CHAP. X.
VISIT TO THE NINGPO GREEN TEA DISTRICT.—MOUNTAIN TRAVELLING CHAIR.—THE BUDDHIST TEMPLE OF TEIN-TUNG.—SCENERY AROUND THE TEMPLE.—TRADITIONAL HISTORY COMMUNICATED BY THE PRIEST.—THE TEMPLE AND ITS IDOLS.—INVITATION TO DINNER WITH THE PRIESTS.—FIRST TRIAL WITH CHOPSTICKS.—POLITENESS! OF THE CHINESE.—USUAL DINNER COMPANY.—MY BED.—DEVOTIONS OF THE PRIESTS.—WILD BOAR HUNT.—NARROW ESCAPE.—MODE OF FRIGHTENING THE ANIMALS FROM THE BAMBOO PLANTATIONS.—MOUNTAIN SCENERY.—BUDDHIST TEMPLE OF AH-YU-WANG.-POO-TO-SAN, OR THE WORSHIPPING ISLAND.—ITS TEMPLES AND IDOLS.—BRONZE GODS.—TREES AND SHRUBS.—GARDENS AND PET PLANTS OF THE PRIESTS.—SALE OF GODS OR JOSSES.—OFFERINGS TO THE GODS IN SHANGHAE AND NINGPO.—PROCESSIONS IN HONOUR OF THE GODS.—CHRISTIAN MISSIONS.—MEDICAL MISSIONARY SOCIETY.—ROMAN CATHOLICS.
Having despatched my collections to England by three different vessels from Hong-kong, I sailed again, at the end of March 1844, for the northern provinces. During the summer of this year, and in that of 1845, I was able to visit several parts of the country, which were formerly scaled to Europeans, and which contained subjects of much interest.
About the beginning of May I set out upon an excursion with Mr. Thom, the British consul, and two other gentlemen, to visit the green tea district near Ningpo. We were informed that there was a large and celebrated temple, named Tein-tung, in the centre of the tea district, and above twenty miles distant, where we could lodge during our stay in this part of the country. Twelve or fourteen miles of our journey was performed by water, but the canal ending at the foot of the hills we were obliged to walk, or take chairs for the remainder of the way. The mountain travelling chair of China is a very simple contrivance. It consists merely of two long bamboo poles, with a board placed between them for a seat, and two other cross pieces, one for the back and the other for the feet: a large Chinese umbrella is held over the head to afford protection from the sun and rain.
Mountain Chair.
The Chinese are quite philosophers after their own fashion. On our way to the temple, when tired with sitting so long in our boat, we several times got out and walked along the path on the sides of the canal. A great number of passage-boats going in the same direction with ourselves, and crowded with passengers, kept very near us for a considerable portion of the way, in order to satisfy their curiosity. A Chinaman never walks when he can possibly find any other mode of conveyance, and these persons were consequently much surprised to see us apparently enjoying our walk.
"Is it not strange," said one, "that these people prefer walking when they have a boat as well as ourselves?" A discussion now took place amongst them as to the reason of this apparently strange propensity, when one, more wise than his companions, settled the matter by the pithy observation, "It is their nature to do so;" which was apparently satisfactory to all parties.
It was nearly dark when we reached the temple, and as the rain had fallen in torrents during the greater part of the day, we were drenched to the skin, and in rather a pitiable condition. The priests seemed much surprised at our appearance, but at once evinced the greatest hospitality and kindness, and we soon found ourselves quite at home amongst them. They brought us fire to dry our clothes, got ready our dinner, and set apart a certain number of their best rooms for us to sleep in. We were evidently subjects of great curiosity to most of them who had never seen an Englishman before. Our clothes, features, mode of eating, and manners were all subjects of wonder to these simple people, who passed off many a good humoured joke at our expence.
Glad to get off our clothes, which were still damp, we retired early to rest. When we arose in the morning, the view which met our eyes far surpassed in beauty any scenery which I had ever witnessed before in China. The temple stands at the head of a fertile valley in the bosom of the hills. This valley is well watered by clear streams, which flow from the mountains, and produces most excellent crops of rice. The tea shrubs, with their dark green leaves, are seen dotted on the lower sides of all the more fertile hills. The temple itself is approached by a long avenue of Chinese pine trees. This avenue is at first straight, but near the temple it winds in a most picturesque manner round the edges of two artificial lakes, and then ends in a flight of stone steps, which lead up to the principal entrance. Behind, and on each side, the mountains rise, in irregular ridges, from one to two thousand feet above the level of the sea. These are not like the barren southern mountains, but are clothed nearly to their summits with a dense tropical looking mass of brushwood, shrubs, and trees. Some of the finest bamboos of China are grown in the ravines, and the sombre coloured pine attains to a large size on the sides of the hills. Here, too, I observed some very beautiful specimens of the new fir (Cryptomeria japonica), and obtained some plants and seeds of it, which may now be seen growing in the Horticultural Gardens at Chiswick.
