CHAPTER IX.
Many of the Buddhist temples are very ancient and wealthy establishments. Although ancestral worship is the chief idolatry of the masses in China, the Buddhists, by incorporating this superstition into their own heathen rites have gained almost unlimited power over the people. What makes this fact the more remarkable is, that, aside from this worship of Manes, the Chinese are said to care but little for the Buddhist faith, or for their temples. Only the priests and nuns, however, are called Buddhists,—the first of which are very numerous, and have great influence among all classes. Dr. Williams remarks that “the demonology of the Buddhists allows the incorporation of the deities and spirits of other religions; and goes even further, in permitting the priests to worship the gods of other pantheons, so that they could adapt themselves to the popular superstitions of the countries they went to, and engraft all the foreign spirits into theirs.” We had an exemplification of the truth of this at the Temple of the “Five Hundred Gods,” which was one of the most remarkable places that we visited in the western suburbs. The entrance to this temple was guarded by soldiers, but we were readily admitted, and passing on, were led to a veranda bordering the refectory, where the bonzes were at their mid-day meal. Leaving this apartment and entering the cloister, we made our way through several long passages, until we reached the great hall containing the gods.
The eye of the visitor, on entering this hall, is first greeted by two gigantic gilded wooden images elevated on high pedestals, and placed one on each side of the door. They are fat and jolly in appearance, and, sitting in a half reclining posture, are playing with little children. The merrily genial and gay physiognomy of one of them reminded us of Hackett’s Falstaff, and his laughing face was quite as irresistible. Merry little children, in all kinds of baby attitudes, were sitting upon his knees, and also standing upon his feet and arms, or climbing upon his shoulders. Some of them were pointing, or pulling at his hair, eyes, and mouth; seemingly intent, in every conceivable manner, upon getting all the fun they could out of the old fellow, who appeared to be the happiest,—not of gods,—but mortals. To be childless is regarded by the Chinese as the greatest of all misfortunes; and these gods were doubtless intended to set forth the happiness of a parent. This large apartment was nearly filled with images, all of which were not only well kept, but as brilliant as gilt, paint, and bronze could make them. They were placed on shelves eight or ten feet in height, and arranged in a sitting posture, facing each other, with long passages between. They were represented in a variety of attitudes,—often with uplifted arms,—while some had six or eight arms, and one we observed with five eyes. Beyond these rows of idols, seated under a rich canopy, were large images of the Past, Present, and Future Buddha; and a little in front, in a sitting posture, there was a statue of Kien-lung, the Emperor, whom Lord Amherst saw at Peking. He was here represented gorgeous in gilt and paint, and arrayed in his royal robes. This temple contains representations of nearly, if not all, the heathen deities of the East, and painfully impresses one with a sense of the moral darkness and gross superstition of the people. It deserves to be called the Pantheon of Canton.
The abbots of the Buddhist monasteries are not often seen, and rarely honor visitors with any particular civility. At the Temple of Longevity, however, the names of the gentlemen of our party being sent in, the abbot made his appearance in the reception-room, and treated us with distinguished attention. This room was furnished with chairs and sundry little tables, and opened upon a lovely garden, well supplied with trees, shrubs, and plants, and otherwise beautified with little artificial ponds, zigzag bridges, cascades, grottoes, and other rock-work. The space occupied by it was small; but we were assured that it was the handsomest garden in the city. A cup of tea of exquisite flavor, together with some delicious dried and confectioned fruits were served; while the abbot—who was a man of gentle address and quiet manners—condescended to join us in our repast, while, at the same time, he held some conversation with Mr. G——.
One of the idols of this temple was a gigantic reclining image of Noah, who, with dimpled cheeks and laughing eyes, may perhaps have been intended to represent a happy old age. Beyond this, in a dimly lighted place, were three large, dusky, and neglected looking images, representing the men, or superhuman beings, who, as the Chinese say, held up the ark at the time of the Deluge.
The largest Buddhist temple in Canton—as well as one of the oldest and most noted in China—is the Hai-chwang-sz, usually called by foreigners the Honam Joss House. It is situated near the river in the suburb of Honam; and the grounds, which contain several acres, are surrounded by a wall. The courts of the temple—as well as the avenue leading from the outer gate—are shaded with hoary banians, and the air is resonant with the cawing of the numerous rooks which have their nests in the wide-spreading branches. In order to be present at Vespers, we visited this temple at five o’clock in the evening, and, landing from our boat, entered the enclosure at the outer gateway, which opens on the street bordering the river. Traversing the gravelled walk to the high portico,—which is guarded by two frightful looking demons,—and passing through a small enclosure to a porch containing four great statues, we were conducted to the main temple, which is a low building, about one hundred feet square,—in the centre of which there are seated images of the Past, Present, and Future Buddha. These were more than twenty feet in height, and were surrounded by altars and smaller idols.
