[72] To this interesting subject is devoted, a part of Mr. Loudon's concise and luminous review "Of the Rise, Progress, and Present State of Gardening in the British Isles;" being chapter iv. of his Encyclopædia.
[73] Perhaps there are few pages that more awfully paint the sacredness of this spot, than page 36 in the fifth edition of Dr. Alison's Essays on Taste.
[74] I do not mean to apply to the hospitable table of this reverend gentleman, the lines of Peter Pindar:—
One cut from venison, to the heart can speak,
Stronger than ten quotations from the Greek.
[75] I cannot prevent myself from quoting a very small portion of the animated address of another clergyman, the Rev. J. G. Morris, as chairman to the Wakefield Horticultural Society. I am certain each one of my readers will blame me for not having inserted the whole of this eloquent appeal. I copy it from the Gardener's Magazine for August, 1828:—"Conscious that I possessed no qualifications to fit me for the task, and feeling that it ill became me to assume it, as I am as yet nearly a stranger amongst you; aware, too, that I should be surrounded by individuals so much more eligible, inasmuch as they are eminently gifted with botanical science and practical knowledge, the result of their horticultural pursuits and facilities, of which I am quite devoid; I wished and begged to decline the proffered honour. It appears, however, that my entreaties are not listened to, and that your kindness and partiality persist in selecting for your chairman one so inadequate to the situation. Gentlemen, I take the chair with much diffidence; but I will presume to say, that, in the absence of other qualities, I bring with me a passionate love for plants and flowers, for the sweets and beauties of the garden, and no inconsiderable fondness for its more substantial productions. Gardening, as a recreation and relaxation from severer studies and more important avocations, has exquisite charms for me; and I am ready, with old Gerarde, to confess, that 'the principal delight is in the mind, singularly enriched with the knowledge of these visible things; setting forth to us the invisible wisdom and admirable workmanship of Almighty God.' With such predilections, you will easily give me credit, gentlemen, for participating with this assembly in the sincerest wishes for the complete and permanent establishment of a society amongst us, whose object shall be to promote, in the surrounding district, the introduction of different sorts of flowers, culinary vegetables, fruits, improved culture and management generally, and a taste for botany as a science. These are pursuits, gentlemen, combining at once health and innocence, pleasure and utility. Wakefield and its vicinity appear to possess facilities for the accomplishment of such a project, inferior to no district within this great palatinate, indeed, little inferior to any in the kingdom. The country is beautiful and charmingly varied, and, from the diversity of soil, suited to varied productions; the whole thickly interspersed with seats and villas of persons of opulence, possessing their conservatories, hot-houses, and stoves, their orchards, flower and kitchen gardens: whilst few towns can boast (as Wakefield can) of so many gardens within its enclosure, cultivated with so much assiduity and skill, so much taste and deserved success. Seven years ago, I had the honour to originate a similar project in Preston, in Lancashire, and with the happiest success. In that borough, possessing far less advantages than Wakefield offers, a horticultural society was established, which, in its four annual meetings, assembles all the rank and fashion of a circuit of more than ten miles, and numbers more than a hundred and twenty subscribers to its funds. Those who have not witnessed the interesting sight, can form but a faint idea of the animating scene which is presented in a spacious and handsome room, tastefully adorned with the choicest exotics from various conservatories, and the more choice, because selected with a view to competition: decorated with the varied beauties of the parterre, vieing with each other in fragrance, hue, and delicacy of texture; whilst the tables groan under the weight of delicious fruits and rare vegetables in endless variety, the joint produce of hot-houses, stoves, orchards, and kitchen gardens. Figure to yourselves, gentlemen, this elysium, graced by some hundreds of our fair countrywomen, an absolute galaxy of animated beauty, and that music lends its aid, and you will agree with me that a more fascinating treat could hardly be devised. New flowers, new fruits, recent varieties of those of long standing and established character for excellence, are thus introduced, in lieu of those whose inferiority is no longer doubtful. New culinary vegetables, or, from superior treatment or mode of culture, rendered more salubrious and of exquisite flavour, will load the stalls of our market-gardeners. I call upon you, then, gentlemen, for your zealous support. Say not that you have no gardens, or that your gardens are inconsiderable, or that you are no cultivators; you are all interested in having good and delicious fruits, nutritious and delicate culinary vegetables, and in procuring them at a reasonable rate, which will be the results of improved and successful cultivation. At our various exhibitions, let each contribute that in which he excels, and our object will be attained. Gentlemen, I fear I have trespassed too long on your patience and indulgence. I will just urge one more motive for your warm support of our intended society; it is this: that, by diffusing a love of plants and gardening, you will materially contribute to the comfort and happiness of the laborious classes; for the pleasure taken in such pursuits forms an unexceptionable relaxation from the toils of business, and every hour thus spent is subtracted from the ale-house and other haunts of idleness and dissipation."