After we had breakfasted, one of the head priests came and gave us a very pressing invitation to dine with him about mid-day; and in the meantime he accompanied us over the monastery, of which he gave the following history:—"Many hundred years ago a pious old man retired from the world, and came to dwell in these mountains, giving himself up entirely to the performance of religious duties. So earnest was he in his devotions that he neglected everything relating to his temporal wants, even to his daily food. Providence, however, would not suffer so good a man to starve. Some boys were sent in a miraculous manner, who daily supplied him with food. In the course of time the fame of the sage extended all over the adjacent country, and disciples flocked to him from all quarters. A small range of temples was built, and thus commenced the extensive buildings which now bear the name of "Tein-tung," or the "Temple of the Heavenly Boys;" Tein signifying heaven, and tung a boy. At last the old man died, but his disciples supplied his place. The fame of the temple spread far and wide, and votaries came from the most distant parts of the empire—one of the Chinese kings being amongst the number—to worship and leave their offerings at its altars. Larger temples were built in front of the original ones, and these again in their turn gave way to those spacious buildings which form the principal part of the structure of the present day.
All the temples are crowded with idols, or images of their favourite gods, such as the "three precious Buddhas," "the Queen of Heaven"—represented as sitting on the celebrated lotus or nelumbium—"the God of War," and many other deified kings and great men of former days. Many of these images are from thirty to forty feet in height, and have a very striking appearance when seen arranged in these spacious and lofty halls. The priests themselves reside in a range of low buildings, erected at right angles with the different temples and courts which divide them. Each has a little temple in his own house—a family altar crowded with small images, where he is often engaged in private devotion.
After inspecting the various temples and the belfry, which contains a noble bronze bell of large dimensions, our host conducted us back to his house, where the dinner was already on the table. The priests of the Buddhist religion are not allowed to eat animal food at any of their meals. Our dinner therefore consisted entirely of vegetables, served up in the usual Chinese style, in a number of small round basins, the contents of each—soups excepted—being cut up into small square bits, to be eaten with chopsticks. The Buddhist priests contrive to procure a number of vegetables of different kinds, which, by a peculiar mode of preparation, are rendered very palatable. In fact, so nearly do they resemble animal food in taste and in appearance, that at first we were deceived, imagining that the little bits we were able to get hold of with our chopsticks were really pieces of fowl or beef. Such, however, was not the case, as our good host was consistent on this day at least, and had nothing but vegetable productions at his table. Several other priests sat with us at table, and a large number of others of inferior rank with servants, crowded around the doors and windows outside. The whole assemblage must have been much surprised at the awkward way in which some of us handled our chopsticks, and, with all their politeness, I observed they could not refrain from laughing when, after repeated attempts, some little dainty morsel would still slip back again into the dish. I know few things more annoying, and yet laughable too, than attempting to eat with the Chinese chopsticks for the first time, more particularly if the operator has been wandering on the hills all the morning, and is ravenously hungry. The instruments should first of all be balanced between the thumb and forefinger of the right hand; the points are next to be brought carefully together, just leaving as much room as will allow the coveted morsel to go in between them; the little bit is then to be neatly seized; but alas! in the act of lifting the hand, one point of the chopstick too often slips past the other, and the object of all our hopes drops back again into the dish, or perhaps even into another dish on the table. Again and again the same operation is tried, until the poor novice loses all patience, throws down the chopsticks in despair, and seizes a porcelain spoon, with which he is more successful. In cases like these the Chinese themselves are very obliging, although scarcely in a way agreeable to an Englishman's taste. Your Chinese friend, out of kindness and politeness, when he sees the dilemma in which you are, reaches across the table and seizes, with his own chopsticks, which have just come out of his mouth, the wished-for morsel, and with them lays it on the plate before you. In common politeness you must express your gratitude and swallow the offering.