The evening worship had just commenced as we reached the door of this grand presence-chamber. Here we found a large number of priests,—some in full canonicals,—who were marching in single file around the idols, and chanting in a drawling and nasal tone of voice their idolatrous invocations, accompanied by a sort of drum, tom-toms, and the occasional ringing of a bell. The officiating priests were arrayed in yellow, but most of the rest were in flowing gray robes. We observed one who had not performed the tonsure in a long time, and whose clothing was also old and much patched; but we afterwards learned that an old garb and an unshaven head were the perscribed mourning of the Buddhist monasteries. Towards the close of the worship, a few at a time, on passing before the idols, stepped out of the ranks and fell on their knees before them, until finally all were prostrate. The priest playing the tom-tom knelt upon a low stool, and bowed himself close at the base of the centre idol; but the increased vigor with which he used the instrument, together with the beating of the drum and the ringing of the bell, rendered it impossible to hear the chanting. Finally, in the midst of this noise, bowing themselves three times, and touching their foreheads each time to the floor, they all performed the kotau, and thus ended their adorations.
Although the bonzes, with clasped hands and downcast eyes, assumed the most devout attitudes, and chanted their vespers in most imploring accents, still many of them were more intent upon looking at their visitors, and appeared to be more interested in them than in their evening orisons. Nor could we observe any appearance of real solemnity in the officiating priests, who, on rising from their knees, and while taking off their yellow robes and other trappings, fell right merrily to chatting and laughing. Most of the invocation consisted of a repetition of the words, “Omito fuh,” (Amida Buddha,) or, “Buddha, have mercy upon us;” which reminded us of the words of our Saviour. (Matt. vi. 7.)
In another building beyond the grand presence-chamber of Buddha, a marble monument is erected to the Goddess of Mercy, in which there is said to be a relic of Buddha.[27] A twisted pagoda-like shaft surmounts a pedestal of extraordinary massiveness, upon which the goddess is sculptured. We were told by one of the priests that this monument—which is more like the workmanship of India than China—was brought from Siam. Tablets, commemorative of those who have given to the temple, are set up at various points in the cloisters of all the monasteries dedicated to the worship of Buddha. Tablets, also, containing apothegms from Confucius, are set into the walls bordering this cloister; and here may be seen the “sacred hogs,” which, having been presented as offerings by some of the worshippers, have an apartment appropriated to them, where they are kept and cared for as long as they live.
After death the remains of the priests are disposed of by cremation. The bodies are burned in a little stone-building, put up expressly for this purpose in the cemetery which adjoins the garden. In a line with the arched doorway of this building there is a grave-like excavation of about a foot in depth, where the fire is made; and an iron grate to receive the body is placed two or three feet above it. Small orifices in the back wall, together with the doorway, answer for the escape of the smoke; and the blackened wall and roof, directly over the arch, gave evidence that the building had been much used. The ashes of the dead having been deposited in earthen jars, are placed in another small building within the grounds; and if not taken by relatives, after a reasonable length of time, to be buried among their kindred, are finally interred in the cemetery.
In visiting the Buddhist temples, we observed that the ground and buildings, with all their belongings, were kept in remarkably neat order; which, together with their ample arrangements for tropical comfort, made them invitingly cool retreats. The idolatrous worship at this temple, together with the sickening accessories met with at the place of burial, were profoundly saddening; and we could not but wonder how any American or European reared within the pale of Protestant Christendom could, after witnessing such scenes, be at all at loss as to the Christian’s duty in sustaining foreign missions in China. Although the light of Divine truth has as yet illumined but comparatively few heathen hearts in that land, still its teachings are slowly but surely bringing forth fruit, and the way is gradually being prepared for the full reception of the Gospel. No Christian, even with the most limited knowledge of the heathen character, can be personally conversant with the American and European mission stations in Southern China, without being surprised at what has already been accomplished. Among the different denominations of Christians in heathen lands sectarianism is happily forgotten; and the delightful fraternization, which is a distinguishing feature of their little communities, savors of the true Gospel spirit.
The English Methodist missionaries at Canton have a large chapel and very comfortable dwellings, which were erected out of a fund bequeathed to the Church expressly for this purpose by some friends in England. From what we could learn, there is also a generous provision made for them by the society under whose patronage they are sent out. As to the American missions, we have frequently heard our countrymen in China remark that the salaries allowed them were not sufficient for their support, and that, consequently, they were obliged to economize more closely than was conducive either to health or comfort in such an exhausting climate. They are, however, too heartily engaged in their noble work ever to complain; and are always cheerfully contented, and happy to make any sacrifice in their Master’s service.
