of the physical universe: its structure, its laws, the movement of its celestial bodies, and its true reality. It is a form of knowledge attained by the Buddha, gained through enlightenment, and perceived only with the power of the heavenly eye. “Optical knowledge” (genchi 眼智), a word commonly used in Buddhist texts to refer to the wisdom and clairvoyance attained through the heavenly eye, is a central term in Entsū astronomical treatise.48 In his final chapter, Entsū introduces “the law of optical knowledge” (genchi no hō 眼智之法), a phrase that might be translated more freely as “the epistemology of vision.” After presenting the theories of vision and knowledge from various scriptural sources, Entsū explains that only Buddhist astronomy represents the universe from the perspective of “the heavenly eye and the five modes of vision,” whereas Western astronomy sees it only from the limited perspective of the physical eye.49 These two kinds of vision, Entsū explains, produce two kinds of knowledge: the physical eye that perceives the world as represented in Western astronomy, on the one hand, and the heavenly eye, what Hōtan described as “the vision of the wisdom eye” that apprehends “the worlds as numerous as atoms,” on the

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other. This theoretical bifocality is grounded in the theory of two truths (Skt. satya-dvam, J. nitai 二諦), a categorization of phenomena fundamental to all forms of Mahāyāna thought since at least Nagarjuna. Conventional truths (Skt. saṃvṛti-satya, J. sezokutai 世俗諦) “refer to objects of ordinary experience that involve misperceptions tainted by ignorance” whereas ultimate truths (Skt. paramārtha-satya, J. shintai 真諦) are “those realities that exist as they appear and whose direct perception can lead to liberation.”50 Entsū, however, took this method one step further. Like his predecessors, he applied this fundamental Buddhist epistemological distinction to the theories and findings of modern astronomy. But he also sought to reconstruct classical Buddhist cosmology within a contemporary environment. He did so by appropriating the very terms of his intellectual opposition, commandeering their quantitative approach and their rhetoric of mathematical verification to advance the Buddhist cause. Recognizing the advantage that calculation and demonstration provided authors such as Shiba Kōkan, Entsū insisted that Buddhists present their worldview in the same terms: “People believe in the theory of a spherical earth because it is scientifically demonstrated through astronomical calculation. To dispel people’s doubts about the Mount Sumeru world, we must demonstrate it using astronomical calculation as well.”51 Yet in addition to adopting the modes of argumentation advanced by Buddhist apologists throughout the eighteenth century, Entsū also anticipated an approach that would later be championed by activist monks in the late nineteenth century who presented European astronomical science as a menace not only to the cosmological foundations of Buddhism but also to the moral, religious, and political culture of Japan: Such wicked teachings are not the ancient teachings of our country. Such teachings treat the gods with contempt and destroy the conscience of the people of the realm. Their evil influence is profound and grave. They make a mockery of our Buddhist teachings about heaven and earth even as they plagiarize them. They cause the ignorant to treat Buddhism as a trifling thing and to think nothing of disrespecting the Imperial Court. Out of indignation for the great harm of these worldly teachings that insult and ridicule the gods and Buddhas, I have systematically arranged documentary evidence and compiled these five volumes, entitled Astronomy of Buddhist Countries. I have done this to uphold the path of righteousness, to strike down heresy, and to support the lofty rule of the sacred kami of the state who eternally nourish all subjects of the realm. It is my sincere hope that the Buddhist Law and the Imperial Law, like the sun and moon and heaven and earth, shall forever illuminate the world.52

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Entsū’s argument appears to be moving in two directions at once. In linking the fate of Buddhism with that of the state and invoking the symbiotic unity of Buddhist law and imperial law, Entsū is reaching back to a historical ideal of the medieval period.53 But in characterizing European astronomy as a dangerous foreign heresy and a threat to the religion, government, and people of Japan, he is foreshadowing the militant language of late nineteenth-century Buddhist apologetics. Entsū’s text was not universally welcomed. In 1817, Inō Tadataka 伊能忠敬 (1745–1818) repudiated Entsū’s claims in a five-volume rebuttal titled Rejecting the Delusions of Astronomy of Buddhist Countries (Bukkoku rekishōhen sekimō 佛國暦象編斥妄). The author of the refutation was uniquely qualified. A pioneering cartographer who surveyed the entirety of the Japanese archipelago and mapped its coastline, Inō was then serving as official astronomer to the Tokugawa shogun. In the following year, the astronomer Kojima Tōzan 小島涛山 (1761–1831) echoed Inō’s critique in his Disposing of the Delusions of Astronomy of Buddhist Countries (Bukkoku rekisho benmō 佛國暦象弁妄). Entsū’s Astronomy nevertheless gained a significant following among his fellow clerics and even among nonmonastic astronomers as well. His advocates included Koide Chōjūrō 小出長十郎 (1797–1865), a mathematician in the astronomy office of the imperial household who had translated Jérôme Laland’s astronomical works and advocated for the superiority of the European calendar. Entsū was invited to speak at the most prominent Buddhist institutions in the country: the head temples of the Shingon school on Mount Kōya, the Tendai school on Mount Hiei, and the True Pure Land schools at Honganji. In addition to lecturing at such major temples, he gave public talks in the cities of Kyoto, Osaka, Sakai, and Nishinada, all in a single year.54 He lived out his life at the Pure Land headquarters of Zōjōji, the family temple of the Tokugawa shogun, which housed a copy of the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku discussed in chapter 3 and which first published many of Entsū’s works. Entsū’s students, not limited to any single school, continued to develop and teach Buddhist astronomy throughout the nineteenth century: Kōgon 晃厳, Anne 安慧, and Jōmyō浄名 taught his theories at the seminary of Nishi Honganji, Reiyū 霊遊 and Daitsū, at the seminary of Higashi Honganji. The monks of both of these major branches of the True Pure Land school would remain vocal proponents of Buddhist astronomy well into the Meiji period. Entsū did not derive his convictions from unquestioning faith. By the age of fifteen, he had read Inquiries into Classic of Heaven, the Chinese primer on European astronomy, and he went on to study both Chinese and European astronomical theory under Kawano Tsūrei, an official astronomer to the imperial court. In Astronomy of Buddhist Countries, Entsū analyzes Chinese, Arabic, and European astronomical theory, and he offers explanatory

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6.11 Fumon Entsū, illustration of the sun’s rays on Mount Sumeru from Astronomy of Buddhist Countries, 1810. Monochrome woodblock book illustration. Masahiko Okada Collection.

illustrations of each tradition’s planetary and terrestrial models.55 He surveys the various schools of Chinese astronomy, including the models of both a flat and a spherical Earth, and discusses the work of Matteo Ricci, Adam Shall von Bell, Jacobus Rho, Nicholas Copernicus, and Tycho Brahe. He cites the latest Japanese translations of European sources—such as Shizuki Tadao’s 志筑忠雄 (1760–1806) New Treatise on Calendrical Phenomena (Rekishō shinsho 暦象新書), a translation of John Keill’s Introductiones ad Veram Physicam et veram Astronomiam—to demonstrate the variety of European theories, and he adduces this very diversity to indicate the absence of any universal truth. Appropriating the empirical apparatus of his intellectual adversaries, Entsū overwhelms the reader with diagrams and calculations in an attempt to disprove the tenets of European astronomy and defend the flat Earth described in Buddhist texts. Entsū often draws on the classical astrological texts of the Esoteric Buddhist tradition, such as the Sun-Store Sutra (Nichizō kyō 日藏經), the MoonStore Sutra (Gatsuzō kyō 月藏經), and the Sutra on Constellations and Luminaries

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6.12 Fumon Entsū, illustration of the sun’s rays on Jambudvīpa from Astronomy of Buddhist Countries, 1810. Monochrome woodblock book illustration. Masahiko Okada Collection.

(Sukuyō kyō 宿曜經), in his discussions of the celestial order, yet his description of the Mount Sumeru–centered world is based primarily on citations from the Treasury of Abhidharma. In a double-page illustration of Mount Sumeru and its surrounding mountains and seas, Entsū’s Astronomy depicts the trajectory of the sun’s horizontal orbit, calculates its circumference and diameter, and represents the angle from which its rays reach Mount Sumeru and the southern continent of Jambudvīpa (fig. 6.11).56 Another two-page illustration depicts the movement of the sun across Jambudvīpa and the angle of its rays as they reach the peaks of the great mountains of the southern continent (fig. 6.12). The purpose of such detailed drawings, and the calculation of solar height and distance, is to account for the northern regions known as the Land of Night. These northern regions, where sunlight shines only half the year, appear on Matteo Ricci’s maps and on their popular Japanese reproductions, as well as on Sōkaku’s globe and Hōtan’s map. As they provide evidence for the sphericity of the earth, Entsū goes to great lengths to explain their existence within the flat world of the Buddhist scriptures.57

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Entsū’s Astronomy also includes a remarkable Map of Jambudvīpa that combines the topography and toponymy of Indian, Chinese, and European sources (fig. 6.13).58 The map depicts the southern world continent, covered with mountains and forests and surrounded by sea and clouds. A row of craggy peaks and trees along the upper border of the frame is labeled “Jihensen” 持辺山 (Skt. Nimiṃdhara), the outermost of the seven rings of golden mountains that encircle Mount Sumeru. Below it lies a sea labeled “Jihenkai” 持辺海 and the northernmost reaches of Jambudvīpa. The jambu tree grows at the north end of the continent and towers over seven rows of forests and rivers. As described in the Lokasthānābhidharma-śāstra (J. Ryūse abidon ron 立世阿毘曇論), these forests and rivers compose the upper two-thirds of the continent. In the center of the continent, Entsū has located the legendary Mount Kunlun, a mythic mountain of the Daoist tradition and the realm of the Queen Mother of the West, which was often conflated with Mount Sumeru. Only the lower third of the map represents the world of human habitation: a triangular landmass cut off from the rest of the world continent. Using Ricci’s toponyms, the northeast corner of this lower landmass is labeled “Asia” 亜細亜, the northwest corner is labeled “Europe” 欧邏巴, and “Africa” 阿弗利加 is inscribed in the southwest. Yet Entsū’s explanation of Ricci’s continents removes them from the post-Renaissance world and subsumes them within the Buddhist geography of Jambudvīpa. “The three continents of Asia, Europe, and Africa that appear on the maps that Westerners have brought to Japan,” Entsū explains, “are what is called Jambudvīpa. The three continents were originally one land. Its north, east, and west sides are nearly the same. Its south side is narrow and comes to a point.”59 Proposing a Buddhist theory of continental drift, Entsū returns Asia, Europe, and Africa to the classical geodesy of Vasubandhu. As had Jūkai’s map of 1364 and its replicas, Entsū’s map sets Japan apart from Jambudvīpa. In the seas off the northeast coast of the continent are the distinctive shapes of Honshu and Ezo and beside them, the characters for “Japan” 日本. To the south and east of Japan are depicted other islands left unnamed. The habitable tip of Jambudvīpa is framed on three sides by the coastlines of other lands. The coastlines to the east and west are undesignated, but the one to the south is labeled “Magellanica” 墨瓦喇尼加, the name of the vast southern continent as it appears on Ricci’s world maps. Entsū mentions the world maps of both Ricci and Shiba Kōkan in his Astronomy, and the toponyms used on his map of Jambudvīpa are in accord with both. Entsū’s map also situates Jambudvīpa among the planets: across the lower section of the map, three lines indicate the sun’s orbit during the summer solstice, the spring and autumn equinoxes, and the winter solstice. Entsū’s map of Jambudvīpa would inform the work of successive proponents of this Buddhist worldview throughout the nineteenth century. In 1821, Entsū’s

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6.13 Fumon Entsū, Map of Jambudvīpa, from Astronomy of Buddhist Countries, 1810. Monochrome woodblock book illustration. Masahiko Okada Collection.

6.14 Zontō, Expanded Image of the World, 1821. Woodblock print with hand coloring, 195 × 64 cm. Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

student, the Pure Land monk Zontō 存統 (1781–1832), produced a large-­format, hand-colored print that offered a graphic presentation of Entsū’s world for public display (fig. 6.14). Zontō’s Expanded Image of the World (Sekai daisōzu 世界大相圖) collapsed the encyclopedic detail of Entsū’s cosmology into a single explanatory image.60 Measuring 129.5 × 56 cm and designed to be mounted as a hanging scroll, it depicts the Mount Sumeru universe with quantitative precision, numerical calculation, and artful design. Like the Daigoji scroll, Zontō’s print illustrates and annotates the multiple strata of heavens above the cosmic mountain, the levels and dwellings of the mountain itself, the sun and moon on either side, the surrounding mountains and seas, the four great continents in each of the cardinal directions, the supporting layers of golden earth, water, and air, and the eight great hells beneath. This print depicts not only space but time as well. An inscription in its upper-left corner situates the Buddhist universe within a perpetual cycle of cosmic time, the four kalpas of formation, existence, decay, and nothingness. When this world comes to an end it will be overcome by the three great calamities of fire, water, and wind, and we will enter the kalpa of disappearance. The kalpa of disappearance lasts twenty-five small kalpas and is followed by the kalpa of formation. All living things within the Mount Sumeru universe, beginning with the palace of Brahma, are produced during the kalpa of formation. During the kalpa of existence, humans will have an infinite lifespan like celestial beings. Gradually all created things, including humans, will have a shorter lifespan, and will experience disparities of wealth, crime, and the fires of war. This will be followed by the kalpa of decay and, once again, the kalpa of disappearance. The succession of the four kalpas will continue perpetually.

Zontō offers a spatiotemporal representation of the Buddhist universe essentially unchanged from its earliest extant Japanese depictions. The hourglass-shaped cosmic mountain occupies the center of a radiating series of mountains and seas, with the four great continents in the outermost oceans and our world of Jambudvīpa clearly foregrounded. Closely following Entsū’s Map of Jambudvīpa, Zontō includes the jambu tree with triangular leaves at the top of the continent and the seven rows of forests and rivers and Mount Kunlun below, as well as the three lines marking the path of the sun throughout the year according to Entsū’s theory of solar movement (fig. 6.15). Moreover, as with Entsū, Zontō has modified the classical image of Jambudvīpa to include the names of Asia, Africa, and Europe within the triangular continent. Like Entsū as well, he has included Japan but also, like Hōtan, has added Ezo, Korea, and China in the east; Tenjiku in the center; and Holland, or “Red Hairs,” in the west.

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6.15 Zontō, Expanded Image of the World. Detail of Jambudvīpa.

In an inscription below this image, Zontō compares the canonical cosmology of Buddhist scripture with the astronomy of European sources: According to the Avataṃsaka-sūtra, the form of the universe is infinite, inexhaustible, and indescribable. Nevertheless, the form of the universe has often been described in both Mahāyāna and Hinayāna texts. This illustration of the Mount Sumeru world distinguishes the Three Realms of Desire, Form, and Formlessness and the Twenty-Five Stages of Existence. . . . Today those who purport to be learned and debate cosmology are unaware of the fact that the entire human realm is but one small part of the Realm of Desire. Those who refer to the world as “myriad lands” (bankoku) know nothing of the thousand ages of the past and future. Although they may think that they know all that there is to know, their knowledge is no more comprehensive than that of a frog in a well. Ever since I was a child, I have had profound questions about the structure of the universe, and its past and future. These questions have

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only increased as I have grown to adulthood. One day, following the advice of a teacher, I read the section about the world in the Treasury of Abhidharma and learned of the shape and size of the universe and of the Three Realms. After investigating its details for many years, my doubts have melted away and my joy has never ceased. I have therefore produced this image so that others not be troubled with similar questions and doubts. There are of course already many illustrations of the Mount Sumeru universe but they are all rather crude and rough. In recent years, a book entitled Astronomy of Buddhist Countries has been published. In order to clarify the foundations of calendrical science, it has produced a detailed analysis of astronomical matters and, on the basis of domestic and foreign texts, has corrected the errors of Western scholars. Those who study astronomy should read this book. The design and intention of my print is in complete accordance with it. Encompassing the various heavens and mountains where deities reside, the world of humans, and the distant worlds far away, this illustration makes small things large and large things small such that all can be seen, understood, and accepted, in a single glance.61

Citing the world (Skt. dhātu) section of Vasubandhu’s Treasury of Abhidharma as his scriptural source and Entsū’s Astronomy of Buddhist Countries as his hermeneutic lens, Zontō offers a popular printed image of the classical Buddhist universe for the modern viewer. Like Entsū and Hōtan before him, Zontō’s cosmology combines scriptural pedagogy with contemporary critique. Reaching back to the vocabulary and tropes that Hōtan had deployed over a century earlier, Zontō belittles the blinkered vision of those satisfied with the “myriad lands” of Ricci’s cartography as the myopic conceit of Zhuangzi’s frog in a well. Zontō echoes Hōtan as well in his dismissal of earlier cosmographies as too imprecise for contemporary purposes. Zontō’s most significant similarity with Hōtan, however, is the promise of a new modality of visual knowledge. Zontō’s claim that his “illustration makes small things large and large things small such that all can be seen, understood, and accepted, in a single glance,” like Hōtan’s claim to “have integrated all of the mote-like countries of Jambudvīpa and reduced the scale so . . . one can take in the entire world in a single glance,” offers the panopticism of Buddhist insight through the visual medium of the commercial print. A few years later, Zontō produced an even more detailed map of Jambudvīpa characterized by an even greater amalgamation of Buddhist cosmology and Western cartography (fig. 6.16).62 Yet the latest contributions of foreign cartographers serve a double purpose. The old world of Buddhist maps is Europeanized as the new world of European maps is Indianized. Titled Illustration of Jambudvīpa with the Sun (Enbudai tsuketari nichigūzu 閻浮提附日宮圖), Zontō’s

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6.16 Zontō, Illustration of Jambudvīpa with the Sun, ca. 1821–1828. Woodblock print with hand coloring, 195 × 64 cm. Yokohama City University Library.

second print corresponds to his print of 1821 in size and format. The upper register is filled with a traditional representation of Jambudvīpa, similar to the upper sections of both Entsū’s illustration and the detail of Jambudvīpa in Zontō’s earlier print. In the middle of the forests and rivers is an inset, framed with clouds, bearing an image of the sun represented as a disc-like planet, encircled by Chinese-style gated walls, with temple structures in a landscape of mountains, trees, and clouds accompanied by an explanatory inscription. In the lower section of Jambudvīpa, where Entsū’s illustration and Zontō’s earlier print had depicted an undifferentiated terrain or a simple array of toponyms, Zontō here supplies a finely detailed European-style map of the Eastern Hemisphere with the continents of Asia, Africa, Europe, and Australia carefully rendered and named.63 Yet however much this new map of Jambudvīpa may seem to conform to the latest conventions of Western cartography, its classical orientation is marked by the mythic Lake Anavatapta at its center. Although the topography of the subcontinent appears modern, India is still named the Five Regions of Tenjiku, and its place names conform to Xuanzang’s list compiled a thousand years earlier. As with Hōtan and Entsū’s maps of Jambudvīpa, the Americas remain wholly absent. What might appear to be the Pacific coastline of North America protruding from the map’s eastern margin is instead labeled “Avaracāmara” 勝猫牛州, the island east of Jambudvīpa, according to the geography of the Treasury of Abhidharma (fig. 6.17). The presence of Australia on Zontō’s map offers similar surprises. It is closely based on the Newly Revised Map of the World (Shintei bankoku zenzu 新 訂萬國全圖) compiled by Takahashi Kageyasu 高橋景保, the director of the shogun’s astronomical observatory, and produced at the bakufu’s behest in 1810.64 Although Zontō copies Australia’s shape and toponyms from Takahashi’s map, he gives it an additional name: Cāmara 猫牛州, the island that Buddhist sources locate to the west of the world continent. While Zontō has added Australia and North America to Entsū’s Buddhist world, they have been Sanskritized and returned to the classical geography of Jambudvīpa.65 If Japanese Buddhist world maps of Hōtan, Entsū, and Zontō remained unconcerned with the geography of Australia and the Americas—reducing, erasing, or Sanskritizing their presence—then the representation of India remained tenaciously canonical. The Map of Tenjiku (Tenjiku yochizu 天竺輿地 圖) published by Zontō in 1828, completing his triptych of Buddhist cosmology and cartography, conforms in outline to contemporary European maps of India (fig. 6.18). Yet it divides the subcontinent into the Five Regions of Tenjiku and maintains the traditional landmarks of Jambudvīpa that go back to Jūkai’s fourteenth-century prototype. We still find the jambu tree and Lake Anavatapta at its center, together with the four animal heads out of whose mouths flow the four great rivers (fig. 6.19). Hundreds of cartouches bearing the place names

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6.17 Zontō, Illustration of Jambudvīpa with the Sun. Details of Avaracāmara (at right-hand margin) and Australia as Cāmara.

6.18 Zontō, Map of Tenjiku, 1828. Woodblock print, 195 × 64 cm. Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

6.19

6.20 Zontō, Map of Tenjiku. Detail of Lake Anavatapta.

Zontō, Map of Tenjiku. Detail of the Bodhi tree and Vulture Peak.

of Xuanzang’s route are connected by dotted lines marking his itinerary, with the directions and distances between each carefully noted and passages from Xuanzang’s Great Tang Record of the Western Regions quoted throughout. Temples and stupas occupy the landscape, and inscribed in the Buddhist heartland are such sacred sites as the Diamond Throne and the Bodhi tree where Gautama attained enlightenment; the groves and monastery of Jetavana where the early Buddhist community was established; Vulture Peak (drawn with an avian head!), where the Mahāyāna sutras were preached; and Kuśinagara, where Śākyamuni passed into final nirvana (fig. 6.20). These sacred landmarks are further explained in textual passages printed across the lower portion of the map. In his preface, Zontō claims that “children are unable to read the detailed descriptions of India that Xuanzang recorded in the many volumes of his Record. With this map, however, they can see it all clearly in a single glance.”66 With this now familiar turn of phrase, Zontō makes the Buddhist India of Xuanzang’s pilgrimage visible to all. He does so, however, in a manner altogether new. He has taken the geographical content of Xuanzang’s seventh-century Record as it was preserved within the manuscript tradition of the Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku—complete with the pilgrim’s itinerary, toponymy, directions, distances, and detailed descriptions of the sacred landscape—and reconfigured it entirely within the confines of a nineteenth-century cartography of the subcontinent.

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Buddhist India, as represented in its classical literature of cosmology and pilgrimage, remained, it seems, the last preserve of religious identity and authenticity in an increasingly Western world. The trajectory of modernity was not, for all Japanese, ineluctable and unidirectional. Within the cartographic pluralism of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century Japan, Buddhist views of the world, of the universe, and of India were well represented, and at times prominently so, within the marketplace of ideas and the visual culture of the commercial print. The Buddhist World and the Mechanical Universe The Buddhist cartography of Entsū and Zontō was but one part of a larger discourse, articulated verbally and visually, of a comprehensive Buddhist cosmology. Entsū’s map of Jambudvīpa depicts but a single detail within his encyclopedic Astronomy of Buddhist Countries: one element in a universe invisible to the unenlightened eye. Zontō’s maps of Mount Sumeru, Jambudvīpa, and Tenjiku all represent the same world, simply at different degrees of magnification. Although the cosmology is an ancient one, there is nothing antiquarian about the interests of its advocates. Entsū and his followers were drawing from historical sources to formulate modern cosmological arguments and engage in contemporary intellectual debates. The materials they produced—texts, diagrams, maps, and large-format, hand-colored, woodblock-printed hanging scrolls—were promotional materials used in public lectures for popular consumption. When Entsū and his disciples traveled the country, giving presentations in temples, seminaries, and cities throughout Japan, such prints were essential aids, pedagogical imagery of a sort that has always been among the visual resources of Buddhist proselytization in Japan. As the visual arguments became increasingly complex, the pedagogical imagery did as well and was no longer limited to the printed page. For example, in order to demonstrate how the horizontal orbit of the sun and moon around Mount Sumeru can explain seasonal change and solar and lunar eclipses, Entsū designed a three-dimensional model of the Buddhist universe. Entsū’s first model no longer survives, but a painting of it, rendered by Genshun 玄俊 and inscribed by Entsū, dated 1813, remains extant (fig. 6.21). Titled Model of Mount Sumeru Inscribed and Explained (Shumisengi mei narabini jo 須彌山儀銘並序), it depicts a squat cylindrical device set on a decorative wooden stand. The sides of the device are painted in horizontal bands and annotated with textual inscriptions, indicating the cylindrical layers of matter that form the disc supporting the Mount Sumeru universe. The lowest, and largest, layer of wind is painted as swirling clouds of light brown; the middle layer of water is rendered in gray-blue waves; and the upper layer of earth, on which the Mount Sumeru universe rests, is colored gold. On the surface are the eight

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mountain ranges and seas with the hourglass-shaped Mount Sumeru rising from the center. In the outermost sea, bounded by a circular range of iron mountains, lie the four great continents, with smaller landforms scattered around them. Above them are eight small discs representing the positions of constellations and a ring marked with calendrical calculations. The model itself moves. A system of fixed elevated circular tracks is colored red, white, and gold and marked with regular increments. Two wire rings

6.21

6.22 Genshun and Entsū, Model of Mount Sumeru Inscribed and Explained, 1813. Hanging scroll; ink and color on silk, 129 × 53 cm. Ryūkoku University Library, Kyoto.