During dinner our host informed us that there were about a hundred priests connected with the monastery, but that many were always absent on missions to various parts of the country. On questioning him as to the mode by which the establishment was supported, he informed us that a considerable portion of land in the vicinity belonged to the temple, and that large sums were yearly raised from the sale of bamboos, which are here very excellent, and of the branches of trees and brushwood, which are made up in bundles for fire-wood. A number of tea and rice farms also belong to the priests, which they themselves cultivate. Besides the sums raised by the sale of these productions, a considerable revenue must be derived from the contributions of the devotees who resort to the temple for religious purposes, as well as from the sums collected by those of the order who are out on begging excursions at stated seasons of the year. The priests are of course of all grades, some of them being merely the servants of the others, both in the house and in the fields. They seem a harmless and simple race, but are dreadfully ignorant and superstitious. The typhoon of the previous year, or rather the rain which had accompanied it, had occasioned a large slip of earth on one of the hill-sides near the temple, and completely buried ten or twelve acres of excellent paddy land. On our remarking this, the priests told us with great earnestness that every one said it was a bad omen for the temple; but one of them with true Chinese politeness remarked that he had no doubt any evil influence would now be counteracted, since the temple had been honoured with a visit from us.
After inspecting the tea farms and the mode of manufacturing it, Mr. Thom, Mr. Morrison, a son of the late Dr. Morrison, and Mr. Sinclair, returned to Ningpo, leaving me to prosecute my research in natural history in this part of the country. I was generally absent from the temple the whole day, returning at dark with the collections of plants and birds which I had been lucky enough to meet with in my peregrinations. The friends of the priests came from all quarters of the adjacent country to see the foreigner; and, as in the case of a wild animal, my feeding time seemed to be the most interesting moment to them. My dinner was placed on a round table in the centre of the room, and although rather curiously concocted, being half Chinese and half English, the exercise and fresh air of the mountains gave me a keen appetite. The difficulties of the chopsticks were soon got over, and I was able to manage them nearly as well as the Chinese themselves. The priests and their friends tilled the chairs, which are always placed down the sides of a Chinese hall, each man with his pipe in his mouth and his cup of tea by his side. With all deference to my host and his friends, I was obliged to request the smoking to be stopped, as it was disagreeable to me while at dinner; in other respects, I believe I was "polite" enough. I shall never forget how inexpressibly lonely I felt the first night after the departure of my friends. The Chinese one by one dropt off to their homes or to bed, and at last my host himself gave several unequivocal yawns, which reminded me that it was time to retire for the night. My bed-room was upstairs, and to get to it I had to pass through a small temple, such as I have already noticed, dedicated to Tein-how, or the "Queen of Heaven," and crowded with other idols. Incense was burning on the altar in front of the idols; a solitary lamp shed a dim light over the objects in the room, and a kind of solemn stillness seemed to pervade the whole place. In the room below, and also in one in an adjoining house, I could hear the priests engaged in their devotional exercises, in that singing tone which is peculiar to them. Then the sounds of the gong fell upon my ears; and, at intervals, a single solemn toll of the large bronze bell in the belfry; all which showed that the priests were engaged in public as well as private devotion. Amidst scenes of this kind, in a strange country, far from friends and home, impressions are apt to be made upon the mind, which remain vivid through life; and I feel convinced I shall never forget the strange mixture of feelings which filled my mind during the first night of my stay with the priests in the temple of Tein-tung. I have visited the place often since, passed through the same little temple, slept in the same bed, and heard the same solemn sounds throughout the silent watches of the night, and yet the first impressions remain in my mind distinct and single.
The priests, from the highest to the lowest, always showed me the most marked attention and kindness. As many of them as I wished cheerfully followed me in my excursions in the vicinity of the temple; one carrying my specimen paper, another my plants, and a third my birds, and so on. The gun seemed an object of great interest to them, being so different from their own clumsy matchlocks; and percussion caps were looked upon as most magical little objects. But they were great cowards, and always kept at a most respectful distance when I was shooting.
One evening a deputation, headed by the high priest, came and informed me that the wild boars had come down from the mountains at night, and were destroying the young shoots of the bamboo, which were then just coming through the ground, and were in the state in which they are highly prized as a vegetable for the table. "Well," said I, "what do you want me to do?"
"Will you be good enough to lend us the gun?"
"Yes; there it stands in the corner of the room."
"Oh, but you must load it for us."
