Two large stone monuments flank the path which leads to the sacred grove. Forbidding-looking dragons guard the entrance. A deep cutting gives access to the place of interment, and this long alley is guarded on both sides by monsters of various descriptions. Elephants, camels, gigantic human figures, are placed at intervals facing each other, all cut in stone, and intended to ward off the evil spirits.
The beauty of the place is indescribable. The darkness of the foliage, the white stone statues, and the paved pathway winding through the woods, all help to give it the character of an enchanted forest, where solitude reigns, and the air is full of poetry.
Later we crossed some marble bridges of exquisite workmanship, their curiously sculptured balustrades softly reflecting themselves in the blue waters of the little streams flowing lazily between the flowering banks. I was told that the statues, the streams, and the bridges, have all of them some allegorical meaning in connexion with the spirits of the departed.
At length, passing through a porch, we stood face to face with an arch of such surpassing beauty, that for a moment I was dazed and lost in speechless admiration. Surely this must be one of the greatest, one of the most wonderful architectural creations of the Yellow Empire. Material, design, proportions, all the details, are so supremely beautiful. It is of marble, the arch resting on two huge blocks with cross-bars and buttresses supported by imperial dragons. The decorations are exquisite, and the carving of the friezes unique of its kind. Not even among all the marvellous monuments of Pekin, Nankin, or Hankow, did I find anything to rival it. The beauty of the conception, as well as the finished workmanship, impress one most forcibly, because of its being so perfectly in keeping with the signification of the whole triumphal arch, which symbolizes the passage of the spirit, after a life of strife and victory, to the abodes of their ancestors and everlasting peace. In this respect I know of nothing to compare with it, unless it be that pearl of Asiatic architecture, the Taj Mahal.
The tomb itself is enclosed by courts, halls, sacrificial temples, guard-houses, and sentry-sheds. We left our horses at the inner entrance, and the massive doors of red lacquer-work groaned on their hinges as they were slowly pushed open by half a dozen soldiers. We found ourselves in a square yard, a kind of court of honour, with avenues of trees many centuries old, giants and monsters in stone, and canals fenced in with marble balustrades and arched by bridges. These courts are divided by open galleries which lead to the central pagoda. This square building contains the commemorative tablet, a monument cut out of a single stone of about thirty feet high. The whole stands on a colossal tortoise, larger than two elephants.
Immense cauldrons, big enough to cook a whole ox at a time, for sacrificial purposes, are placed at short distances. Once a year a great ceremony is held in honour of the Great Ancestor. On this occasion the Emperor should be present in person, but for many years the imperial court has been represented by ambassadors; and considering what a journey from Pekin to Mukden involves, it is not surprising that the sovereign is content to be present by proxy. I was told that the mandarins selected to undertake this onerous pilgrimage are often persons whose presence is not desired at Pekin. Their adventurous journey often occupies many months, and often there have been cases in which the envoys never returned at all.
The Great Ancestor was one of the founders of the Manchu dynasty in China, and his real tomb is cut out in the heart of the mountain, but the exact spot is unknown. We spent the greater part of the afternoon among the tombs, and I made the best use I could of the permission to sketch and to take photographs. But the most perfect apparatus, and the pen of the most accomplished narrator, are bound to fail to do justice to the reality. Art and nature are blended so exquisitely here that it is impossible to give an adequate idea of the place. However beautiful the individual monuments may be—and they are very beautiful—the real charm of the ideal site lies in the perfect harmony of solitude and peace.
THE ENTRANCE TO THE IMPERIAL TOMBS
"The massive doors of red lacquer-work groaned on their hinges"
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On the return journey we again passed through the muddy, dreary suburbs. Most of the houses along the dull, deserted roads, are built of clay and covered with straw. Rough planks close the entrance, and from the windows the rice-paper hangs down in tatters. We met several funeral processions, the huge black coffins being carried in front.