Being thus on the subject of portraits, let me remark, that it is not always that we meet with a faithful likeness. A review of Mad. de Genlis's Petrarch et Laure, justly observes, that "it is doubtful if any of the portraits of Petrarch, which still remain, were painted during his life-time. However that may be, it is impossible to trace in them, either the elevation of his mind, the fire of his imagination, or the pensive melancholy of his soul." In the Essays on Petrarch, by Ugo Foscolo, he informs us, that "Petrarch's person, if we trust his biographers, was so striking with beauties, as to attract universal admiration. They represent him with large and manly features, eyes full of fire, a blooming complexion, and a countenance that bespoke all the genius and fancy that shone forth in his works." Do we yet know one really good likeness of Mary Queen of Scots? These gardens somewhat remind one of these lines, quoted by Barnaby Gooche: Have fountaines sweet at hand, or mossie waters, That fine gardens delighted Sully, is evident even from his own statement of his visit to the Duke d'Aumale's, at Anet, near Ivry, (where Henry and Sully fought in that famous battle), for he says,—"Joy animated the countenance of Madame d'Aumale the moment she perceived me. She gave me a most kind and friendly reception, took me by the hand, and led me through those fine galleries and beautiful gardens, which make Anet a most enchanting place." One may justly apply to Sully, what he himself applies to the Bishop of Evreaux: "A man for whom eloquence and great sentiments had powerful charms." I had designed some few years ago, to have published a Review of some of the superb Gardens in France, during the reign of Henry IV. and during the succeeding reigns, till the demise of Louis XV., embellished with plates of some of the costly and magnificent decorations of those times; with extracts from such of their eminent writers whose letters or works may have occasionally dwelt on gardens.—My motto, for want of a better, might have been these two lines from Rapin, ——France, in all her rural pomp appears Perhaps I might have been so greedy and insolent, as to have presumed to have monopolized our Shakspeare's line,—"I love France so well, that I will not part with a village of it; I will have it all mine." Isaac Walton gives the following lines from a translation of a German poet, which makes one equally fond of England: We saw so many woods, and princely bowers, Notwithstanding the above just and high tribute, I have no hesitation in saying, that it is not superior to the magic picture which the fascinating pen of Mad. de SevignÉ has drawn of le NÔtre's creative genius, in her letter of Aug. 7, 1675. Many others of this charming woman's letters breathe her love of gardens. Say, is thy honest heart to virtue warm? There are attractive pages in this little volume of the Viscount's, which would have interested either Shenstone, or Gainsborough, particularly the pages 59, 143, 145, and 146, (of Mr. Malthus's translation), for in these pages "we feel all the truth and energy of nature." A short extract from p. 131, will enable the reader to judge of the writer's style:—"When the cool evening sheds her soft and delightful tints, and leads on the hours of pleasure and repose, then is the universal reign of sublime harmony. It is at this happy moment that Claude has caught the tender colouring, the enchanting calm, which equally attaches the heart and the eyes; it is then that the fancy wanders with tranquillity over distant scenes. Masses of trees through which the light penetrates, and under whose foliage winds a pleasant path; meadows, whose mild verdure is still softened by the transparent shades of the evening; crystal waters which reflect all the near objects in their pure surface; mellow tints, and distances of blue vapour; such are in general the objects best suited to a western exposure. The sun, before he leaves the horizon, seems to blend earth and sky, and it is from sky that evening views receive their greatest beauty. The imagination dwells with delight upon the exquisite variety of soft and pleasing colours, which embellishes the clouds and the distant country, in this peaceful hour of enjoyment and contemplation." Sir Walter Scott, after noticing "the wild and squalid features" of Marat, who "lay concealed in some obscure garret or cellar, among his cut-throats, until a storm appeared, when, like a bird of ill omen, his death-screech was again heard," thus states the death of another of the murderers of the Malherbes:—"Robespierre, in an unsuccessful attempt to shoot himself, had only inflicted a horrible fracture on his under-jaw. In this situation they were found like wolves in their lair, foul