Our first excursion was to the celebrated Temple of Honan, which is said to be one of the finest in China.
This temple is surrounded by numerous out-buildings, and a large garden enclosed with a high wall. You first enter a large fore-court, at the extremity of which a colossal gateway leads into the inner courts. Under the archway of this portico are two War Gods, each eighteen feet high, in menacing attitudes, and with horribly distorted features. They are placed there to prevent evil spirits from entering. A second similar portico, under which are the four Celestial Kings, leads into the inmost court, where the principal temple is situated. The interior of the temple is 100 feet in length, and 100 feet in breadth. The flat roof, from which hang a number of glass chandeliers, lamps, artificial flowers, and silk ribbons, is supported upon several rows of wooden pillars, while the multitude of statues, altars, flower-pots, censers, candelabra, candlesticks, and other ornaments, involuntarily suggest to the mind of the spectator the decoration of a Roman Catholic church.
In the foreground are three altars, and behind these three statues, representing the God Buddha in three different aspects: the past, the present, and the future. These figures, which are in a sitting posture, are of colossal dimensions.
We happened to visit the temple just as service was being performed. It was a kind of mass for the dead, which a mandarin had ordered for his deceased wife. At the right and left altars were the priests, whose garments and gesticulations also resembled those of the Roman Catholics. At the middle altar was the mandarin, piously engaged in prayer, while two stood beside him, fanning him with large fans. [{104}] He frequently kissed the ground, and every time he did so, three wax tapers were presented to him, which he first elevated in the air, and then gave to one of the priests, who placed them before a statue of Buddha, but without lighting them. The music was performed by three men, one of whom twanged a stringed instrument, while the second struck a metal globe, and the third played the flute.
Besides the principal temple there are various smaller ones, and halls, all adorned with statues of gods. Especial honour is paid to the twenty-four Gods of Pity, and to Kwanfootse, a demi-god of War. Many of the former have four, six, and even eight arms. All these divinities, Buddha himself not excepted, are made of wood, gilt over, and painted with glazing colours.
In the Temple of Mercy we met with an adventure which was nearly attended with unpleasant consequences. A priest, or bonze, handed us some little tapers for us to light and offer to his divinity. Herr von Carlowitz and myself had already got the tapers in our hands, and were quite willing to afford him this gratification, when an American missionary, who was with us, tore the tapers from our grasp, and indignantly returned them to the priest, saying, that what we were about to do was an act of idolatry. The priest took the matter very seriously, and, instantly closing the doors, called his companions, who hurried in from all sides, and abused us in the most violent and vociferous fashion, pressing closer every instant. It was with the greatest difficulty that we succeeded in fighting our way to the door, and thus making our escape.
After this little fray, our guide conducted us to the dwelling of the Holy—Pigs! [{105}] A beautiful stone hall is set apart for their use, which hall these remarkable divinities fill, in spite of all the care bestowed on them, with so horrible a stench, that it is impossible to approach them without holding one’s nose. They are taken care of and fed until death summons them away. When we visited the place there were only a pair of these fortunate beings, and their number rarely exceeds three couples.
I was better pleased with the residence of a bonze, which adjoined this holy spot. It consisted of a sitting-room and bed-room merely, but was very comfortably and elegantly fitted up. The walls of the sitting-room were ornamented with carved wood-work, and the furniture was old-fashioned and pleasing: at the back of the apartment, which was flagged, stood a small altar.
We here saw an opium-eater, lying stretched out upon a mat on the floor. At his side was a cup of tea, with some fruit and a little lamp, besides several pipes, with bowls that were smaller than a thimble. On our entrance, he was just inhaling the intoxicating smoke from one of them. It is said that some of the Chinese opium smokers consume from twenty to thirty grains a-day. As he was not altogether unconscious of our presence, he managed to raise himself, laid by his pipe, and dragged himself to a chair. His eyes were fixed and staring, and his face deadly pale, presenting altogether a most pitiable and wretched spectacle.
Last of all, we were conducted to the garden, where the bonzes, at their death, are burnt—a particular mark of distinction, as all other people are interred. A simple mausoleum, about thirty feet square, and a few small private monuments, were all that was to be seen. None of them had any pretensions to elegance, being built of the simplest masonry. In the former of these edifices are preserved the bones of the persons who have been burnt, and among them are also buried the rich Chinese, whose heirs pay pretty handsomely to obtain such an honour for them. At a little distance stands a small tower, eight feet in diameter and eighteen in height, with a small pit, where a fire can be kindled, in the floor. Over this pit is an armchair, to which the deceased bonze is fastened in full costume. Logs and dry brushwood are disposed all round, and the whole is set fire to, and the doors closed. In an hour they are again opened, the ashes strewed around the tower, and the bones preserved until the period for opening the mausoleum, which is only once every year.