[76] In the grounds of Hagley, were once inscribed these lines:—
Here Pope!—ah, never must that tow'ring mind
To his loved haunts, or dearer friend return;
What art, what friendships! oh! what fame resign'd:
In yonder glade I trace his mournful urn.
[77] At Holm-Lacey is preserved a sketch, in crayons, by Pope, (when on a visit there) of Lord Strafford by Vandyke. It is well known that Pope painted Betterton in oil colours, and gave it to Lord Mansfield. The noble lord regretted the loss of this memorial, when his house was consumed at the time of the disgraceful and ignorant riots.
[78] Sir Joshua Reynolds used to tell the following anecdote relative to Pope.—"When Reynolds was a young man, he was present at an auction of very scarce pictures, which attracted a great crowd of connoisseurs and others; when, in the moment of a very interesting piece being put up, Mr. Pope entered the room. All was in an instant, from a scene of confusion and bustle, a dead calm. The auctioneer, as if by instinct, suspended his hammer. The audience, to an individual, as if by the same impulse, rose up to receive the poet; and did not resume their seats till he had reached the upper end of the room."
A similar honour was paid to the Abbé Raynal, whose reputation was such, that the Speaker of the House of Commons observing him among the spectators, suspended the business of the house till he had seen the eloquent historian placed in a more commodious seat. It is painful to relate, that this powerful writer, and good man, who narrowly escaped the guillotine, expired in a garret, in extreme poverty, at the age of eighty-four; the only property he left being one assignat of fifty livres, worth not threepence in ready money. Perhaps one might have applied the following anecdote (told by Dr. Drake in his Literary Hours) to Abbé Raynal:—"A respectable character, having long figured in the gay world at Paris, was at length compelled to live in an obscure retreat in that city, the victim of severe misfortunes. He was so indigent, that he subsisted only on an allowance from the parish. Every week bread was sent to him sufficient for his support, and yet at length, he demanded more. On this the curate sent for him. 'Do you live alone?' said the curate. 'With whom, sir, is it possible I should live? I am wretched, since I thus solicit charity, and am abandoned by all the world.' 'But, sir, if you live alone, why do you ask for more bread than is sufficient for yourself?' The other at last, with great reluctance, confessed that he had a dog. The curate desired him to observe, that he was only the distributor of the bread that belonged to the poor, and that it was absolutely necessary that he should dispose of his dog. 'Ah, sir!' exclaimed the poor man, weeping, 'and if I lose my dog, who is there then to love me?' The good pastor took his purse, and giving it to him, 'take this, sir,' said he; 'this is mine—this I can give.'"
[79] How applicable are Gray's lines to Lord Byron himself, now!
Can storied urn or animated bust
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust,
Or flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of death?
Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid
Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire!—
[80] Mr. Bowles, in some stanzas written since the death of Byron, thus feelingly apostrophizes his noble spirit:—
But I will bid th' Arcadian cypress wave,
Pluck the green laurel from Peneus' side,
And pray thy spirit may such quiet have
That not one thought unkind be murmur'd o'er thy grave.
[81] Perhaps one motive (no doubt there were numberless others) that might have induced Mr. Mason thus to honour the memory of Pope,
——letting cold tears bedew his silver urn,
might have been from the recollection of his attachment to what equally charmed Mr. Mason—the love of gardens.