with blood, mutilated, despairing, and yet not able to die. Robespierre lay on a table in an anti-room, his head supported by a deal box, and his hideous countenance half-hidden by a bloody and dirty cloth bound round his shattered chin. As the fatal cars passed to the guillotine, those who filled them, but especially Robespierre, were overwhelmed with execrations. The nature of his previous wound, from which the cloth had never been removed till the executioner tore it off, added to the torture of the sufferer. The shattered jaw dropped, and the wretch yelled aloud, to the horror of the spectators. A mask taken from that dreadful head was long exhibited in different nations of Europe, and appalled the spectator by its ugliness, and the mixture of fiendish expression with that of bodily agony." Mons. Malherbes loved to relate an answer made to him by a common fellow, during his stay at Paris, when he was obliged to go four times every day to the prison of the Temple, to attend the king: his extreme age did not allow him to walk, and he was compelled to take a carriage. One day, particularly, when the weather was intensely severe, he perceived, on coming out of the vehicle, that the driver was benumbed with cold. "My friend," said Malherbes to him, in his naturally tender manner, "you must be penetrated by the cold, and I am really sorry to take you abroad in this bitter season."—"That's nothing, M. de Malherbes; in such a cause as this, I'd travel to the world's end without complaining."—"Yes, but your poor horses could not."—"Sir," replied the honest coachman, "my horses think as I do." Smollet says, that he displayed "such irresistible energy of argument, and such power of elocution, as struck his hearers with astonishment and admiration. It flashed like the lightning of heaven against the ministers and sons of corruption, blasting where it smote, and withering the nerves of opposition; but his more substantial praise was founded upon his disinterested integrity, his incorruptible heart, his unconquerable spirit of independance, and his invariable attachment to the interest and liberty of his country." Another biographer thus mentions him:—"His elevated aspect commanded the awe and mute attention of all who beheld him, whilst a certain grace in his manner, conscious of all the dignities of his situation, of the solemn scene he acted in, as well as his own exalted character, seemed to acknowledge and repay the respect he received; his venerable form, bowed with infirmity and age, but animated by a mind which nothing could subdue; his spirit shining through him, arming his eye with lightning, and cloathing his lips with thunder; or, if milder topics offered, harmonizing his countenance in smiles, and his voice in softness, for the compass of his powers was infinite. As no idea was too vast, no imagination too sublime, for the grandeur and majesty of his manner; so no fancy was too playful, nor any allusion too comic, for the ease and gaiety with which he could accommodate to the occasion. But the character of his oratory was dignity; this presided in every respect, even to his sallies of pleasantry." Sweet violets, love's paradise, that spread The lines in Twelfth Night we all recollect: That strain again;—it had a dying fall: That these flowers were the most favourite ones of Shakspeare, there can be little doubt—Perditta fondly calls them ——sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes When Petrarch first saw Laura: "elle avail une robe verte, sa coleur favorite, parsemÉe de violettes, la plus humble des fleurs."—Childe Harold thus paints this flower: The sweetness of the violet's deep blue eyes P. de L.—Monsieur, Monsieur, cela doit vous coupÉ beaucoup, quel charmant jardin! Volt.—Oh! mon jardinier est un bÊte: c'est moi meme qui ait fait tout. P. de L.—Je le croi. So late ago as the year 1804 it was proposed at Avignon, to erect an obelisk in memory of Petrarch, at Vaucluse: "il a ÉtÉ dÉcidÉ, qu'on l'Élevera, vis-avis l'ancien jardin de Petrache, lieu oÛ le lit de sorgue forme un angle." Depending vines the shelving cavern skreen, No. 2543. De Arboribus, Aromatis, et Floribus. No. 2562. Glossarium Latino-anglicum Arborum, Fructuum, Frugam, &c. And he states the following from Bib. S. Petri Cant:— No. 1695. Notabilia de Vegetabilibus, et Plantis. Dr. Pulteney observes, that the above list might have been considerably extended, but that it would have unnecessarily swelled the article he was then writing. The Nouv. Dict. Hist. mentions a personage whose attachment to his garden, and one of whose motives for cultivating that garden, does not deserve a notice:—"Attale III. Roi de Pergame, fils de Stratonice, soÙlla la thrÔne en rÉpandant le sang de ses amis et de sea parens. Il