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Entsū, Model of Mount Sumeru Inscribed and Explained, 1813. Multicolor woodblock print, 137 × 62 cm. Yokohama City University Library.

suspending the sun and moon travel as they orbit the cosmic mountain. Positioned vertically against one side of the device is a black wooden pole with a gold-colored pulley, escapement, and counterweight: a simple clockwork mechanism that regulates the measured movement of the sun and moon as they circle Sumeru. The painting was later reproduced as a woodblock print for Entsū and his students to use in public lectures on Buddhist astronomy (figs. 6.22 and 6.23).

6.23 Entsū, Model of Mount Sumeru Inscribed and Explained. Detail of base.

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6.24 Shiba Kōkan, Orrery, 1796. Copperplate print with hand coloring. Kyoto University Library, Kyoto.

To further explain the workings of his model, Entsū also published a two-volume text titled Model of Mount Sumeru Explained in Japanese (Shumi­ sengi narabini jo wakai 須彌山儀銘並序和解, 1813), which provides a line-byline Japanese commentary of the print’s classical Chinese preface as well as the numerical measurements and scriptural sources for every element of the model. The details of Entsū’s model and the precision of his calculations were crucial to his defense of the Mount Sumeru world. “If the Mount Sumeru world is correct,” Entsū wrote, “then it will be in accordance with calendrical calculations; if the calendrical calculations are correct, they will be in accordance with the solar and lunar eclipses.”67 Entsū’s mechanical model of the Mount Sumeru universe suggests a Buddhist rejoinder to the eighteenth-century orrery, the clockwork-driven mechanical model developed to represent the relative positions and movements of the planets in the heliocentric solar system. Shiba Kōkan reproduced the earliest Japanese image of the European apparatus in his Complete Illustrations of the Heavens of 1796 (fig. 6.24). In the accompanying text, he explains:

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An orrery is a globe illustrating the heavens and was first constructed by Copernicus in Poland. The sun is in the center, and the earth revolves around it. The entire order of the heavens can be understood by examining an orrery . . . and one can ascertain the truth of heliocentrism. The universe is blue and boundless, and since it is without end, one cannot describe its shape, but one can mark the sun as its central point. The sun is 360 times as large as the earth and has been shining since time immemorial. It exerts more influence on the things of the earth than one can ever describe. Only those with a sincere interest in science can understand these things.68

Boundless, endless, and formless, the universe lies beyond the power of visual perception and verbal description. For Kōkan, however, a mechanical model of this universe otherwise invisible to the eye allows one to understand “the entire order of the heavens.” Entsū’s model of Mount Sumeru has a similar function. It, too, is a clockwork that displays in miniature the structure and mechanics of “the entire order of the heavens” and visually explains Buddhist astronomical theory. Entsū’s goal is reminiscent, too, of Gomez’s De Sphaera, which also sought to render visible “the machine of the world and the perpetual and immutable order of the heavens” to “demonstrate the invisible attributes” of scriptural authority. Entsū’s second explanatory print, Model of Relative Phenomena Explained (Shukushōgi setsu 縮象儀説, 1814), was published the following year to demonstrate the movement of the sun and moon as they pass over Jambudvīpa (fig. 6.25). The Model of Relative Phenomena represents just one quarter of the Mount Sumeru universe, a ninety-degree section including the southern world continent. The discs of wind, water, and gold that support the Buddhist world are here abbreviated as decorative elements on the tripod that supports the device. At its center is a circular metal band inscribed with astrological notations. It is bisected by three semicircular metal bands colored red, white, and gold that mark the location of the equator and the path of the sun and moon and by two thinner metal arcs that mark the sun’s orbit during the summer and winter solstice.69 The viewer is nevertheless assured that “the astronomical and terrestrial measurements are based on a careful investigation of the sutras and commentaries.” In the accompanying inscription, Entsū explains that the device “shows a single continent of the Mount Sumeru world as it is perceived by the power of human vision. . . . It represents the view of the Mount Sumeru world of nine mountains and eight seas, two wheels and three rings, as perceived by the sense organs, or the mind of an ordinary person. It is a view that Buddhists understand as limited.” The inscription invokes the authority of other astronomical

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6.25 Entsū, Model of Relative Phenomena Explained, 1814. Color woodblock print, 129 × 53 cm. Yokohama City University Library.

models: the terrestrial and celestial globes introduced by Kobayashi or the orrery celebrated by Kōkan. “It is like the view of the world represented by celestial and terrestrial globes or by an armillary sphere, a physical object perceived through the power of human cognition.”70 Like these other astronomical devices, Entsū’s models serve as mechanisms that allow the human eye to see beyond its limits. “The Model of Relative Phenomena and the Model of Mount Sumeru are paired models of the Buddhist universe, similar to a pair of armillary spheres,” explains Entsū. “They are constructed to correct the deluded view of ordinary people.” Entsū contrasts this deluded view with the power and clarity of Buddhist vision, which is “like a person using a telescope imported from the West that allows them to see mountains and seas a great distance away, or to see the constellations as clearly as he might see an anthill, or as clearly as the palm of one’s hand, entirely and in every direction. Even the entire world in the four directions appears as clear as an object in a mirror. This mode of vision cannot be compared to that of ordinary humans.”71 Deploying a Buddhist vocabulary of epistemological clarity—“as clearly as the palm of one’s hand . . . as clearly as an object in a mirror”—Entsū echoes Hōtan’s claim, made a century earlier, to have represented “Jambudvīpa, and reduced the scale, so that it may be held in one’s hands.” Both have produced a visual prosthetic that allows one, in Hōtan’s words, to “take in the entire world in a single glance.” Entsū, however, has radically expanded the scope of Hōtan’s project from a geographic to a cosmographic scale. As Entsū explains, “The reduction of large to small and of far to near allows the world to be comprehended by human reason and human vision just as terrestrial and celestial globes allow one to comprehend phenomena that cannot otherwise be apprehended. For the majesty of a single Mount Sumeru world lies beyond the capacity of human vision and human understanding.”72 The world that appears on the surface of Entsū’s Model of Relative Phenomena, however, is unlike any he had presented before (fig. 6.26). It is a hybrid cartography combining the maps of European origin with the cosmology of Buddhist texts. It is no longer the single trapezoidal continent seen in the print of the Model of Mount Sumeru issued the previous year, or in the Map of Jambudvīpa included in his Astronomy. It depicts instead the three continents of Asia, Africa, and Europe, much as they appear on European-style maps, each named and printed in separate colors yet compressed to approximate the traditional form of Jambudvīpa. “The seven forests and seven rivers in the northern area of Jambudvīpa,” Entsū explains, “are what are now identified as Greenland and the polar regions.” Within the southern arc of the circular metal band, one can just make out a strip of coastline labeled “Magellanica.” This unique reconfiguration of European cartographic conventions to approximate the shape of the Buddhist world continent illustrates Entsū’s claim that “the three continents of

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Asia, Europe, and Africa that appear on the maps that Westerners have brought to Japan are what is called Jambudvīpa.”73 If the Model of Mount Sumeru demonstrates the structure and movement of the world as absolute phenomena, then the Model of Relative Phenomena demonstrates the workings of the world as relative phenomena. Together, the two instruments reconcile the discrepancy between these two perspectives. Kōkan’s orrery would have been altogether new to his audience: a foreign device, representing a foreign cosmology, depicted in the foreign medium of a copperplate engraving. As a Japanese print of a Dutch print of a French print of an English device, it would have been at least three times removed from its source. But Entsū’s orrery would have seemed far more familiar and proximate:

6.26 Entsū, Model of Relative Phenomena Explained. Detail.

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6.27 Entsū, Model of Mount Sumeru, 1824. Wood, metal, plaster, lacquer, color. Ryūshinji, Shizuoka. Photo courtesy of Masahiko Okada.

a woodblock print, mounted as a hanging scroll, showing a cosmology that had been depicted in Japan for over a millennium. It was, moreover, a device designed and produced domestically. Dated to 1824, the earliest extant example of one of Entsū’s astronomical models is housed at the Shizuoka temple of Ryōshinji 龍津寺 (fig. 6.27).74 It was originally housed in Sunpu castle 駿府城, fortress of the first and last of the Tokugawa shoguns, and subsequently taken to the Hōdai-in 宝台院, a temple connected to the Tokugawa family and castle, before being transferred to Ryōshinji in 1875. Commissioned by Entsū himself, or perhaps by a disciple, this articulated instrument is nearly identical to the model depicted in the painting and print of 1813. Almost one meter in diameter and sculpted in wood, it presents a four-sided, pyramidical, hourglass-shaped Mount Sumeru rising from a circular base with the mountains, seas, and continents of the Buddhist universe. The four sides of the cosmic mountain and the cardinal directions they face are painted gold, white, blue, and red according to the precious stone surfaces of the four faces of Sumeru: gold in the north, silver in the east, lapis lazuli in the south, and crystal in the west. Powered by a single counterweight

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and escapement mechanism, which propels an internal clockwork mechanism of metal gears and cogwheels, the device is calibrated to regulate the movement of solar and lunar orbs along metal rings at the rate of one rotation a day. The sun and moon move in opposite directions along two metal tracks to illustrate the rising and setting of the sun and the waxing and waning of the moon as calculated to seasonal change. The clockworks further regulate the daily rotation of eight metal posts, which support painted wooden blocks inscribed with the names of the twelve constellations of the zodiac and the twenty-eight celestial mansions of classical Chinese astronomy, to demonstrate the passage of day and night, as well as the change of seasons. Entsū’s disciples would refine and reproduce such mechanical models of the Buddhist world for the next half century. Kanchū 環中, of the Kyoto Rinzai Zen temple Tenryūji 天龍寺, further developed Entsū’s theories and his mechanical model of Mount Sumeru. Kanchū’s new model of Mount Sumeru is represented in a color woodblock print published in 1848 (fig. 6.28). In style and format, it resembles Entsū’s hanging scroll of 1813, but it represents the changes that Kanchū had by then made to his master’s design. The most prominent of these is the replacement of the pole-mounted counterweight and escapement mechanism with fully automated clockworks. The top of the scroll reproduces an inscription by Entsū, dated to 1810, and a longer inscription by Kanchū. In the same year, Kanchū also produced a second matching scroll. Bearing an even longer inscription from Entsū, it represents Kanchū’s modifications of Entsū’s 1814 Model of Relative Phenomena. He titled it Model of Relative Phenomena Illustrated (Shukushōgizu 縮象儀圖) (fig. 6.29). Compared with Entsū’s image of a simple tabletop model produced thirty-five years earlier, Kanchū’s image shows a fully mechanized instrument. In Kanchū’s updated device, the fixed surface of Entsū’s map has been replaced by a swiveling disc, across which the passage of the sun and moon are calibrated to the twenty-four seasonal divisions of the year. In Kanchū’s Model of Relative Phenomena, the geography of Jambudvīpa has changed as well. Kanchū retained Asia, Africa, and Europe, but here they have been fused into a single great continent colored blue, white, and yellow and pushed to the northwest up to the very edge of the disc. To the south is an archipelago, colored a pale pink, the coastlines of which recall the sinuous landforms of Hōtan’s map. To the west is a long, narrow continent colored green, shaped not unlike the form of California as an island as depicted on early European maps of America. Regnant at the very center of the map, enlarged to the size of Africa and colored light blue, is the Japanese archipelago. Twelve lines, drawn and annotated, radiate out to the eastern and western edges of the disc. The lines converge at the exact center of the world map—the center of astronomical time and of celestial and geographical space: the imperial capital of Kyoto.75

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6.29 Kanchū, Model of Mount Sumeru Inscribed, 1848. Woodblock print with hand coloring, 118 × 54 cm. Ryūkoku University Library, Kyoto.

Kanchū, Model of Relative Phenomena Illustrated, 1848. Multicolor woodblock print, 118 × 54 cm. Ryūkoku University Library, Kyoto.

Kanchū had his designs fabricated by Tanaka Hisashige 田中久重 (1799– 1881)—a pioneering engineer of automata, clockworks, steam engines, and telegraphy—soon after Tanaka established his business in Kyoto in 1847. The mechanical models of Buddhist cosmology that Tanaka manufactured for Kanchū are marvels of modern technology. The founder of what has become

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the multinational electronics conglomerate the Toshiba Corporation, Tanaka stood at the forefront of contemporary Japanese science and engineering. He first gained recognition as the foremost inventor of clockwork-driven automata­—mechanized figures that served tea, wrote calligraphy, and performed archery—and later produced the most advanced and elaborate clocks of the period. Tanaka went on to develop the first domestically produced steam locomotives, warships, munitions, and telegraphic equipment for the Meiji state. The fact that the greatest engineer of the age, responsible for the most technologically sophisticated, westernized, and industrialized modes of transportation, communication, and warfare, also produced mechanized devices to prove the accuracy of ancient Indian cosmology reveals that the culture of Buddhist astronomy was far from regressive. From Kanchū’s designs, themselves “based on one of Entsū’s images,” Tanaka produced at least four different versions. Made of wood, metal, crystal, lacquer, mother-of-pearl, and clockworks, Tanaka’s devices were both mechanical instruments of a new Buddhist science and luxurious commodities of the latest fashion and taste. Combining scholastic erudition and technical refinement, the Buddhist astronomical clocks produced by Tanaka between the years 1847 and 1850 were characterized by internal mechanisms of enhanced complexity and surface treatments of increasing opulence. The earliest of Tanaka’s devices, once in the Mody Collection but no longer extant, measured thirty-three centimeters in diameter and thirty-four centimeters in height (including stand). It showed the phases of the moon, the rotation of the sun, the movement of the stars, the ebb and flow of the tides, and the twenty-four seasonal periods (fig. 6.30).76 A dial above the center of Mount Sumeru marked the seasonal divisions, and brass arms extended from the dial, supporting solar and lunar orbs that indicated the horizontal orbits of the sun and moon. A small metal disc supported by a post represented the constellation of the Big Dipper in the sky above Jambudvīpa. Two black lacquered metal rings above the surface were divided into 360 degrees and marked with the names of the twenty-eight constellations (shuku 宿). The layered discs of air, water, and golden earth were painted on the sides of the instrument’s base in separate patterns rendered in brown, blue, and white lacquer. On one side of the base was a metal clockface with hands and dial, and the entire instrument was operated by a large clockwork mechanism housed within the base. A decorative lacquered wooden stand with four curved cloud-form legs supported the device. Now in the collection of the Seiko Museum, a second version of Tanaka’s model has a more refined clockface, set behind glass, and a removable cover, composed of eighteen plates of glass, fitted into a lacquered and gilded frame (fig. 6.31). Now gracefully curved, the brass arms supporting the orbiting sun and moon rotate above two rings, one marked with the twenty-four divisions of

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6.30 Kanchū and Tanaka Hisashige, Shumisengi, ca. 1847–1850. Wood, brass, lacquer, colors, 33 × 34 cm (including stand). Image from Mody, Collection of Japanese Clocks.

6.31 Kanchū and Tanaka Hisashige, Model of Mount Sumeru, ca. 1847–1850. Wood, brass, lacquer, glass, colors. Seiko Museum. Photograph by author.

the year (sekki 節気) and another marked with the twenty-eight constellations. The outer ring of iron mountains around the perimeter is sculpted in three dimensions, and the gold maki-e lacquerwork, depicting the discs of gold, water, and air supporting the universe, is far more elaborate than that on the example from the Mody Collection. A large brass key is provided to wind the clockworks. A third version, now in the collection of the Toshiba Science Museum, has a lid of glass panes set in a wood and lacquer frame and an ornate lacquer treatment on the base and stand of the device (fig. 6.32). Three additional black metal rings indicate the orbits of the sun during the solstices and equinoxes. A clockface on the top of the device marks the twenty-four divisions of the solar year, and a second clock set into the base, with fixed hands and a rotating face, marks the hours of the day. The clockface that marks the hours is fitted with variable split-plate (warigoma 割駒) hour markers, driven by springs and gears, which automatically adjust the hours according to seasonal changes in the length of days throughout the year.77 In addition to measuring the hours of the day, the divisions of the solar year, the orbits of the sun and moon, the position of the constellations, and the seven stars of the Big Dipper, Tanaka’s astronomical clock strikes a bell to indicate temporal divisions throughout the day and night.

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6.32 Attributed to Kanchū and Tanaka Hisashige, Model of Mount Sumeru, 1850. Wood, brass, glass, lacquer, gold, and colors. Toshiba Science Museum. Photo provided by the Toshiba Science Museum, Kawasaki.

Even more elaborate and twice the size of the third version, a fourth and final version, signed by Tanaka and dated to 1850, is in the collection of the Ryūkoku University Library (fig. 6.33). The Ryūkoku model is similar in proportion, if not in dimension, to the Seiko and Toshiba models and sits on a low black-lacquer stand inlaid with mother-of-pearl. In nearly every detail, it conforms to a print of the device produced by Kanchū in 1848. The Model of Relative Phenomena that Tanaka produced for Kanchū is also in the Ryūkoku collection (fig. 6.34). The map of the world on the surface of the disc is no longer extant, but it is otherwise identical to Kanchū’s print.

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6.33 Kanchū and Tanaka Hisashige, Model of Mount Sumeru, 1850. Wood, brass, lacquer, glass, mother-of-pearl, colors, 55 × 66.5 cm. Ryūkoku University Library, Kyoto.

Tanaka’s astronomical clocks of the Buddhist universe represent the apex of mechanical engineering and technological development in nineteenth-­ century Japan. They are perhaps surpassed only by his greatest clock—indeed perhaps the greatest timepiece of the century—the Myriad Year Clock (Mannen Dokei 萬年時計), produced in the following year of 1851. Tanaka’s Myriad Year Clock, like the astronomical devices produced for Kanchū, is a monument to the inseparability of cosmology, cartography, and calendrical time in the most exquisite visual and material form. Composed internally of over one thousand individually designed metal parts—fixed and variable gears, cranks, springs, and cogwheels fashioned by hand with specially designed files—and externally with the latest and costliest techniques and materials—rare woods, lacquer work, mother-of-pearl inlays, cloisonné, figurative painting, and precious metalwork and stonework—the Myriad Year Clock is designed as an eternal and

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6.34 Kanchū and Tanaka Hisashige, Model of Relative Phenomena, 1847–1850. Wood, brass, lacquer, glass, mother-of-pearl, colors, 64.5 × 64.5 cm. Ryūkoku University Library, Kyoto.

universal timepiece.78 Meant to be wound but once a year, the clock measures time in multiple modes displayed on six separate synchronized dials around a hexagonal face. One dial shows the hours according to the Japanese variable hour system (with split-plate hours automatically adjusted to seasonal change, as in Tanaka’s earlier Buddhist astronomical clock); a second dial measures the twenty-four divisions of the solar year; a third displays the days of the week; a fourth, the calendrical signs of the East Asian sexagenarian cycle; a fifth, the days of the lunar month; a sixth is a French (or perhaps Swiss) pocket watch, which measures the hours, minutes, and seconds of the twenty-four-hour day. Crowning this magnificent display of universal timekeeping is a crystal globe enclosing a mechanical model of the diurnal movement of a red sun and a silver moon above a map of Japan nearly identical to the map and orrery of the Model of Relative Phenomena, which Tanaka had produced for Kanchū one year earlier.

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As with his mechanical model of the Buddhist world, the converging lines of longitude and latitude mark the central point of astronomical orientation at the imperial capital of Kyoto. With the Myriad Year Clock, however, the movement of the sun and moon are calibrated to the orbital and axial rotation of a global Earth rather than the circumnavigation of a cosmic mountain at the center of a flat Buddhist world (fig. 6.35).

6.35 Tanaka Hisashige, Myriad Year Clock, 1851. Brass, gold, wood, glass, enamel, mother-of-pearl. Deposited object from the Toshiba Corp. Permanent exhibit of the National Museum of Nature and Science, Tokyo.

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Built of the same materials and utilizing the same technology, Tanaka’s astronomical clocks of the Buddhist world and of the global Earth not only suggest a cosmological pluralism in nineteenth-century Japan, akin to the pluralism and hybridity of the Edo-period world maps examined earlier, but also challenge a universalist approach to the history of science. Just as with the example presented in chapter 5 of the publisher Honya Hikoemon, who issued two maps in 1744—one, a version of Hōtan’s Buddhist world map and the other, a version of Matteo Ricci’s world map, which included Lake Anavatapta at the center and the four great rivers spiraling around it—Tanaka offered his customers astronomical clocks of both a flat world and a global Earth. Asserting neither a scientific primacy nor an intellectual monopoly, the cartography and cosmology of the Indian Buddhist and the European Christian worlds were presented side by side within Japan’s intellectual and commercial marketplace. A woodblock print advertising Tanaka’s Kyoto shop, Kikōdō 機巧堂, illustrates this fact in the most visible terms (fig. 6.36). It proudly displays a depiction of his Model of Mount Sumeru beside his Myriad Year Clock and another astronomical clock in the form of a Chinese armillary sphere. The three

6.36 Advertisement for the shop of Tanaka Hisashige in Kyoto. Monochrome woodblock print. Photo courtesy of the National Museum of Nature and Science, Tokyo.

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timepieces are surrounded by other practical inventions offered for sale, such as Tanaka’s Fire-Extinguishing Water Pump (Unryūsui 雲龍水), which directs and sprays pressurized water up to nine meters, and his Inexhaustible Lamp (Mujintō 無尽灯), a long-burning oil lamp operated by air pressure and offered in three sizes. Other items advertised in the print include a water fountain for washing cups at banquets (Unpaisen 雲杯洗), a clock in which a carp ascends a waterfall to mark the hour (Ryūmondokei 龍門時計), and a small table that moves like a tortoise when a wine cup is raised or replaced. Within the technological culture of nineteenth-century Japan, the astronomical and horological traditions of India, China, and Europe were equally represented and promoted together within a single advertisement produced by and available for purchase from the same commercial establishment. Nineteenth-century Buddhist astronomy may have been apologetic, but it was neither atavistic nor reactionary. It was a self-consciously contemporary discourse articulated through the latest forms of technical knowledge. The scholar-monks who used maps and diagrams, terrestrial and celestial globes, measurement and mathematical calculation, and detailed forms of scientific illustration to prove the facticity of the Buddhist world—and to assert Japan’s place in it—were not antiscience. Entsū’s methods of picturing knowledge and Kanchū’s clockwork universes reveal, if anything, a scientistic and technological excess. They deployed the graphic discourse and mechanical models of contemporary science and technology to advocate for their vision of the world in the face of a contentious present and an uncertain future.