[82] I know not whether Milton's portrait should have been here noticed. In a note to the eloquent, the talented, and graceful "Discours d'Installation, prononcé par M. le Vicomte H. de Thury, président de la Société d'Horticulture de Paris," it is beautifully observed, that "Personne n'a mieux décrit ce delicieux jardin que Milton. Les Anglais regardent comme le type de tous les jardins paysagers, et pittoresques, la description que fait Milton du jardin d'Eden, et qui atteste que se sublime genié ètoit également poëte, peintre et paysagiste." As I have sought for the portraits of Mr. George Mason, and of Mr. Whateley, and have noticed those of Launcelot Brown, and Mr. Walpole, Mr. Cradock, M. R. P. Knight and Sir U. Price, who were all paysagists; surely our great and severe republican was one.
The Prince de Ligne speaks thus of Milton:—"les vers enchanteurs de ce Roi des poëtes, et des jardiniers.
I do not know that every one will agree with Switzer in the concluding part of what he says of Milton, in the History of Gardening, prefixed to his Iconologia:—"But although things were in this terrible combustion, we must not omit the famous Mr. John Milton, one of Cromwell's Secretaries; who, by his excellent and never-to-be-equalled poem of Paradise Lost, has particularly distinguished gardening, by taking that for his theme; and shows, that though his eyes deprived him of the benefit of seeing, yet his mind was wonderfully moved with the philosophy, innocence, and beauty of this employ; his books, though mixed with other subjects, being a kind of a philosophical body of gardening, as well as divinity. Happy man! had his pen been employed on no other subject."
It must be needless reminding my reader, that Mr. Walpole's powerful pen has taken care that our mighty poet, (who "on evil days, though fallen, and with darkness and solitude compassed round,") shall not be defrauded of half his glory.
It is gratifying to remark, that an edition of Paradise Lost is now announced for publication, in which the zeal of its spirited proprietors has determined, that every word shall be printed in letters of gold. The sanction of some of our most distinguished divines, and men of high rank, evince the pride with which we all acknowledge the devout zeal and mighty powers of the blind poet.
[83] Mr. Garrick's fondness for ornamental gardening, induced him finely to catch at this invention, in his inimitable performance of Lord Chalkstone.
[84] Dr. Pulteney relates this anecdote of Mr. Miller: "He was the only person I ever knew who remembered to have seen Mr. Ray. I shall not easily forget the pleasure that enlightened his countenance, it so strongly expressed the Virgilium tantum vidi, when, in speaking of that revered man, he related to me that incident of his youth." I regret that Mr. Ray only meditated a work to have been entitled Horti Angliæ. Had he written it, I should have felt a singular pride in introducing his valued name in the present imperfect volume.
[85] The generous minded reader will be gratified by referring to the kind tribute, paid to the memory of Shenstone, by Mr. Loudon, at p. 76 of his Encyclopædia. Of this Encyclopædia, Mr. Johnson, in his History of Gardening, thus speaks:—"Taken as a whole, it is the most complete book of gardening ever published;"—and that, with the exception of chymistry, "every art and science, at all illustrative of gardening, are made to contribute their assistance."
[86] In his "Unconnected Thoughts" he admires the Oak, for "its majestic appearance, the rough grandeur of its bark, and the wide protection of its branches: a large, branching, aged oak, is, perhaps, the most venerable of all inanimate objects."
[87] Tea was the favourite beverage of Dr. Johnson. When Hanway pronounced his anathema against it, Johnson rose in defence of it, declaring himself "in that article a hardened sinner, having for years diluted my meals with the infusion of that fascinating plant; my tea-kettle has had no time to cool; with tea I have solaced the midnight hour, and with tea welcomed the morning." Mr. Pennant was a great lover of tea; a hardy honest Welch parson, on hearing that he usually retired in the afternoon to his summer-house to enjoy that beverage, was moved with indignation, that any thing weaker than ale or wine should be drunk there; and calling to mind the good hunting times of old, passionately exclaimed, "his father would have scorned it."