abandonna ensuite le soÌn de ses affaires pour s'occuper entirement de son jardin. Il y cultivoit des poisons, tels que l'aconit et la ciguË, qu'il envoyoit quelque fois en prÉsent a ses amis. Il mourut 133 ans avant Jesus Christ." If one could discover a portrait of either of the authors mentioned in the foregoing list, one might, I think, inscribe under each of such portraits, these verses: Ce pourtrait et maint liure They are inscribed under an ancient portrait, done in 1555, which Mr. Dibdin has preserved in his account of Caen, and which he thus introduces: "As we love to be made acquainted with the persons of those from whom we have received instruction and pleasure, so take, gentle reader, a representation of Bourgueville." Milton also in the above Tractate thus speaks:—"In those vernal seasons of the year, when the air is calm and pleasant, it were an injury and sullenness against nature, not to go out and see her riches, and partake in her rejoicing with heaven and earth." Sow peason and beans, in the wane of the moon, The celebrated Quintinye says, "I solemnly declare, that after a diligent observation of the moon's changes for thirty years together, and an enquiry whether they had any influence in gardening, the affirmative of which has been so long established among us, I perceive it was no weightier than old wives' tales." The moon (says Mr. Mavor) having an influence on the tides and the weather, she was formerly supposed to extend her power over all nature. There is a treatise, by Claude Gadrois, on the Influences des Astres. Surely this merits perusal, when the Nouv. Dict. Hist. thus speaks of him:—"Il Étoit ami du cÉlebre Arnauld et mÉritoit de l'etre par la justesse de son esprit et la puretÈ de ses moeurs, par la bontÉ de son caractere et par la droiture de son coeur." The following wise experiment occurs in an ancient book on husbandry; but if the two parties there mentioned had lived with Leonard Meager, one must not do him the injustice of supposing he would have been a convert to their opinion:—"Archibius is said to have written (or sent word most likely) to Antiochus, king of Syria, that if you bury a speckled toad inclosed in an earthen pot, in the middle of your garden, the same will be defended from all hurtful weather and tempests." Meager, however, is kept in countenance by Mr. Worlidge, who, in his chapter of Prognostics, at the end of his interesting SystemÆ AgriculturÆ, actually states that If dog's guts rumble and make a noise, it presageth rain or snow. The cat, by washing her face, and putting her foot over her ear, foreshews rain. The squeaking and skipping up and down of mice and rats, portend rain. Leonard Meager thus notices a nurseryman of his day:—"Here follows a catalogue of divers sorts of fruits, which I had of my very loving friend, Captain Garrle, dwelling at the great nursery between Spittlefields and Whitechapel; a very eminent and ingenious nurseryman." Perhaps this is the same nurseryman that Rea, in his Pomona, mentions. He says (after naming some excellent pear-trees) "they may be had out of the nurseries about London, especially those of Mr. Daniel Stepping, and Mr. Leonard Girle, who will faithfully furnish such as desire these, or any other kinds of rare fruit-trees, of whose fidelity in the delivery of right kinds, I have had long experience in divers particulars, a virtue not common to men of that profession." At this period, the space between Spittlefields and Whitechapel, must have consisted of gardens, and perhaps superb country houses. The Earl of Devonshire had a fine house and garden near Petticoat-lane. Sir W. Raleigh had one near Mile-end. Some one (I forget the author) says, "On both sides of this lane (Petticoat-lane) were anciently hedges and rows of elm trees, and the pleasantness of the neighbouring fields induced several gentlemen to build their houses here; among whom was the Spanish Ambassador, whom Strype supposes was Gondamour." Gondamour was the person to please whom (or rather that James might the more easily marry his son Charles to one of the daughters of Spain, with her immense fortune) this weak monarch was urged to sacrifice the life of Raleigh. Within one's own memory, it is painful to reflect, on the many pleasant fields, neat paddocks, rural walks, and gardens, (breathing pure air) that surrounded this metropolis for miles, and miles, and which are now ill exchanged for an immense number of new streets, many of them the receptacles only of smoke and unhealthiness. What are the hopes of man? old Egypt's king But somebody or other rummaging, The Quarterly Review, in reviewing Light's Travels, observes, that "Cheops employed three hundred and sixty thousand of his subjects for twenty years in raising