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CHAPTER 6

CONCLUSION Missionaries, Modernities, and the Optics of Enlightenment

The mechanized cosmological devices of Kanchū discussed in the previous chapter were produced in the year 1850 and embodied and updated Entsū’s model of the Buddhist world. A mere eighteen years later, the Buddhist world of Japan would be forever and irrevocably changed. The year 1868, the first of the Meiji era, saw the beginning of a countrywide persecution of Buddhist institutions.1 Under the slogan haibutsu kishaku 廃佛毀釈 (Abolish Buddhism and Demolish Śākyamuni), tens of thousands of Buddhist temples were attacked, their lands confiscated, their monks and nuns defrocked, and their texts and images destroyed. Similar campaigns had been carried out earlier in the Mito Domain and in Satsuma Province, but only with the establishment of the Meiji state did such violence extend throughout the entirety of the new nation.2 Yet for all of its claims to modernity, much was familiar in the Meiji critique of Buddhist institutions. In a repackaging of Confucian charges that had been propagated for more than a millennium, Buddhism was condemned as a foreign heresy injurious to the imperial state. In the language of the Meiji Charter Oath of 1868 (Gokajō no goseimon 五箇条の御誓文), Buddhism represented “the evil customs of the past [to] be discarded” rather than the “knowledge sought throughout the world to strengthen the foundations of imperial rule.”3 In response to this critique, many Japanese monks sought to prove their support for the imperial state and to identify Christianity, rather than Buddhism, as the foreign heresy in need of eradication. When monastic leaders in Kyoto, led by the True Pure Land temples of Honganji, formed the Organization

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of United Buddhist Sects (Shoshū Dōtoku Kairen) in 1868, the first two items on their platform were the “inseparability of Buddhist Law and Imperial Law” and the “critique and expulsion of Christianity.”4 The indivisibility of Buddhist law and imperial law, in which the paired institutions were likened to the two wings of a bird or the two wheels of a cart, had been central to religious and political discourse in Japan since the early medieval period. In 1871, Kōnyo 広 如 (1798–1871), the twentieth head priest of the Nishi Honganji order, quoted the words of Rennyo 蓮如 (1415–1499), the fifteenth-century restorer of the lineage, to charge his followers: “On your brow, wear the Imperial Law; in your heart, treasure the Buddhist Law.”5 With the Buddhist nationalism of the late nineteenth century, however, this ancient axiom took on newfound significance. At Nishi Honganji, the imperialist slogan of the 1850s and 1860s, “Revere the emperor and expel the barbarians” (sonnō jōi 尊皇攘夷), was reformulated as “Revere the emperor and preserve the dharma” (sonnō gohō 尊皇護法).6 The two planks of the platform of the Organization of United Buddhist Sects, the “inseparability of Imperial Law and Buddhist Law” and the “critique and expulsion of Christianity,” were often fused in the Buddhist apologetic literature of the early Meiji period.7 To prepare monks to refute the foreign faith, the study of Christianity entered the curricula of the seminaries of both Higashi Honganji and Nishi Honganji in 1868.8 It was also at this time that an Institute for Dharma Preservation Studies (Gohōjō 護法場) was established at Higashi Honganji, where monks focused on what were identified as the four greatest threats to Buddhism at the time: Confucianism, Nativism, Christianity, and astronomy. Nishi Honganji had institutionalized the defense of the faith even earlier, having approved the production of astronomical instruments to vindicate classical Buddhist cosmology in 1855, one year after the United States military forced Japan to open its ports. Christian missionaries from abroad had been banned from Japan for centuries. But when the U.S. Navy forced the Japanese government to open its ports to foreign trade, American Protestant missionaries entered Japan as well. Article XIII of the 1859 Treaty of Amity and Commerce between the United States and Japan stated that “Americans in Japan shall be allowed the free exercise of their religion, and for this purpose shall have the right to erect suitable places of worship.”9 Churches were established but pastors did not limit their activities to the American community. But because missionaries were prohibited from circulating Christian scripture among the Japanese, they turned to other sorts of books. As the Reverend John Liggins (1829–1912), the first Protestant missionary in Japan, wrote in 1859: Missionaries must be content to circulate scientific works containing an admixture of Christianity, and which the Japanese are willing and eager

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to read, notwithstanding the admixture. There are about twelve books of this kind in Chinese, prepared by the missionaries in China, of which I have disposed by sale and gift since I have been here about 150 copies. I look upon these geographical, historical, and scientific works, prepared by the missionaries in Chinese as the pioneer literature for Japan; and as works in Chinese are understood by all well-educated Japanese, these works are destined to be eminently useful in doing away with this people’s misconception of Christianity, and thus preparing the way for the circulation of the Scriptures.10

The conflation of Christian proselytism and modern science—what Liggins refers to as “the scientific works prepared by the missionaries in Chinese”— was thus an intentional and established policy of the Protestant mission in East Asia. In this sense the approach of nineteenth-century Protestants in Japan had much in common with the sixteenth-century Jesuits since Aristotelian physics and Ptolemaic astronomy were equally vital to their mission. The strategy, however, was transparent even to its opponents. “Priests of the Jesus doctrine,” charged a Japanese pamphlet of 1868, “under the pretense of teaching astronomy, geography, and medicine, desire in actual fact to spread the abominable poison of Jesus.”11 The scholar-monks of the True Pure Land lineages stood at the forefront of this discursive battle by presenting Christianity and Western astronomy as a single and unified danger. In his Strategy for the Defense of Buddhism (Gohō shōsaku 護法小策) of 1862, the Higashi Honganji monk Tokuhō 徳鳳 claimed the astronomy of a global Earth as a central tenet of the Christian faith: “Throughout the entire world, the astronomy of a global earth is inseparable from Christianity. It is as if the astronomy of a global earth is the main object of Christian worship. The dissemination of their astronomical teachings will lead to the destruction of Buddhism and result in people falling into the evil pit of Christianity. . . . It is no easy task to defend our country of Japan from the western plot to spread Christianity. We must understand that their astronomy is a great calamity for Buddhism.”12 And in his Urgent Plan (Kyūsakumon 急策文) of 1863, Kōzan’in Ryūon 香山院龍温 (1800–1885), a lecturer at the Higashi Honganji seminary who was instrumental in establishing the Institute for Dharma Preservation Studies, charged: “The heretical doctrines of Western countries that argue for a global earth are nothing but Christian heresies. . . . Today Western astronomy is studied and the theory of the Mount Sumeru world is derided. Western astronomy and geography threaten to destroy Buddhism. They represent a formidable enemy.”13 In the preface of his Astronomy of Buddhist Countries of 1810, Entsū had warned of Western astronomy’s threat to Japan’s Buddhist and imperial order. In 1867 Entsū’s disciple Kamuro Anne 禿安慧 (1819–1901), also known as

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Shōkotsu Dōjin 勝囫道人, reformulated the danger of Western astronomy to both the sangha and the state in expressly Meiji terms. In his New Thesis on the Defense of Buddhism (Gohō shinron 護法新論), the Honganji monk claims that “the greatest threat in the world today and to the laws of the state and the teachings of the Buddha are the astronomical theories of the Western Barbarians.”14 He argues that “the cunning barbarians of the West use their theories of a spherical earth to dazzle the ignorant. Their teachings are an evil influence on humanity and on this country, that will result in the abolition of the Three Paths, the spread of heresy, and the destruction and usurpation of Japan by foreign powers, just as in the Shimabara Rebellion.”15 For Kamuro, Western barbarism presented a triple threat: religious heresy, military annihilation, and political subjugation. By invoking the Shimabara Rebellion, the Nagasaki uprising that occurred more than two centuries earlier blamed on the malevolent forces of European Catholics and Portuguese merchants, Kamuro drew an explicit parallel between foreign enemies past and present. The three volumes of his New Thesis on the Defense of Buddhism—the subtitles of which refer to the Confucian Analects, the Nihon Shoki, and the Pure Land Sutra of Infinite Light—signal an ecumenical attack on the dangers of the Christian vision of the world.16 At first glance, Kamuro’s critique of Western astronomy and his presentation of Indian cosmology have much in common with other nineteenth-century Buddhist astronomical tracts. He even reproduced an image of Entsū’s 1813 Model of Mount Sumeru in his 1867 work (fig. C.1). But instead of the scholastic arguments and scriptural citations of Entsū’s earlier defense of Buddhist cosmology, Kamuro opens his study with what appears to be a primer on modern physics. He explains, through the use of simplified scientific illustrations, the nature of optical phenomena in order to argue that the distortions produced by the refraction of light reveal not universal laws of Western science but the limitation and flaws of human vision. “What the Westerners call the study of natural laws,” he writes, “are matters of optical perception, of space, objects, size, angles, and straightness. But these are all but small matters of human vision within the vastness of the Mount Sumeru universe.”17 Kamuro inherits Entsū’s distinction between “apparent phenomena” visible to the human eye and “true phenomena” visible only to the Buddha’s divine vision but takes it one step further. Kamuro uses “what Westerners call the study of natural laws” to prove the very artifice of optical phenomena. This is why his Buddhist cosmology begins with a review of optical illusions. Through a series of diagrams, he attempts to show how the “small matters of human vision” are flawed, limited, and ultimately unreal. Turning the empirical facts of ocular perception against themselves, Kamuro mobilizes the visual vocabulary of Western science for

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C.1 Kamuro Anne, illustration of Entsū’s Shumisengi, from New Thesis on the Defense of Buddhism, 1865. Monochrome woodblock book illustration. Yokohama City University Library.

the purposes of its own undoing. Twenty illustrations represent the basic principles of the refraction of light and the retinal reception of images (fig. C.2). New Thesis on the Defense of Buddhism shows, for example, how objects viewed through a lens appear inverted beyond the focal point; how objects viewed through beveled glass will produce a kaleidoscopic effect; how objects viewed underwater will appear displaced, distorted, or magnified; and how changes in atmospheric temperature produce mirages. Thus are the optical axioms of Newton, Descartes, and Snell commandeered by Kamuro to demonstrate the instability of human observation and the weakness of scientific claims that rely on the physical eye. In a further twist, Kamuro’s diagrams of optical phenomena were not even of his own design. Rather, they were copied directly from one of the “scientific works, prepared by the missionaries in China,” which Liggins had listed as “eminently useful in . . . preparing the way for the circulation of the Scriptures”: Benjamin Hobson’s Natural Philosophy, New Edition (博物新編, Ch. Bowu xinbian, J. Hakubutsu shinpen), published in Canton in 1855 and in Japan in 1864. In a letter from Nagasaki dated August 10, 1859, Liggins listed Natural Philosophy and two other works by Hobson, Surgery and The Practice of Medicine, among the “works, of which I have sold more than a thousand copies, purchased among the higher classes of Japanese.”18 Hobson (1816–1873), a British medical doctor and a member of the London Missionary Society, traveled to China in 1840. During his twenty years in the country, he founded numerous hospitals, and he wrote several medical and scientific texts in Chinese.19 Hobson compiled Natural Philosophy for his medical students in Guangzhou, and it was widely influential as the earliest modern Chinese primer on European science.20 Hobson wrote that he intended to “convey some instruction in the elementary branches of physics . . . with special reference to natural theology.”21 One volume of the work, Digest of Astronomy, was described by Hobson as “a treatise on the properties of air, light, heat, and electricity, and the elements of astronomy and natural history, designed as an introduction to these various branches of the natural phenomena.”22 The copious illustrations, many later used by Kamuro, were drawn by Hobson’s physician colleague Walter Dickson.23 In Kamuro’s hands, however, the technical and visual vocabulary of scientific explanation, the laws of physics, and the empiricism of the experimental method were turned against themselves. Kamuro appropriated the science of optics to explain the disjunction between what the eye perceives and the true structure of the universe. The foundations of Western astronomy are undermined by their own evidence to prove, in a language visible to all, the veracity of the Buddha’s eye (fig. C.3). Kamuro was no anomaly. At the onset of the Meiji period, other Buddhist intellectuals also called for a return to the meticulously quantitative approach

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C.2 Kamuro Anne, illustration of optical distortion from New Thesis on the Defense of Buddhism, 1865. Monochrome woodblock book illustration. Yokohama City University Library.

of Entsū’s Buddhist astronomy to defend their traditional worldview in the face of European science. In 1868, the first year of the Meiji era, the monk Onkū 音空 called on all Buddhists to arm themselves with Entsū’s writings in the attacks of global Christianity: “Since the recent introduction of Western astronomical theory, it has been the duty of all Buddhists to study the Astronomy of Buddhist Countries by Fumon Entsū and to reject Western astronomy. We must reject those wicked people who promote the theory of a global earth. The theory of a global earth is a Christian teaching, and a stratagem of evil countries, which threatens the pure and upright Land of the Gods. We must reject this Western heresy and instead study the teaching of the Mount Sumeru universe.”24 In 1868 as well, the Nishi Honganji monk and author of Brief Essay on Protecting the Dharma, Chōnen 超然, quoted extensively from

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C.3 Benjamin Hobson, Natural Philosophy, New Edition, 1864. Waseda University Libraries, Tokyo (top). Kamuro Anne, New Thesis on the Defense of Buddhism, 1865. Yokohama City University Library (bottom).

Entsū’s Astronomy of Buddhist Countries and proclaimed, “The new issue in the defense of Buddhism is the false Western theory of the global earth that must be disputed with actual measurements and exact calculations in order to defeat the barbarians. Entsū’s disciples are attacking them as loyal subjects in defense of the country.”25 Foremost among Entsū’s disciples fighting as “loyal subjects in defense of the country” was the Nishi Honganji monk, polemicist, and public intellectual Sada Kaiseki 佐田介石 (1818–1882), who is significant to this study as the last major figure in the nineteenth-century history of Buddhist cartography and cosmology. He is remembered today mainly as an activist who petitioned the government against the importation of Western products, ideas, and practices. In 1874 Sada submitted a memorial urging the Meiji state to reject the solar calendar, which it had adopted two years previously, together with twenty-two other foreign imports such as Western clothing, Western learning, Western etiquette, Western military models, Western buildings, and Western railroads. He was particularly opposed to the use of kerosene lamps inside buildings and gas lamps on the street. His 1878 manifesto, On Lamps and National Collapse (Ranpu bōkoku ron ランプ亡國論), argued that Western gas lighting would lead to the downfall of the state.26 An outspoken critic on economic, political, and social issues, Sada also wrote fourteen works on Buddhist astronomy and frequently argued for the Sumeru universe over Western astronomical theory in the pages of his newspaper, Seieki shinbun 世益新聞. Sada toured the provinces explaining the principles of Buddhist astronomy to temple priests and schoolteachers. As late as 1878, he lectured on the subject at such major Buddhist institutions as the Tendai temple Denbōin; the Shingon temple Shinpukuji; the Jōdo temple Zōjōji; the Rinzai temple Rinshōji; the Ji temple Nichirinji; the main seminary of the Sōtō school in Edo; and at Nishi Honganji in Kyoto, in 1880.27 Sada was born in 1818 as the son of the head monk of Jōryūji 浄立寺, a Honganji branch temple in what is now Kumamoto. He was later adopted as the son of the head monk of Shōsenji 正泉寺, another local Honganji branch temple. In 1835 he entered the Nishi Honganji Academy (Gakurin) in Kyoto, where he read Mori Shōken’s 1707 vindication of Buddhist cosmology, Treatise for the Defense of the Dharma. Recognizing the importance of astronomy to the preservation of Buddhism, he left the academy in 1847 to study with Fumon Enstū’s disciple, Kanchū, at Tenryūji. Sada studied with Kanchū for six years; during that time he wrote three works on Buddhist astronomy before returning to the Nishi Honganji Academy as an instructor in 1853. He taught there for over a decade. In 1870 Sada moved to Tokyo to study under Fukuda Gyōkai 福田行誡 (1809–1888), abbot of Zōjōji and Chion-in and a leading figure in the movement for Buddhist reform in the Meiji period.28

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Like Entsū and Kanchū, Sada also designed his own mechanical model of the Mount Sumeru universe. With the support of Nishi Honganji, it was produced in 1855 by Tanaka Hisashige, the engineer who had previously crafted Kanchū’s devices. When Hosokawa Narimori 細川斉護 (1804–1860), the lord of Sada’s home domain, traveled to Edo in 1859, he stopped at Nishi Honganji to view the device and witness a demonstration of its movements. In 1860 the device was transported to the inner chambers of the imperial palace as the object of an imperial viewing. The device, unfortunately, was lost to the Kyoto fires of 1861, but Sada published images of it in his 1862 text A Hammer [to Smash] the Theory of a Spherical Earth (Tsuchi chikyū setsuryaku 鎚地球説略) (fig. C.4).29 It is to this work that we now turn. The Hammer had a specific target: it refuted the explanations of heliocentrism and of Earth’s rotation advanced in The Theory of a Spherical Earth (Chikyū setsuryaku 地球説略), written by the American Presbyterian minister Richard Quarterman Way (1819–1895). Way, a missionary from Georgia, was active in Ningbo and Shanghai. Like the works of Hobson, appropriated by Kamuro, Way’s primer on geography and astronomy was first published in China in 1856, and a Japanese edition appeared in 1860. To refute the minister’s theory of the spherical Earth, Sada designed a device more streamlined, and less topographically literal, than the mechanical Mount Sumerus of Entsū and Kanchū. The axial mountain was reduced to a tall central shaft orbited by the solar and lunar orbs mounted on two long brass hands and a brass ring marked with round slugs inscribed with the names of the twenty-eight celestial mansions. A structure of twelve semicircular brass wires suspended from the central shaft extended to the surface of the device, on which hemispherical cages representing the four great continents surrounding Sumeru indicated the domes of air that, according to Sada, obscured the true position and movement of the heavenly bodies.30 Fifteen years after Sada’s first device was destroyed, he again published illustrations for the device in his Account of a Device to Represent the Equivalency of the Apparent and the Real (Shijitsu tōshōgi ki 視実等象儀記), and the same year the device was reproduced by Tanaka.31 This version survives, and remains on display, in the National Museum of Nature and Science in Tokyo, entrusted to the museum by the celebrated Edo temple Asakusa Sensōji (fig. C.5).32 Sada’s device of 1877 differed from his earlier model only by the addition of a second, smaller metal shaft and disc above the southern continent of Jambudvīpa to mark the positions of the North Pole and North Star and a split-plate clockface to designate the seasonally adjusted hour. The sculptor Matsumoto Kisaburō 松本喜三郎 (1826–1892) and the painter Kanō Tatsunobu 狩野辰信 (1814–1891) fabricated the ornately lacquered and delicately painted wooden base. Matsumoto was the most accomplished producer of life-size and lifelike human figures (iki-ningyō zaiku), displayed at

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C.4 Sada Kaiseki, Explanation of a Device to Represent the Equivalency of the Apparent and the Real, from A Hammer [Smashing] the Theory of a Spherical Earth, 1862. Monochrome woodblock book illustration. Waseda University Libraries, Tokyo.

C.5 Sada Kaiseki, Device to Represent the Equivalency of the Apparent and the Real, 1877. Wood, brass, gold, glass, lacquer, mother-of-pearl, colors. Photo courtesy of the National Museum of Nature and Science, Tokyo.

temple sideshows.33 Kanō Tatsunobu was the fifteenth-generation head of the Nakabashi branch of the Kano school. His painting of cresting waves surrounding the four great continents closely resembles the surging oceans surrounding Jambudvīpa on Jūkai’s fourteenth-century map. Matsumoto’s surface treatment of the sides of the drum-shaped base, which housed the clockworks, was as luxurious and elaborate as that of Tanaka’s earlier mechanical Mount Sumerus. Each layer of wind, water, and golden earth was fabricated with distinctive techniques of lacquerwork incorporating mica and mother-of-pearl inlays, and the entire device was supported by a claw-foot stand decorated with contrasting patterns and designs of gold, mother-of-pearl, and lacquer. Sada’s device was proudly exhibited in the summer of the same year at Japan’s First National Industrial Exhibition (Naikoku Kangyō Hakurankai 内 国勧業博覧会) in Tokyo’s Ueno Park. Held under the slogan “Enrich the country, strengthen the military, encourage new industry, nurture enterprise,” the National Industrial Exhibition was a showcase for the most advanced technologies of the newly formed nation. Over a four-month period, the exhibition attracted nearly half a million visitors. That Sada’s mechanical model of Mount Sumeru was displayed at a state-sponsored celebration of industrial technology suggests that this image of the Buddhist cosmos was considered as contemporary as the latest steam locomotive or automated spinning machine.

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In designing their instruments, Entsū and Kanchū recognized the inherent difficulty of depicting and explaining the discrepancy between the apparent and the true form of the world. A certain aporia characterizes their paired models of the Mount Sumeru universe, in its relative and absolute forms. It is as if the paired models, like the modes of visuality they represent, must remain apart, as a kind of double vision that cannot easily be brought into focus. Sada followed a similarly dual understanding of Buddhist cosmology. He explained that “astronomy and geography could be perceived in two ways: as apparent phenomena (shishō 視象), and as true phenomena (jishō 実象).” Apparent phenomena were, he claimed, “things as they appear” (minasu koto ni) and true phenomena, “the form of things as they are” (ari no mama no katachi).34 Like Entsū, Sada distinguished apparent phenomena—“what appears to the human eye and is explained according to celestial and terrestrial globes”—from true phenomena—“what the sages explain as the flat earth and the horizontal orbit of the sun and moon.”35 Although Sada’s mechanical orrery was created to render visible the workings of the Buddhist universe, the very name of the invention underscores the epistemological gap implicit in the Buddhist theory of vision. Titled Device to Represent the Equivalency of the Apparent and the Real, it was designed to bridge the chasm between the appearance of the cosmos and its reality. Sada’s device thus sought to represent, and to reconcile, the field of difference between the paired instruments of Entsū and Kanchū. Sada’s decision to employ Tanaka Hisashige, inventor of steam engines and steamships, may seem a surprising choice for a monk who had famously railed against the evils of steam engines, steamships, and gas lamps. But Sada’s arguments against foreign goods were economic rather than technological. He promoted domestic Japanese products and endorsed lamps of his own design— fueled, like those designed by Tanaka himself, by domestically produced rapeseed oil rather than foreign kerosene. Sada’s Device, although fundamentally different in design and simpler than the machines Tanaka had produced for Kanchū, is similarly operated by a clockwork mechanism, includes solar and lunar orbs on a canopy structure, and has a rotating ring indicating the position of the twenty-eight celestial mansions. In it, the four continents are still situated on a flat Earth but are now covered with openwork hemispherical structures that, according to Sada’s theory, represent the domes of atmospheric density that cause light to refract and make the movement of the sun and moon and astral bodies appear as they do to the human eye. More than a century earlier, Monnō had advanced a similar atmospheric explanation of optical distortion in his 1754 Defending the Theory of the Nine Mountains and the Eight Seas. “The universe appears to us,” Monnō wrote, “as if we were under the convex shape of a bowl-like dome. Yet although heaven may appear to be spherical, it is in fact not.”36 Sada echoed Monnō’s

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claim in his assertion that “what appears to the human eye as spherical is, in fact, flat.”37 Sada’s model is designed to represent and to explain the theory of optical misperception that both he and Monnō espoused. Like Hōtan and Entsū before him, Sada understood the differences between Buddhist and Western views of the world in the terms of classical Buddhist theories of vision. “Mount Sumeru cannot be apprehended from the perspective of the physical eye of ordinary humans,” explained Sada. “The true phenomena of the Mount Sumeru universe may be perceived not with the physical eye, but only with the heavenly eye. This refers not to the eyeball, but rather to spiritual perception.”38 According to Sada, “The vision of the heavenly eye is unobstructed by any barriers. Even microscopes and telescopes cannot compare to its power of vision. The Buddha Śākyamuni acquired it only through ascetic practice. It is the ability to see all—from the heavens of Mount Sumeru above to the hells below—as clearly as an object held in the hand.”39 Sada’s advocacy of Buddhist theories of vision over European explanations shares not only the arguments but also the vocabulary of his predecessors. His description of the Buddha’s optical command of the entire world, seen “as clearly as an object held in the hand,” had appeared in the title and preface of Hōtan’s world map and in countless descriptions of the epistemology of Buddhist vision since at least the Vimalakirti Sutra. Sada’s distinction between the normal perception of ordinary humans and the supernormal perception enjoyed by buddhas and advanced meditators adopts the same classical taxonomy of vision outlined by Entsū in the final chapter of his Astronomy. Sada’s discourse on vision was not addressed only to Buddhist scholiasts but broadcast to a wider audience in public lectures held throughout the country. One such lecture, delivered in August of 1878, was attended by a certain Captain J. M. James, translated by him as “A Discourse on Infinite Vision as Attained to by Buddha,” and read before the Asiatic Society of Japan on March 13, 1879.40 In the lecture—an otherwise traditional doctrinal presentation of the power of the heavenly eye, the five modes of vision, and the six supernormal powers (rokujinzū 六神通)—Sada stated “that Mount Sumeru is situated so high above the earth—several hundreds of thousands of miles—that no human being, however clear his organs of sight, can even conceive the manner of its existence.”41 It can only be seen by the Buddha, Sada asserted, whose heavenly eye “perceives things that no human eye or intellect could grasp in their present unenlightened state, even though they should use a telescope a million times more powerful than any yet invented.”42 By the late nineteenth century, classical Buddhist theories of vision had joined the modern discourse on optics and the mechanics and technologies of human perception. Sada’s reference to the telescope was more than a rhetorical flourish. For the previous two hundred years, Japanese Buddhist