While living at Whampoa my attention was attracted one morning by hearing the voices of children singing Sunday-school hymns. At first I doubted whether I might not be mistaken, for it seemed incredible that the sweet tones of so many childish voices could ever be heard, amid our heathenish surroundings, singing the same notes that are set to the little hymns found in the “Sabbath Bell,” and other Sunday-school hymn-books. I was, however, soon relieved from my perplexity by the entrance of Mr. W——, from whom I learned that the singing proceeded from a Hong-boat, in which were Mr. and Mrs. Bonney,[28] together with the boys belonging to the school of the former. After they had visited the Bethel “chop,” we had the pleasure of seeing them moored at our side, and entering the boat, heard the boys sing more of those agreeable home-strains, with which our ears had been so unexpectedly greeted. The hymns were the same that we had heard sung by the “little ones at home;” but when translated into the Chinese language, and sung in that far-off land by those boys of benighted parents, they were all the more sweet and touching. An American gentleman,—a resident of Canton,—having recently visited the school, proposed this holiday excursion, and paid the expenses of the trip. It was a remarkable affair for the little fellows, whose thorough enjoyment, together with the high degree of gratification which their happiness gave Mr. Bonney, must have more than repaid our countryman for his kind and thoughtful generosity.
Mrs. Bonney has also a school composed of twelve or fourteen Chinese girls, most of whom have touching little histories. One of them, who is now capable of assisting in caring for the younger girls, was originally sold for ten dollars, to be a servant-maid. She was redeemed, however, by an English lady, and given to Mrs. Bonney to educate. Another had been cast out from her home into the street on account of a lameness caused by cruel treatment, which had incapacitated her from doing much house-work. There was one, also, who had been sold by a wretchedly poor father for five dollars, but was redeemed by a Chinese woman, who had placed her with Mrs. Bonney for eight years. And still another, from Macao, whose mother—a poor widow—had wished to sell her for thirty dollars, but Mrs. Bonney would not permit it.
The names of these girls were very significant on being translated into English:—such as Miss Wealth, Miss Summer, Miss Have, Miss Thoughtful, &c. Mrs. Bonney keeps a Chinese female assistant, and the girls (who are taught in their own language) receive a useful and Christian education. In addition to their daily studies, they are also thoroughly instructed in the use of the needle and other womanly employments. Some of these children are supported by religious and benevolent women at home; and I could wish that many more of our countrywomen might be induced to become the patrons of this interesting and important branch of the missionary work. The other Mission schools, under the care of both American and English missionaries in Canton, are also assisting to advance the cause of Christian education, but I did not become as conversant with them as with the schools of Mr. and Mrs. Bonney.
To the Chinese nothing is more awe-inspiring, august, and powerful than their fabulous animal, the lung, or dragon. This is doubtless principally owing to the fact of its being adopted as the Imperial coat-of-arms; although, even aside from this, it is said to be more or less superstitiously regarded by all classes, and is peculiarly feared and worshipped by both boatmen and fishermen, who consider it the ruling spirit of the waters. A festival to propitiate this divinity—or demon of the ocean and rivers—is observed for five days, in the month of May, and is called the “Feast of the Dragon-boats.” The chief feature in this festival is the racing of the Dragon-boats belonging to the different villages. These boats are about one hundred feet in length by only thirty-two inches in width, terminating in a point at either end. They are brilliantly painted, and have their bows ornamented with dragons. Each boat is bedecked with flags and gay streamers, and contains sixty or eighty men, who, sitting quietly, paddle their craft to the time produced by the rude music of gongs, drums, and the jingling of copper pans; the boats, when under full headway, being in appearance not unlike huge centipedes in motion. While witnessing these races on the Pearl River, both at Whampoa and Canton, I observed that the time of the music and the speed of the boats were always pari passu. A man standing near the helm was constantly waving a fancy flag; while two men, who played a drum elevated in the middle of the boat, led the band. As the speed of the boat and the din of the music culminated, the excitement of the musicians exhibited itself in various antics and gestures. In consequence of the very slight construction of these boats many lives are sometimes lost by their breaking in two.