this pyramid, or pile of stones, equal in weight to six millions of tons; and to render his precious dust more secure, the narrow chamber was made accessible only by small intricate passages, obstructed by stones of an enormous weight, and so carefully closed, externally, as not to be perceptible. Yet how vain are all the precautions of man! Not a bone was left of Cheops, either in the stone coffin, or in the vault, when Shaw entered the gloomy chamber." Sir Walter Scott himself, has justly received many eulogies. Perhaps none more heart-felt, than the effusion delivered at a late Celtic meeting, by that eloquent and honest lawyer, the present Lord Chief Justice of the Court of Exchequer, in Scotland, which was received by long, loud, and continued applause. Their Preface to the above Vol. ii. has this observation: "Plants, when taken from the places whence they derive their extraction, and planted in others of different qualities, betray such fondness for their native earth, that with great difficulty they are brought to thrive in another; and in this it is that the florist's art consists; for to humour each plant with the soil, the sun, the shade, the degrees of dryness or moisture, and the neighbourhood it delights in, (for there is a natural antipathy between some plants, insomuch that they will not thrive near one another) are things not easily attainable, but by a length of study and application." Fate never wounds more deep the generous heart, Oh! by those shades, beneath whose evening bowers "That great virtuoso and encourager of gardening, Mr. Secretary Johnson, at Twickenham." "Their beautiful aspects in pots, (the nonpareil) and the middle of a desert, has been the glory of one of the most generous encouragers of gardening this age has produced, I mean the Right Honourable the Lord Castlemain." "The late noble and most publick spirited encourager of arts and sciences, especially gardening, his Grace the Duke of Montague, at Ditton." "The Elrouge Nectarine is also a native of our own, the name being the reverse of Gourle, a famous Nurseryman at Hogsden, in King Charles the Second's time, by whom it was raised." And speaking of the successful cultivation of vines in the open air, he refers to the garden of a Mr. Rigaud, near Swallow-street; and to another great cultivator of the vine, "of whose friendship I have proof, the Rev. Mr. Only, of Cottesmore, in Rutland, some time since deceased; one of the most curious lovers of gardening that this or any other age has produced." This gentleman, in 1765, published "An Account of the care taken in most civilized nations for the relief of the poor, more particularly in the time of scarcity and distress;" 4to. 1s. Davis. I believe the same gentleman also published, in 1765, a Treatise "Of the Price of Wheat." Je ne veux point avoir l'orgueilleuse tulipe; The translation of Spectacle de la Nature, a very pleasing work, observes that "Flowers are not only intended to beautify the earth with their shining colours, but the greatest part of them, in order to render the entertainment more exquisite, diffuse a fragrance that perfumes all the air around us; and it should seem as if they were solicitous to reserve their odours for the evening and morn, when walking is most agreeable; but their sweets are very faint during the heat of the day, when we visit them the least." I must again trespass on the pages of the great Bacon, by briefly shewing the natural wildness he wishes to introduce into one part of his garden:—"thickets, made only of sweet-briar and honeysuckle, and some wild vine amongst, and the ground set with violets, strawberries, and primroses; for these are sweet, and prosper in the shade." The dew or pearly drops that one sees in a morning on cowslips, remind one of what is said of Mignon:—"Ses ouvrages sont prÉcieux par l'art avec le quel il reprÉsentoit les fleurs dans tout leur Éclat, et les fruits avec toute leur fraicheur. La rosÉe et les goutes d'eau qu'elle rÉpand sur les fleurs, sont si bien imitÉes dans ses tableaux, qu'on est tentÉ d'y porter la main." It is said also that in the works of Van-Huysum, "le veloutÉ des fruits, l'Éclat des fleurs, le transparent de la rosÉe, tout enchante dans les tableaux de ce peintre admirable." Sir U. Price observes of this latter painter, "that nature herself is hardly more soft and delicate in her most delicate productions, than the copies of them by Van-Huysum." Two flower pieces by this painter, sold at the Houghton sale for 1200l. In the pieces of Bos, a Flemish painter, the dew was represented so much like nature, as to deserve universal approbation. Bernazzano painted strawberries on a wall so naturally, that, we are told, the plaster was torn down by the frequent pecking