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representations of the earth and the universe had to contend with foreign technologies and modes of representation: longitudes and latitudes, Ptolemaic and Mercator projections, terrestrial and celestial globes, orreries and planispheres. The technology of vision advocated by Sada and Kamuro, like those of their teachers Kanchū and Entsū, had to compete in the marketplace of public opinion against ideas and objects imported from the West. Kamuro’s 1874 publication Three-Character Classic on Astronomy (Tenmon sanjikyō 天文三字經) reveals the terms of the debate in their most explicit form. Borrowing the title and the genre of the Three-Character Classic, an elementary primer on Confucian teachings, Kamuro explains the superiority of Buddhist astronomical teachings over those of European, Chinese, and Nativist theories. The frontispiece of the slim volume portrays four Western gentlemen, one with a telescope slung over his shoulder, wearing frock coats, hats, and beards, surrounding a Chinese armillary sphere (fig. C.6). Two youths similarly clad in Western garb, one of whom holds an abacus, stand among them. Above the group of figures and behind the cartouche of the title looms a model of the Mount Sumeru universe, its footed base composed of layers of wind, water, and golden earth, much like the mechanical models of Entsū and Kanchū. At the center of radiating mountain ranges and seas, the top of Mount Sumeru appears just above the title, flanked by traditional East Asian representations of the constellations and of the sun encircling a three-legged crow and the moon encircling a rabbit pounding rice. Kamuro’s Three-Character Classic was printed and sold by Nagata Chōbei, the same publisher who produced and sold Hōtan’s map for more than a century. At the end of Three Character-Classic appears a list of Nagata books that reveals the degree to which images and texts of Buddhist cosmology continued to circulate in the Meiji period. As late as 1874, Nagata was still selling Entsū’s major works: his five-volume Astronomy of Buddhist Countries of 1810, his Model of Mount Sumeru Explained in Japanese of 1813, and his Experimental Explanation of the Sumeru World (Jikken shumikai setsu 実験須弥界説) of 1821, as well as his two large hanging scrolls, the Model of Mount Sumeru of 1813 and the Model of Relative Phenomena of 1814. Nagata continued to publish the latest developments in Buddhist cosmological science, such as Sada’s Detailed Explanation of the Device to Represent the Equivalency of the Apparent and the Real (Shijitsu tōshōgi shōsetsu), as well as such classic works of Buddhist cosmology and geography as the Sutra on Constellations and Luminaries, Xuanzang’s seventh-century Great Tang Record of the Western Regions, Genshin’s tenth-­ century Teaching of the Three Worlds, and Gyōnen’s fourteenth-century History of the Transmission of Buddhism through the Three Countries. While Kamuro presented his Three-Character Classic as a primer for the education of the young, it was ironically the issue of children’s education that

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C.6 Kamuro Anne, Three-Character Classic on Astronomy, 1874. Monochrome woodblock book illustration. Masahiko Okada Collection.

would cause the government to finally proscribe the teaching of the Buddhist worldview. When the Meiji government adopted the solar calendar in 1873, it also committed the Japanese nation to Western astronomy and heliocentrism. New elementary school textbooks, such as the widely used Western Moral Education (Taisei kanzen kunmō 泰西勧善訓蒙), a Japanese translation of Louis Charles Bonne’s 1871 Cours elementaire et pratique de morale pour les ecoles primaires et les classes d’adultes, taught heliocentrism, and schoolteachers and administrators were censured if they did not do the same.43 When the Shingon cleric Shaku Unshō 釋雲照 (1827–1909), another leading figure in the Meiji Buddhist reform movement, was on a preaching tour in Shimane Prefecture in 1876, he complained that the instruction to “venerate heaven” in the translation of Bonne’s textbook encouraged children to worship the Christian God. He noted further that by introducing heliocentrism, the textbook rejected the traditional teaching of the Mount Sumeru universe. Unshō brought the subject before the prefectural government, who ruled against him in the third month of 1877. Later that year, the Ministry of Religious Education (Kyōbushō) officially prohibited the preaching of the Mount Sumeru universe throughout the country.44 In response, Sada dispatched an official letter of protest to the Ministry of Religious Education. To express his own opposition, Fukuda Gyōkai published a defense of Buddhist cosmology, Brief Explanation of Mount Sumeru (Shumisen ryakusetsu 須弥山略説). Unlike his fellow cleric and Meiji Buddhist reformer Shimaji Mokurai 島地黙雷 (1838–1911), who dismissed Mount Sumeru as “an Indian myth fabricated by Brahmins” and “an old, imaginary, and fictional theory,”45 Fukuda insisted that “rejecting the theory of the Mount Sumeru world is to reject the principal of causality” and asserted that the “Buddha did not teach the Mount Sumeru worldview as a metaphor.”46 The activities of such leading Buddhist reformers as Unshō and Fukuda reveal that the classical Buddhist view of the world remained a vital issue at least a decade after the establishment of the Meiji state. The ministry’s prohibition, however, only stimulated Sada and his colleagues to promote the empiricism of Mount Sumeru with even greater vigor. It was in the year following the prohibition that Sada’s mechanical model was displayed at the First National Industrial Exposition. And it continued to be promoted for another half decade. A print publicizing his Device, noting its inclusion in the National Industrial Exhibition and the role of Tanaka Hisashige, Matsumoto Kisaburō, and Kanō Tatsunobu in its production, was published by Fujita Furūme in 1879. In 1880, Sada’s 1877 Account of a Device to Represent the Equivalency of the Apparent and the Real was reissued in an updated and revised edition. In 1880 as well, Sada, together with his disciple and publisher Ōtomo Yoshishige, issued the single-sheet, color-print Buddhist World Map (Shakkyō

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C.7 Sada Kaiseki and Ōtomo Yoshishige, Buddhist World Map, 1880. Multicolor woodblock print, 36 × 50 cm. Yokohama City University Library.

yochizu 釈教輿地圖) (fig. C.7).47 Neither the classical terms nor the classical form of Jambudvīpa appear anywhere on the map, and the landforms and place names seem to conform to contemporaneous standards. In North America alone, the map identifies New York, Washington, California, and the San Francisco Bay. The curvature of the map may seem to suggest a spherical Earth but is due instead to the three parallel lines that arc over the continents. These, however, are not the lines of latitude that one would find on a map of a spherical Earth. Rather, they are the same three lines that appear on the world maps of Entsū and Zontō and indicate the seasonal path of the sun’s orbit of Mount Sumeru. Although it therefore may appear to agree with some of the expectations of Western cartography, Sada’s world map actually echoes Entsū’s claim that “the continents that appear on the maps that Westerners have brought to Japan are what is called Jambudvīpa.”

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An inscription in the upper left-hand section of the map explains the five continents of Western cartography within the terms of the flat Earth of Buddhist cosmology: “From a wide perspective, this map depicts the world of Mount Sumeru and the four great continents. From a narrow perspective, it depicts the five continents [of Western cartography] on a flat earth. Unlike the theory that posits the earth as a globe, the five continents are shown here on a flat earth. This map is not only useful for Buddhists but for Confucianist and Shintoists as well. This is because both Confucian and Shinto astronomy and geography explain the sun and the moon as moving between a flat heaven and a flat earth.” Following proponents of the Mount Sumeru worldview for the previous two hundred years, Sada and Ōmoto understood that the difference between Western and Buddhist cosmology comes down to an epistemology of vision. It is a matter of perception: whether one takes the wide perspective, which sees the world as it truly is, or the narrow perspective, which sees the world as it appears to the eyes of the unenlightened. Sada died in 1882. His death did not, however, put an end to his advocacy for the Mount Sumeru world. In 1883, his disciple Mori Yūjun 森祐順 (1854–1928), abbot of Shitennōji in Osaka, issued a color print that illustrated, explained, and praised Sada’s Device to Represent the Equivalency of the Apparent and the Real. The following year, a small volume was published by the Buddhist Astronomy Society of Japan (Dai Nihon Butsureki Kaisha 大日本佛暦会社): An Outline of Buddhist Astronomy in Japanese (Wakai butsureki ippan 和解佛暦一斑). It records a lecture delivered before the assembled monks of Higashi Honganji by Shingyō, a monk of the Bukkōji lineage of Higashi Honganji and leader of one of the two schools of Buddhist astronomy formed after the death of Entsū. Seven years after the government prohibition of the teaching of classical Buddhist cosmology, then, it was still possible for a leader of the Buddhist astronomy movement to present an address at one of the largest seminaries in Japan. The lecture, published by an association actively promoting such teachings, was purposefully inscribed within a Buddhist historical and cosmological order. In explicit opposition to the Gregorian calendar and to the Western heliocentric astronomy the Meiji government had imposed a decade earlier, the publication was dated “2831 years after Śākyamuni’s nirvāṇa.” It was stamped and cancelled with a red copperplate-engraved “seal of Buddhist astronomy” (bonreki no shō 梵暦之証) of the Buddhist Astronomy Society of Japan depicting Mount Sumeru flanked by the orbiting sun and moon (fig. C.8). From the sixteenth-century assertion of the Ptolemaic and Aristotelian world by Jesuit missionaries to the nineteenth-century reassertion of the Mount Sumeru universe by Buddhist monastics, Japanese monks used maps, models, and machines to defend their worldview against the onslaught of Western cartography and cosmology. This should be seen not as a rejection

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C.8 Seal of the Buddhist Astronomy Society of Japan, 1884. Masahiko Okada Collection.

of scientific discourse but rather as its appropriation. As Donald Lopez has argued, “That these events occurred in the course of Christian missions to Buddhist Asia suggests that Buddhist claims about science originated in polemic, with Buddhists arguing that their religion is not superstition but science.”48 The Japanese Buddhist defense of their world, from Sōkaku’s terrestrial globe to Sada’s mechanical Mount Sumeru, was far from unique. Rather, it belonged to a wider phenomenon, expressed across Buddhist Asia, in which local Buddhist leaders confronted the forces of Christian colonialism and scientific modernism. Like Migettuwatte Guṇānanda (1823–1890) and Anagarika Dharmapala (1864–1933) in Ceylon, Tendzin Trinlé (1789–1838) and Gendün Chöpel (1903–1951) in Tibet, and Taixu (1890–1947) in China, Japanese monks mounted their defense of Jambudvīpa and Mount Sumeru through the construction of a scientific Buddhism and the formulation of indigenous and alternative modernities. In the end, however, worldviews live and die not by government fiat or by religious dictate. Neither state ministries nor monastic elites can ultimately impose or regulate the ways in which cultures construct or contest their understandings of the world. Such understandings—produced through long histories of visual culture and everyday practice—are to be found less in official edicts

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C.9 Image of Mount Sumeru, from the Newly Compiled Treasure Calendar Almanac, 1686. Monochrome woodblock book illustration. National Diet Library, Tokyo.

and polemical tracts than within “the library of public information.” Within this vast and popular bibliographic archive, it is perhaps the household compendia, the setsuyōshū and ōzassho 大雑書 owned and consulted across all classes in nineteenth-century Japan, that may best represent “the canon of common knowledge.”49 Setsuyōshū were introduced in chapter 5 as the source of the world map that informed the nineteenth-century painting of Hōtan’s map of Jambudvīpa. The related genre of ōzassho (literally “voluminous writings on miscellanea”) was initially produced as almanacs to calculate auspicious and inauspicious days and other basic calendrical and agricultural information. By the mid-nineteenth century, ōzassho expanded to become, like setsuyōshū, single-­volume reference works for the general public. Such handbooks of essential knowledge, found alike in the urban homes of merchant townspeople and the rural homes of village headmen, explicitly prioritized Buddhist cosmology and geography. Nearly every ōzassho published before the twentieth century opened with a detailed illustration and explanation of the Mount Sumeru universe, from the 1686 Newly Compiled Treasure Calendar Almanac (Shinsen hōreki ōzassho 新撰宝暦大雑書) to the 1899 Complete Almanac of Fortune’s Source and Happiness’s Many Treasures (Unki kongen fokurokuju banpō ōzassho taisei 運気根元福禄寿万宝大雑書大全) (figs. C.9

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C.10 Image of Mount Sumeru, from the Complete Almanac of Fortune’s Source and Happiness’s Many Treasures, 1899. Monochrome woodblock book illustration. National Diet Library, Tokyo.

and C.10).50 Although separated by more than two hundred years, both almanacs depict, name, and describe the four peaks that crown Mount Sumeru, the palace of Indra and the domain of the Thirty-Three Gods on its summit, the terraces of the Yaksas and the Four Divine Kings on its slopes, the rings of mountains and seas that radiate from its base, the four great continents in its outermost ocean, and the sun and moon that orbit it. Both also include the same inscription describing the different colors—yellow, blue, white, and red— of the four faces of Mount Sumeru. An image of Mount Sumeru accompanied by the same inscription is similarly contained in the opening pages of the almanacs published annually throughout the late nineteenth century, such as the Eitai ōzassho banreki taisei 永代大雜書萬曆大成 issued in 1842 and 1856; the Eitai manreki ōzassho taizen 永代萬曆大雜書大全 and Meiji ōzassho sanzesō 明 治大雑書三世相 issued in 1882; the Eitai ōzassho sanzesō 永代大雜書 三世相

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issued in 1883, 1885, and 1894; the Sanzesō kai banpō ōzassho 三世相解万宝大 雑書 and Manzai ōzassho Meiji shinkoku 万歳大雑書明治新刻 issued in 1889; the Eitai ōzassho sanzesō minka hitsuyō 永代大雑書三世相民家必用 and Sanzesō eitai ōzassho 三世相永代大雑書 issued in 1890; and the Eiryaku ōzassho taisei banmin chōhō 永暦大雑書大成 万民重宝 issued in 1902. The almanacs that open with double-page illustrations of Sumeru also contain additional inscriptions. One such inscription, included in all of the almanacs listed above, notes the longevity of the inhabitants of the four great continents: those of the northern continent live 1000 years, those of the eastern continent live 500 years, those of the western continent live 250 years, and those of the southern continent of Jambudvīpa live 100 years. The almanacs of 1842, 1853, 1856, 1883, and 1902 also include the following passage providing a traditional description of the basic structure of the Buddhist universe: Mount Sumeru is extremely large. It surrounds the entire world. The sun and moon orbit the mountain, marking the divisions of night and day. At the summit of the mountain are four peaks, each with eight heavens, making a total of thirty-three heavens and the Heaven of Indra is the thirty-third.

Other inscriptions within the printed image, however, offer less canonical explanations of Buddhist cosmology. The illustrations of Mount Sumeru that appear in the almanacs of 1882, 1890, and 1894 are accompanied by the following passage: According to the explanation of the True Pillar of Heaven, the Thirty-­ Three Heavens above Mount Sumeru is the realm of the sun; the mountains and seas surrounding it are the two planets of Venus and Mercury; and the Four Great Continents are the planets of Earth, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. The Thirty-Three Heavens, comprised of eight heavens above each of the four peaks of Mount Sumeru and the heaven of Indra is the realm of Takamagahara where Amaterasu, the Sun Goddess, and the myriad deities reside.

The source cited in this passage is Tsurumine Shigenobu’s True Pillar of Heaven of 1821, discussed in chapter 6, which attempts to reconcile European astronomy and Buddhist cosmology with the mythology of the Kojiki. Tsurumine, the son of a shrine priest, studied both Nativism and astronomical physics. Like his predecessors Hattori Nakatsune and Hirata Atsutane and like his contemporary Satō Nobuhiro, Tsurumine sought to reconcile the Age of the Gods described in ancient Japanese records with the planetary theory of contemporary

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European astronomy. But into this mix, Tsurumine added Buddhist cosmology as well. Tsurumine’s inclusive, cumulative, and hybrid universe is preserved and depicted in the almanacs of the late Meiji period, situated within the classical iconography of the Mount Sumeru world picture. Such nineteenth-century almanacs are an ecumenical genre. The Eitai ōzassho banreki taisei, for example, introduces its image of Mount Sumeru with a set of three preceding illustrations. In the first, the assembled kami of the Age of the Gods attempt to coax Amaterasu out of the Rock Cave on the High Plane of Heaven. In the second, Daoist masters consult divination manuals in an elaborate Chinese palace setting. In the third, the Buddha preaches a sutra to his assembled disciples on an Indian mountain peak. The page immediately following the image of Mount Sumeru continues to underscore the combinatory cosmology of the genre. It depicts a Chinese celestial globe, with a Buddhist wish-fulfilling jewel serving as its finial, and a diagram of the sun’s orbit of the earth. Indeed, all of the almanacs listed above, published from 1842 to 1902, include a double-page image of Mount Sumeru and an image of a celestial globe, followed by a diagram of the earth’s orbit around the sun.51 These two iconographies of the universe, treated as rivals on the frontispiece of Kamuro’s Three-Character Classic on Astronomy, are thus united within the pages of the popular almanac from the mid-nineteenth into the first decade of the twentieth century. Neither the government imposition of the Gregorian calendar and heliocentric astronomy in 1872 nor the prohibition against teaching the cosmology of Mount Sumeru in 1877 marked the end of the Buddhist worldview. Indeed, the events seem to have had little immediate effect on the way in which the Japanese populace understood the universe and their place in it. The image of the world found in household reference books and popular almanacs, the basic compendia of knowledge essential to the practice of everyday life, remained rooted in a classical Indian Buddhist cosmology upheld by Chinese traditions of divination and geomancy and populated by the gods of Japanese antiquity. Even at the advent of the twentieth century, the Buddhist view of the world, represented by Mount Sumeru and the continent of Jambudvīpa, remained the foundational and iconographic ground of all sourcebooks of common knowledge. This worldview was constructed and maintained through a long history of visual culture: depicted in diagrams, maps, and models; produced, reproduced, and circulated in manuscript and print; collected in temples, bookstores, and private homes; and found in bibliographic sources as varied as Buddhist treatises, scholarly encyclopedias, and popular almanacs. Although represented most emblematically in maps, the history of the Japanese Buddhist view of the world is more than a history of cartography; it is a history of vision and of knowledge

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expressed, contested, and transformed through all forms of media—a history that was never singular nor stable but always fluid. Such fluidity has characterized the history, meanings, and functions of the Japanese Buddhist world map as well. From its earliest extant depiction in the fourteenth century through its replication and transformation throughout the nineteenth century, it is a worldview that found formal representation in Japanese visual culture and theoretical articulation in the Buddhist culture of vision. Within the visual and visionary imagination of such figures as Myōe, Jūkai, Sōkaku, Hōtan, Entsū, and Sada, the writings of Xuanzang and Vasubandhu guided Japanese Buddhists back to a land of origin and authenticity. This history of Buddhist worldmaking was never a simple return to the past but rather a continual process of constructing present and future worlds. Neither Xuanzang nor Vasubandhu would have recognized the islands of Japan, Putuoshan, Europe, or the Americas that came to populate their Buddhist world nor the airships and astronomical clocks with which to observe and measure it. Yet throughout the centuries of replication, transformation, and mechanical reproduction, one constant endured: the Japanese Buddhist world map remained a site of transcultural encounters, exchange, contestation, and appropriation, as well as grounds for the negotiation and articulation of Japanese Buddhist identity.

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Notes

Works frequently cited in the notes can be identified by the following abbreviations: Dai Nihon Bukkyō zensho Dai Nihon shiryō Kokushi taikei Meiji Bukkyō shisō shiryō shūsei Meiji Bukkyō zenshū Nihon kindai shisō taikei Nihon kochizu shūsei Nihon koten bungaku taikei Nihon shisō taikei Shintei zōho shiseki shūran Shintō taikei Sōgō Bukkyō daijiten Taishō shinshū daizōkyō

DNBZ DNS KT MBS MBZ NKST NKS NKBT NST SZS ST SBD T

INTRODUCTION 1. Strickmann, “India in the Chinese Looking-Glass,” 53; Bagchi, “Ancient Chinese Names of India.” 2. Kyakuhai mōki, in Kamata and Tanaka, Kamakura kyū bukkyō, 111. 3. Barrett, “Exploratory Observations,” 102–103. 4. Blair, Real and Imagined, 132. 5. See Eckel, To See the Buddha; Kinnard, Imaging Wisdom; Rotman, Thus I Have Seen. 6. Myōe shōnin shingen denki, in Kōzanji Tenseki Monjo Sōgō Chōsadan, Myōe shōnin shiryō, 1:237. 7. On Buddhist eschatology, see Nattier, Once upon a Future Time. 8. A similarly worded lament, articulating Myōe’s connection of temporal and spatial distance from the Buddha, appears in the second fascicle of Myōe’s Kōmyō Shingon dosha kanjin ki: “We have been born into this tiny country in the borderlands at the end of the evil last age . . . two thousand years removed from the Buddha and several thousand miles from the sites commemorating his life,” quoted in Unno, Shingon Refractions, 246. Earlier Chinese Buddhist pilgrims to India also shared Myōe’s

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regret. Faxian “cried in deep sorrow” when he visited Vulture Peak in the early fifth century and bemoaned that he “was not yet born at the time of the Buddha and was able to see only the footprints and monuments left by him.” T 51:863a.2–4. 9. Daziensi Sanzang fashi zhuan, in T 50:227b; Li, Biography, 43. 10. Togano-o Myōe shōnin denki, in Kubota and Yamaguchi, Myōe shōnin shū, 134. 11. Translation from Morrell, Early Kamakura Buddhism, 105–106. 12. This account appears in the Kasuga Gongen genki of 1309. See Tyler, Miracles of the Kasuga Deity, 274. Morrell identifies and translates other versions of the narrative in Early Kamakura Buddhism, 107–111. 13. Tyler, Miracles of the Kasuga Deity, 276. 14. McMahan, Empty Vision, 2. 15. Ibid., 5. 16. Jacob, Sovereign Map, 99. 17. Harley, “Map and the Development of the History of Cartography,” 1. 18. Harley and Woodward, History of Cartography, 1:xvi. 19. Bray, “Introduction,” 2. 20. See Edney, “Cartography without Progress.” 21. Eckel, To See the Buddha, 51. 22. Certeau, Writing of History, 281. 23. Strong, Relics of the Buddha, 8–12. 24. Xuanzang, Da Tang xi yu ji, in T 51:879a; Li, Record, 68. On Xuangzang and “the cult of traces,” see Eckel, To See the Buddha, 51–72 and Falk, “To Gaze on the Sacred Traces.” 25. On the scriptural basis of such a quest, see Beyer, “Notes on the Vision Quest in Early Mahāyāna.” 26. Babb, “Glancing,” 396. 27. Da Tang xi yu ji, in T 51:882c; Li, Record, 85. 28. Da Tang xi yu ji, in T 51:878c; Li, Record, 67. 29. Mahāparinibbāna Sutta, in Walshe, Thus I Have Heard, 264. 30. I am grateful to Gregory Schopen for first alerting me to this distinction. See Waldschmitt, Mahāparinirvāṇa-sūtra, 3:388–389. 31. See Harrison, “Commemoration and Identification.” 32. See Da Ban Niepan Jing 大般涅槃經, in T 1:199b29–c11; cf. Foshuo Chang Ahanjing 佛 說長阿含經 (Skt. Dīrgha Āgama), in T 1:26a3–13; Bannihuan Jing 般泥洹經, in T 1:188a26–b5; and Genben Shuo Yiqie Youbu Pinaiye Zashi 根本說一切有部毘奈耶雜 事 (Skt. Mūlasarvāstivāda-vinaya- kṣudrakavastu), in T 24:399a9–15. 33. Jacob, Sovereign Map, 2.

1. PILGRIMAGE AND THE VISUAL IMAGINATION 1. According to Taniguchi Kosei, the painting is listed as a “map of Tenjiku” 天竺圖 in Hōryūji Kitamuro-in monjo 法隆寺北室院文書 documents of 1516 and 1686. Taniguchi, “Genjōsanzō-e,” 233. 2. For English-language studies of Jōkei, see Morrell, Early Kamakura Buddhism, 66–88; Ford, Jōkei and Buddhist Devotion.