"Very well, I will;" and I immediately loaded the gun with ball. "There, but take care and don't shoot yourselves." There was now a long pause; none had sufficient courage to take the gun, and a long consultation was held between them. At length the spokesman came forward, with great gravity, and told me they were afraid to fire it off, but that if I would go with them, and shoot the boar, I should have it to eat. This was certainly no great sacrifice on the part of the Budhist priesthood, who do not, or at least should not, eat animal food. We now sallied forth in a body to fight the wild boars; but the night was so dark that we could see nothing in the bamboo ravines, and, perhaps, the noise made by about thirty priests and servants warned the animals to retire to the brushwood higher up the hills. Be that as it may, we could neither see nor hear any thing of them, and I confess I was rather glad, than otherwise, as I thought there was a considerable chance of my shooting, by mistake, a priest instead of a wild boar.
The priests have two modes of protecting their property from the ravages of these animals. Deep pits are dug on the hill sides, and, as there are springs in almost all these places, the pits are scarcely finished before they are half full of water. The mouth of each pit is then covered over with a quantity of sticks, rubbish, and grass, to attract the animal, and no sooner does he begin to bore into it with his snout, than the whole gives way, and he is plunged, head foremost, into the pit, from which it is quite impossible for him to extricate himself, and he is either drowned or becomes an easy prey to the Chinese. These pits are most dangerous traps to persons unacquainted with the localities in which they are placed. I had several narrow escapes, and once in particular, when coming out of a dense mass of brushwood, I stept unawares on the treacherous mouth of one of them, and felt the ground under my feet actually giving way; but managing to throw my arms forward I caught hold of a small twig which was growing near, and by this means supported myself until I was able to scramble on to firmer ground. On turning back to examine the place, I found that the loose rubbish had sunk in, and a deep pit, half full of water, was exposed to my view. The pit was made narrow at the mouth and widening inside like a great China vase, being constructed in this manner to prevent the boar from scrambling out when once fairly in it. Had I fallen in, it would have been next to impossible to have extricated myself without assistance, and as the pits are generally dug in the most retired and wild part of the mountains, my chance would have been a bad one. The fate of my predecessor, Mr. Douglas, who perished in a pit of this kind on the Sandwich Islands, must still be fresh in the recollection of many of my readers, and his melancholy end naturally coming to my mind at the time, made me doubly thankful for my escape.
The other method of protecting the young bamboos from the ravages of the wild boar, is an ingenious one. A piece of bamboo wood, about eight or ten feet long, and rather thicker than a man's arm, is split up the middle to within a fourth of its length. This is made fast to a tree in the bamboo thicket, and at an angle of about forty-five degrees, the split part being left loose, a cord, also made of bamboo, is fastened to it by one end, and the other is led to some convenient place out of the thicket, where a man is stationed. When the boars come down in the dead of night to attack the young shoots, the man pulls the rope backwards and forwards, and clank, clank, clank goes the bamboo, producing a loud and hollow sound, which on a quiet evening may be heard at a great distance. The animals are frightened and make off to their dens on the hills. The first time I heard these things beating at night, all over the country, I imagined that some religious ceremony was going on, the hollow sounds of the bamboo being not unlike those produced by an instrument used in the Budhist worship in all Chinese temples.
There are a large number of Budhist temples scattered over all this part of the country. One, named Ah-yu-wang, which I also visited, is, like Tein-tung, of great extent, and seemingly well supported. They both own large tracts of land in the vicinity of the monasteries, and have numerous small temples in different parts of the district which are under their control. All the temples, both large and small, are built in the most romantic and beautiful situations amongst the hills, and the neighbouring woods are always preserved and encouraged. What would indicate the residence of a country gentleman in England, is in China the sign of a Budhist temple, and this holds good over all the country. When the weary traveller, therefore, who has been exposed for hours to the fierce rays of an eastern sun, sees a large clean looking house showing itself amongst trees on the distant hill-side, he may be almost certain that it is one of Budha's temples, where the priests will treat him not only with courtesy, but with kindness.
Poo-to, or the Worshipping Island, as it is commonly called by foreigners, is one of the eastern islands in the Chusan Archipelago, and seems to be the capital or stronghold of Budhism in this part of China. This island is not more than five or six miles in circumference, and, although hilly, its sides and small ravines are pretty well wooded, particularly in the vicinity of the numerous temples. As it is only a few hours' sail from Chusan, it had been visited at different times by a number of our officers during the war, all of whom spoke highly of its natural beauties and richness of vegetation. I was also informed that the resident priests were fond of collecting plants, particularly Orchidaceæ, and that their collections were much increased by the itinerant habits of the begging priests, who visit the most distant provinces of the empire, as well as by the donations of the lay devotees, who come to Poo-to at stated seasons of the year, to worship and leave their offerings in the temples. I therefore determined to visit the place in order to judge for myself, and accordingly set out in July, 1844, accompanied by my friend, Dr. Maxwell, of the Madras army.