of peacocks. Amidst these celebrated painters, these admiring judges of nature, let us not forget our never-dying Hogarth; his piercing eye even discovers itself in his letter to Mr. Ellis, the naturalist:—"As for your pretty little seed cups, or vases, they are a sweet confirmation of the pleasure nature seems to take in superadding an elegance of form to most of her works, wherever you find them. How poor and bungling are all the inventions of art!" It is pleasing to enquire who Mons. de la Quintinye was. Perrault, in his Hommes Illustres, has given his Life, and Portrait. Dr. Gibson, in his Fruit Gardener, calls him "truly an original author;" and further pays him high compliments. The Noveau Dict. Hist. thus speaks of him:—"Il vint À Paris se faire recevoir avocat. Une Éloquence naturelle, cultivÉe avec soÌn, le fit briller dans le Barreau, et lui consilÀ l'estime des premiers magistrais. Quoi qu'il eut peu de temps dont il pÛt disposer, il en trouvoit nÉanmoins suffisament pour satisfaire la passion qu'il avoit pour l'agriculture. Il augmenta ses connoissances sur le jardinage, dans un voyage qu'il fit en Italie. De retour À Paris, il se livra tout entier À l'agriculture, et fit un grand nombre d'experiences curieuses et utiles. Le grand Prince de Conde, qui aimoit l'agriculture, prenoit une extrÉme plaisir À s'entretenir avec lui; et Charles II. Roi d'Angleterre lui offrit une pension considÉrable pour l'attacher À la culture de ses Jardins, mais il refusa ses offres avantageuses par l'amour qu'il avoit pour sa patrie, et trouva en France les recompenses due À son mÉrite. On a de lui un excellent livre, intitulÉ 'Instructions pour les Jardins Fruitiers et Potagers, Paris, 1725, 2 tom. 4to.' et plusieurs Lettres sur la meme matiere." Switzer, in his History of Gardening, says, that in Mons. de la Quintinye's "Two Voyages into England, he gained considerable friendship with several lords with whom he kept correspondence by letters till his death, and these letters, says Perrault, are all printed at London." And he afterwards says, speaking of Lord Capel's garden at Kew, "the greatest advance made by him herein, was the bringing over several sorts of fruits from France; and this noble lord we may suppose to be one that held for many years a correspondence with Mons. de la Quintinye." Such letters on such correspondence if ever printed, must be worth perusal. The old Earl of Tweedale, in the reign of Charles II. and his immediate successor, planted more than six thousand acres, in Scotland, with fir trees. In a Tour through Scotland, in 1753, it mentions, that "The county of Aberdeen is noted for its timber, having in it upwards of five millions of fir trees, besides vast numbers of other kinds, planted within these seventy years, by the gentry at and about their seats." Mr. Marshall, in his "Planting and Rural Ornament," states, that "In 1792, his Grace the Duke of Athol (we speak from the highest authority) was possessed of a thousand larch trees, then growing on his estates of Dunkeld and Blair only, of not less than two to four tons of timber each; and had, at that time, a million larches, of different sizes, rising rapidly on his estate." The zeal for planting in Scotland, of late years, has been stimulated by the writings of James Anderson, and Lord Kames. It is pleasing to transcribe the following paragraph from a newspaper of the year 1819:—"Sir Watkin Williams Wynn has planted, within the last five years, on the mountainous lands in the vicinity of Llangollen, situated from 1200 to 1400 feet above the level of the sea, 80,000 oaks, 63,000 Spanish chesnuts, 102,000 spruce firs, 110,000 Scotch firs, 90,000 larches, 30,000 wych elms, 35,000 mountain elms, 80,000 ash, and 40,000 sycamores, all of which are, at this time, in a healthy and thriving condition." It is impossible, on this subject, to avoid paying a grateful respect to the memory of that bright ornament of our church, and literature, the late Dr. Watson, Bishop of Llandaff, whose extensive plantations, near Ambleside, have long since enriched that part. The late Richard Crawshay (surpassed by no being during the whole course of his very long life, for either integrity or generosity) assured the present writer, that during an early period of Dr. Watson's planting, he offered him, on the security of his note of hand only, and to be repaid at his own entire convenience, ten thousand pounds, and that he (with grateful thanks to Mr. Crawshay) refused it. Lord Chatham spoke of Franklin in the highest strain of panegyric, when adverting, in the year 1777, to his dissuasive arguments against the American war. William Whateley was administrator of the goods and chattels of his brother Thomas, who, of course, died without a