Even more interesting was Madame Pfeiffer’s peep into the “domestic interior” of Mandarin Howqua.

The house was of large size, but only one story high, with wide and splendid terraces.  The windows looked into the inner courts.  At the entrance were two painted images of gods to ward off evil spirits, like the horse-shoe formerly suspended to the cottages and barns of our English peasants.

The front part was divided into several reception rooms, without front walls; and adjoining these, bloomed bright and gaily-ordered parterres of flowers and shrubs.  The magnificent terraces above also bloomed with blossom, and commanded a lively view of the crowded river, and of the fine scenery that spreads around Canton.  Elegant little cabinets surrounded these rooms, being separated by thin partitions, through which the eye could easily penetrate, and frequently embellished with gay and skilfully-executed paintings.  The material used was chiefly bamboo, which was as delicate as gauze, and copiously decorated with painted flowers or beautifully-written proverbs.

The chairs and sofas were numerous, and of really artistic workmanship.  Some of the arm-chairs were cunningly wrought out of a single piece of wood.  The seats of others were beautiful marble slabs; of others, again, fine coloured tiles or porcelain.  Articles of European manufacture, such as handsome mirrors, clocks, vases, and tables of Florentine mosaic or variegated marble, were plentiful.  There was also a remarkable collection of lamps and lanterns pendent from the ceilings, consisting—­these lamps and lanterns—­of glass, transparent horn, and coloured gauze or paper, ornamented with glass beads, fringe, and tassels.  And as the walls were also largely supplied with lamps, the apartments, when lighted up, assumed a truly fairy-like character.

[Chinese House and Garden:  page77.jpg]

The mandarin’s pleasure-garden stretched along the river-side.  Its cultivation was perfect, but no taste was shown in its arrangement.  Wherever the visitor turned, kiosks, summer-houses, and bridges confronted her.  Every path and open spot were lined with large and small flower-pots, in which grew flowers and liliputian fruit-trees of all kinds.  In the art of dwarfing trees, if such distortion and crippling of Nature deserves to be called an art, the Chinese are certainly most accomplished experts; but what can we think of the taste, or want of taste, which prefers pigmies three feet high to the lofty and far-shadowing trees which embellish our English parks and gardens?  Why should a civilized people put Nature in fetters, and delight in checking her growth, in limiting her spontaneous energies?