PAGODAS, THEIR ANTIQUITY AND USES.
Alone, unarmed, in a strange country, at night, and pursued by enemies,
the boys stood for a time to consider their next steps. Fortunately, at
that moment the moon began to shine more brightly, and they saw at the
distance of some few hundred yards the giant form of a pagoda rising
from the summit of a hill, with its quaint polygon form, varnished green
tiles, and gilded bells hanging from every point.
"Truly the gods have directed our footsteps to a resting-place till the
morning," said Chow.
This was indeed a fortunate discovery, for, knowing that most of the
pagodas were untenanted, they might hide there; and with lightened
hearts they walked onward, till they came to a valley, or cemetery,
filled with tombs, and through which they walked till they came to the
base of a hill, at the top of which was the entrance to the pagoda.
Having reached one of the gates, they found it locked, a difficulty that
was soon surmounted by Chow, who cast his lantern toward one of the
windows of the lower story, and, as he expected, found that, like the
majority of these quaint structures, this one was in ruins; so, by means
of the shoulder of Nicholas, he climbed through a window, and speedily
opened the gate, when they found themselves in an apartment lined with
black varnished tiles, nearly all of which were carved with gilded
idols.
"Thank Heaven, we are safe from the rats," said Nicholas.
"And may sleep, O my master," said the fatigued Chow, laying himself at
full length upon the floor, an example that was speedily followed by
Nicholas, who, like Chow, notwithstanding the danger that surrounded
them, fell into a sound sleep.
These singular, and frequently beautiful buildings, towering upward in
various heights upon the rising grounds, like an unequally grown forest
of quaint spires, form the chief characteristic in Chinese scenery. As
if the builders believed luck to be found in odd numbers, they are
either of seven, nine, or thirteen stories, and moreover, all shaped
from the model of the famous Tower of Nankin, which, after an existence
of nine hundred years, has so recently been wantonly destroyed by the
iconoclastic insurgents, who are, at the present time, making every
effort for the extermination of the Mantchou Tartars.
As for the origin of these structures, it is of so remote a date, that,
even in four thousand years old China, there is as much difference of
opinion as about the origin of the round towers of Ireland. Some of the
learned writers assert that they were erected monumentally to great and
good people, others that they were intended as watch-towers in time of
war.
A very probable theory is that they are of Indian origin, having been
introduced by the priests of Buddha, for the purpose of saving the holy
relics, thumbs, fingers, toes, or any other portions of the body of the
god that might from time to time be found, or rather palmed upon the
superstitious people by the bonzes. By way of illustrating this theory,
I will relate to you some of the popular legends. The first is really a
wild-goose story.
The primitive Buddhists of India were not under such strict rules of
diet as the sect afterward became; that is, not vegetarians, but at
liberty to eat veal, venison, and goose flesh. Well, it happened that on
a certain day, as a party of priests were seated in the open air, a
brace of wild geese flew above them, which caused them to exclaim, "Our
wish is that these fowls would do a benevolent act," when one of the
birds immediately dropped down dead. Upon which remarkable event, the
priests cried, "This goose brings down a prohibition to abstain from
flesh; we must therefore consider its meritorious act." Whereupon they
erected a building over the poor goose, which they called pagoda, which
word, translated from the Indian word, tsang-po, into Chinese, is
equivalent to wild goose.
Of this same pagoda, which still exists, another legend is given.
"Nearly six hundred years after the introduction of Buddhism into China,
a priest of the sect was sent to India to collect and translate into the
Chinese language the sacred books of Budd. On his return with the
volumes, he brought also a model of a pagoda; in commemoration of
which, and also as a receptacle for the sacred books, the Emperor
erected a pagoda." If this legend is true, and it certainly is more
probable than any of the others, it is curious, as during the reign of
this same Emperor, in the year 636, a Christian teacher first came from
India to China, and was not only encouraged by the Emperor, but was
authorised by a royal decree to preach Christianity among the people.
Another legend states that in the year 256 a foreign priest of the
Buddhist religion appeared at the capital, and performed many strange
and supernatural feats, which, reaching the ears of the Emperor, caused
him to send for the priest, of whom he inquired if Buddha could
communicate any divine emblems. The priest replied, that Buddha had left
some traces of himself on earth, particularly bone relics, which
possessed miraculous powers. The Emperor, scarcely believing the story,
told the priest that if any such bone could be found, he would erect a
great pagoda. To this the story goes on to say, that the priest,
twenty-one days after, brought one of the god's bones in a bottle, and
presented it to his majesty, and that when taken into the palace, it
lighted up the whole building. Then comes the most astonishing portion
of the legend. In his haste to inspect this wonderful bone, the Emperor
turned it out of the bottle, into a large copper vessel, when the bone,
probably a leg bone, of its own accord kicked the massive basin with
such violence that it became shivered into a thousand pieces. This, you
would imagine, was in all conscience sufficiently prodigious to weaken
his majesty's nerves. The priest, however insisted upon exhibiting
another wonder, telling the emperor that so matchless were the qualities
of this bone, that diamond or steel could not scratch it, fire could not
scorch it, nor the heaviest hammer smash it; indeed, to injure this
precious bone in any way would be to perform one of the labors of
Hercules. This, however, was too much for the belief of the Emperor, and
so he ordered his stoutest blacksmith to take his heaviest hammer and
make the attempt; the priest, however got the best of it, for no sooner
did the hammer touch the bone than it crumbled into atoms, when,
probably, in delight at its success, this clever bone shone with such
effulgence that it weakened the eyes of all beholders. After this the
monarch wanted no more proof of the godship of Buddha, kept his promise,
and built the first pagoda in China.
Most of these legends have a close connection with Buddhism and its
priests; it is, therefore, most probable that these pagodas have, from
their introduction into China in the middle of the first century of the
Christian era, been used in connection with the bonzes. This opinion is
entertained by the learned Chinese scholar, the Rev. Mr. Milne, who
says, "Among the Chinese themselves it is a common saying. In pagodas
they save and preserve the family of Buddha. Usually priests of this
order are in charge of the pagoda, and sit at the doors of the most
famous and frequented, to receive gratuities from visitors. Pagodas are
situated generally on Buddhists' lands, and there are in their vicinity,
or around their base, temples or monasteries for Buddhist priests.
Within those pagodas that are at all in a state of preservation,
Buddhist idols, relics, pictures, and books are deposited. The histories
of these buildings throughout the empire, at least the earliest of them,
are crammed with Buddhist tales and fictions." So interesting are these
extraordinary monuments of antiquity, as being the probable and supposed
depositories of Buddhist writings and Indian documents, which, should
they ever be brought to light will not only throw a light upon the early
intercourse between China and Hindostan, but elucidate the mystery which
now hangs over the history of the religion of ancient India, a matter of
importance to every intelligent being, that at the risk of being
tedious, I could not forbear having a little gossip with my young reader
on the subject. But now to return to our young heroes.