The Great Temple of the Chinese, or of Pekin, is a very curious edifice—not merely on account of its riches and grandeur, but from its being the scene of a very important ceremony, performed by the Emperor every year, when the sun enters the winter solstice; hence it is termed the Temple of the Sun. The temple stands about half-a-mile from the east end of the city, and is surrounded by a wall nearly a mile in circuit. Within this enclosure are reared several stately apartments, amid groups of lofty trees, and in the centre a spacious round hall, of a considerable height. The dome or roof is supported by eighty-two columns, curiously painted with gold and azure, representing the sky. At an upper part of the temple stands a very large vessel of brass, in which perfumes are burned; and on each side of it stand the priests. To this temple the Emperor repairs at the proper season, and, in a homely garb, without gold, or jewels, or even the yellow garment that denotes royalty—kneels down in adoration, and offers up his prayers for the sins of the people, and prays the Divine Being to give happiness and prosperity to the nation at large.
In another temple, called the Temple of the Earth, which is without the walls of the city, a ceremony is performed by every Emperor, on coming to the throne, equally worthy of description. Immediately after the coronation, the Emperor comes with regal pomp to this temple, which stands on the west side of the city. As soon as he passes the walls of the city, he divests himself of his imperial robes, and clothes himself in the habit of a common ploughman; and in this humble guise proceeds, with his numerous retinue, to a spot of ground kept for the purpose within the compass of the temple. Here he finds a plough, gilt and ornamented with gold, to which two oxen with golden horns are fastened, and, taking the plough in his hand, he drives it to the extent of two or three furrows. Whilst at this laborious exercise, the Empress, attended by her ladies, prepares some plain dish for his dinner, and brings it to him into his private apartment, in the most homely style, and sits and eats with him.
This excellent custom is of Chinese origin, and of great antiquity. Its design is to put the new monarch in mind that his revenue is owing to the sweat and labour of his subjects, and that he ought to abstain from all superfluous expenses, and ease them of all unnecessary burdens.
The Chinese are great lovers of festivals, and one of their principal entertainments of this kind is celebrated during the eighth moon. From sunset and the rising of the moon till midnight, every one walks about with his relatives and friends in the streets, public places, and gardens. In the preceding days they send to each other tarts and cakes, called yua-pini, that is, cakes of the moon; they are round and flat, and made to resemble that luminary. These cakes are eaten by moonlight—the wealthy to the sound of melodious music, and the poor to the din of drums, gongs, and other noisy instruments.
The engraving represents a dealer in confectionary of this kind; the cakes are flat, and the hares, which are one of the chief of their ornaments, are either sitting on their haunches, or lying down eating. One of the cakes in the upper row is adorned with peacock’s feathers, between which is placed a figure of the moon, on which is the representation of a hare pounding rice.
Fruit is sold by hawkers, and men who sit at a table in the open air. The picture shows the way in which fruit is hawked in baskets, suspended from the ends of a bamboo, which is borne on one shoulder. The baskets of this trader are stocked with various kinds of fruit. The melons, one of which is seen in the picture, are water-melons; there are besides grapes, white and red figs, and peaches. This latter fruit the Chinese regard as the emblem of immortality. In the abode of Hien Gien, which is their paradise, they imagine a peach-tree, the fruit of which secures all those who eat of it from death.