[88] Sir Uvedale thus expresses his own sensations when viewing some of these plantations:—"The inside fully answers to the dreary appearance of the outside; of all dismal scenes it seems to me the most likely for a man to hang himself in; he would, however, find some difficulty in the execution, for amidst the endless multitude of stems, there is rarely a single side branch to which a rope could be fastened. The whole wood is a collection of tall naked poles.... Even its gloom is without solemnity; it is only dull and dismal; and what light there is, like that of hell,
Serves only to discover scenes of woe,
Regions of sorrow, doleful shades."
[89] This observation confirms what Sir U. Price so pointedly enforces throughout the whole of his causticly sportive letter to Mr. Repton: "that the best landscape painters would be the best landscape gardeners, were they to turn their minds to the practical part; consequently, a study of their works, the most useful study to an improver."—And that "Van Huysum would be a much better judge of the merits and defects of the most dressed scene—of a mere flower garden,—than a gardener."
[90] Mr. Browne was not an author; yet the title of the present volume is "On the Portraits of English Authors on Gardening." Neither was old Bridgman nor Kent authors on this subject; still I could not prevail on myself to pass over such names in total silence.
[91] Mr. Clive resided at Moreton-Say, near Market-Drayton. He was a prebend of Westminster. Integrity marked every action of his life. In his village, scarcely a poor man existed. His kindness and benevolence to the poor, could only be equalled by his friendly hospitality and kind feeling to the more affluent in his neighbourhood:
Thy works, and alms, and all thy good endeavour,
Follow thee up to joy and bliss for ever.
Miss Seward thus concludes one of her letters to him:—"I wish none were permitted to enter the lists of criticism but those who feel poetic beauty as keenly as yourself, and who have the same generous desire that others should feel it." I mention Mr. Clive with gratitude, from a recollection of kindnesses received from him at a very early period of my life, and which were of such a nature, as could not fail to animate the mind of a young man to studious exertions. Archdeacon Plimley (now the truly venerable Archdeacon Corbet, and who has been so long an honour to his native county), in his Agricultural Survey of Shropshire, respectfully introduces Mr. Clive's name; and when he addressed his charge to the diocese of Hereford, in 1793, one really cannot but apply to Mr. Clive, what he so eloquently enforces in that charge to each clergyman:—"to cultivate a pure spirit within their own bosoms; to be in every instance the right-hand neighbour to each parishioner; their private adviser, their public monitor, their example in christian conduct, their joy in health, their consolation in sickness." In the same vault with Mr. Archdeacon Clive, lies buried Robert Lord Clive, conqueror of Plassy: on whose death appeared these extempore lines, by a man of distinction, a friend to Lord Clive:—
Life's a surface, slippery, glassy,
Whereon tumbled Clive of Plassy;
All the wealth the east could give,
Brib'd not death to let him live:
There's no distinction in the grave
'Twixt the nabob and the slave.
His lordship's death, in 1774, was owing to the same cause which hastened that of the most worthy of men, Sir Samuel Romilly—from shattered and worn out nerves;—from severe study in the latter, and from the burning climate of the east in the former. Had Lord Clive lived a few years longer, he would have enriched the whole neighbourhood round his native spot. His vigorous, ardently-gifted, and penetrating mind, projected plantations and other improvements, that could only have been conceived by such minds as Olivier de Serres, or by Sully, or by our own Evelyn. He was in private life beloved. He was generous, social and friendly; and if ever charity to the poor warmed the breast of any mortal, it warmed that of Lord Clive. Few men had more kind affections than Lord Clive.
[92] The following passage from a favourite book of Dr. Darwin's, (the System of Nature, by Linnæus) will well apply to that searching and penetrating mind, which so strongly possessed him through life.—"How small a part of the great works of nature is laid open to our eyes, and how many things are going on in secret which we know nothing of! How many things are there which this age first was acquainted with! How many things that we are ignorant of will come to light when all memory of us shall be no more! for nature does not at once reveal all her secrets. We are apt to look on ourselves as already admitted into the sanctuary of her temple; we are still only in the porch." How full of grace, of tenderness, and passion, is that elegy, which he composed the night he feared a life he so passionately loved (Mrs. Pole, of Radburn,) was in imminent danger, and when he dreamed she was dead:
Stretch'd on her sable bier, the grave beside,
A snow-white shroud her breathless bosom bound,
O'er her white brow the mimic lace was tied,
And loves, and virtues, hung their garlands round.