The private gardens of Howqua and Pun-Tingqua—located a mile or two up the river from Canton—are much visited by foreigners. Both are enclosed by high walls; and although the garden of Howqua is not as well kept as formerly, it has spacious walks, pretty sheets of water, fine trees and plants, and altogether must have been a charming place when the avenues, ornamented buildings, and little bridges were in good order. We found the garden of Pun-Tingqua, on the contrary, not only well kept, but in a state of further improvement. One of the first things which strikes the eye on entering this garden is the handsomely covered walk bordering the walls. The grounds, however, are everywhere intersected with pleasant walks,—one of which, separating two artificial ponds, is bordered with fir-trees of a beautifully delicate foliage. A large house, standing within this garden, is the summer retreat of Pun-Tingqua’s family, and the private theatre of that gentleman is also in the same building. These extensive grounds included every variety of ornament usually found in Chinese gardens. There were pretty kiosks, grottoes, and fancy bridges, besides a handsome pagoda of three stories, from the upper windows of which the coup d’œil of the whole was charmingly picturesque.
The Fa-ti, or Flower-gardens,—from which foreigners at Canton are supplied with the pots of rare plants that always adorn their verandas,—are also situated on the river above the city. In these gardens we observed some very lofty palms, and there was also a superabundance of other trees and shrubs, which seemed to be growing in all the wild exuberance of nature. Here, and also at the garden of Pun-Tingqua, a lovely orchid, called “the nun,” was in blossom. In addition to the dwarfed trees and shrubs found in every Chinese garden, both at the Fa-ti and at the garden of Howqua, we noticed a small shrub, of a close, full, and delicate foliage, trimmed so as to form flower-baskets of elegant patterns. Animals, also, were delineated in the same manner, among which we observed many accurate representations of dogs and miniature giraffes.
Most of the shops in Canton are so constructed that their fronts can be removed during the day, thus giving the passer-by a good view of the interior. At one side of the entrance there is usually a little shrine containing some tablet or image, where incense is burned every day to supplicate a lucrative business. At some of the more wealthy and handsome shops, shrines, fancifully ornamented, are set up within the establishment, and these are not unfrequently embellished with vases of flowers. The Chinese—who have a superstitious notion that the blossoming of the peach-tree, at the time of their New-Year festival, betokens good luck and prosperity for the coming year—have a way of forcing that tree to bloom for the occasion. When making my first visit to Canton, I was shown, at the shop of Hoaching,—of whom I shall have more to say when speaking of shopkeepers,—a large branch of a peach-tree, which, having passed through the forcing process, was brilliant with flowers.
The shops at which foreigners make their purchases of china, lacquered ware, and articles carved in ivory and black-wood, are in the New City and its environs. A Chinaman is exceedingly clever at a bargain, and being quite as fond of money as an Anglo-Saxon, is no less quick to note and take advantage of every opportunity that may offer to increase his gains. During the occupation of Canton by the Allies, the artisans and dealers found their wares in such great demand by the foreign officers and others that there was a general rise in the old prices; and as these still continued at their advanced rates, many of the most desirable articles were more expensive than formerly,—fine china-ware, at the time of our visit, being nearly as costly as the French article was in New York before the war. Besides this, many of the china-ware manufactories in the interior have been destroyed by the rebels, and it is more difficult for the dealers in Canton to obtain their usual supplies. Indeed, some articles formerly found at the shops are now not to be procured at all; and this has doubtless tended, more or less, to increase the price of all articles. A very curious, but handsome ware, called “open-work-china,” was formerly made in the northern part of the Kwang-tung province,—of which Canton is the chief city. The rebels, however, have overrun and laid waste the country; and those who understood manufacturing this ware having passed away, the art is now said to be lost. This china is greatly in request, but is rarely found for sale. We saw only a few pieces of it, and these belonged to foreigners, who preserved them as curiosities.
Ushing’s is a fine and extensive shop in the New City, where elegant china-ware,—comprising articles of every description,—and also furniture of curious, as well as beautiful patterns, elaborately carved in black-wood, are kept for sale. The prices of the most desirable articles range at very high figures; but they are so rare, and not unfrequently so superbly beautiful, that the shop is much patronized by wealthy foreigners. The patrons of this establishment are waited upon with much politeness; being usually met, on passing from the ante-room into the shop, by the portly Ushing himself, who, handsomely dressed in silk fabrics, approaches his customers, and, in spite of his obesity, greets them with sundry profound bows while leading them to the side and upper apartments, where there is a tempting display of his wares. Another shop much frequented by foreigners is kept by Pohing, who deals entirely in china, and has many beautiful things at less prices than Ushing. Pohing, however, is a noisy, curt, and blustering man, without the smooth polish and savoir-vivre that distinguishes Ushing,—his chief recommendation being, that those who possess purses of only a moderate depth can obtain many of the same kind of articles, and of as good quality, of him, as can be procured at Ushing’s, and on far more reasonable terms.
