The weapon which forms the subject of the woodcut is a dagger of the time of Philip and Mary, ornamented with engraving. After being thrust into a person, by pulling a little catch, it is made to open within him, and the prolongation of the blade allows means for a second blow. The two small hooks at the inner side of the two blades would admit of the dagger being thrust deeper in, but would prevent its being drawn out.
At the period these daggers were most in vogue, personal combats were very sanguinary and determined, seldom terminating without the death of one, and in some cases of both, of the parties engaged. They first used the long sword, and when that weapon was broken, they closed with one another, and used their daggers by stabbing at the most mortal part of their foe they could manage to reach.
THE TEMPLE OF POU-TOU.
Pou-tou is an island of the great archipelago of Chusan, on the coasts of the province of Tche-kiang. More than 100 monasteries, more or less important, and two of which were founded by Emperors, are scattered over the sides of the mountains and valleys of this picturesque and enchanting island, which nature and art have combined to adorn with their utmost magnificence. All over it you find delightful gardens, full of beautiful flowers,—grottoes cut in the living rock, amidst groves of bamboo and other trees, with aromatic banks. The habitations of the Bonzes are sheltered from the scorching rays of the sun by umbrageous foliage, and scattered about in the prettiest situations imaginable. Thousands of winding paths cross the valleys in various directions, and the brooks and rivulets, by means of pretty bridges of stone or painted wood, and for the communications between the scattered dwellings. In the centre of the island rise two vast and brilliant edifices—Buddhist temples—the yellow bricks of which announce that their construction is due to imperial munificence. The religious architecture of the Chinese does not at all resemble ours. They have no idea of the majestic, solemn, and perhaps somewhat melancholy style, that harmonizes so well with the feelings which ought to be inspired by a place devoted to meditation and prayer. When they wish to build a pagoda, they look out for the most gay and smiling site they can find on the declivity of a mountain or in a valley; they plant it with great trees of the evergreen species; they trace about it a number of paths, on the sides of which they place flowering shrubs, creeping plants, and bushes. It is through these cool and fragrant avenues you reach the building, which is surrounded by galleries, and has less the air of a temple than of a rural abode charmingly situated in the midst of a park or garden.
The principal temple of Pou-tou is reached by a long avenue of grand secular trees, whose thick foliage is filled with troops of crows with white heads; and their cawings and flapping of wings keep up a continual clamour. At the end of the avenue is a magnificent lake, surrounded with shrubs that lean over its waters like weeping willows. Turtle and gold-fish gleam through them; and mandarin-ducks, in their gaily-coloured plumage, play over their surface, amidst the splendid water-lilies whose rich corollas rise majestically upon tender green stalks spotted with black. Several bridges of red and green wood are thrown over this lake, and lead to flights of steps, by which you ascend to the first of the temple buildings—a kind of porch, supported upon eight enormous granite columns. On the right and left are stationed, like sentinels, four statues of colossal size, and two side gates lead to the vestibule of the principal nave, where is enthroned a Buddhist Trinity, representing the Past, the Present, and the Future. These three statues are entirely gilt, and, although in a crouching posture, of gigantic dimensions—at least twelve feet high. Buddha is in the midst, his hands interlaced, and gravely placed on his majestic abdomen. He represents the Past, and the unalterable and eternal quiet to which it has attained; the two others, which have the arm and the right hand raised, in sign of their activity, the Present and Future. Before each idol is an altar covered with little vases for offerings, and cassolets of chiselled bronze, where perfumes are constantly burning.
A crowd of secondary divinities are ranged round the hall, the ornaments of which are composed of enormous lanterns of painted paper or horn—square, round, oval—indeed, of all forms and colours; and the walls are hung with broad strips of satin, with sentences and maxims.
The third hall is consecrated to Kouang-yu, whom the greater number of accounts of China persist in regarding as a goddess of porcelain, and sometimes also of fecundity. According to the Buddhist mythology, Kouang-yu is a person of the Indian Trimourti, or Triune God, representing the creative power.
Finally, the fourth hall is a pantheon, or pandemonium, containing a complete assortment of hideous idols, with ogres' and reptiles' faces. Here you see, huddled together pell-mell, the gods of heaven and earth; fabulous monsters, patrons of war, of the silk manufacture, of agriculture, and of medicine; the images of the saints of antiquity, philosophers, statesmen, warriors, literary men—in a word, the most heterogeneous and grotesque assembly conceivable.