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3. For English-language studies of Myōe, see Morrell, Early Kamakura Buddhism, 44–65; Tanabe, Myōe the Dreamkeeper; and Unno, Shingon Refractions. For Eison and Shunjō, see Quinter, From Outcasts to Emperors. 4. On the cults of Shōtoku and Śākyamuni at medieval Hōryūji, see Carr, “Pieces of Princes.” 5. DNS, vol. 6, pt. 22, 900. Jūkai (also read Chōkai) is identified as a Kōfukuji monk in Hasegawa, Kōshō Bosatsu gokyōkai, 235. 6. DNS, vol. 6, pt. 17, 486. 7. Ibid., vol. 6, pt. 14, 209, vol. 6, pt. 17, 476, vol. 6, pt. 20, 155; Takeda, Hōryūji nenpyō, 59. 8. On the Taishidenkenmonki, see Makino, “Shinshutsu Shōtoku Taishiden nishū.” 9. Nara Kokuritsu Bunkazai Kenkyūjo, Saidaiji Eison denki shūsei, 62–63. For a reproduction of Jūkai’s holograph manuscript, see Nara Kokuritsu Hakubutsukan, Nara Saidaiji ten, 34–35. 10. Takeda, Hōryūji nenpyō, 60–61. 11. DNS, vol. 6, pt. 23, 356; Takeda, Hōryūji nenpyō, 60. On the Jōgūōin, see Tōno, “Shoki no Taishi shinkō to Jōgūōin.” 12. Taniguchi, “Genjōsanzō-e,” 12. 13. Takahashi, Sanetaka kōki, 2:117–118. On the Illustrated Life, see Saunders, “Xuanzang’s Journey to the East.” 14. Tsuji, Daijōin jisha zōjiki, 1:104. 15. See Saiki, “Chūsei Nantō ni okeru Genjō Sanzō to Tenjiku kan.” 16. T 55:367c.26–28; Taniguchi, “Genjōsanzō e,” 8. 17. Ouyang Xiu, Ouyang Xiu quanji, vol. 5, folio 125, 1901; Wong, “Making of a Saint,” 72. 18. Hara, “Shaka jūroku zenshin zō,” 216. 19. Taniguchi, “Genjōsanzō e,” 8; Wong, “Making of a Saint,” 71–72. 20. See Mair, “Origins of an Iconographic Form of the Pilgrim Hsuan-tsang.” 21. For fourteenth-century examples of both types, see Śākyamuni Triad with the Sixteen Protectors of the Great Wisdom Sutra (2112.18) and Portrait of Xuanzang with Attendant (29.160.29) in the collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. 22. Certeau, Writing of History, 280–282. 23. For examples, see Nara Kokuritsu Hakubutsukan, Tenjiku e: Sanzō hōshi sanman kiro no tabi, 169–187, and Nara Kenritsu Hakubutsukan, Sanzō hōshi no michi, 255–273. 24. See Dudbridge, Hsi-yu chi, 25–51 and Nakano, “Densetsu no naka no Sanzō hōshi.” 25. Stanislas Julien noted this difference between the two texts in his early translation of Xuanzang’s Record. Julien, Mémoirs sur les contrées occidentales, 1:viii. 26. Bray, “Introduction,” 2. 27. Translation from Saunders, “Xuanzang’s Journey to the East,” 373. Cf. Da ziensi Sanzang fa shi zhuan, 222c.; Li, Biography, 18–19. 28. On dreams of Mount Sumeru in Japanese literature, see Komine, “Shumisen sekai no gensetsu.”

NOTES TO PAGES 17–22

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29. Jacob, Sovereign Map, 2. 30. Certeau, Practice of Everyday Life, 92. 31. Carr, Plotting the Prince, 172. 32. Carr, “Medieval Illustrations,” 82. 33. See ten Grotenhuis, Japanese Mandalas. 34. Sharf, “Visualization and Mandala,” 188. 35. Mair, “Records of Transformation Tableaux,” 3. See also Wu, “What Is Bianxiang?” 36. The term “mandala” has been used to refer to Japanese paintings of Amitābha’s Pure Land since at least the eleventh century. See Tsukamoto, “Jōdohenshi gaisetsu,” 27. 37. ten Grotenhuis, Japanese Mandalas, 19–21. 38. Gyokuyō, Juei 3/5/24; Takahashi, Kundoku Gyokuyō, 5:275. 39. Hanazono Tennō shinki, Shūchō 2/12/25; Murata, Hanazono Tennō shinki, 3:163. 40. Kupfer, “Mappaemundi,” 261. 41. See Connolly, “Imagined Pilgrimage.” 42. Da Tang xi yu ji, 875b; Li, Record, 50. 43. For similar models in the Hindu Purāṇas and Jain sources, see Huntington, Creating the Universe, 17–27. 44. Vasubandhu, Abhidharmakośabhāṣyam, 2:451–455. 45. Da Tang xi yu ji, 869a. 46. The yojana, a classical Indian unit of linear measurement, is approximately nine miles according to some sources and approximately half that number according to others. Gombrich, “Ancient Indian Cosmology,” 127. 47. Da Tang xi yu ji, 869c; Li, Record, 18. 48. Suiko 20/5/5, in NKBT 68:199. 49. Saimei 3/7/15, in NKBT 68:331. Tukhāra may refer to either Dvaravati in modern Thailand or Tocharia in the Tarim Basin of Central Asia. 50. Saimei 5/3/17, in NKBT 68:337. 51. Saimei 6/5/8, in NKBT 68:343. 52. For a recent study and survey of past research on the Sumeru stone, see Sotomura, “Asuka no shumisenishi.” 53. For a detailed analysis of the panels, see Jamentz, “Hōryūji shozō Gotenjikuzu.” 54. Jacob, Sovereign Map, 214–215. 55. Yee, “Chinese Cartography among the Arts,” 128. 56. Ibid., 137; Yee, “Chinese Maps in Political Culture,” 91. 57. See Genette, “Introduction to the Paratext.” 58. Jacob, Sovereign Map, 242. 59. Da Tang xi yu ji, 869a.20–23; Li, Record, 17. 60. Da Tang xi yu ji, 869b.1–4; Li, Record, 17. 61. Da Tang xi yu ji, 869b.20–21, 23–24, 869c.4–7; Li, Record, 19. 62. Cf. Da Tang xi yu ji, 872a.2–25; Li, Record, 31. 63. On the accounts of all three pilgrims, see Boulton, “Early Chinese Buddhist Travel Records.” 64. Cf. Daziensi Sanzang fashi zhuan, 221a.8–19; Li, Biography, 7. 65. Cf. Da Tang xi yu ji, 877b.3–11; Li, Record, 58–59.

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NOTES TO PAGES 22–43

66. Cf. Da Tang xi yu ji, 876c.21–877a.4; Li, Record, 56. 67. Cf. Da Tang xi yu ji, 875b.16–875c.3; Li, Record, 49–51. 68. Cf. Da Tang xi yu ji, 878a–878b; Li, Record, 63–65. 69. Cf. Da Tang xi yu ji, 872c. 70. Da Tang xi yu ji, 873.b; Li, Record, 38. 71. Brown, Cult of Saints, 88–94. 72. Dehejia, “On Modes of Narration,” 383.

2. ISLANDS OF MEANING 1. The cartouche offers two variant transcriptions: 蜻蛉蟲故云秋津嶋. 2. Varley, Chronicle of Gods and Sovereigns, 55; Jinnō shōtōki, in NKBT 87:45. 3. For Chinese parallels, see Forte, “Hui-Chih”; Jinhua Chen, “Borderland Complex”; Hu-von Hinüber, “Faxian’s Perception of India”; and Sen, Buddhism, Diplomacy, and Trade. 4. See, for example, Bonmōkyō honsho nisshushō, T 62:168.c.20. 5. On this trope, see Uchida, “Zokusan henshu ron,” Uchida, Nihon no shūkyōteki fudō; Narusawa, Seiji no kotoba; Sasaki, “Sangoku buppō shikan”; Unno, “Zokusan hendo to Dainihonkoku”; Sueki, “Bukkyōteki sekaikan”; and Itō, “Dainihonkoku setsu.” 6. Such expressions are found in a wide range of texts, such as the late tenth-­century Utsubo monogatari, Sambō ekotoba, and Nihon ōjō gokurakuki; the eleventh-­century Hokke genki; the twelfth-century Ōkagami and Konjaku monogatari; the thirteenth-­ century Uji shūi monogatari, Fusō ryakki, Heike monogatari, and Genpei jōsuiki; and the fourteenth-century Hōgen monogatari and Taiheiki. 7. Myōe shōnin shingen denki, 237. 8. Carr, “Plotting the Prince,” 100. 9. Ford, Jōkei and Buddhist Devotion, 80; Grapard, Protocol of the Gods, 211. 10. Shozan engi, in Sakurai, Jisha engi, 90. 11. Keiran shūyōshū, in T 76:518a.25–29. 12. See Toby, “Three Realms/Myriad Countries.” On sangoku discourse in medieval Japan, see Ichikawa, Nihon chūsei no rekishi ishiki. 13. See Wakabayashi, “Sangoku Shisō and Japan’s Identity.” 14. Blum, “Sangoku-Mappō Construct,” 35. 15. Ibid., 36–37. 16. Blum, “Sangoku-Mappō Construct,” 49. 17. On this “hermeneutics of reversal,” see Stone, Original Enlightenment, 164–168. 18. Kuji hongi gengi, in ST, Ronsetsu-hen, 3, Tendai Shintō 1:69. 19. Heian ibun, 12:6ff. See also Seki, Heian jidai no maikyō to shakyō, 5. On Michinaga’s sutra burial, see Moerman, “Archeology of Anxiety” and Blair, Real and Imagined. 20. Seki, Kyōzuka ibun, 21, 26–27, 42, 59, 129, 132, 158–159. 21. Ibid., 141, 143. 22. On the Ise burials, see Moerman, “Underground Buddhism.” 23. Kuroita, Chōya gunsai, 59. 24. Ibid., 49. 25. Ibid., 48, 51–52.

NOTES TO PAGES 43–58

307

26. Ibid., 49. 27. Ibid., 55. 28. Emmaten gusaimon, Tenjō 2, in Kōzanji Tenseki Monjo Sōgō Chōsadan, Kōzanji kotenseki sanshū, 599. The prayer of 1140 is quoted in Kamikawa, “Chūsei bukkyō to ‘Nihonkoku,’” 41. Gofukakusa’s vow is collected in Hanawa Hokiichi, Keiyōshō, 354–355. 29. Tenbō rinshō, in Nagai, Agui shōdōshū, 1:232, 269. 30. See Itō, “Dainihonkoku setsu.” 31. See Noda, “Bōnotsu Ichijō-in shōgyō ruitō shoshū Nihonzu.” 32. Quoted in Itō, “Dainihonkoku setsu,” 36. The Himitsu ki also uses the iconography of the mandala to explain the Five Regions of India as the Five Wisdoms, the Sixteen Great Countries as the Sixteen Bodhisattvas, and the Five Hundred Middle-Sized Countries as the five groups of the Diamond Realm mandala. Tsuji, Murōjishi no kenkyū, 144–146. 33. Keiran shūyōshū, 757c. 34. Jingi hishō, in ST, Ronsetsu-hen, 1, Shingon Shintō 1:177–210, 188; cf. Itō, “Dainichi honkoku-setsu ni tsuite,” 35. 35. Bikishō, in ST, Ronsetsu-hen, 2, Shingon Shintō 2:518. 36. See Kuroda, “Gyōkishiki Nihonzu”; Kuroda, Ryū no sumu Nihon; Unno, “Kigan majinai ni tsukawareta Nihonzu”; and Dolce, “Mapping the Divine Country.” On Gyōki as seer, see Lafleur, Karma of Words, 157–159. 37. Itō, “Dainihonkoku setsu,” 32; Itō, “Shasekishū to chūsei shintō.” 38. See Itō, “Medieval Cult of Gyōki.” 39. Keiran shūyōshū, 519a–b. 40. See Rosenfield, Courtly Tradition, 104–109; Komine, “Shumisen sekai no gensetsu”; Komine, “Shumisen no chōjō o yuki”; and Gao, “Shumisen to tenjō sekai.” 41. This spatial model, which posits the people beyond one’s borders as barbarians of the four cardinal directions, is informed by the classical Chinese idea of the Central Kingdom (Zhongguo 中國) found in such early sources as the Book of Rites (Liji 禮記). 42. See Ōji, Echizu no sekaizō, 111–120, 190–200. On Gandō, see Aoyama, Zenkindai chizu, 41–99. On Rasetsukoku, see Moerman, “Demonology and Eroticism.” 43. See Kuroda, “Gyōkishiki Nihonzu”; Kuroda, Ryū no sumu Nihon. 44. The relationship between these two maps will be discussed in chapter 3. 45. On the representation of Lake Anavatapta in the Daigoji scroll, see Gao, “Idea of the Anavatapta Lake.” 46. Unno, “Shūgaishō koshahon ni okeru chizu” and Unno, “Maps of Japan Used in Prayer Rites,” 81. 47. Aoyama Hirō dates the map to the late Muromachi period. Aoyama, Zenkindai chizu, 44. 48. Four different seventeenth-century printed editions are to be found in the collections of the Tokyo National Museum, Sagenta Okazawa, Kintarō Fukushima, and the National Museum of Japanese History and Culture. Aoyama, Zenkindai chizu, 44. 49. Da Tang xi yu ji, 923a.14–18; Li, Record, 321. Xuanzang’s Record, however, was one of the last Chinese Buddhist texts to locate Mount Potalaka on the mainland. The Flower Garland Sutra, the Sutra of the Thousand-Armed Avalokiteśvara, and

308

NOTES TO PAGES 58–78

the Thousand-Eyed Thousand-Armed Avalokiteśvara Great Compassionate Heart Dhāranī, all of which were in circulation at the beginning of the ninth century, describe Potalaka as an island. 50. Quoted in Zhipan’s Fozu tongji of 1269, in T 49:388b–c. Translation from Yu, Kuanyin, 373. 51. Bingenheimer, Island of Guanyin, 56–60. 52. Ide, “Nagano Jōshōjishozō Putuoluoshan shengjingtu,” 48. 53. Ibid., 47. 54. Yu, Kuan-yin, 370. I am grateful to Dr. Yu for the identification of these place names. 55. Verschuer, Across the Perilous Sea, 39. 56. Yu, Kuan-yin, 370. 57. Ibid., 384. On Egaku, see Peri and Maspero, “Le Monastére de la Kouan-Yin”; Hashimoto, “Egaku Oshō denkō”; and Bingenheimer, Island of Guanyin, 80–83. 58. In earlier accounts of the founding, a Korean merchant fills the role of the traveling Japanese monk. Bingenheimer, Island of Guanyin, 82. 59. See Fozu tongji, 388b, and Shishi jigu lue, in T 49:853a–b. 60. Kōkan, Genkō shakusho, 234. 61. Bingenheimer, Island of Guanyin, 216n33. 62. Takeda, Hōryūji nenpyō, 59. 63. A similar image of Potalaka, which also depicts monks arriving by small boats, is painted on the interior of a miniature shrine in the collection of Daizenji. See Nara Kokuritsu Hakubutsukan, Saigoku sanjūsansho, 160. 64. For an illustration, see Okazaki, Pure Land Buddhist Painting, 76. 65. For an illustration, see ten Grotenhuis, Japanese Mandalas, 160. 66. For an illustration, see Nara Kokuritsu Hakubutsukan, Saigoku sanjūsansho, 129. 67. For an illustration, see Nara Kokuritsu Hakubutsukan, Saigoku sanjūsansho, 130; Ford, Jōkei and Buddhist Devotion, 95. 68. For an illustration, see Nara Kokuritsu Hakubutsukan, Saigoku sanjūsansho, 131; Ford, Jōkei and Buddhist Devotion, 27. 69. Ford, Jōkei and Buddhist Devotion, 91–92. 70. T 84:887a. Translation from Ford, Jōkei and Buddhist Devotion, 92. 71. See Nei, Fudaraku tōkai shi and Moerman, “Passage to Fudaraku.” 72. The eighteenth is the bodhisattva’s karmic day (ennichii 縁日). 73. In the Lotus Sutra, the Dragon Girl attains buddhahood by “immediately going south to the world sphere Spotless, sitting on a jeweled lotus blossom, and achieving undifferentiated, right, enlightenment.” T 9:35c.16. 74. On the Land of Demon Women, see Moerman, “Demonology and Eroticism.” 75. T 84:887c.24–27. 76. SBD 443c. 77. For a fourteenth-century Chinese example, see Nara Kokuritsu Hakubutsukan, Saikoku sanjūsansho, 177. For a fourteenth-century Japanese example, see Woodson and Mellott, Exquisite Pursuits, 31. 78. Nei, Fudaraku tōkai shi, 718.

NOTES TO PAGES 78–88

309

3. ANTECEDENTS AND AFTERIMAGES 1. In the many numerical notations throughout the manuscript, for example, the characters for ten 十 and one thousand 千 are often confused. 2. Ledyard, “Cartography in Korea,” 255. 3. Fozu tongji, 475b.23–24. 4. Miya, Mongoru teikoku ga unda sekaizu, 178. 5. Fozu tongji, 314.a.2–9; cf. Da Tang xi yu ji, 869b. 6. On Zhipan’s maps and their sources, see Park, “Buddhist Woodblock-Printed Map,” and Park, “Information Synthesis and Space Creation.” 7. Fozu tongji, 313a.22–29. 8. T 29:58a15–17. 9. T 2025:1144c28. See Auerback, Storied Sage, 271, n133. 10. Muroga and Unno, “Nihon ni okonawareta Bukkyō kei sekaizu,” 83–85. 11. Unno, “Cartography in Japan,” 375. 12. The Shūgaishō versions also record additional data not found on the Daigoji map, listing the height of the heavens (78,940 ri), the thickness of Earth (59,049 ri), the distance from India to China (168,000 ri), and the distance from China to Japan (3,700 ri). 13. Shimizu, “Copying in Japanese Art,” 791. On copying in the history of Japanese painting, see Jordan, “Copying from Beginning to End.” On copying in Japanese manuscript culture, see Hiroki, “Letting the Copy out the Window”; on copying in Japanese Buddhist scribal culture, see Lowe, “Buddhist Manuscript Cultures.” On copying more generally, see Cox, Culture of Copying in Japan. 14. McCallum, Zenkōji, 12. 15. The same may be said of McCallum’s principal examples: the icons of Zenkōji and Seiryōji. 16. Taussig, Mimesis and Alterity, 2. 17. Brock, “My Reflection,” 113. 18. Benjamin, “Work of Art,” 224. 19. Ibid., 226. 20. De Weerdt, “Maps and Memory,” 163. 21. Korzybski, Science and Sanity, 58. See also Smith, Map Is Not Territory. 22. See Turnbull, Maps Are Territories and Baudrillard, Simulation and Simulacra, 1. 23. The name is inscribed across the seam where the map has been backed with additional sheets of paper and thus may not have appeared in its earliest state. 24. For the relations between the Tsutsui house, Junshō, and Kōfukuji, see Tamon’in nikki, in Takeuchi, Zōho zoku shiryō taisei, 38:370–404. On the relations between Tsutsui Junkei and Hōryūji, see DNS 85:149. 25. See Takuichi, “Sōkaku Risshi den.” 26. On Sōkaku’s map of China, see Lukacs, “Da Ming Sheng Gua.” 27. Takuichi, “Sōkaku Risshi den,” 15. 28. Muroga and Unno, “Nihon ni okonawareta Bukkyō-kei sekaizu,” 89n6. 29. DNBZ 1917, Yūhōden sōshō, 2:1–29. The documents are also published in the later edition of Dai Nihon Bukkyō zensho, in which the photograph of the Hōshō-in map is replaced by a photograph of the copy owned by Kongozanmai-in. DNBZ 87:328–340.

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30. Yūhōden sōsho, 2:1a–b, in DNBZ 1917. 31. Yūhōden sōsho, 2:1a, in DNBZ 1917. For other paintings by Ninkai, see Zōjōji shiryō hensanjo, Zōjōji shiryōshū, suppl.:22. Ninkai is also associated with another important replication tradition in Japanese Buddhist painting. He is the author of the Taima hensō shiki, a study of the Taima mandala and its copies. See ten Grotenhuis, Revival of the Taima Mandala, 117–118. 32. Gizan was an important scholar-monk of the Pure Land tradition who produced doctrinal commentaries (Shaku Jōdo gungiron 釋淨土群疑論, Jubosatsu kaigi yōge 授 菩薩戒儀要解), illustrated biographies of Hōnen (Enkō Daishi gyōjō yokusan 圓光大 師行狀翼賛, Hōnen Shōnin gyōjō ezu 法然上人行狀畫圖), a work on the Taima mandala (Taima mandara jusshōki 當麻曼荼羅述獎記), and the definitive guide to Buddhist iconography (Butsuzō zui 佛像圖彙). 33. Yūhōden sōsho, 2:2b, in DNBZ 1917. 34. Ibid., 2:18b–19a. 35. Muroga and Unno, “Nihon ni okonawareta Bukkyō-kei sekaizu,” 89n5. 36. Nara Kokuritsu Hakubutsukan, Tenjiku e, 233.

4. HYBRID CARTOGRAPHIES 1. See Toby, “Three Realms/Myriad Countries.” 2. Schurhammer and Wicki, Epistolae, 2:373. 3. Ibid., 2:265. 4. Frois, Historia, 1:164. 5. Ibid., 1:193. 6. Ibid., 1:219. 7. Ibid., 3:202–203. 8. Valignano, Sumario, 150–151. 9. Sakuma, “1596 nendo Iezusu Kai nenpō,” 349. 10. Baskin and Bowring, Myōtei Dialogues, 124. 11. For a facsimile edition of the Latin and Japanese manuscripts, see Kirishitan Bunko Library, Compendium Catholicae Veritatis. For the edited Latin text and English translation, see Hiraoka, “Jesuit Cosmological Textbook.” 12. Cieslik, “Case of Christovão Ferreira,” 43. Its more direct source may have been Franciscus Titelmans’s (1502–1537) Compendium Philosophiae Naturalis, first published in 1540. 13. Hiraoka, “Jesuit Cosmological Textbook,” 108. 14. Valignano, Catechismus christianae fidei, quoted in Hiraoka, Nanbankei uchūron, 49. 15. Quoted in Hiraoka, Nanbankei uchūron, 210. 16. Baskin and Bowring, Myōtei Dialogues, 182. 17. The events in the text are related by Razan in the third person. Razan, Hai Yaso, in Ebisawa, Kirishitansho sho haiyaso, 413. See also Elison, Deus Destroyed, 150. 18. For a listing of Ricci’s maps, see Day, “Search for the Origins of the Chinese Manuscript Copies of Matteo Ricci’s Maps.” 19. Hostetler, Qing Colonial Enterprise, 53. 20. Zhang, Making the New World Their Own, 45.

NOTES TO PAGES 113–136

311

21. Translation from Zhang, Making the New World Their Own, 57. 22. Zhang, Making the New World Their Own, 57–63. 23. Zhang Heng, Commentary on the Armillary Sphere (Hunyi zhu 渾儀汪), trans. Needham and Ling, Science and Civilization in China, 3:217. 24. Akin, “Printed Maps in Late Ming Publishing Culture,” 219–220. 25. Translation from Chen, “Human Body as a Universe,” 542. 26. D’Elia, “Recent Discoveries,” 126. 27. Sancai tuhui, 3:1b–2a. 28. Bray, “Introduction,” 3. 29. Sancai tuhui, 3:4b. 30. On the relationship between Terajima’s and Wang’s compendia, see Inden, “Wakan sansai zue ni miru taigai ninshiki.” 31. Terajima, Wakan sansai zue, 55:3b. 32. Ōba, “Sino-Japanese Relations,” 60. 33. Translation from Cooper, Japanese Mission to Europe, 206. 34. Bartoli, Dell’Historia della compagnia del Giesu, quoted in McKelway, Capitalscapes, 167. 35. Pinto and Bernard, “Les instructions du Pere Valignano,” 402. 36. On the mission, see Cooper, Japanese Mission to Europe; Elisonas, “Journey to the West”; Massarella, Japanese Travelers. On the atlases, see Koeman, History of Abraham Ortelius and Keuning, “Civitas of Braun and Hogenberg.” 37. Onoda, “Reception of Maps between Japan and the West,” 38. 38. Ortelius, Theatrum [unfoliated] 4 recto, quoted in Melion, “Ad ductum itineris,” 51. 39. Quoted in Melion, “Ad ductum itineris,” 51. 40. Ibid., 49. 41. Ibid., 52. 42. Massarella, Japanese Travelers, 33. 43. Ibid., 440. 44. Ibid., 441. 45. Ibid., 447. Valignano’s characterization of Asia and India differs markedly from that of Ortelius, who wrote in his Theatrum: “There is no goodly and famous a country in the world, nor larger, comprehended under one and the same name than India. It storeth all the world with spices, pearls, and precious stones, as having greater plenty of these commodities than all the countries of the whole world besides.” Ortelius, Theater of the Whole World, 108. 46. Ayusawa, “Geography and Japanese Knowledge of World Geography,” 276. 47. For a list of these screens, see Unno, “Cartography in Japan,” app. 11.4, 461–463. 48. For a detailed study of this process, see Loh, “When Worlds Collide.” 49. On the conventions of gold clouds in screen paintings, see McKelway, Capital­ scapes, 17–22; Klein, Japanese Kinbyōbu. 50. Now in the collections of the Nanban Bunka-kan in Osaka, Kawamori Koji, Ogawa Sabenta, and Fukushima Kitaro. Loh, “When Worlds Collide,” 153. 51. Lutz, Japan, 194–195. 52. On the multiple sources of the Bankoku sōzu, see Papelitzky, “Description and Analysis of the Japanese World Map.”