will. In vol. ii. of Seward's Biog. Lit. and Political Tracts, the nineteenth chapter consists of his account of two Political Tracts, by Thomas Whateley, Esq. and he thus concludes this chapter:—"Mr. Whateley also wrote a tract on laying out pleasure grounds." In vol. iii. is an account of the quarrel and duel with Mr. Temple and one of the brothers. It appears that Thomas Whateley died in June, 1772, and left two brothers, William and Joseph. Thomas is called "Mr. Secretary Whately." Debrett published "Scarce Tracts," in 4 vols. 8vo. In vol. i. is one called "The Budget," by D. Hartley, Esq. This same volume contains a reply to this, viz. "Remarks on the Budget, by Thomas Whateley, Esq. Secretary to the Treasury." There is also in vol. ii. another tract by Thomas Whateley, Esq. entitled "Considerations on the Trade and Finances of the Kingdom." These two pamphlets, upon subjects so very different from the alluring one on landscape gardening, and his unfinished one on Shakspeare, convinces us, what a powerful writer he would have been, had his life been longer spared. The current that with gentle murmur glides, And again,—"For the situation of the garden-plot for pleasure, you shall understand, that it must ever bee placed so neare unto the dwelling-house as it is possible, both because the eye of the owner may be a guard and support from inconveniences, as all that the especial roomes and prospects of the house may be adorned, perfumed, and inriched with the delicate proportions, odoriferous smells, and wholesome airs which shall ascend and vaporate from the same." He then gives a variety of cuts of knots and mazes, and labyrinths, of which he observes, that "many other adornations and beautifyings there are, which belong to the setting forth of a curious garden, but for as much as none are more rare or more esteemed than these I have set down, being the best ornaments of the best gardens of this kingdome, I think them tastes sufficient for every husbandman or other of better quality, which delighteth in the beauty, and well trimming of his ground." He thus remarks:—"as in the composition of a delicate woman, the grace of her cheeke is the mixture of red and white, the wonder of her eye blacke and white, and the beauty of her hand blew and white, any of which is not said to be beautifull if it consist of single or simple colours; and so in these walkes or alleyes the all greene, nor the all yellow cannot be said to bee most beautifull, but the greene and yellow, (that is to say, the untroade grasse, and the well knit gravell) being equally mixt, give the eye both luster and delight beyond all comparison." His description of the following flower is singular: "The Crowne Emperiall, is, of all flowers, both forraigne and home-bred, the delicatest, and strangest: it hath the true shape of an imperiall crowne, and will be of divers colours, according to the art of the gardener. In the middest of the flower you shall see a round pearle stand, in proportion, colour, and orientnesse, like a true naturall pearle, only it is of a soft liquid substance: this pearle, if you shake the flower never so violently, will not fall off, neyther if you let it continue never so long, will it eyther encrease or diminish in the bignesse, but remaineth all one: yet if with your finger you take and wipe it away, in less than an hour after you shall have another arise in the same place, and of the same bignesse. This pearle, if you taste it upon your tongue, is pleasant, and sweet like honey: this flower when the sunne ariseth, you shall see it looke directly to the east, with the stalk bent lowe thereunto, and as the sunne ariseth higher and higher, so the flower will likewise ascend, and when the sunne is come into the meridian or noone poynt, which is directly over it, then will it stand upright upon the stalke, and looke directly upward, and as the sunne declineth, so will it likewise decline, and at the sunne setting looke directly to the west only." His mention of another flower is attractive:—"Now for your Wall Gilliflower, it delighteth in hard rubbish, limy, and stony grounds, whence it commeth they covet most to grow upon walls, pavements, and such like barraine places. It may be sowen in any moneth or season, for it is a seed of that hardness, that it makes no difference betwixt winter and summer, but will flourish in both equally, and beareth his flowers all the yeere, whence it comes that the husbandman preserves it most in his bee-garden, for it is wondrous sweet, and affordeth much honey. It would be sowen in very small quantity, for after it hath once taken roote, it will naturally of itself overspread much ground, and hardly ever after be rooted out. It is of itselfe of so exceeding a