History of Garden Art
storm, dark hollows, foaming waterfalls, or buildings which look partly like rums and
partly as though they have been destroyed by fire. With these accessories the effect of
the terrible is produced. The hermitage of Hsi-Ma-Kuang has a gentler look, due to its
quiet lake with encircling rocks. In some of its features it partakes of the romantic and
idyllic, which comes out strongly in the little island with the fisherman's hut. The poet
conducts us to the hermitage by way of dark cool caves. In the artificial hills and rocks
of all gardens of any size, there were hollows and even actual rooms, often made at great
expense. Martini also speaks of this: "In the beautiful gardens of China I have seen
artificial hills in which have been cut most skilfully hollowed recesses, rooms, and stairs,
even ponds, trees and other objects, where art really was a rival to nature. This is done
to get rid of the heat of summer in
the cool of such caves, when men
want a place for study or for a fete.
Still more beautiful is the place where
the labyrinth is made, for although
the area is not extensive, you can
walk about there for two or three
hours." The chief aim, however, of
Chinese architects was to find some
central point where all these minor
pictures, which were enjoyed sepa-
rately, could be seen in one compre-
hensive view. Hsi-Ma-Kuang does
not emphasise this point particularly,
but probably for him the view on
the top of the hill, whence he could
also look down on the level of his
own river, the Kiang, was the chief
attraction.
The garden of a minister was far
surpassed by that of an emperor,
both in size and in splendour. In all cases, whether the estate was large or small, the
chief effort in a Chinese garden was to make the picture in the right proportion for the
given space. Although it was practically never possible to repeat in its own dimensions
the natural scene that was imitated, there was a constant endeavour to have the place
appear more important than it was by a clever management of the perspective. It is said
by Staunton, who was in the retinue of the English Embassy, that in one garden which
he noticed there was a slight wall, which, looked at from a certain distance through the
branches of a thicket, gave the impression of a magnificent house. The Chinaman, even
in his own large garden, had to make a miniature copy of his model, and Staunton writes
of the imperial palace at Peking:
It stands as the middle point of the Tartar town, which lies unregarded in the dusty plain; yet the
walls of the palace coincide with every winding or contour which nature in her most capricious mood had
imposed on the surface of the ground, but always in less degree. Hills, valleys, lakes, rivers, the bold
precipice and the gentle slope, all are here, and not where nature placed them; but in their relative sizes
storm, dark hollows, foaming waterfalls, or buildings which look partly like rums and
partly as though they have been destroyed by fire. With these accessories the effect of
the terrible is produced. The hermitage of Hsi-Ma-Kuang has a gentler look, due to its
quiet lake with encircling rocks. In some of its features it partakes of the romantic and
idyllic, which comes out strongly in the little island with the fisherman's hut. The poet
conducts us to the hermitage by way of dark cool caves. In the artificial hills and rocks
of all gardens of any size, there were hollows and even actual rooms, often made at great
expense. Martini also speaks of this: "In the beautiful gardens of China I have seen
artificial hills in which have been cut most skilfully hollowed recesses, rooms, and stairs,
even ponds, trees and other objects, where art really was a rival to nature. This is done
to get rid of the heat of summer in
the cool of such caves, when men
want a place for study or for a fete.
Still more beautiful is the place where
the labyrinth is made, for although
the area is not extensive, you can
walk about there for two or three
hours." The chief aim, however, of
Chinese architects was to find some
central point where all these minor
pictures, which were enjoyed sepa-
rately, could be seen in one compre-
hensive view. Hsi-Ma-Kuang does
not emphasise this point particularly,
but probably for him the view on
the top of the hill, whence he could
also look down on the level of his
own river, the Kiang, was the chief
attraction.
The garden of a minister was far
surpassed by that of an emperor,
both in size and in splendour. In all cases, whether the estate was large or small, the
chief effort in a Chinese garden was to make the picture in the right proportion for the
given space. Although it was practically never possible to repeat in its own dimensions
the natural scene that was imitated, there was a constant endeavour to have the place
appear more important than it was by a clever management of the perspective. It is said
by Staunton, who was in the retinue of the English Embassy, that in one garden which
he noticed there was a slight wall, which, looked at from a certain distance through the
branches of a thicket, gave the impression of a magnificent house. The Chinaman, even
in his own large garden, had to make a miniature copy of his model, and Staunton writes
of the imperial palace at Peking:
It stands as the middle point of the Tartar town, which lies unregarded in the dusty plain; yet the
walls of the palace coincide with every winding or contour which nature in her most capricious mood had
imposed on the surface of the ground, but always in less degree. Hills, valleys, lakes, rivers, the bold
precipice and the gentle slope, all are here, and not where nature placed them; but in their relative sizes