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53. See Unno, “Shōhō kan Bankoku sōzu.” 54. On these prints, see Toby, “Imagining and Imaging.” 55. Akin, “Printed Maps in Late Ming Publishing Culture,” 179. 56. Fajie anli tu, preface, 1a. 57. Tushu bian, 29:50b–51a, with explanatory text on Jambudvīpa and Buddhist cosmology continuing to 51b. 58. “Byzantium,” transcribed with the characters 拂菻, also appears along the western border of Jūkai’s map. 59. North of Koṅkaṇapura, Xuanzang describes “a wood of tala trees more than 30 li in circumference.” Da Tang xi yu ji, 934c; Li, Record, 334. 60. Muroga and Unno, “Nihon ni okonawareta Bukkyō kei sekaizu,” 110. 61. Ibid., 111. 62. The European-style world map screens in the collections of Yamamoto Hisashi, Kobayashi Ataru, Kawamura Heiemon, and Jōtokuji all include a similar red line marking the trade routes from Portugal and Spain to East Asia. See Unno, “Cartography in Japan,” 461. 63. Nishikawa, Kai tsūshōkō, 2:1a–2a, 40b–41b. 64. Da Tang xi yu ji, 932a; Li, Record, 322. 65. Fozu tongji, 311c.26–27. 66. Cf. Nishikawa, Zōho kai tsūshōkō, 4:2b. 67. Ibid., 5:7b. 68. Ibid., 4:29a. 69. Ibid., 4:19a. 70. Translation from Ch’en, “Matteo Ricci’s Contribution,” 330. 71. Nishikawa, Zōho kai tsūshōkō, 5:23b–24a. 72. See Scobie, “Battle of the Pygmies and the Cranes” and Ovadiah and Muczniuk, “Myth and Reality.” Zheng Qiao’s 鄭樵 (1104–1162) General History (Tong zhi lue 通志畧) also mentions a land of people two to three feet tall who are constantly attacked and carried off by giant birds. Ch’en, “Matteo Ricci’s Contribution,” 330. 73. Nishikawa, Zōho kai tsūshōkō, 4:2a.

5. BUDDHIST CARTOGRAPHY AND PRINT CULTURE 1. Berry, Japan in Print, 18. 2. Established in the early seventeenth century, Nagata is still active today, making it the Japanese publisher with the longest history of continuous activity. Kyoto Shoshi Hensenshi Hensan Iinkai, Kyoto shoshi hensenshi, 269–270. 3. On Hōtan and intellectual interlocutors, see Kanda, “Hōtan, Ansai, Sorai.” 4. Takakusu, “India and Japan,” 36. 5. Jaffe, Seeking Śākyamuni, 10. 6. T 14:522c29–523a1. The phrase “demonstrable in the palm of the hand” (Ch. zhizhang 指掌) also appears in the titles of Chinese maps from the twelfth century. De Weerdt, “Maps and Memory,” 164n1. A similar phrase, “all places in the palm of the hand,” is used by Yuan Taiyuan 阮泰元 in his preface to the 1603 edition of Ricci’s map. D’Elia, “Recent Discoveries,” 144.

NOTES TO PAGES 150–181

313

7. T 37:290b11: 天眼觀大千界如觀掌果. The expression is also found in the Miaofa lianhuajing wenju 妙法蓮華經文句, T 34:15c16–17; the Shoulengyan yishu zhu jing 首楞嚴義疏注經, T 39:848b9–848b17; the Great Collection Sutra 大方等大集經, T 13:136a9; and elsewhere. 8. Konjaku monogatari, 2:19; cf. Dykstra, Konjaku Tales, 1:190. 9. Digital Dictionary of Buddhism, s.v. 五眼. See also Wayman, “Buddhist Theory of Vision.” 10. The phrases “single grain within a vast storehouse,” “horned owl who can catch a flea at night but cannot see a hill at mid-day,” and “frog in the well who knows nothing of the vast oceans” are drawn from the “Autumn Floods” chapter of the Zhuangzi. Li Zhu’s unsuccessful search for the Dark Pearl of the Yellow Emperor is from the “Heaven and Earth” chapter. The Huinanzi also notes that “Li Zhu’s vision was so acute that he could pick out the tip of a needle beyond a hundred paces.” Watson, Chuang Tzu, 176, 180, 186; Major, Huinanzi, 55. 11. The mythical figures Tai Zhang and Shu Hai were ordered by the legendary sageking Yu to pace the dimensions of the world from east to west and from north to south. They appear in both the Huinanzi and the Shanhaijing. See Major, Huinanzi, 155. The figures are also mentioned in a memorial composed by Xuangzang titled Jin Xiyuji biao 進西域記表, when he submitted his Record to the emperor. I am grateful to Guo Jue for bringing Xuanzang’s memorial to my attention. Ban Chao (32–102 CE) was a general who administered to Central Asia during the Eastern Han. Zhang Qian (200–114 BCE) was an imperial envoy who explored Central Asia during the Han. 12. The Ming yitong zhi, an imperial geography compiled under the general directorship of Li Xian 李賢 and Peng Shi 彭時, was first published in 1461. It went through five editions in the Ming, with a Chosǒn edition appearing in 1564 and a Japanese edition in 1713. See Franke, Introduction to the Sources of Ming History, 237. On the historical significance of the text, see Akin, “Printed Maps in Late Ming Publishing Culture,” 59–62. 13. On these sources, see Elman, “Geographical Research in the Ming-Ch’ing” and Elman, “Collecting and Classifying.” 14. The Shijia fangzhi, written by Daoxuan in 650, is a history of the geographic spread of Buddhism from India to China. The work is heavily informed by Xuanzang’s Record. Digital Dictionary of Buddhism, s.v. 釋迦方誌. 15. The expression “visiting distant places without ever traveling beyond one’s garden gate” is drawn from the Yi jing commentary on hexagram 60. See Lynn, Classic of Changes, 519. See also Lynn, Classic of the Way and Virtue, 141. 16. Giles, “Translations from the Chinese World Map of Father Ricci,” 369–370. 17. D’Elia, “Recent Discoveries,” 129, 132. 18. Goree, “Fantasies of the Real,” 110–115. 19. Takakusu, Record of the Buddhist Religion, 19. 20. Ibid., 215. 21. Fozu tongji, 313a.22–29. 22. Cleary, Entry into the Realm of Reality, 366. 23. Da Tang xi yu ji, 872a; Li, Record, 31.

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NOTES TO PAGES 181–187

24. The Japanese publication is not dated, but the title and publisher are listed in a bookseller’s catalogue of 1706. Muroga and Unno, “Nihon ni okonawareta Bukkyō kei sekaizu,” 139n28. 25. A similar line, connecting the first stops on Xuanzang’s itinerary, is also to be found on Zhipan’s Map of the Land of China to the East. Zhipan’s map may thus have informed Hōtan’s aborted effort. 26. The last of these is written 川心國 rather than 穿胸國. 27. Although the island labeled “Land of Women” on the Chinese map is drawn with exactly the same shape in Hōtan’s map, it is unnamed in the latter. 28. Sancai tuhui, 12:6, 13:6, 12. On Fusōkoku, see Schafer, “Fusang and Beyond.” On the Land of Dog People, see He, “Entry of Yaxiya/Asia,” 73–75. 29. Muroga and Unno, “Nihon ni okonowareta Bukkyō-kei sekaizu,” 130. 30. On Witsen and his map, see Keuning, “Nicolaas Witsen” and Baddeley, Russia, Mongolia, China, 1:cxlviii–clii. I am grateful to Kevin Brown for introducing me to the maps of Witsen and his followers. 31. Baddeley, Russia, Mongolia, China, 1:cxxxvi–cxlii. 32. Bagrow, “First Russian Maps of Siberia,” 90. 33. Du Halde, Description, 4:68. 34. Florovsky, “Maps of the Siberian Route,” 107. 35. Bagrow, “First Russian Maps of Siberia,” 91. 36. Keuning, “Nicolaas Witsen,” 109. 37. Later examples include the Nouvelle representation Des Cotes Nord et de l’Asie, published in Diderot’s 1772 Encyclopédie. 38. Da Tang xi yu ji, 934b; Li, Record, 333. This notation also appears on Jūkai’s map and its copies. 39. Da Tang xi yu ji, 934b; Li, Record, 333. 40. For the identification of European place names and their possible sources, see Akioka, Sekai chizu sakusei, 171–181. 41. Oda, Nihon kochizu taisei, sekaizu hen, 22. 42. Muroga and Unno, “Edo jidai kōki ni okeru Bukkyō kei sekaizu,” 150–151. 43. Oda, Nihon kochizu taisei, sekaizu hen, kaisetsu, 6; Yokohama Shiritsu Daigaku, Kochizu, 176. 44. 夫南閻浮提とはしゆみせんの南のかたをいふなり、其南閻浮提に大國十六あり、中 國五百あり、小國十千あり、粟散國無量なり。. 45. Terajima, Wakan sansai zue, 64:15a. 46. Ibid., 64:15a. 47. Ikeuchi, Taikun gaikō to “bui,” 180–181. 48. Kūkai’s legendary battles with Mañjuśri are recounted in the seventeenth-century narrative Karukaya, in which the Shingon master recapitulates the medieval formulation of the superiority of Japan over India. When Mañjuśri warns him, “You come from a small country, Kūkai. Turn back now,” Kūkai replies, “Japan may be small, but it takes after the sun, so it is called the Realm of the Sun. It is a land of the foremost wisdom.” Kimbrough, Wondrous Brutal Fictions, 81. 49. Arano, “Tenjiku no yukue,” 79.

NOTES TO PAGES 188–211

315

50. Ibid., 47. 51. Villiers, “Portuguese and the Trading World of Asia,” 3. 52. Frois, Historia de Japam, 1:138. 53. Groslier, Angkor and Cambodia, 98–99. On the Japanese inscriptions and the illustrated plan of Angkor, see Ishizawa, “World’s Oldest Plan of Angkor Vat.” 54. On the survival of scribal culture in the age of print, see Kornicki, “Manuscript, Not Print.” 55. Tatsuno Shiritsu Rekishi Bunka Shiryōkan, Egakareta Tatsuno, 106. 56. Tohoku Rekishi Hakubutsukan, Machi ezu, 59. 57. Screech, Lens within the Heart, 224–228. 58. Morishima, Kōmō zatsuwa, 1:16a; 2:6b–7a. 59. Juneja and Kravagna, “Understanding Transculturalism,” 24. 60. Ibid., 25.

6. WAR OF THE WORLDS 1. Ōba, “Sino-Japanese Relations,” 57. 2. Ibid., 60; Nakayama, History of Japanese Astronomy, 84. 3. On the relationship between De Sphaera, Nigi ryakusetsu, and Kenkon bensetsu, see Obara, “Kirishitan jidai no kagaku shisō” and Hiraoka, Nanbankei uchūron. 4. For translation and analysis of the text, see Pinto dos Santos, “Study in Cross-Cultural Transmission.” See also Yoshida, “Japanese Reaction to Aristotelian Cosmology.” 5. Pinto dos Santos, “Five Types of Reaction,” 52. 6. Quoted in ibid., 67. 7. Hiraoka Ryūji has more recently argued for a wider circulation of Kenkon bensetsu, Nigi ryakusetsu, and a closely related manuscript titled Nanban unkiron. See Hiraoka, “Transmission of Western Cosmology.” 8. In the late seventeenth century, the bakufu established its own Bureau of Astronomy (Tenmongata), administered by the Shibukawa lineage. The office worked together with the Tsuchimikado lineage, the traditional astronomers of the imperial court, throughout the Tokugawa period. Sugimoto and Swain, Science and Culture in Traditional Japan, 257. 9. Unno, Nihonjin no daichizō, 106. 10. Nakayama, History of Japanese Astronomy, 100–101. 11. Sakanoue’s critique is cited by Minamoto Yoshiyasu 源慶安 (1648–1729), a Ryōbu Shintō priest and advocate of the theory of a spherical Earth, in his Kaisei ryōbu Shintō kuketsu shō 改正両部神道ロ決鈔, 1:8–9. The Sutra on the Contemplation of the True Dharma (Zhengfa nianchu jing 正法念處經), a Chinese recension of the Saddharma-smṛty-upasthāna-sūtra, describes solar and lunar eclipses as the result of battles between asuras and devas. T 721.17.107b13–b22 and 107b28–c16. One of the explanations for lunar eclipses in the Sutra on the Arising of Worlds is that “blue-clad devas” intervene between the earth and the moon. See Beal, Catena of Buddhist Scriptures, 69.

316

NOTES TO PAGES 211–224

12. Ricci’s diagram was reproduced from his Profound Demonstration of the Two Spheres (Liangyi xuanlan tu 兩儀玄覽圖) of 1603. 13. Iguchi Tsunenori, Tenmon zukai, 4:59b. 14. It was reprinted in the Kanei era (1624–1644) in 1646 and again in 1652. The 1652 edition was issued by Nagata, the same publisher that later issued Hōtan’s map. 15. The kana version, Sangaigi kosui 三界義鼓吹, was produced by the monk Jōa 貞阿 and published by Suzuki Tahei 鈴木太兵衛. 16. Kazutaka Unno has identified these distances and place names as corresponding to those in the 1708 expanded edition of Nishikawa’s Thoughts on Trade, the same text that provided the spelling of the European place names included on the Namba map, and thus posits 1708 as the globe’s terminus post quem. 17. Gohō shijiron, 2:16b. 18. Gōtō and Tomoeda, Kumazawa Banzan, 365. Banzan follows this statement with a detailed critique of Buddhist cosmology. 19. Quoted in Nishimura, “Nihon ni okeru shumisen ronsō,” 680. 20. Monnō reads the title, Tenkyō wakumon, as Tenkei wakumon. Monnō, Kyūsen hakkai gechōron; Hi Tenkei wakumon, n.p., 1754, 3b. 21. Hi Tenkei wakumon, 1b. 22. Kyūsen hakkai gechōron, 11a. 23. On Monnō’s text, see Itō, “Shaku Monnō cho Hi shutsujō kōgo.” Monnō’s text is collected in Washio, Nihon shisō tōsō shiryō, 3:239–265. 24. Yoshikawa, Chūkai shutsujō kōgo, 52. 25. Tojimbara, “Fools, Heretics, and Buddhas.” 26. Quoted in Nishimura, “Shumisen to chikyū setsu,” 128. 27. Ōno Susumu, Motoori Norinaga zenshū, 14:171. 28. Ibid., 8:203–219. I am grateful to Tayama Reishi for bringing this text to my attention. 29. On Motoori’s cartographic activities, see Uesugi, Edo chishikijin to chizu. 30. Nakayama, History of Japanese Astronomy, 214–215. 31. Bentley, Anthology of Kokugaku Scholars, 453. 32. Hattori, Sandaikō, in NST 50:255–256. Translation from McNally, “Sandaikō Debate,” 366. 33. On the various astronomical theories of the Nativist school, see Watanabe, Kinsei Nihon tenmongakushi, 1:331–349. 34. Nakayama, History of Japanese Astronomy, 165–167. 35. Ibid., 174–175. See also Nakayama, “Diffusion of Copernicanism in Japan”; Wakabayashi, “Evaluating Historical Views on Translation”; Frumer, “Before Words.” 36. Entry for 8/11/1787. Haga and Ōta, Kōkan saiyū nikki, 60. Cf. French, Shiba Kōkan, 121 and Plutschow, Reader in Edo Period Travel, 209. 37. In Shiba Kōkan zenshū, 3:3–29. 38. Morishima, Kōmō zatsuwa, 2:6b–7a. 39. In Shiba Kōkan zenshū, 3:209–266. 40. French, Shiba Kōkan, 171. 41. Marcon, Knowledge of Nature, 228. See also Fukuoka, Premise of Fidelity.

NOTES TO PAGES 224–238

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42. Tachibana, Saiyūki, 353. 43. Quoted in Unno, Nihonjin no daichizō, 205. 44. The term reki refers more specifically to calendrical science, but Entsū, and his movement, was concerned with astronomical matters in the wider sense. My discussion of Entsū and the history of Bonreki is heavily indebted to the pioneering work of Masahiko Okada. 45. Nishimura, “Shumisen no chikyū setsu,” 129–130. 46. Yamada, “Ryūkoku daigaku Ōmiya toshokan shozō shukushōgi,” 59. 47. Entsū, Bukkoku rekishōhen, 1:preface 1a–b. 48. Ibid., 1:3a. 49. Ibid., 5:52a. 50. Buswell and Lopez, Princeton Dictionary of Buddhism, 623, 788. 51. Entsū, Jikken shumikai setsu, 1:preface, 3a. 52. Entsū, Bukkoku rekishōhen, 1:preface, 2b–4a. 53. See Kuroda, Ōhō to buppō. 54. Miyajima and Hiraoka, “Bukkoku rekishōhen no seiritsu,” 31. 55. On Entsū’s comparative cosmology and conceptualization of Indian calendrical science, see Kobayashi, “Tenmonrekigaku to shisō.” On Entsū’s critique of Chinese and European cosmology, see Takeda, “Shaku Entsū Bukkoku rekishōhen.” On the formation of, and reaction to, his work, see Miyajima and Hiraoka, “Bukkoku rekishōhen no seiritsu.” 56. Entsū, Bukkoku rekishōhen, 3:15b–18a. 57. Entsū explains the winter darkness of the Land of Night as the sunlight being blocked by Mount Kunlun. 58. Entsū, Bukkoku rekishōhen, 3:29b. 59. Ibid., 3:6b–7a. 60. Zontō studied with Entsū at Zōjōji in Edo, served as head monk of Entsūji in Edo, and retired to Matsuoji in Okazaki. See Gotō, “Zontō Shōnin saku Sekaidaisōzu.” 61. Gotō, “Zontō Shōnin saku Sekaidaisōzu,” 11. 62. The date of the print is unclear. Although the woodblock is dated “fifth year of the Bunka Era (1808),” the text within the print refers to his print of 1821. The world map in the lower register of the print is also indebted to a later source. Zontō’s Map of Tenjiku (Tenjiku yochizu 天竺輿地圖) published in 1828 also refers to the Illustration of Jambudvīpa with the Sun. The print was thus produced some time between 1821 and 1828. Gotō, “Zontō Shōnin no Enbudai tsuketari nichigūzu,” 16–17. 63. The landforms and place names of Eurasia and Australia conform to the 1819 edition of Takahashi Kageyasu’s 高橋景保 Newly Revised Map of the World (Shintei bankoku zenzu 新訂萬國全圖). Nakamura, Nihon kochizu taisei, 9. 64. On Takahashi’s map, see Frei, “Japan Discovers Australia.” 65. This Sanskritization of the new world is continued by the monk Egon 恵厳, whose Explanatory Illustration of Jambudvīpa (Nanenbushū saiken zusetsu 閻浮洲細見圖 説) of 1845 compresses Asia, Europe, and Africa into Entsū’s triangular form and renames Australia “Avacāmara” and the Americas “North Cāmara” and “South Cāmara.” See Oda et al., Nihon kochizu taisei, 27.

318

NOTES TO PAGES 238–253

66. Transcribed in Gotō, “Zontō Shōnin saku Sekaidaisōzu,” 16. 67. Entsū, Bonreki sakushin, 23. 68. Tenkyū zenzu, in Shiba Kōkan zenshū, 3:84. Translated in French, Shiba Kōkan, 137. 69. Yamada, “Ryūkoku daigaku Ōmiya toshokan shozō shukushōgi,” 67. 70. Transcribed in ibid., 64–65. 71. Ibid. 72. Ibid. 73. Entsū, Bukkoku rekishōhen, 3:6–7. 74. Okada, “Kindai Bukkyō to shumisengi.” 75. On the designation of Kyoto as the center of astronomical timekeeping, see Frumer, “Kyoto and the Heavens.” 76. Reproduced in Mody, Collection of Japanese Clocks, plate 111, figs. 1–3, 40–42. 77. On variable hours and the techniques for representing them, see Frumer, “Translating Time” and Frumer, Making Time. 78. On Tanaka’s masterwork, see Hashimoto, “Mechanization of Time and Calendar”; Yokota, “Historical Overview of Japanese Clocks”; and Frumer, Making Time, 170–174.

CONCLUSION 1. See Ketelaar, Of Heretics and Martyrs, 7–10 and Collcutt, “Buddhism: The Threat of Eradication.” 2. On Mito and Satsuma, see Ketelaar, Of Heretics and Martyrs, 46–65. Pre-Meiji persecution was also significant in Okayama, Aizu, Tsuwano, and Chōshū. 3. Okubo Toshiaki, Kindaishi shiryō, 50–51. 4. Ketelaar, Of Heretics and Martyrs, 73. Kishimoto, Japanese Religion in the Meiji Era, 127–128. 5. Rogers and Rogers, “Honganji,” 8. 6. Ketelaar, Of Heretics and Martyrs, 72. The monks and institutions of the True Pure Land lineage played a prominent role in the late nineteenth-century defense of Buddhism and the state. Iwata Mami sees this as marking the beginning of the modern True Pure Land school as the monks involved in the movement were responsible for the modern institutional and doctrinal structure of the school. See Iwata, “Bakumatsu ishinki no Shinshū shisō,” 66–67. 7. This confluence of concerns can be found prior to the Meiji period as well. In his 1856 Treatise on Protecting the Country through the Buddhist Dharma (Buppō gokoku ron 仏法護国論), the Nishi Honganji monk Gesshō 月性 (1817–1858) wrote: “In the urgent need of coastal defense, nothing is more important than resisting Christianity with Buddhism.” Quoted in Kashiwabara, “Gohōshisō to shomin kyōka,” 546. 8. Thelle, Buddhism and Christianity in Japan, 28. 9. Beasley, Select Documents on Japanese Foreign Policy, 187. 10. Liggins, “Letter from Nagasaki, May 26, 1859,” 461. 11. Papers Relating to Foreign Affairs, 768. 12. Tokuhō, Gohō shōsaku, 204–205.

NOTES TO PAGES 256–279

319

13. Ryūon, Kyūsakubun, 33. 14. Kamuro, Gohō shinron, 1:4. See also Yoshida, “Gohōshinron to nyūka senkyōshi no chūgokugo no chosaku,” 60. 15. Kamuro, Gohō shinron, 1:1. 16. It was also published as a two-volume edition in 1869. 17. Kamuro, Gohō shinron, 2:3b. 18. Liggins, “Letter from Nagasaki, August 10, 1859,” 56. 19. On Hobson’s career in China, see Wong and Wu, History of Chinese Medicine, 321– 366. On his publications, see Wylie, Memorials of Protestant Missionaries, 126–127 and Wright, Translating Science, 263–272. 20. Wright, Translating Science, 36. 21. Hobson, “Report of the Medical Missionary Society at Hong Kong,” 382. 22. Quoted in Wong and Wu, History of Chinese Medicine, 364. 23. Wong and Wu, History of Chinese Medicine, 365. 24. Onkū, Kakuja shinpen, 274. 25. Chōnen, Kankōsango, 392. 26. On Sada’s campaign against gas lamps, see Steele, “Casting Shadows.” On Sada’s economic and political theories, as well as his astronomical theories, see Rambelli, “Sada Kaiseki” and Rambelli, “Buddhism and the Capitalist Transformation of Modern Japan.” 27. Yoshida, “Meiji no shumisensetsu ronsō,” 86. 28. Tanigawa, “Kijin Sada Kaiseki no kindai,” 60–61. 29. Sada, Tsuchi chikyū setsuryaku, 2:52a–b. 30. On the significance of this element of Sada’s design, see Yoshida, “Meiji no shumisensetsu ronsō,” 87–92. 31. Sada, Shijitsu tōshōgi ki, 8a, 17a, 18b. A later edition was issued in 1880 titled A Detailed Explanation of a Device to Represent the Equivalency of the Apparent and the Real (Shijitsu tōshōgi ki shōsetsu). 32. A second example, no longer extant, formerly in the collection of Higashi Honganji, is published in Mody, Japanese Clocks, pl. 112. A third example, formerly in the collection of Shōsenji, a Honganji temple in Kumamoto, is now in the Kumamoto City Museum. 33. On Matsumoto and his work, see Kinoshita, “Iki-ningyō no misemono to tenrankai ni tsuite” and Kinoshita, “Kisaburō, Kuniyoshi and the ‘Living Doll.’” 34. Sada, Tsuchi chikyū setsuryaku, 2:47b. 35. Ibid., 2:51b. Sada’s development of Entsū’s theory of vision was informed by the theoretical developments of Entsū’s other disciples, such as Kamuro and Fujii Saishō 藤井最証 (1838–1907). On the theories of Kamuro and Fujii, see Okada, Wasurerareta Bukkyō tenmongaku, 189–196. 36. Monnō, Kusen hakkai gechōron, 31a. 37. Sada, Shijitsu tōshōgi ki, 6a. 38. Sada, Shijitsu tōshōgi ki shōsetsu, 1:2b–3a 39. Ibid., 2:11a–b. 40. James, “Discourse on Infinite Vision.”

