Chinese Houses and Gardens

Henry Inn, Shao Chang Lee

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2012
• Print ISBN:
  9780710306890
• eBook ISBN:
  9781136180927
• Topic: Social Sciences
• Subtopic: Anthropology
• Index: Social Sciences

First published in 2001. In 1936 Mr. Henry Inn, a connoisseur of Chinese Art, made his tenth extensive tour of his motherland to study the designs of houses and gardens. He travelled from Canton to Peiping and from Shanghai to Wuch'ang, visiting many homes of culture and refinement built according to the traditional patterns of the art of house and garden making elaborated through centuries. It was a rare privilege granted few travellers. With the kind permission of his hosts he photographed and sketched characteristic details. On his return to Honolulu he showed the pictures and drawings to friends interested in architecture, interior decoration and landscape gardening. They all recognized their value, both as a record of a unique and significant art, and as suggestive material for Western builders and garden makers and urged their publication in book form.

Part One: Articles

Chinese Houses and Gardens in Retrospect

By Ch′en Shou-Yi, Ph.D.

THE home in China, physically considered, consists of two distinct but inseparable elements—the house and the garden. Even to casual Occidental observers, houses and gardens in China have their own attractions, their own personalities which are different from their Western counterparts. If they are not superior, they are at least different. Like Chinese painting and music, like Chinese poetry and philosophy, architecture and the gardening art in China are an expression of the Chinese national genius. They are, in other words, part and parcel of China’s civilization.

Speaking of Chinese civilization, it is necessary to point out that we should dismiss once for all the misconceived theory advanced by Chinese scholars in the Occident to the effect that Chinese civilization came to a standstill at the beginning of the Christian Era for reasons never fully given, and that subsequent changes were practically negligible. Nothing is more misleading than such a theory as we shall see plainly by taking a casual look at Chinese houses and gardens in retrospect.

The terms houses and gardens will be given a somewhat special connotation in this brief note. We shall not attempt a connected story of Chinese architecture in general, for that is a voluminous subject and should be treated only by competent specialists. Nor shall we pause especially to describe imperial palaces, parks and gardens, because they are not representative of Chinese homes. The Emperors themselves were in the habit of considering their homes as being co-extensive with the empire, their luxurious palace units therefore being only selected nooks in the “home.” Similarly, public buildings like monasteries, temples, etc., will not be discussed except in so far as they have influenced the planning of the commoner’s house and the laying out of his garden.

And the commoner is a very elusive individual in Chinese society. As China’s hereditary aristocracy broke up and ceased to exist as a permanent class before the Christian Era, social stratification has been an endless flux. “Great wealth seldom abides in the same house for three generations,” so goes the common saying; and the same might be said of official prominence and political influence. Everybody therefore was a commoner and could rise above the general average for a time. The representative commoner was one who typified this flux—a life which combined in its various stages, the lives of the scholar, the official, the farmer, fisher, or wood-cutter.

The ancient Chinese people, who built up their civilization in the North temperate zone, where the struggle against the forces of nature was protracted and severe, were simple, hard-working, and practical folk. Their houses and gardens, like all other cultural accomplishments of theirs, bore the impress of their life and mind. The typical farmer’s home, after society had become definitely patriarchal, probably consisted of a humble cottage of several rooms, built of wood, shells, or sun-dried bricks, with a thatched or tiled roof; a barn; a garden mainly vegetable; and oftentimes a thrashing yard. Windows were not unknown, though crude, pottery jars with their bottoms broken off often being used as frames. Doors were equally simple, pieces of rope often taking the place of hinges. Wells were sometimes found near private houses, but were usually owned by the communities. Mulberry trees were planted near the house, not as much for beauty and shade as for sericulture, which was the occupation of the women. In a word, the ancient Chinese house was a picture of severe rustic simplicity and the purpose which it was made to serve was purely utilitarian. When and where nature was not particularly kind and lavish in its gifts to men, subsistence necessarily preceded esthetic enjoyment.