From these cold lips did softest accents flow?
Round that pale mouth did sweetest dimples play?
On this dull cheek the rose of beauty blow,
And those dim eyes diffuse celestial rays?
Did this cold hand unasking want relieve,
Or wake the lyre to every rapturous sound?
How sad, for other's woes, this breast could heave!
How light this heart, for other's transport, bound!
[93] It was at this period of his residence at Lichfield, that the present writer heard him strongly enforce the cultivation of papaver somniferum. What he may have also enforced to others, may possibly have given rise to some of those ingenious papers on its cultivation, which are inserted not only in the Transactions of the Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures and Commerce; in other publications, but in the first and fifth volumes of the Memoirs of the Caledonian Horticultural Society. The papers of Mr. Ball and Mr. Jones, on its cultivation, in the former of these transactions, are particularly diffuse and valuable. They are fully noticed in Dr. Thornton's "Family Herbal." The subjoined plate is a copy of that in the title page to "Opiologia, ou traicté concernant le naturel proprietés, vraye preparation, et seur vsage de l'opium," a favourite volume with Dr. Darwin, printed at la Haye, 1614, 12mo. Dr. Darwin, in his Botanical Garden, thus speaks of opium: "the finest opium is procured by wounding the heads of large poppies with a three-edged knife, and tying muscle-shells to them, to catch the drops. In small quantities it exhilirates the mind, raises the passions, and invigorates the body; in large ones, it is succeeded by intoxication, languor, stupor, and death."
[94] Sterne mentions a traveller who always set out with the spleen and jaundice,—"without one generous connection, or pleasurable anecdote to tell of,—travelling straight on, looking neither to his right hand or his left, lest love or pity should seduce him out of the road." Mr. Loudon seems to be a very different kind of a traveller: for his horticultural spirit and benevolent views, pervade almost every page of his late tour through Bavaria. One envies his feelings, too, in another rural excursion, through the romantic scenery of Bury, at Mr. Barclay's, and of Mr. Hope's at Deepdene; and particularly when he paints his own emotions on viewing the room of sculpture there. He even could not, in October last, take his rural ride from Edgware to St. Alban's without thus awakening in each traveller a love of gardens, and giving this gentle hint to an honest landlord:—"A new inn, in the outskirts of St. Alban's, in the Dunstable road, has an ample garden, not made the most of. Such a piece of ground, and a gardener of taste, would give an inn, so situated, so great a superiority, that every one would be tempted to stop there; but the garden of this Boniface, exhibits but the beginning of a good idea." When travelling along our English roads, his mind no doubt frequently reverts to those road-side gardens in the Netherlands, which he thus happily adverts to in p. 32 of his Encyclopædia: "The gardens of the cottagers in these countries, are undoubtedly better managed and more productive than those of any other country; no man who has a cottage is without a garden attached; often small, but rendered useful to a poor family, by the high degree of culture given to it." Linnæus, in his eloquent oration at Upsal, enforces the pleasure of travelling in one's own country, through its fields and roads. Mr. Heath, the zealous and affectionate historian of Monmouth, in his account of that town and its romantic neighbourhood, (published in 1804,) omits no opportunity of noticing the many neat gardens, which add to the other rural charms of its rich scenery, thus mentions another Boniface:—"The late Thomas Moxley, who kept the public-house at Manson Cross, was a person that took great delight in fruit-trees, and had a large piece of ground let him, for the purpose of planting it with apple-trees; but his death (which followed soon after) prevented the plan from being carried to the extent he intended, though some of the land bears evidence of his zeal and labour." Mr. Heath cannot even travel on the turnpike road, from Monmouth to Hereford, without benevolently remarking, that "a number of laborious families have erected small tenements, with a garden to each, most of which are thickly planted with apple-trees, whose produce considerably adds to the owner's support."