320

NOTES TO PAGES 279–290

41. Ibid., 286. 42. Ibid., 270. 43. Tanigawa, “Kijin Sada Kaiseki no kindai,” 67. 44. Ibid., 97–98n27. 45. Shimaji, “Shumisensetsu ni tsuite,” 299. 46. Fukuda Gyūkai, Shumisen ryakusetsu, 101. 47. On Sada’s map, see Sakakibara, “Cosmology and Science” and Yamashita, “Kochizu wan bai wan.” 48. Lopez, Buddhism and Science, xi. 49. Kinski, “Treasure Boxes, Fabrics, and Mirrors,” 84. 50. Shinsen hōreki ōzassho, 1a; Nakagawa, Unki kongen fokurokuju banpō ōzassho taisei, 10a–b. 51. Images of astrolabes and celestial and terrestrial globes appear in setsuyōshū as early as 1776. See Yoshinaga, Goi: Terako setsuyō kitaikagami, 80–81.

NOTES TO PAGES 290–300

321

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BIBLIOGRAPHY

345

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Bold page numbers refer to figures. Adams, George, 236 Adelaide, Australia. See Art Gallery of South Australia Africa, maps of, 246, 253, 263–264, 266 airships, 217–219, 217 Aleni, Giulio, 188 almanacs, 297–300 Almeida, Luis de, 131 Angkor Wat, 212 Art Gallery of South Australia, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, 108, 109 Asaka Gonsai, 233 Asia: Buddhist defenses against Christianity and Western science, 296; maps of, 246, 263–264, 266; possible land bridge to North America, 194–195, 201–202; Valignano on, 144 astrological texts, 244–245 astronomers: Tokugawa bakufu, 111, 224, 228, 243, 253, 316n8; vision of, 224, 238–240, 241–242 astronomical clocks, 268–276 astronomical instruments, 236, 238, 278, 290–291 astronomy: Chinese, 136, 224, 243–244; Copernican heliocentrism, 233–234, 236–238, 240, 244, 260–261, 286, 293; eclipses, 137, 224, 316n11; European scholarship, 222–223, 234, 236, 238, 243; imperial household office, 243; orreries, 260–261, 264–265; Ptolemaic, 222–224; reference works, 218–220; as threat to Buddhism, 226–227, 278, 279–280, 283; as threat to Japanese culture, 242–243; Western textbooks, 236, 279, 282, 286, 293. See also Buddhist astronomy; cosmology; globes; mechanical models Astronomy of Buddhist Countries (Bukkoku rekishōhen; Fumon Entsū): on foreign astronomy, 242–244, 279; illustrations, 244,

245; influence, 283–285; Map of Jambudvīpa, 246, 247, 249, 257; reception, 243, 251, 291; sources, 244–245; on vision, 241–242, 290 Australia: Art Gallery of South Australia, 108, 109; in Zontō’s map, 253, 318n63 Avalokiteśvara (J. Kannon), 17, 47, 86–87, 88. See also Potalaka Avataṃsaka sutra, 78, 79, 88, 185, 250 Bamiyan, 38, 38, 47 Bankoku sōzu. See Map of Myriad Lands Barrett, T. H., 1–2 Baudrillard, Jean, 105 Ben’ichisan himitsu ki, 62 Benjamin, Walter, 101 Berry, Mary Elizabeth, 176 Bikishō, 63 Blaeu, Willem Janszoon, 144, 175, 200, 236 Blair, Heather, 2 Blum, Mark L., 56 Bonne, Louis Charles, 293 Bray, Francesca, 5, 21 Brock, Karen, 101 Buddha: Great Buddha image, Tōdaiji, 31–33, 32, 39–40, 221; pilgrimage sites related to life of, 6–9, 20, 256; sacred traces (J. goiseki), 1–3, 8; veneration, 17 Buddhist astronomy (Bonreki or Butsureki), 227, 240–246, 261, 276, 279–280, 282–285, 289, 291, 295. See also Astronomy of Buddhist Countries; mechanical models Buddhist Astronomy Society of Japan (Dai Nihon Butsureki Kaisha), 295, 296 Buddhist cosmology: attempts to reconcile with other views, 227–230, 233–237, 289, 299–300; cartography and, 93, 94, 221–222, 256–257, 263–264; challenges to, 136, 139, 140, 222–224, 232–233; defense against challenges, 222, 225–228, 240–246, 276,

347

278, 283–285, 295–296; dissemination, 220; Meiji-era publications, 291, 293–295; as substrate of Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, 39–40; sutras, 232; three countries (sangoku), 56–57, 63–64, 128, 196, 202, 203; Vasubandhu on, 29–30, 93, 98, 226–227, 232, 245, 251; visual representations, 226, 231–232, 234, 245–246, 249–250, 257. See also Japan, place in Buddhist world; Mount Sumeru universe Bundaiken Uhei, 177 Byzantium, 169, 198, 198 calendars, 243, 285, 293, 295 Cambodia, Angkor Wat, 212 Cao Junyi, 188 Carr, Kevin Gray, 24 cartographers, Japanese, 243 cartographic pluralism, 82, 128, 152, 202, 208–210, 218, 257 cartography: Buddhist cosmology and, 93, 94, 221–222, 256–257, 263–264; Chinese, 36; vision and knowledge, 4–5; Western methods, 143, 243. See also maps Cassola, Francisco, 223 Certeau, Michel de, 8, 19, 21 Chien, 63 China: astronomy, 224; border with Russia, 195; cartography, 36; cult of Xuanzang, 18–19; encyclopedias, 206; pilgrimages to, 82; position in Buddhist cosmology, 40, 41, 56–57, 64; Protestant missionaries, 282; Putuoshan, 78–79, 80, 81, 82, 115, 183, 184; trade with Japan, 79; world maps, 91–93, 150–154, 188. See also Confucianism; Ricci, Matteo; three countries China, maps of: Chinese, 153, 188; Japanese, 158–160, 159; Jesuit, 188; in Jūkai’s map, 9, 44–45, 45, 46; in Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku (Ryūkoku University Library), 124, 125, 127; Ming empire, 111, 156, 188, 189, 190–191, 195; in Ricci’s map, 136; by Zhipan, 93 Chion-in, Kyoto, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, 105, 116, 119 Chōnen, 283–285 Christianity: association with science, 278–280, 283; cosmology, 132–133, 136, 138; Japanese ban on, 140, 222, 278; Japanese converts, 131, 133, 140–141, 143–144; mappe­ monde, 16, 26; Protestant missionaries, 278–279, 282, 286; as threat to Buddhism, 277, 278, 279–280, 283. See also Jesuit missionaries

348

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cintāmani (J. nyoi-hōju). See wish-fulfilling jewel Classic of Mountains and Seas (Shanhaijing), 154, 167, 169 Clavius, Christopher, 132 clocks, astronomical, 268–276. See also mechanical models Collected Illustrations of the Three Realms (Sancai tuhui; Wang Qi): mythical lands, 189, 196; simplified version of Ricci’s map, 138–139, 138, 208; as source for other works, 139–140, 167, 169, 171, 182, 206 Compendia of Miscellanea (Shūgaishō), 69, 76, 96; Map of Tenjiku, 96–98, 97, 310n12 Compilation of Illustrations and Writings (Tushu bian), 154, 155, 156, 158, 160, 167, 169, 182 Complete Almanac of Fortune’s Source and Happiness’s Many Treasures (Unki kongen fokurokuju banpō ōzassho taisei), 297–298, 298 Complete Compendium of Urban Knowledge (Taisei kun’yaku zukai, tokai setsuyō hyakka­ t­sū, zazoku ruiji ryōten), Map of the Myriad Countries of the World, 218–220, 219 Complete Works of Japanese Buddhism, The (Dai Nihon Bukkyō zensho), 113 Confucianism, 133, 136, 223–224, 229–230, 233, 278 Copernican heliocentrism, 233–234, 236–238, 240, 244, 260–261, 286, 293 copying, art of (utsusu), 100–101, 122 cosmology: Christian, 132–133, 136, 138, 223; Confucian, 133, 136, 223–224, 230; Ptolemaic, 133, 222–224; visual representations, 24–25, 26, 238. See also Buddhist cosmology Daigoji. See Map of Japan and of the Myriad Heavens of Sumeru Dehejia, Vidya, 52 De Weerdt, Hilde, 103 Diamond World (Kongōkai) mandala, 62, 63, 64, 308n32 Dickson, Walter, 282 Dōgen, 55, 56 Dong You, Guangchuan huaba, 19 Eckel, Malcolm David, 8, 46 education, in Meiji era, 291–293 Egaku, 82 Eison, Kongōbusshi Eison kanjingaku shōki, 17, 86 Eitai manreki ōzassho taizen, 298–299, 300 Eitai ōzassho banreki taisei, 298–299, 300 Eitai ōzassho sanzesō, 298–299, 300 Ekū, 113, 116, 119

Enryakuji, 18, 107, 240 epistemology of vision. See vision Esoteric Buddhism, 59, 244–245. See also mandalas; vajra Europe: in Chinese maps, 154; excluded from Japanese maps, 128–129; trade with Japan, 129–130, 131, 200, 211, 216. See also Christianity Europe, in Japanese maps: Kanchū’s model, 266; Map of Myriad Lands, 173, 174; Namba manuscript map, 217; Namba map, 171–173, 174; printed, 199–200, 199, 203, 208; Western cartography, 246, 263–264; Zontō’s map, 253 Ezo, 66, 161, 189, 201–202, 204, 246, 249 Faxian, 42, 59, 161, 182, 183, 303n8. See also Hossō lineage Feng Yingjing, 184 Ferreira, Christovão, 223 First National Industrial Exhibition (Naikoku Kangyō Hakurankai), 288, 293 Five Regions of Tenjiku. See Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku Frois, Luis, 130–131, 211–212 “fruit held in the hand” (shōka), 180–181, 240 Fudaraku. See Potalaka Fujaku, Explanation of Astronomy (Tenmon benwaku), 232–233 Fujita Furūme, 293 Fujiwara Michinaga, 57 Fujiwara Nobunaga, 58 Fujiwara no Kanezane, 25–26, 113 Fujiwara no Nakamaro, 86 Fujiwara Tadazane, 58 Fukansai Habian, 131, 133, 222 Fukuda Gyōkai, 285; Brief Explanation of Mount Sumeru (Shumisen ryakusetsu), 293 Fumon Entsū, 240–241; Model of Mount Sumeru (Shumisengi), 265–266, 265, 280, 281, 289; Model of Mount Sumeru Explained in Japanese (Shumisengi narabini jo wakai), 260, 291; Model of Mount Sumeru Inscribed and Explained (Shumisengi mei narabini jo), 257–260, 258, 259, 261, 263, 264, 291; Model of Relative Phenomena Explained (Shukushōgi setsu), 261–264, 262, 264, 291; students and disciples, 243, 249, 279–280, 285, 320n35. See also Astronomy of Buddhist Countries Gandō, 66 Gatō Shōnin, 88 Gazetteer of Siming (Baoqing siming zhi), 82 Genshin, Teaching of the Three Worlds (Sangaigi), 225, 291

Genshun, Model of Mount Sumeru Inscribed and Explained (Shumisengi mei narabini jo), 257–259, 258, 259 Genshunbō Jūkai, 16, 17, 86. See also Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku geography: reference works, 218–220; round vs. flat earth, 132, 206, 222, 223–224, 230, 232, 234, 245, 286, 289–290, 295. See also globes Gerbillion, Jean-François, 195 Gizan, 113, 311n32 globes: European, 131; by Sōkaku, 111, 156, 227–229, 229 Gnecchi-Soldo, Organtino, 131 Gofukakusa, sovereign, 58 Gómez, Pedro: Compendium Catholicae Veritatis, 131–132; De Sphaera, 132, 223, 261 Goshirakawa, sovereign, 58 Gotenjiku-zu. See Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku Gotoba, cloistered emperor, 18 Great Tang Record of the Western Regions (Ch. Da Tang xi yu ji; J. Daitō saiikiki; Xuanzang): cosmology, 39–40; description of Jambudvīpa, 40–41, 95–96, 98; excerpts on Jūkai’s map, 33, 34–35, 36, 39–41, 42, 43; geographic descriptions, 198, 210; hagiographies, 19–20, 42–43; later editions, 161, 291; maps based on, 6, 15, 20–21, 91–93; place names used on later maps, 186–187, 206–208; on Potalaka, 78, 85–86; reception in China, 19; significance, 3; tales, 66; Vasubandhu’s influence on, 30 Gregory XIII, Pope, 140–141 Guilandini, Melchior, 141 Gyōki, 64, 69, 76, 96, 148 Gyōnen, 291 Hananobō Hyōzō, Map of All the Countries in Jambudvīpa, 200–202, 201, 203 Hanazono, Emperor, 26 Handy Map of the Myriad Countries of Jambudvīpa (Nansenbushū bankoku shōka no zu; Hōtan), 178–179; Byzantium, 198, 198; Europe, 199–200, 199, 216; Japan, 189, 193; Lake Anavatapta, 186, 186; Mount Potalaka and Mount Malaya, 197, 197; mythical lands, 189, 195–196; North America, 189, 194–195, 194, 200, 201; painted reproductions, 212–218; predecessors, 185–186, 189; preface, 180–185, 201, 205, 221, 240; publication history, 177; reproductions, 200–205, 206–208, 207, 219–220; scale, 184; sources, 182–184, 186, 188, 189, 194–195, 196–199; South America,

INDEX

349

195, 196, 200, 216; title, 180–181, 184; Xuanzang’s route, 188–189, 192 Handy Map of the Myriad Lands (Bankoku shōka no zu), 204, 205 Harley, J. B., 4–5 Hattori Nakatsune, 299; Thoughts on the Three Great Realms (Sandaikō), 233–235, 234 Hayashi Razan, 133, 136, 222 Heaven and Earth with Commentaries (Kenkon bensetsu), 223 hensōzu (Ch. bianxiangdu; “transformation images”), 25 Higashi Honganji, 243, 278, 279, 295 Hirata Atsutane, 235–236, 299; True Pillar of Spirit (Tama no mihashira), 235, 235 Hobson, Benjamin, 282; Natural Philosophy, New Edition, 282, 284 Hōgen Yūchiku, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, 116, 117 Hōnen, 56, 113 Honya Hikoemon, 200; Map of Myriad Lands (Bankokuzu), 202, 202, 203, 203 Horikawa, sovereign, 58 Hōryūji: Cintāmanī Avalokiteśvara icon, 86; cult of Shōtoku Taishi, 17, 103; daimyo associated with, 107; Eastern Cloister (Tō-in), 119; Hossō lineage and, 3, 18, 24; Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku copy, 100, 101–105, 111–113, 112, 119; painting of Mount Potalaka, 86; scholarship at, 16; Shōtoku Taishi painting, 122. See also Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku Hōshō-in, Zōjōji, Map of the Western Regions, 113–115, 114 Hosokawa Narimori, 286 Hossō lineage, 3, 16, 18, 19, 24. See also Hōryūji; Kōfukuji; Xuanzang Hōtan, 177, 180; on cartography, 182, 184–185, 251, 263; Kanchū kōen kusharon jushakusho, 186–188, 187, 221, 227, 228; Map of Jambudvīpa, 186–188, 187, 221; on vision, 181–182, 225–226. See also Handy Map of the Myriad Countries of Jambudvīpa household compendia (setsuyōshū and ōzassho), 218, 297–300 Huainanzi, 314nn10–11 Huili, Biography of the Tripiṭaka Master of the Great Ci’en Monastery (Da ci’ensi Sanzang fa shi zhuan), 19, 20, 42–43, 59 Ichijō-in, Kyushu, 59 Ide Seinosuke, 79 Iguchi Tsunenori, Astronomy Illustrated (Tenmon zukai), 224, 225, 240

350

INDEX

Imai Shirō, Illustrated Explanation in Japanese of the Solar and Lunar Orbits (Nichigetsu sentenzu wagoshō), 227, 227 India: anthropology, 43–44; geography, 41, 43, 56, 63; pilgrimages to, 3, 8–9, 20, 42; sites related to Buddha’s life, 6–9, 20, 256; Xuanzang’s descriptions, 39, 43–44, 210; in Zontō’s maps, 253, 256–257. See also Tenjiku; three countries; Xuanzang, pilgrimage of Inō Tadataka, 243 Inquiries into Classic of Heaven (Ch. Tianjing-huowen; J. Tenkei wakumon; You Yi), 223–224, 232, 233, 243 Iron Gate, 41, 47, 95, 153, 187, 213 Ise Shrines, 57–58 Iseya Shichibei, Handy Map of the Myriad Countries of Jambudvīpa, 212, 213 Ishikawa Ryūsen, 149–150; Bankoku sekaizu, 228 Itō Satoshi, 64 Iwata Mami, 319n6 Jacob, Christian, 4, 9, 35–36 Jambudvīpa (J. Nansenbushū): in Buddhist cosmology, 30, 32–33, 40, 221; Chinese maps, 152–154; in Daigoji map, 95, 98, 221; European views of, 136; geography, 30, 40, 55, 95–96; image on Great Buddha’s pedestal, 32–33, 32, 221; Japan’s relationship to, 53, 54, 55, 57–58, 59, 148; in maps of Tenjiku, 29, 29, 30, 33, 40, 59, 67, 89, 95–96, 124; relationship to Europe, Africa, and Asia, 246, 249; sun’s rays on, 245, 245; Vasubandhu on, 29, 30, 33, 59, 95, 96; Xuanzang’s description, 40–41, 95–96, 98; in Zontō’s map, 249, 250. See also specific map titles James, J. M., 290 Japan, maps of: borderlands, 66; Buddhist context, 59–62; earliest, 96; in Entsū’s map, 246; European, 143, 145, 149–150; in Hōtan’s maps, 187–188, 189, 193; in Kanchū’s model, 266; in maps of Tenjiku, 9, 53–55, 124, 126, 127; in Muroga map, 160–162, 160; in Namba map, 164, 166, 167; nineteenth-century, 124, 127, 243; painted screens, 145, 148–149; in printed world maps, 189, 193, 208; as single-pronged vajra, 59–62, 60, 64–66, 65, 76, 94 Japan, place in Buddhist world: ambivalence, 54–55, 57–59, 76, 89; centrality, 57–59, 63– 64; discourse in fourteenth century, 54–57, 59; medieval visions, 55–56, 59–67; religious identity, 89; remoteness and smallness, 2, 9–10, 55–56, 58. See also three countries

Japanese Buddhist world maps. See world maps, Japanese Buddhist Japanese National Archives, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, 85, 85, 116, 119, 120 Jesuit missionaries: delegation to Vatican, 140–143; geographical and astronomical knowledge, 129–132, 136–137, 222, 223; maps and globes, 129, 131, 133, 188, 195; in Southeast Asia, 211; textbooks, 131–132, 222, 236, 279. See also Christianity; Ricci, Matteo Jien, 56 Jihen, 57, 63 Jingi hishō, 63 Jinson, 18 Jōgon-in, Shiga Prefecture, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, 105, 111, 113, 119 Jōjin, 19 Jōkei, 17, 18, 55, 87, 88 Jōshōji, Nagano, 79 Jūkai. See Genshunbō Jūkai Juneja, Monica, 220 Kaijūsenji, 86–87 Kamo no Chōmei, 55, 88 Kamuro Anne: New Thesis on the Defense of Buddhism (Gohō shinron), 279–282, 281, 283, 284; Three-Character Classic on Astronomy (Tenmon sanjikyō), 291, 292, 300 Kanchū: Model of Mount Sumeru (Shumisengi), 268–271, 269–272, 289; Model of Mount Sumeru Inscribed, 266, 267; Model of Relative Phenomena, 266–267, 271, 273, 273; Model of Relative Phenomena Illustrated (Shukushōgizu), 266, 267; students, 285 Kannon. See Avalokiteśvara Kanō Eitoku: Azuchi screens, 140–141; paintings of Ortelius’s world maps, 144 Kanō Tatsunobu, 286–288, 293 Kasuga Shrine, 3–4, 25–26, 55, 58, 86 Kataoka Hōgen Yōchiku, 122 Keere, Pieter van den, 144, 175, 200 Kegon school, 16, 177, 180, 185 Keiran shūyōshū, 55, 63, 64 Kinpusen, 57 Kitabatake Chikafusa, Chronicle of Gods and Sovereigns (Jinnō shōtōki), 54 Kobayashi Yoshinobu, Outline of Terrestrial and Celestial Globes (Nigi ryakusetsu), 223 Kobe City Museum, Akioka Collection, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, 116, 117 Kobe City Museum, Namba Collection, Map of Jambudvīpa (nineteenth century), 213, 214–217, 216–218. See also Map of Jambudvīpa (Namba Collection)

Kōfukuji: daimyo associated with, 107; handscrolls of Xuanzang’s pilgrimage, 20; Hossō lineage and, 3, 18, 24; Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku copy, 100; pilgrimage routes, 25; Potalaka painting, 86; rituals, 17, 18; scholar­ ship at, 16 Koide Chōjūrō, 243 Kojiki, 54, 234, 235–236, 299 Kojima Tōzan, 243 Kokan Shiren, 82 Komatsudani Shōrinji, 113, 116, 119, 122 kongōsho. See vajra Kongōzanmai-in, Mount Kōya, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku copy, 105, 116, 118 Konjaku monogatari shū, 56, 66, 181 Kōnyo, 278 Korea: inscription referring to Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, 91; pilgrims from, 79; shown in maps, 94–95, 153, 154, 160, 161, 169, 170, 187–188, 204 Korzybski, Alfred, 105 Kōzan’in Ryūon, Urgent Plan (Kyūsakumon), 279 Kūkai, 100, 113, 115, 122, 127, 211, 315n48 Kumazawa Banzan, Japanese Collection of Principles (Shūgiwasho), 230 Kunlun, Mount, 1, 158, 230, 246, 249, 318n57 Kushuon-in, Hirakata, 105 Kyoto University, Muroga Collection. See Map of Jambudvīpa (Muroga Collection); Tsutsui Junshō Land of Demonesses (Rasetsukoku), 66, 149–150, 167 Land of Dwarves, 154, 167, 172, 173, 189, 200, 313n72 Land of Night, 172–173, 219, 228, 245, 318n57 Liggins, John, 278–279, 282 Lopez, Donald S., Jr., 296 Mahāparinirvāṇa-sūtra, 8–9 Mair, Victor H., 25 mandalas, 24–25, 26, 59, 62, 63–64, 86, 87, 308n32, 311n31 Man’yōshū, 54 Map of Great Japan within the Continent of Jambudvīpa, 146–147, 148–149, 148, 150 Map of Jambudvīpa (Nansenbushū no zu): Astronomy of Buddhist Countries, 246, 247, 249, 257; Muroga Collection, Kyoto University, 156–162, 157, 159–160, 175, 176; Namba Collection (nineteenth century), 213, 214–217, 216–218; tradition, 180 Map of Jambudvīpa (Nansenbushū no zu; Namba Collection; 1709), 162–164, 163, 167–175;