Leaving Chusan at night, with the tide in our favour, we reached the island at sun-rise on the following morning. We landed, and pursued our way over a hill and down on the other side by a road which led us into a beautiful and romantic glen. It is here that the principal group of temples is built, and when we first caught a glimpse of them, as we wended our way down the hill, they seemed like a town of considerable size. As we approached nearer, the view became highly interesting. In front there was a large artificial pond, filled with the broad green leaves and noble red and white flowers of the Nelumbium speciosum,—a plant in high favour with the Chinese. Every body who went to Poo-to admired these beautiful water-lilies. In order to reach the monastery we crossed a very ornamental bridge built over this pond, which, when viewed in a line with an old tower close by, has a pretty and striking appearance.
The temples or halls which contain the idols are extremely spacious, and resemble those which I have already described at Tein-tung and Ah-yu-Wang. These idols, many of which are thirty or forty feet in height, are generally made of wood or clay, and then richly gilt. There is one small temple, however, of a very unassuming appearance, where we met with some exquisite bronze statues, which would be considered of great value in England. These, of course, were much smaller than the others, but, viewed as works of art, they were by far the finest which I saw during my travels in China.
Having examined these temples, we pursued our way towards another assemblage of them, about two miles to the eastward and close on the sea-shore. We entered the courts through a kind of triumphal arch, which looks out upon the sea, and found that these temples were constructed upon the same plan as all the others. As we had determined to make this part of the island our home during our stay, we fixed upon the cleanest looking temple, and asked the High Priest to allow us, without farther delay, to put our beds and travelling baggage into it.
On the following day we inspected various parts of the island. Besides the large temples just noticed, there are about sixty or seventy smaller ones, built on all the hill sides, each of which contains three or four priests, who are all under the superior, or abbot, who resides near one of the large temples. Even on the top of the highest hill, probably 1500 or 1800 feet above the level of the sea, we found a temple of considerable size and in excellent repair. There are winding stone steps from the sea beach all the way up to this temple, and a small resting-place about half way up the hill, where the weary devotee may rest and drink of the refreshing stream which flows down the sides of the mountain, and in the little temple close at hand, which is also crowded with idols, he can supplicate Budha for strength to enable him to reach the end of his journey. We were surprised to find a Budhist temple in such excellent order as the one on the summit of the hill proved to be in. It is a striking fact, that almost all these places are crumbling fast into ruins. There are a few exceptions, in cases where they happen to get a good name amongst the people from the supposed kindness of the gods; but the great mass are in a state of decay.
From the upper temple on Poo-to-san the view is strikingly grand. Hugged mountains are seen rising one above another and capped with clouds. Hundreds of islands, some fertile, others rocky and barren, lay scattered over the sea. When we looked in one direction amongst the islands, the water was yellow and muddy; but, to the eastward, the deep blue ocean had resumed its usual colour, and the line between the yellow waters and the blue was distinctly and curiously marked.
The wood on the island is preserved in the same manner as it is around all the other Budhist temples. The principal species of trees and shrubs met with are Pinus sinensis, Cunningham lanceolata, yews, cypresses, the camphor tree, tallow tree, oaks, and bamboos. The Camellia japonica grows spontaneously in the woods, where we met with many specimens from twenty to thirty feet in height and with stems thick in proportion. The variety, however, was only the well-known single red. In other respects the flora of Poo-to is nearly the same as on the island of Chusan.
A few pet plants were cultivated by all the priests who were fortunate enough to have private residences at the little temples on the sides of the hills. We were much pleased with the interest these poor people took in their favourite flowers, but were disappointed in the number and variety of plants, which, from the reports of others, we expected to have found. Almost the only orchidaceous plant which they had, proved to be the common and well-known Cymbidium sinense. Daphne odorata, two or three species of Gardenia, several varieties of Rose, the common Balsam, and the favourite Nelumbium were nearly all the plants met with in the gardens of the priests.