Meanwhile, a change gradually took place in China which was to produce far-reaching effects on the physical, as well as the mental aspects of the Chinese home. This is the consolidation of the Chinese classical family system, which became the basic unit of social and political organization, which cultivated a special set of “family” virtues, filial piety included, and which made the Chinese people home-lovers par excellence.

The impress of this system upon the material aspects of the Chinese homes was no less apparent. Bigger houses, which were multiplications of the small unit on one site, were demanded to accommodate the bigger family-communities. Units and structures within the house became less immediately utilitarian. On the whole, however, the commoner’s homestead remained simple even during the Age of the Poets (8th to 6th century B. C.). Most farmers were still too busy during the working months to bestow much attention on their houses as they usually had to stay in small huts near their fields. Hence the poet sang:

The locust in the fifth month bats its thighs;

And in the sixth, its wings the spinner plies.

The next, we find the crickets in the field;

Under our eaves, the eighth, they lie concealed;

The ninth, they come and near our doorways keep;

The tenth, beneath our beds they slyly creep.

The rats we smoke out; chinks we fill up tight;—

And close each opening on the north for light,

And plaster wicker doors; then each one says,

“O wife and children, this year’s toiling days

Are o’er, and soon another year will come;

Enter and dwell in this our cozy home.”

Of these little huts, the farmers were no less proud:

The central plot the huts contains,

While gourds each path and boundary line.

Their fruits preserved, aside we put,

Till ’mong the offerings they shall shine.

When the farmer was forced into military service for his lord, his love of home waxed even greater:

To the hills of the east we went,

And long had we there to remain.

When the word of recall was sent,

Thick and fast came the drizzling rain.

On ant hills screamed cranes with delight;

In their rooms were our wives sighing sore.

Our homes they had swept and made tight;—

All at once we arrived at the door.

And bitter gourds hanging are seen,

From branches of chestnut trees high.

Three years of toil away we had been,

Since such a sight greeted the eye.

When Confucius was living, China’s material civilization was sufficiently advanced so that most people looked for greater comfort in their private abodes, as well as for more delicacies in their meals. Thus, Confucius praised his disciple Yen Hui who was apparently an exception. “Admirable indeed was the virtue of Hui!” said the Master. “With a single bamboo dish of rice, a single gourd dish of drink, and living in his mean narrow lane, while others could not have endured the distress, he did not allow his joy to be affected by it. Admirable indeed was the virtue of Hui!” Although commentators on the Confucian Analects have differed on the interpretation of another passage in the text, it seems believable, according to one school of interpretation, that Tsai Yu, another disciple of Confucius, was once interested in frescoing the walls of his bed-room. Whereupon the Master said, “Rotten wood cannot be carved; a wall of dirty earth will not receive the trowel. This Yu!—what is the use of my reproving him?” It is not unreasonable to suppose that even Confucius’own disciples were interested in physical comfort, at least to a certain degree.

Although we are not interested here primarily in princes and emperors, we should at least recall the single instance of the park of King Wen of the Chou Dynasty who, according to traditional chronology, flourished in the 12th Century B. C., and who was praised by later poets for having shared the enjoyment of his park and buildings with his subjects. Thus the poets sang:

When Wen to build his wondrous tower began,

Of all its scheme a plan he drew.

To do the work, in crowds the people ran,

And as by magic, lo! it grew.

“Be not in haste,”—so kindly said the king,

But all as to a father help would bring.

The king was walking in his wondrous park,

Where lay the does, all sleek and clean.

’Twas sweet to him their restfulness to mark,

And see the white birds’ glistening sheen.

Then to his wondrous pond he took his way

To view the fish their bounding life display.

Right in the middle of a circling pool,

His hall, the place of joy, he reared.

For music there he made provision full.

’Twixt pillars finely carved appeared

Face boards, with tops of finest tracery,

’Neath which large drums and bells were hanging free.

On these the blind musicians did their part.

Of lizard skin the drums are made.

