I was deeply interested with the novelties of these gay interiors, as might be supposed, and I passed here many hours, called, first to one apartment, then to another, to partake of the liberal and courteous entertainment, abounding in pastry and preserved fruits.
It is quite a misconception we have in Europe generally, to confound the edifices designed for worship with the high towers usually dominating the villages. These towers have nothing of a religious character: they are simply landmarks in the vast plains of Central China. They are, therefore, not seen in mountainous districts, as in the neighbourhood of Maimatchin for example.
The idol temple of this city is beside the Governor’s house. It is approached by three successive courts, surrounded with sunk wooden galleries, painted in various colours.
In the first, rise three little structures, covering a gigantic tam-tam, and two gilt monsters. In the second, stands a theatre, so disposed, that the doors of the temple being open, the idol may contemplate the spectacle, which, to me, seems to constitute an essential part of the religious ceremony. The third court is covered, and serves as a vestibule to the temple specially so called, containing idols of the most grotesque character. The door of this temple is charming: it is of carved open wood-work, richly gilt. There are three sanctuaries: the centre one is devoted to a gigantic idol with monstrous features. I remarked the ferocious look of this figure: he had fierce eyes; his beard, composed of natural hair, descended to the waist, and he was robed in yellow silk. Twelve statues in the attitude of prayer were bending before him. A mass of ornaments, of all kinds, encumbered this sanctuary: immense chandeliers of wrought iron, swords, gilt lances, lighted tapers and lanterns. The god, on the left of this one, was conspicuous with his three eyes and scarlet robe: it is this one that penetrates the most secret thoughts. For this reason, no taper was lighted before him, his clear-sightedness requiring no adventitious aid. The god on the right was decked in a green robe.
I took care not to neglect the invitation the Chinese Governor had given me. At the appointed hour, I punctually presented myself: I met there several I was acquainted with, and, among them, my old travelling companions living at Kiachta, whom my host had the good taste to bring together here. We took our places on the estrade I have mentioned, squatting in groups of three or four round several low tables.
The cover for each guest consisted of a little plate, a liliputian cup, and two sticks. The little plate is not intended to receive the portion of any dish offered to the guest: it contains merely some hot, black vinegar, an indispensable sauce, incessantly renewed by the servants, and into which one steeps each mouthful that he has directly taken from the dish between his two sticks.
When the mouthful thus seasoned is disposed of, the two little sticks are at liberty to seize right and left, on their points, some savoury hors-d’œuvre, placed in saucers around the central plate. They consist principally of marine plants,—black mushrooms cultivated on the birch-trees, scented herbs, preserved eggs—the albumen of which, by some process, has turned black—and little reptiles artistically cut into spiral forms and otherwise metamorphosed.
I remember, on another occasion, when I was much nearer to the sea, that one of these side dishes was a little bowl of shrimps, served up in some ingenious sauce that seasoned them well without killing them: they are eaten in this way all alive, preference being given to those that afford the best proofs of their liveliness by their repugnance to the sauce.
The only drink, served in cups about the size of thimbles, is hot rice brandy.
All these minute portions and preparations, these graceful tiny utensils, this variety of little dishes, are suggestive of a dinner children give to their dolls. It is a table indeed, that well represents this effeminate race of attenuated hands and pinched feet, a race of feeble appetites and feeble powers, that accomplishes nothing great, unless through a slow accumulation of puny efforts and petty means. The mouthfuls are prepared and cut before being served in the dishes, and each morsel is surmounted with a red almond, to indicate that no one has yet touched it.