The island of Poo-to is set apart entirely as a residence for the priests of the Budhist religion. Few other persons are allowed to live there, and these are either servants or in some way connected with the priests. No women are permitted to reside on the island, it being against the principles of the Budhists to allow their priests to marry. The number of priests are estimated at 2000, but many of them are constantly absent on begging expeditions for the support of their religion. This establishment, like Tein-tung, has also a portion of land allotted to it for its support, and the remainder of the funds are made up by the subscriptions of the devotees. On certain high days, at different periods of the year, many thousands of both sexes, but particularly females, resort to these temples, clad in their best attire, to pay their vows and engage in the other exercises of heathen worship. Little stalls are then seen in the temples or at the doorways for the sale of incense, candles, paper made up in the form of the ingots of Sycee-silver, and other holy things which are considered acceptable offerings to the gods, and are either consumed in the temples or carried home to bring a blessing upon the houses and families of those who purchase them. The profits of these sales, of course, go to the support of the establishment. When we consider that these poor deluded people sometimes travel a distance of several hundred miles to worship in the temples on Poo-to-san and other celebrated places, we cannot but admire their spirit of devotion. I was once staying in the temple of Tein-tung when it was visited for three days by devotees from all parts of the country. As they lined the roads on their way to the temple, clad in the graceful and flowing costume of the East, the mind was naturally led back to those days of scripture history when Jerusalem was in its glory, and the Jews, the chosen people of God, came from afar to worship in its temple.
Although no Christian can look upon the priests and devotees of the Budhist creed without an eye of pity, yet he must give them credit for their conduct, since he has every reason to believe them sincere, and I am inclined to believe that justice has not been done them in this respect. Mr. Gutzlaff, in describing his visit to Poo-to, is of a different opinion. He says, "We were present at the vespers of the priests, which they chanted in the Pali language, not unlike the Latin service of the Romish church. They held rosaries in their hands, which rested folded upon their breasts. One of them had a small bell, by the tinkling of which their service was regulated; and they occasionally beat the drum and large bell to rouse Budha's attention to their prayers. The same words were a hundred times repeated. None of the officiating persons showed any interest in the ceremony, for some were looking around laughing and joking, while others muttered their prayers. The few people who were present, not to attend the worship, but to gaze at us, did not seem, in the least degree, to feel the solemnity of the service. "What Mr. Gutzlaff says is doubtless true, but after residing for months in their temples, at different times, and in different parts of the country, I have no hesitation in saying that such conduct is very far from being general. In certain instances I have seen it myself, but this levity and apparent want of attention was exhibited by the servants and lookers on, who were taking no part in the ceremony, and not by the respectable portion of the priests. On the contrary, I have generally been struck with the solemnity with which their devotional exercises were conducted. I have often walked into Chinese temples when the priests were engaged in prayer, and, although there would have been some apology for them had their attention been diverted, they went on in the most solemn manner until the conclusion of the service, as if no foreigner were present. They then came politely up to me, examining my dress and every thing about me with the most earnest curiosity. Nor does this apply to priests only; the laity, and particularly the female sex, seem equally sincere when they engage in their public devotions. Whether they are what they appear to be, or how often they are in this pious frame of mind, are questions which I cannot answer. Before judging harshly of the Chinese let the reader consider what effect would be produced upon the members of a Christian church by the unexpected entrance of a small-footed Chinese lady, or a Mandarin, with the gold button and peacock feather mounted on his hat, and his long tail dangling over his shoulders. I am far from being an admirer of the Budhist priesthood; they are generally an imbecile race, and shamefully ignorant of every thing but the simple forms of their religion, but nevertheless there are many traits in their character not unworthy of imitation.
There are two other sects in China, namely, the followers of Kong-foo-tze or Confucius, and the sect of Taou or Reason. Although these three sects form the principal part of the population, it is well known that there are a great number of Mohommedans in every part of the empire, who are not only tolerated, but admitted to offices under government in the same manner as the members of the three established sects. Jews also are found in several districts, but more particularly at a place called Kae-foong-foo, in the province of Honan.