The eyeless men displayed consummate art;

In perfect unison they played.

The music loud resounded through the hall.

What rapture did the festive throng enthrall!*

In spite of the fact that these stanzas were often recited for the benefit and emulation of feudal potentates, the latter were seldom willing like King Wen to share their joys with their subject commoners. It is little wonder that for a long time the palaces and parks of the sovereigns exercised very little influence upon the humble houses and gardens of the commoners. Moreover, the social usages of feudalism, which insisted on clear demarcations of ranks, set specific and detailed regulations concerning articles of clothing and housing. Unwarranted imitation of one’s superior was therefore a violation of the principle of social equilibrium. Even the able feudal minister Kuan Chung, whom Confucius had praised for his success in saving the Middle Kingdom from barbarizations, could not escape the censure of the Chinese Sage in this respect:

The Master said, “Small indeed was the capacity of Kuan Chung,” … “Then, did Kuan Chung know the rules of propriety?” The Master said, “The princes of States have a screen intercepting the view at their gates. Kuan had likewise a screen at his gate. The princes of States on any friendly meeting between two of them, had a stand on which to place their inverted cups. Kuan had also such a stand. If Kuan knew the rules of propriety, who does not know theme?”

If regulations in feudal society were strict on screens and stands, how much stricter were they certainly on the construction of houses and on laying out gardens?

Despite rigid feudal regulations, the ancient Chinese found satisfaction in their home-steads and succeeded in affecting harmony between Man and Nature in their houses and gardens. The house is for man and the garden is for nature. It is true that the gardens mentioned by the early poets and philosophers were mainly vegetable gardens; but even a certain amount of utilitarianism could not bar nature out. As early as the sixtli century B. C., Laotzu had taught men to return to nature. And Confucius, in spite of his practical mind, said: “The wise find pleasure in water; the virtuous find pleasure in hills.” From the time of Laotzu and Confucius, the Chinese people had become nature-conscious—not only philosophically, but also esthetically.

It was not until after the unification of the empire and the introduction of Buddhism however, that Chinese houses and gardens underwent the most important changes. The real unification of the empire in the third century B. C. and particularly the consolidation of the empire in 206 gave rise to possibilities for the greater production and distribution of wealtn. The disappearance of the feudal aristocracy was a comparative social liberation. And Buddhism, which had certainly infiltrated into China prior to A. D. 65—a date set for its official introduction into China—was to exercise extensive and profound influences on Chinese houses and gardens.

The two milleniums that separate us from the great social and political event known as the unification of the empire have wrought numerous important changes in Chinese houses and gardens. Instead of following the development of these two aspects of the Chinese home through its various stages, which would be tedious and hardly feasible on account of the lack of learned treatises on the subject, let us propose to forego a strictly chronological treatment. It seems more pertinent that we summarize the chief influences at work in China’s cultural developments and suggest how these forces have acted on houses and gardens in particular.

The first factor with which we have to reckon is the political unification of the empire itself. Before the third century B. C., the unity of the Chinese Empire existed only in the dreams of political thinkers and ambitious feudal lords. After the actual unification, huge architectural plans were projected and executed by the imperial houses. The palatial establishments of the Ch’in Dynasty were so elaborate and extensive that with the fall of the dynasty and the arrival of the rebellious forces, it took the flames of an arson fully three months to reduce them to ashes. The hall of the anterior unit, famous to posterity as O-fang Palace, was said to have been spacious enough to seat ten thousand people. Although few later dynasties could vie with the Ch’in Dynasty in architectural magnificence, each major dynasty had its own period of activities in the construction of palaces and the beautification of the imperial capital.

Partly in line with plans to build up a magnificent capital and concentrate wealth and partly to forestall movements of political dissension and revolt, the early emperors of each new dynasty invariably ordered the removal of the leading families from the provinces to the capital. Aside from political and economic results, this concentration of th...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Dedication
• Contents
• Preface
• Introduction
• Part One: Articles
• Part Two: Plates