[95] Of this celebrated biographer of Dr. Darwin (whose Verses to the Memory of Mr. Garrick, and whose Monody on Captain Cook, will live as long as our language is spoken,) Sir W. Scott thus describes his first personal interview with:—"Miss Seward, when young, must have been exquisitely beautiful; for, in advanced age, the regularity of her features, the fire and expression of her countenance, gave her the appearance of beauty, and almost of youth. Her eyes were auburn, of the precise shade and hue of her hair, and possessed great expression. In reciting, or in speaking with animation, they appeared to become darker; and, as it were, to flash fire. I should have hesitated to state the impression which this peculiarity made upon me at the time, had not my observation been confirmed by that of the first actress of this or any other age, with whom I lately happened to converse on our deceased friend's expressive powers of countenance."
[96] From one of these pleasing sermons I extract these few lines:—"Among the most pleasing sights of a country village, is that of a father and mother, followed by their family of different ages, issuing from their little dwelling on a Sunday morning, as the bell tolls to church. The children, with their ruddy, wholesome looks, are all neat and clean. Their behaviour at church shews what an impression their parents have given them of the holiness of the place, and of the duties they have to perform. Though unregarded, as they return home, by their richer neighbours, they carry back with them to their humble cottage the blessing of God.—Pious parents! lead on your children from church to heaven. You are in the right road. Your heavenly father sees your hearts."
[97] Mr. Cradock published in 8vo. in 1777, price 2s. 6d. an account of some of the most remarkable places in North Wales.
[98] Mons. de Voltaire was so charmed with the taste and talents, and polite engaging manners of La Fage, that he paid him the following compliment; which may very justly be applied to Mr. Cradock:
Il reçut deux presens des Dieux,
Les plus charmans qu'ils puissent faire;
L'un étoit le talent de plaire,
L'autre le secret d'être heureux.
[99] The Quarterly Review for April, 1821, observes, that "The total number of exotics, introduced into this country, appears to be 11,970, of which the first forty-seven species, including the orange, apricot, pomegranate, &c. were introduced previously or during the reign of Henry VIII., and no fewer than 6756 in the reign of George III. For this proud accession to our exotic botany in the last century, the public are chiefly indebted to Sir Joseph Banks, and Messrs. Lee and Kennedy, of the Hammersmith nursery."
[100] The invocation to this Vale, reminds one of Mr. Repton's description:—"Downton Vale, near Ludlow, one of the most beautiful and romantic valleys that the imagination can conceive. It is impossible by description to convey an idea of its natural charms, or to do justice to that taste which has displayed these charms to the greatest advantage,
With art clandestine, and conceal'd design.
A narrow, wild, and natural path, sometimes creeps under the beetling rock, close by the margin of a mountain stream. It sometimes ascends to an awful precipice, from whence the foaming waters are heard roaring in the dark abyss below, or seen wildly dashing against its opposite banks; while, in other places, the course of the river Teme being impeded by natural ledges of rock, the vale presents a calm, glassy mirror, that reflects the surrounding foliage. The path, in various places, crosses the water by bridges of the most romantic and contrasted forms; and, branching in various directions, including some miles in length, is occasionally varied and enriched by caves and cells, hovels, and covered seats, or other buildings, in perfect harmony with the wild but pleasing horrors of the scene."
[101] Foxley, this far-famed seat of dignified and benevolent retirement, has on many occasions become interesting. I will merely mention one. It gave a peaceful asylum to Benjamin Stillingfleet, when his mind was depressed by disappointment. The then owner, Robert Price, Esq. and his mild and amiable lady, both kindly pressed him to become an inmate of their domestic retreat, that his health might be restored, and his mind calmed; and though he modestly refused being a constant intruder, yet he took up his residence in a cottage near them, and delighted to pass his leisure hours in their happy domestic circle, "blending his studious pursuits, with rural occupations," and particularly with gardening. No doubt, to this protecting kindness, may, on this spot, have been imbibed his great veneration for Theophrastus; and here he must have laid the foundation of those attainments, which, during the future periods of his life, obtained for him the high approbation of the justly celebrated Mrs. Montagu, who, in her letters, speaks of "this invaluable friend," in the highest possible terms of praise. In this peaceful and consoling retreat, was written his original and masterly tribute to the talents of Xenophon; and here was first kindled his deep enthusiastic zeal for the classic authors of antiquity; and the materials for his then intended edition of Milton (who he says equalled all the ancients whom he imitated; the sublimity of Homer, the majesty of Sophocles, the softness of Theocritus, and the gaiety of Anacreon,) enriched with parallel passages from holy writ, the classics, and the early Italian poets; and here he composed his matchless treatise on the power and principles of Tartini's music (for it seems Mr. Price himself "was a master of the art.") Here too, most probably, he sketched, or first gathered, his early memoranda towards his future general history of husbandry, from the earliest ages of the world to his own time; and fostered a devoted zeal for Linnæus, which produced that spirited eulogium on him, which pervades the preface to his translation of "Miscellaneous Tracts on Natural History."