The various religious ceremonies which the Chinese are continually performing prove at least that they are very superstitions. In all the southern towns every house has its temple or altar both inside and outside. The altar in the inside is generally placed at the end of the principal hall or shop, as the case may be, raised a few feet from the ground, and having some kind of representation of the family deity placed upon it. This is surrounded with gaudy tinsel paper, and on the first of the Chinese month or other high days candles and incense are burned on the table which is placed in front of it. The altar on the outside of the door resembles a little furnace, in which the same ceremonies are regularly performed. In the vicinity of small villages, and sometimes in the most retired situations, the stranger meets with little joss-houses or temples, gaudily decorated with paintings and tinsel paper, and stuck round about with the remains of candles and sticks of incense. In almost all Chinese towns there are shops for the sale of idols of all kinds and sizes, varying in price from a few "cash" to a very large sum. Many of those exposed for sale are of great age, and have evidently changed hands several times. I am inclined to believe that the Chinese exchange those gods which do not please them for others of higher character, and which they suppose are more likely to grant an answer to their prayers, or bring prosperity to their homes or their villages.
The periodical offerings to the gods are very striking exhibitions to the stranger who looks upon them for the first time. When staying at Shanghae, in November, 1844, I witnessed a most curious spectacle in the house where I was residing. It was a family offering to the gods. Early in the morning the principal hall in the house was set in order, a large table was placed in the centre, and shortly afterwards covered with small dishes filled with the various articles commonly used as food by the Chinese. All these were of the very best description which could be procured. After a certain time had elapsed a number of candles were lighted, and columns of smoke and fragrant odours began to rise from the incense which was burning on the table. All the inmates of the house and their friends were clad in their best attire, and in turn came to Ko-tou, or bow lowly and repeatedly in front of the table and the altar. The scene, although it was an idolatrous one, seemed to me to have something very impressive about it, and whilst I pitied the delusion of our host and his friends, I could not but admire their devotion. In a short time after this ceremony was completed a large quantity of tinsel paper, made up in the form and shape of the ingots of Sycee silver common in China, was heaped on the floor in front of the tables, the burning incense was then taken from the table and placed in the midst of it, and the whole consumed together. By and by, when the gods were supposed to have finished their repast, all the articles of food were removed from the tables, cut up, and consumed by people connected with the family.
On another occasion, when at Ning-po, having been out some distance in the country, it was night and dark before I reached the cast gate of the city, near which I was lodged in the house of a Chinese merchant. The city gates were closed, but two or three loud knocks soon brought the warder, who instantly admitted me. I was now in the widest and finest street in the city, which seemed in a blaze of light and unusually lively for any part of a Chinese town after nightfall. The sounds of music fell, upon my ear, the gong, the drum, and the more plaintive and pleasing tones of several wind instruments. I was soon near enough to observe what was going on, and saw, at a glance, that it was a public offering to the gods, but far grander and more striking than I had before witnessed. The table was spread in the open street, and every thing was on a large and expensive scale. Instead of small dishes, whole animals were sacrificed on the occasion. A pig was placed on one side of the table, and a sheep on the other, the former scraped clean, in the usual way, and the latter skinned; the entrails of both were removed, and on each were placed some flowers, an onion, and a knife. The other parts of the table groaned with all the delicacies in common use amongst the respectable portion of the Chinese, such as fowls, ducks, numerous compound dishes, fruits, vegetables, and rice. Chairs were placed at one end of the table on which the gods were supposed to sit during the meal, and chopsticks were regularly laid at the sides of the different dishes. A blaze of light illuminated the whole place, and the smoke of the fragrant incense rose up into the air in wreaths. At intervals the band struck up their favourite plaintive national airs, and altogether the whole scene was one of the strangest and most curious which it has ever been my lot to witness.
There is another ceremony of a religious character which I frequently observed in the northern cities—I allude to processions in honour of the gods. I saw one of them at Shanghae, which must have been at least a mile in length. The gods, or josses, were dressed up in the finest silks, and carried about in splendid sedan-chairs, preceded and succeeded by their numerous devotees, superbly dressed for the occasion, and bearing the different badges of office. The dresses of the officials were exactly the same as of those who form the train of some of the high mandarins. Some had a broad fan, made of peacock feathers, which they wore on the sides of their hats, others were clad in glaring theatrical dresses, with low caps, and two long black feathers stuck in them, and hanging over their shoulders like two horns. Then there were the ill-looking executioners with long, conical, black hats on their heads, and whips in their hands for the punishment of the refractory. Bands of music, placed in different parts of the procession, played at intervals as it proceeded. Anxious to see the end of this curious exhibition, I followed the procession until it arrived at a temple in the suburbs, where it halted. The gods were taken out of the sedan-chairs, and replaced with due honours, in the temple, from which they had been taken in the morning. Here their numerous votaries bent low before them, burned incense, and left their gifts upon the altar. Numerous groups of well-dressed ladies and their children were scattered over the ground in the vicinity of the temple, all bending their knees and seemingly engaged in earnest devotion. A large quantity of paper, in the form of the Sycee ingots, was heaped up on the grass as it was brought by the different devotees, and, when the ceremonies of the day were drawing to a close, the whole was burned in honour of, or as an offering to, the gods. The sight was interesting, but it was one which no Christian could look upon without feelings of the deepest commiseration.