The matchless skill displayed by Chinese artists in the workmanship of ivory is well known, and the exquisite minuteness of their carvings in that material is unrivalled. Hoaching—whose shop in the suburbs of Honam is filled with beautiful carved work in ivory, sandal-wood, and shell—is said to excel all others in the artistic finish of his articles. Foreign visitors to this shop always find something rare and curious to study. Once when there our attention was directed to some remarkable ornaments elegantly carved from the skull of a bird belonging to the egret species. It is a native of Cochin-China. We were shown the head of one from which pieces had been cut for carving. The bone, which is of a very fine and ivory-like texture, admits of being carved into the most minute representations of flowers and foliage, as well as of temples and people. It is of a delicate, but peculiarly rich, orange color, sometimes slightly veined with red; and the ornaments, when handsomely set in gold, are superbly unique.
The wealthy Chinese have a passion for fine carvings. We were shown, at Hoaching’s, a superb piece in ivory, which had been ordered by a Chinese gentleman at the cost of five hundred dollars. It was a mass of elaborate and exquisite carvings, representing men, animals, birds, and scenery. The article itself was of a peculiar design, and, from what we could learn, was intended to ornament the shrine of a household god, or, perhaps, the ancestral hall. Temples—and their never-failing adjuncts, the sacred banians—embellish most of these carvings, and the latter are remarkably well given.
The cultivated Chinese greatly admire antiques, and highly value an old piece of curious china, an antique bronze, or a rare carving. It is said that no city in the empire has more of the antique, the rare, the curious, and the grotesque, to interest a foreigner, than Canton,—the shops of Curio Street, in the New City, being mostly occupied by dealers in such articles. Some of these shops are large, and well filled with articles of rare and handsome workmanship. At any of them one can soon invest a thousand dollars in elegant pieces of furniture, rich carvings, and other valuable works of vertu and art. Many of the articles in bronze, however, are too ugly or too disagreeably grotesque to tempt a foreigner. The studio of the noted painter, Lamqua, and the shop of “Old Siqua,”—whose lacquered ware is considered the finest in Canton,—are also in the Honam suburbs. Lamqua is an artist of much talent; and having profited by the instruction of Chinery,—the Anglo-Eastern artist already mentioned,—his pictures are free from the gross inaccuracies in perspective, and many other points that usually mar the sketches and paintings of his countrymen. He is noted for his fine fruit-pieces, and I also observed in his studio some very good pictures of foreigners. His finely painted miniatures, copied from photographs, and done on ivory, are also excellent.
The Chinese women are very fond of ornaments made of the “jade-stone.”[29] Vases, also, and other fancy articles manufactured from it, are highly prized, and sold to the wealthy at fabulous prices. A daily market expressly for the sale of this article, which is located in the western suburbs, is regulated by certain laws, one of which requires it to be closed at twelve in the morning.
Judging from the extent of the street occupied by the artificers in fans, and the infinite variety of that article exposed everywhere for sale, China is very properly called the “land of fans.” No people, however, need them more; and nearly every city manufactures its own style of the article; hence there are Peking fans, Canton and Swatow fans, besides many others. Those, however, that are made at Suchau,—a city situated on the Yellow River, in the province of Kiangsu,—being either very tastefully and delicately painted, or elegantly finished in black and gold, are much in request. In fact, at one time these fans were so much the mode among the higher classes of the Chinese, that, for one to say that his fan was from Suchau, made the same impression as for us to speak of an article imported from Paris. Suchau is also noted for its dark, bronze-colored, lacquered ware, prettily ornamented with etchings of birds, trees, and flowers, the outlines of which are touched or finished in gilt. The rebels, however, have nearly destroyed the city, and both the Suchau fans and lacquered ware having become scarce,—except at some of the shops on Curio Street, where they command a very high price,—they are now rarely met with.
Canton is said to rank next to Peking in wealth, and no one can visit either the New, or the Old City without being impressed with the opulent appearance of a great portion of the people; for although beggars of the poorest and most wretched class are met everywhere, many of the streets are thronged with Chinese gentlemen, who, walking or in chairs, are arrayed in garbs of the most expensive silks. A large number of streets are also lined with spacious and handsome shops, which are filled with the richest fabrics of the East. In passing through some of these streets the extensive view afforded in either direction, with the moving crowds, brilliant signs, and other gorgeous adornments, is very picturesque, and to a traveller from the Occident has an air of enchantment about it, which is almost a realization of the tales of the Genii of old.