INDEX

351

details, 165–166, 168–170, 174; as source for printed maps, 176, 185–186, 189, 196–199, 218 Map of Japan and of the Myriad Heavens of Sumeru (Nihon shumi shotenzu): Lake Anavatapta map, 67–68, 68, 98; map of Japan as single-pronged vajra, 64–66, 65, 94; A Map of Tenjiku according to the Bodhisattva Vasubandhu, 67, 67, 94–96; Mount Sumeru cosmology, 68–69, 70–75, 98–99, 221; Mount Sumeru plan, 68, 69, 98–99 Map of Japan as Single-Pronged Vajra, 59–62, 60 Map of Myriad Lands (Bankoku sōzu), 150, 151, 156, 172, 173, 174, 180, 199 Map of Myriad Lands (Bankokuzu; Honya Hikoemon), 202, 202, 203, 203 Map of Tenjiku (Tenjiku yochizu; Zontō), 253, 255, 256–257, 256 Map of Tenjiku according to the Bodhisattva Vasubandhu (Tenjikukoku Seshin Bosatsu zō), 67 Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku (Gotenjiku-zu; Jūkai), 7; absence of Xuanzang’s image, 20–21, 85; condition, 27, 39; contextual text panels, 33, 34–35, 34, 39–44; as copy of earlier work, 15–16, 83–84, 91, 100, 119; cosmology, 29–33, 39–41, 51; dating, 15; description, 27–29, 33–34; descriptive annotations, 33, 38, 38, 47; details, 28, 31, 37, 46; figures portrayed at Mount Potalaka, 82–86, 88–89; format and materials, 26–27; Jambudvīpa, 29, 29, 30, 33, 40, 59, 89, 95–96, 124; Japanese archipelago, 9, 53–55; local orientation, 89; possible precursors, 91–99, 100; Potalaka, 53–54, 76–78, 77, 79, 82–85, 83, 88–89; significance, 16, 51, 90; size, 6, 15, 21, 24, 26; text-image relations, 16, 21, 24, 33–39, 44, 51–52; textual sources, 6, 20–21, 54, 59, 82, 89; toponymic cartouches, 27, 29, 29, 33, 35, 36–38, 37, 44–45, 78; viewers and readers, 20–24, 29, 34, 36, 52; visual sources, 24–26, 82, 86, 89; as work of translation, 51–52; Xuanzang’s route, 6, 15, 20–21, 27–29, 33, 36–38, 44–51, 45–46, 48–50, 52 Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku (Gotenjiku-­ zu; Jūkai), copies, 99–101, 105; Adelaide copy, 108, 109; Akioka map, 116, 117; Chinese cities, 160; at Chion-in, 105, 116, 119; faithfulness, 100, 101–103, 105, 108, 156; in Hōryūji collection, 100, 101–105, 111–113, 112, 119; Hōshō-in, 113–115, 114; Hōtan’s criticism of errors, 183–184; Japanese National Archives, 85, 85, 116, 119, 120; Jōgon-in, 105, 111, 113, 119; Kongōzanmai-in, 105, 116, 118; Kushuon-in, 108, 110, 111, 119, 156; Muroga Collection, 84, 84, 105–107, 106–107; National Museum of

352

INDEX

Japanese History and Culture, 105, 116, 119, 121; possible genealogies, 119, 122; Potalaka pilgrims, 84–85; religious value, 101, 103–105, 122; Ryūkoku University Library, 105, 119, 122–124, 123, 125–126, 127, 128, 129; variations, 84–85, 108, 111, 115, 116, 119, 122–124, 127; by Zenjō, 101–105, 102, 104, 122 Map of the Myriad Countries of the World, Complete Compendium of Urban Knowledge (Taisei kun’yaku zukai, tokai setsuyō hyakkatsū, zazoku ruiji ryōten), 218–220, 219 maps: cognitive, 9; defined, 4–5; mechanical reproduction, 124, 127; place names, 35–36; religious value, 105, 185; zu (Ch. tu) term, 5, 21. See also China, maps of; Japan, maps of; world maps Marcon, Federico, 238 Matsumoto Kisaburō, 286–288, 293 McCallum, Donald F., 100–101 McMahan, David L., 4 mechanical models: astronomical clocks, 268– 273; of Mount Sumeru universe, 257–260, 261–264, 265–268, 280; orreries, 260–261, 264–265; by Sada Kaiseki, 286–290, 287, 288, 293, 295 Meiji era, 277–278, 285, 289, 291–295, 296–300 Meiji ōzassho sanzesō, 298–299, 300 merchants, European, 129–130, 131, 211 Mikuniya Ryūsuke, Map of All the Countries in Jambudvīpa (Nanenbudai shokoku shūran no zu), 203–204, 204, 217 missionaries, 278–279, 282, 286. See also Jesuit missionaries Mitsuan Shakusōen, 240 Monnō: critics, 233; Defending the Theory of the Nine Mountains and the Eight Seas, 231–232, 231, 289–290; Against “Emerging from Meditation” (Hi shutsujō kōgo), 232; Refuting Inquiries into the Classic of Heaven (Hi Tenkei wakumon), 231–232 Morishima Chūryō, Red Hair Miscellany (Kōmō zatsuwa), 218, 237, 238 Mori Shōken, Treatise for the Defense of the Dharma (Gohō shijiron), 229–230, 230, 285 Mori Yūjun, 295 Motoki Ryōei, Dutch Illustration of the Globe (Oranda chikyū zusetsu), 236 Motoori Norinaga, 233 Mount Potalaka. See Potalaka Mount Sumeru universe: critiques, 224, 232–233; Expanded Image of the World (Zontō), 248, 249–251, 250; Genshin on, 225, 291; in household compendia and almanacs,

257–260, 261–264, 265–268, 286, 289, 297–300; image on Great Buddha’s pedestal, 31–33, 32; Map of Japan and of the Myriad Heavens of Sumeru, 68–69, 69–75, 98–99, 221; mechanical models, 257–260, 261–264, 265–268, 280, 289; physical models, 30–31; prohibition on teaching in schools, 293, 300; Renchao’s diagrams, 154, 221; world maps and, 221; Xuanzang’s description, 39–41; Zhipan’s maps, 93–94, 221. See also Buddhist cosmology; Sumeru, Mount Mukai Genshō, 223 Muro, Mount, 59–60, 62 Muroga Nobuo, 119, 189 Muroga Collection, Kyoto University. See Map of Jambudvīpa (Muroga Collection); Tsutsui Junshō, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku Myōe Kōben, 1, 2–4, 8, 20, 55, 303n8 myriad lands (bankoku), 128. See also Map of Myriad Lands Nachi pilgrimage mandalas (Nachi sankei mandara), 87 Nagakubo Sekisui, 124; Historical Atlas of China (Tōdo rekidai shūgun enkaku chizu), 203 Nagasaki, 162, 180, 210, 222, 238, 280 Nagata Chōbei, 177, 291, 313n2 Namba map. See Map of Jambudvīpa (Namba Collection) Nanbu Sōju, 224 Nanhu Daoyin, 78 Nansenbushū. See Jambudvīpa Nara temples, 16–17, 18–19, 25–26, 86–87, 101. See also Hōryūji; Kōfukuji; Tōdaiji Nativists, 226, 233, 235–236, 278 Newly Compiled Treasure Calendar Almanac (Shinsen hōreki ōzassho), 297–298, 297 Nezu Museum, 86 Nichiren, 56 Nihon shoki, 30 Ninkai: Map of the Western Regions, 113–115, 114; Taima hensō shiki, 311n31 Ninnaji, map of Japan, 66 Nishi Honganji, 122, 243, 278, 283–285, 286. See also Ryūkoku University Nishikawa Joken, Thoughts on Trade and Communication with the Civilized and the Barbarian (Kaitsūshō kō), 162, 167, 169, 171, 172–173, 199, 211, 317n16 Nishikawa Masayoshi, 224 Nishimura, 96 Nisshū shōnin, 88 North America, 144, 189, 194–195, 194, 200, 201–202, 253

Obaku Zen lineage, 180 Oda Nobunaga, 107, 131, 140, 144 Ōnogi Ichibei, 218 optics, 241, 280–282. See also vision Organization of United Buddhist Sects (Shoshū Dōtoku Kairen), 277–278 Origin of Shitennōji (Shitennōji engi), 55 orreries, 260–261, 264–265. See also mechanical models Ortelius, Abraham, Theatrum Orbis Terrarum, 133, 136, 141–144, 142, 200, 312n45 Orthodox Map of Great Japan on the Continent of Jambudvīpa (Nansenbushū Dainihonkoku shōtōzu), 76 Ōtomo Yoshishige, Buddhist World Map (Shakkyō yochizu), 293–295, 294 Ōtsuki Gentaku, 237 Ouyang Xiu, 18–19 painted screens: Azuchi, 140–141; European-­ style world maps, 144–145, 148–149, 222–223; Handy Map of the Myriad Countries of Jambudvīpa (Iseya Shichibei), 212, 213 paintings: analogues to Jūkai’s map, 24–26; Handy Map of the Myriad Countries of Jambudvīpa, 212–218; Map of Jambudvīpa, 213, 214–215, 216–218, 216, 217; of Mount Potalaka, 86–87, 88; of Ortelius’s world maps, 144; of Shōtoku Taishi, 122; of Xuanzang, 18–19. See also mandalas pilgrimages: to Angkor Wat, 212; Buddha on, 8–9; to China, 82; Christian, 26; crossing the sea to Potalaka, 87–88; to India, 3, 8–9, 20, 42; internal, 3–4, 8, 9, 25–26, 105, 141; to Putuoshan, 78–79, 115; to sites related to Buddha’s life, 6–9, 256; of Sudhana, 79, 88, 185, 221. See also Kasuga Shrine; Xuanzang, pilgrimage of Plancius, Petrus, 144, 145, 175, 200 Portuguese, 211, 223, 280 Potalaka (J. Fudaraku): in Chinese maps, 153; crossing the sea to, 87–88; description in Xuanzang’s Record, 78, 85–86; in Handy Map of the Myriad Countries of Jambudvīpa, 197, 197; in Hōshō-in map, 115; Jōkei on, 87, 88; locations, 78, 82, 308n49; in Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, 53–54, 76–78, 77, 79, 82–85, 83, 88–89; in Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku copies, 84–85, 84, 85, 183, 184; paintings of, 86–87, 88; sinification, 82; in Zhipan’s map, 93 print culture, 127, 212. See also reference works Ptolemaic cosmology, 133, 222–224

INDEX

353

Pure Land, 1, 25, 58, 87, 237 Pure Land Buddhism, 17, 113. See also Monnō; True Pure Land school; Zōjōji; Zontō Putuoshan, 78–79, 80, 81, 82, 115, 183, 184 Rasetsukoku. See Land of Demonesses reference works: on astronomy and geography, 218–220; household compendia and almanacs, 218, 297–300. See also Terajima Ryōan Reland, Adrien, 149–150 Renchao: Map of Jambudvīpa (Nanzhanbuzhou tu), 152–154, 152; Maps of the Configuration of the Dharmadhatu (Fajie anli tu), 152, 221 Rennyo, 278 replication. See copying, art of Reynard, Louis, 236 Ricci, Matteo, 132, 222, 223, 244 Ricci, Matteo, Complete Map of Myriad Countries (Ch. Kunyu Wanguo Quantu, J. Konyo bankokuzenzu), 134–135; astronomical illustrations, 137–138; China, 136; influence, 150, 156, 173, 180, 188, 189, 195, 208, 229, 246; mythical lands, 172, 173, 245; nine-sphere universe diagram, 137, 137, 224; publication, 133; reproductions, 200, 202, 230, 275; simplified versions, 138–140, 138, 172, 173, 180, 206, 218; text, 136–137, 139, 184, 222; use in Japan, 133, 138, 139–140, 155 Roman Catholic Church. See Christianity; Jesuit missionaries Russian maps, 195 Ryōgen, 88 Ryūi. See Map of Japan and of the Myriad Heavens of Sumeru Ryūkoku University Library: Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, 105, 119, 122–124, 123, 125–126, 127, 128, 129; Model of Mount Sumeru, 271, 272 Ryūshinji, Shizuoka, Model of Mount Sumeru, 265–266, 265 Ryūū. See Map of Japan and of the Myriad Heavens of Sumeru Sacred Image of Putuoshan (Budaluojia Guanyin xianshen shengjing), 78–79, 80, 81, 83 sacred traces (J. goiseki), 1–3, 8 Sada Kaiseki, 285–286, 293, 295; Account of a Device to Represent the Equivalency of the Apparent and the Real (Shijitsu tōshōgi ki), 286, 293; Buddhist World Map (Shakkyō yochizu), 293–295, 294; Device to Represent the Equivalency of the Apparent and the Real, 286–290, 288, 293, 295; A Hammer [Smashing] the Theory of a Spherical Earth (Tsuchi

354

INDEX

chikyū setsuryaku), 286, 287; On Lamps and National Collapse (Ranpu bōkoku ron), 285 Saichō, 56 Saidaiji, 86 Saimei, Empress, 30–31 Sakanoue no Irin’an, 224 sangoku. See three countries Sanjōnishi Sanetaka, Illustrated Life of the Tripiṭaka Master Xuanzang (Genjō Sanzō e), 18 Satō Nobuhiro, 299; Record of the Pillar of Heaven (Tenchūki), 235–236 scientific works: banned in Japan, 222–223, 236; compiled and distributed by missionaries, 278–279, 282, 286; Japanese translations of European, 236, 244. See also astronomy; geography; Kamuro Anne Shaku Unshō, 293 Shandao, 25 Sharf, Robert H., 24, 25 Shiba Kōkan, 217–218, 236–238; Complete Illustrations of the Heavens (Tenkyū zenzu), 238, 260–261; Complete Map of the Earth (Yochi zenzu), 237, 238; Complete Map of the Globe (Chikyū zenzu), 237–238, 239; Dutch Astronomy (Oranda tensetsu), 238; Orrery, 260, 264–265; world maps, 237–238, 246 Shibukawa Shinkai, 228 Shimaji Mokurai, 293 Shimizu, Yoshiaki, 100 Shingon school, 16–17, 62, 63, 64, 100. See also Kūkai; Kushuon-in Shingyō, 295 Shinran, 55, 56 ships, shown in world maps, 150, 203, 216–217, 219. See also airships Shirakawa, abdicated sovereign, 58 Shōmyōji, map of Japan, 66 Shōrinji, Nara, 86. See also Komatsudani Shōrinji Shōtoku Taishi: cult of, 17, 103; painting of, 122 Shōzan engi, 55 Shūgaishō, 76 Silk Road, 46–47 Sōkaku, 111; globes, 111, 156, 227–229, 229; map of Ming empire, 156; Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, 108, 110, 111, 119, 156 South America, 195, 196, 200, 216 Southeast Asia, 158, 159, 162, 167, 168, 188, 196, 210–212 Sudhana, 79, 88, 185, 221 Sumeru, Mount: Indra’s net, 185, 221; representation in Sōkaku’s globe, 228, 229; Ricci

on height of, 136, 139, 222; sun’s rays on, 244, 245; Xuanzang’s vision from, 22–24, 23, 184; in Zhipan’s maps, 93–94. See also Mount Sumeru universe Tachibana Nankei, Journey to the West (Saiyūki), 238 Taima Mandala, 25, 311n31 Takahashi Kageyasu, Newly Revised Map of the World (Shintei bankoku zenzu), 253, 318n63 Takakusu Junjirō, 180 Takashina Takakane, Illustrated Life of the Tripiṭaka Master Xuanzang (Genjō Sanzō e), 20, 22–24, 23 Takayasu Ro’oku. See Complete Compendium of Urban Knowledge Tanaka Hisashige, 267–268; Model of Mount Sumeru (Shumisengi), 268–271, 269–272; Model of Relative Phenomena, 271, 273, 273; Myriad Year Clock (Man-nen Dokei), 272–274, 274; Sada’s device produced by, 286–290, 293; shop advertisement, 275–276, 275 Taniguchi Kosei, 119, 122 Taussig, Michael, 101 technology: airships, 217–219; astronomical instruments, 236, 238, 278, 290–291; modern, 285, 289 Tendai school, 16–17, 18, 56, 62, 63, 64, 180. See also Fumon Entsū Tenjiku, 1, 208–211. See also India; and specific map titles Terajima Ryōan, Japanese-Chinese Collected Illustrations of the Three Realms, 139–140, 139, 206–211, 207, 209 Thailand, 211–212. See also Southeast Asia Theatrum Orbis Terrarum (Ortelius), 133, 136, 141–144, 142, 200, 312n45 Thomas, Antoine, 195 Thornton, John, 195 three countries (sangoku), 56–57, 63–64, 128, 196, 202, 203 time, cosmic cycles, 249. See also calendars Toba, abdicated sovereign, 58 Tōdaiji, 31–33, 39–40, 86, 180, 221 Tohoku Historical Museum, 212 Tōin Kinkata. See Compendia of Miscellanea Tōji, 100, 111, 113, 115, 116, 119 Tokubei Tenjiku, 210; Tokubei Tenjiku monogatari, 210–211 Tokugawa bakufu, astronomers, 111, 224, 228, 243, 253, 316n8 Tokugawa Hidetada, 113 Tokugawa Iemitsu, 212, 222

Tokugawa Yoshimune, 162, 236 Tokuhō, Strategy for the Defense of Buddhism (Gohō shōsaku), 279 Tominaga Nakamoto, Emerging from Meditation, 232 Tōshōdaiji, 76 Toyotomi Hideyoshi, 107, 144 traces. See copying, art of; sacred traces trade routes, 46–47, 161–162, 203–204. See also ships Treasury of Abhidharma (Skt. Abhidharmakośa-bhāṣya; J. Abidatsuma kusharon; Vasubandhu): on Buddhist cosmology, 29–30, 93, 98, 226–227, 232, 245, 251; commentaries, 180, 186, 227; composition, 47; on eight hells, 99; on Jambudvīpa, 29, 30, 33, 59, 95, 96; Xuanzang’s translation, 29, 30 Tripiṭaka [Master] Xuanzang of the Tang, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, 119, 120 True Pure Land school, 55, 237, 243, 277–278, 279, 319n6. See also Higashi Honganji; Nishi Honganji Tsurumine Shigenobu, True Pillar of Heaven (Ame no mihashira), 236, 299–300 Tsutsui Junshō, 107; Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, 84, 84, 105–107, 106–107 Turnbull, David, 105 Two Notes on a Map of the Western Regions (Saiikizu sofuku nikō roku), 113–115, 122 Typus Orbis Terrarum, 145, 146–147 Umehara Yahaku, 188 Unified Gazetteer of the Great Ming (Ming yi tong zhi), 182 Unno Kazutaka, 119, 189, 317n16 Vairocana, 185. See also Buddha vajra (J. kongōsho), 59, 60; five-pronged and three-pronged, 60, 61, 63 vajra, single-pronged, 60, 61; Japan’s geography compared to, 63–66, 69, 76, 148; maps of Japan as, 59–62, 60, 64–66, 65, 76, 94 Valignano, Alessandro, 131, 132, 140–144 Vasubandhu, 48, 49, 50. See also Treasury of Abhidharma Vilela, Gaspar, 130 Vimalakīrti-nirdeśa-sūtra, 181, 290 vision: of astronomers, 224, 238–240, 241– 242; Buddhist epistemology, 4, 8, 181–182, 220, 231, 241–242, 290, 295; cartography and, 4–5; “fruit held in the hand” (shōka), 180–181, 240; heavenly eye, 64, 181, 224, 225–226, 240, 241, 290; optics, 241, 280– 282; in Tokugawa culture, 238; visualizing

INDEX

355

pilgrimages, 3–4, 9, 25–26, 105; wisdom eye, 4, 180, 181, 240, 241–242 visual culture, 4, 5, 100–101, 145. See also maps; paintings Vulture Peak, 4, 27, 51, 55, 184, 211, 218, 237–238, 256 Wang Junfu, General Map of the Ming and All of the Surrounding Countries (Daimin kyūhen bankoku jinseki rotei zenzu), 188, 189, 190–191, 195 Wangli emperor, 136 Wang Qi. See Collected Illustrations of the Three Realms Watarai Tsuneyuki, 58 Way, Richard Quarterman, The Global Theory of the Earth (Chikyū setsuryaku), 286 Western science. See astronomy; Europe; Jesuit missionaries; scientific works wish-fulfilling jewel, Japan’s shape compared to, 59, 62, 64, 66, 69, 76, 148 Witsen, Nicolaas, New Map of Northern and Eastern Asia and Europe (Nieuwe Lantkaarte van het Noor­der en Ooster deel van Asia en Europa), 194–195, 201 Womb World (Taizōkai) mandala, 62, 63, 64 Woodward, David, 4–5 world maps: Asia-centric, 149, 150; Chinese, 91–93, 150–154, 188; Christian mappemonde, 16, 26; European, 133, 136, 141–144, 194–195, 200, 237; European-style, 129, 131, 144–145, 148–149, 150, 180, 199, 222–223; by Kōkan, 237–238, 239. See also Ricci, Matteo world maps, Japanese Buddhist: Buddhist World Map (Shakkyō yochizu), 293–295, 294; circulation, 155; constant worldview, 205, 206, 301; evolution, 10, 156–164, 167–175, 182–183, 220, 301; foreign influences, 128–131, 155–156, 173–175, 220, 251–253; functions, 5, 9; previous scholarship on, 5–6; printed, 176, 200–204; religious purposes, 156, 185; significance, 10; in Tokugawa period, 129. See also specific map titles Wu Cheng’en, Journey to the West (Xi you ji), 20 Xavier, Francis, 130, 211 Xuanzang, 3, 16, 18–19, 29, 30, 101, 314n11 Xuanzang, pilgrimage of: hagiographies, 19–20, 42–43; literary versions, 20; original map, 113, 115, 116, 122; reenacting by viewing maps, 8, 105; significance, 3, 18; sites related to Buddha’s life, 6–8; vision from Mount Sumeru, 22–24, 23, 184; visual

356

INDEX

representations, 6, 20, 22, 161, 171, 173, 186– 187, 188–189; Zontō’s map, 253, 256. See also Great Tang Record of the Western Regions Yancong, 19, 20 Yasui Santetsu, 111 Yasui Sokken, 233 Yee, Cordell D. K., 36 Yijing, A Record of Buddhist Practices Sent Home from the Southern Sea (Ch. Nanhai jigui neifa zhuan; J. Nankai kiki naihō den), 42, 161, 184 Yishan Yining, 79, 82 You Yi. See Inquiries into Classic of Heaven Yu, Chun-fang, 82 Yuanhui, 177, 180, 186 Yuanzhao, Commentary on the Sutra on Contemplation of Amitāyus (Guan wuliangshou jing yishu), 181 Yūhan, Illustrations of Solar and Lunar Movement as Explained in the Dhātu Section of the Abhidharmakośa (Kusha sekenbon nichigatsu gyōdō zuge), 226, 227 Yun Po, 91 Zen Buddhism, 17, 180 Zenjō, Map of the Five Regions of Tenjiku, 101–105, 102, 104, 122 Zenzai Dōji. See Sudhana Zhang Heng, 136 Zhang Huang, 154; Compilation of Illustrations and Writings (Tushu bian), 154, 155, 156, 158, 160, 167, 182; Comprehensive Map of Chinese and Barbarians of the Four Seas (Sihai hua yi zongtu), 154, 155, 169 Zhipan: Complete Chronicle of Buddhas and Patriarchs, 82, 91–94, 167–169, 182, 185, 221; Map of the Land of China to the East, 315n25; Map of the Western Regions and the Five Regions of India (Xitu wuyin zhi tu), 91–93, 92, 98, 150 Zhisheng, Illustrated Record of Translated Scriptures Past and Present, Continued (Xu gujin yinjing tuji), 18 Zhuangzi, 182, 232, 314n10 Zōjōji, 113–115, 127, 183, 184, 240, 243, 285, 318n60 Zontō, 318n60; Expanded Image of the World (Sekai daisōzu), 248, 249–251, 250; Illustration of Jambudvīpa with the Sun (Enbudai tsuketari nichigūzu), 251–253, 252, 254; Map of Tenjiku (Tenjiku yochizu), 253, 255, 256–257, 256

About the Author

D. Max Moerman is professor in the Department of Asian and Middle Eastern Cultures, Barnard College, Columbia University. His research interests lie in the visual and material culture of premodern Japanese Buddhism. He is the author of Localizing Paradise: Kumano Pilgrimage and the Religious Culture of Premodern Japan (2005).