In the course of my travels in China I often met with Christian missionaries, both Protestant and Roman Catholic, who have been labouring amongst the Chinese for many years. Until very lately the efforts of the Protestants had been chiefly confined to Macao and Canton. Since the war, however, they have had an opportunity of extending their operations, and some are now settled at all the new ports which have been opened for foreign trade, as well as on our Island of Hong-kong, which will now become their head-quarters.
The medical missionaries also act in conjunction with the others, and are of great use in curing many of the diseases which prevail in the country, while, at the same time, the truths of the Christian faith are presented to the minds of their patients. Dr. Lockhart of the London Missionary Society, who has established himself in the town of Shanghae, had his hospital daily crowded with patients, many of whom had come from very distant parts of the country. All were attended to in the most skilful and careful manner, "without money and without price." The Rev. Mr. Medhurst, who has laboured long and zealously as a Christian missionary in the East, was also at Shanghae. This gentleman is well known as an eminent Chinese scholar, and, besides preaching to the people in their own tongue, he has a printing establishment with Chinese type continually at work, for the dissemination of the truths of the gospel. Several other gentlemen and their families had arrived at the same port previous to my departure, and were closely engaged in the study of the language. Ning-po and Amoy were also occupied by missionaries, both from England and America, and I suppose, ere this time, some have also reached Foo-chow-foo on the River Min.
From my own experience of Chinese character, and from what I have seen of the working of the Medical Missionary Society, I am convinced that it must be a powerful auxiliary to the missionaries in the conversion of the Chinese. I regret, however, to say, that up to the present time little progress appears to have been made. One portion of the people, and a large one, is entirely indifferent to religion of any kind, and the rest are so bigoted and conceited, that it will be a most difficult task to convince them that any religion is better or purer than their own.
The Roman Catholic missionaries conduct their operations in a manner somewhat different from the Protestants. They do not restrict themselves to the out-ports of the empire, where foreigners are permitted to trade, but penetrate into the interior, and distribute themselves over all the country. One of their bishops, an Italian nobleman, resides in the province of Keang-soo, a few miles from Shanghae, where I have frequently met him. He dresses in the costume of the country, and speaks the language with the most perfect fluency. In the place where he lives he is surrounded by his converts; in fact it is a little Christian village, where he is perfectly safe, and I believe is seldom if ever annoyed in any way by the Chinese authorities. When new Roman Catholic missionaries arrive, they are met by some of their brethren or their converts at the port nearest their destination, and secretly conveyed into the interior; the Chinese dress is substituted for the European; their heads are shaved, and in this state they are conducted to the scene of their future labours, where they commence the study of the language, if they have not learned it before, and in about two years are able to speak it sufficiently well to enable them to instruct the people. These poor men submit to many privations and dangers for the cause they have espoused, and although I do not approve of the doctrines which they teach, I must give them the highest praise for enthusiasm and devotion to their faith. European customs, habits, and luxuries are all abandoned from the moment they put their feet on the shores of China; parents, friends, and home, in many instances, are heard of no more; before them lies a heathen land of strangers, cold and unconcerned about the religion for which they themselves are sacrificing everything, and they know that their graves will be far away from the land of their birth and the home of their early years. They seem to have much of the spirit and enthusiasm of the first preachers of the Christian religion, when they were sent out into the world by their Divine Master to "preach the gospel to every creature," and "to obey God rather than man."
According to the accounts of these missionaries, the number of converts to their faith is very considerable; but I fear they, as well as the Protestants, are often led away by false appearances and assertions. Many of the Chinese are unprincipled and deceitful enough to become Christians or in fact any thing else, in name, to accomplish the object they may have in view, and they would become Budhists the very next day should any inducement be offered them to do so. Judging from appearances, the day must yet be very distant when the Chinese, as a nation, will be converted to the Christian faith. Could those individuals in our time, who predict the near approach of the Millennium, see the length and breadth of this vast country, with its three hundred millions of souls, they would surely pause and reflect before they published their absurd and foolish predictions.