PRINTED BY JOHN PARSLEE, HOLT.

FOOTNOTES.

[9] I wish it was in my power to say, that scenes of this nature always terminated so favourably; but a most fatal instance happened to the contrary at Cromer, in the afternoon of the 2nd of February, 1799. About three o’clock a boat with a number of men was seen making toward the shore—the surf on the beach was dreadful, and it was the general opinion that the boat could not live through it—and it was but too just!—for it no sooner came amongst the breakers than the first sea half filled it, and another quickly following before it could right, it carried the boat, in an instant, with its unfortunate crew, to the bottom. A boat from the shore had before been launched to give them assistance if possible—but it was in vain; the hazard was so imminent that the trial was ineffectual; only two out of twelve souls escaped; the captain and a poor boy—the latter was taken up to all appearance dead and was with great difficulty recovered. These unfortunate men were Danes, their vessel laden with timber had struck upon a sand the night before this melancholy catastrophe, and they had taken to their boat as a desperate resource to save their lives, which were almost exhausted for want of sustenance, not having been able to come at any food from the state of the ship for the two preceding days.[33] Ruinated structures (says Shenstone) appear to derive their power of pleasing from the irregularity of surface, which is variety, and the latitude they afford the imagination to conceive an enlargement of their dimensions or to recollect any events or circumstances appertaining to their pristine grandeur.[36] All trees have a character analogous to that of men. Oaks are in all respects the perfect image of the manly character. In former times I should have said, and in present times I think I am authorised to say, the British one, as a brave man, is not suddenly either elated by prosperity or depressed by adversity;—so the oak displays not its verdure on the sun’s first approach nor drops it on his first departure. Add to this its majestic appearance, the rough grandeur of its bark and the wide protection of its branches.

A large branching oak is, perhaps, the most venerable of all inanimate objects.

See Shenstone’s Essay on Gardening.[41] By this I do not mean to insinuate that Beckham Church Yard has any claim to the honour of having given birth to that beautiful elegy, but to infer that its merits as an elegant ruin, joined to its sequestered solitude, might place it upon the footing of no mean rival to those that have disputed the pre-eminence.[45] Whoever has seen King’s College Chapel or any other building where there is a profusion of painted glass and where the other parts are fitted up with Norway oak, the colour of which is dark brown, must have perceived a visible effect produced by the solemnity of its appearance. In all churches having any claim to antiquity the light appears to have been sparingly introduced, and to me it has always a very pleasing effect.[52] An accident in painting is an obstruction of the sun’s light by the interposition of clouds in such a manner that some part of the earth shall be in light, and others in shade, which, according to the motion of the clouds, succeed each other, and produce such wonderful effects and changes of the claro-obscuro as seem to create so many new situations.

This is daily observed in nature and as this newness of situations is grounded only on the shapes of the clouds, and their motions, which are very inconstant and unequal, if follows, that these accidents are arbitrary; and a painter of genius may dispose of them to his own advantage when he thinks fit to use them.

See Mons. du Piles.[82] The errata has been applied to this eBook.—DP.