[102] Sir Uvedale, about fifty years ago, translated Pausanias from the Greek. One may judge of the feeling with which he dwelt on the pages of this book, by what he says of that nation in vol. i. p. 65 of his Essays, where he speaks of being struck with the extreme richness of some of the windows of our cathedrals and ruined abbeys: "I hope it will not be supposed, that by admiring the picturesque circumstances of the Gothic, I mean to undervalue the symmetry and beauty of Grecian buildings: whatever comes to us from the Greeks, has an irresistible claim to our admiration; that distinguished people seized on the true points both of beauty and grandeur in all the arts, and their architecture has justly obtained the same high pre-eminence as their sculpture, poetry, and eloquence."
[103] On the pomp of devotion in our ancient abbeys, Mr. R. P. Knight thus interests his readers, in the chapter "Of the Sublime and Pathetic," in the Inquiry into the principles of Taste:—"Every person who has attended the celebration of high mass, at any considerable ecclesiastical establishment, must have felt how much the splendour and magnificence of the Roman Catholic worship tends to exalt the spirit of devotion, and to inspire the soul with rapture and enthusiasm. Not only the impressive melody of the vocal and instrumental music, and the imposing solemnity of the ceremonies, but the pomp and brilliancy of the sacerdotal garments, and the rich and costly decorations of the altar, raise the character of religion, and give it an air of dignity and majesty unknown to any of the reformed churches."
[104] In p. 130 and 179 of vol. ii. he thus adverts to the effects of the levelling system of Launcelot Browne:—"From this influence of fashion, and the particular influence of Mr. Browne, models of old gardens are in this country still scarcer in nature than in painting; and therefore what good parts there may be in such gardens, whether proceeding from original design, or from the changes produced by time and accident, can no longer be observed; and yet, from these specimens of ancient art, however they may be condemned as old fashioned, many hints might certainly be taken, and blended with such modern improvements as really deserve the name."—"Were my arguments in favour of many parts of the old style of gardening ever so convincing, the most I could hope from them at present, would be, to produce some caution; and to assist in preserving some of the few remains of old magnificence that still exist, by making the owner less ready to listen to a professor, whose interest it is to recommend total demolition." Mr. R. P. Knight, in a note to his landscape, thus remarks on this subject: "I remember a country clock-maker, who being employed to clean a more complex machine than he had been accustomed to, very confidently took it to pieces; but finding, when he came to put it together again, some wheels of which he could not discover the use, very discreetly carried them off in his pocket. The simple artifice of this prudent mechanic, always recurs to my mind, when I observe the manner in which our modern improvers repair and embellish old places; not knowing how to employ the terraces, mounds, avenues, and other features which they find there, they take them all away, and cover the places which they occupied with turf. It is a short and easy method of proceeding; and if their employers will be satisfied with it, they are not to be blamed for persevering in it, as it may be executed by proxy, as well as in person."
Severely (and no doubt justly), as the too generally smooth and monotonous system of Mr. Browne has been condemned, yet he must have had great merit to have obtained the many encomiums he did obtain from some of our first nobility and gentry. The evil which he did in many of their altered pleasure-grounds, lives after him—the good is oft interred in his grave.
[105] Mr. George Mason justly observes that "Nature's favourite haunts are the school of gardening."
[106] Dion. Chrysostom said of Xenophon, that "he had something of witchcraft in his writings." It would not be too much to say the same of this poet.
THE END.
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