strong, and sweet smell, that it cannot be forced to take any other, and therefore is ever preserved in its owne nature." The Spectacle de la Nature, of which we have a translation in 1740, has a richly diffuse chapter on flowers. I here transcribe a small part thereof:— Prior. "The beauty of flowers never fails to inspire us with joy; and when we have sufficiently examined the fairest, we are sensible they are only proper to refresh the sight; and, indeed, the prospect they afford is so touching, and we experience their power to be so effectual, that the generality of those arts which are ambitious to please, seem most successful when they borrow their assistance. Sculpture imitates them in its softest ornaments; architecture bestows the embellishments of leaves and festoons on those columns and fronts, which would otherwise be too naked. The richest embroideries are little more than foliage and flowers; the most magnificent silks are almost covered with these charming forms, and are thought beautiful, in proportion as they resemble the lively tinge of natural flowers. "These have always been the symbols, or representations of joy; they were formerly the inseparable ornaments of feasts, and are still introduced with applause, toward the close of our entertainments, when they are brought in with the fruit, to enliven the festival that begins to languish. And they are so peculiarly adapted to scenes of pleasure, that they are always considered as inconsistent with mourning. Decency, informed by nature, never admits them into those places where tears and affliction are predominant. Countess. "The festivals in the country are never celebrated without garlands, and the entertainments of the polite are ushered in by a flower. If the winter denies them that gratification, they have recourse to art. A young bride, in all the magnificence of her nuptial array, would imagine she wanted a necessary part of her ornaments, if she did not improve them with a sprig of flowers. A queen, amidst the greatest solemnities, though she is covered with the jewels of the crown, has an inclination to this rural ornament; she is not satisfied with mere grandeur and majesty, but is desirous of assuming an air of softness and gaiety, by the mediation of flowers. Prior. "Religion itself, with all its simplicity and abstraction, and amidst the abhorrence it professes to theatrical pomp, which rather tends to dissipate the heart, than to inspire it with a due reverence for sacred mysteries, and a sensibility of human wants, permits some of its festivals to be celebrated with boughs, and chaplets of flowers." Nanteuil's portrait is prefixed to his Sylva, 1664; and a fine copy of the same, by Bartolozzi, is prefixed to Hunter's Sylva. Worlidge engraved a fine portrait of him, prefixed to his Sculptura. Gaywood engraved his portrait for the translation of Lucretius. In Walpole's Anecdotes is his portrait, by Bannerman. The Quarterly Review of July, 1828, thus remarks:—"When Elizabeth's wrinkles waxed many, it is reported that an unfortunate master of the Mint incurred disgrace, by a too faithful shilling; the die was broken, and only one mutilated impression is now in existence. Her maids of honour took the hint, and were thenceforth careful that no fragment of a looking glass should remain in any room of the palace. In fact, the lion-hearted lady had not heart to look herself in the face for the last twenty years of her life." It seems that Elizabeth was fond of executions. She loved Essex, of all men, best; and yet the same axe which murdered Anne Bulleyn, was used to revenge herself on him. The bloody task took three strokes, which so enraged the multitude, (who loved Essex) that they would have torn the executioner to pieces, had not the soldiers prevented them. Mr. Hutton, in his "Journey to London," observes, that "their vengeance ought to have been directed against the person who caused him to use it." What her reflections were on these two bloody acts when on her death-bed, we scarcely know. A modern writer on horticulture, nearly concludes a very pleasing work, by enumerating (with slight historical notices) the several plants cultivated in our gardens. He thus concludes his account of one:—"Queen Elizabeth, in her last illness, eat little but Succory Pottage." Mr. Loudon says it is used "as a fodder for cattle." The French call it Chicoree sauvage. Her taste must have been something like her heart. Poor Mary eat no supper the night previous to her last illness. Had it been possible for Elizabeth to have read those pages of Robertson, which paint the long succession of calamities which befel Mary, and the insolence and brutality she received from Darnley, and which so eloquently plead for her frailties, perhaps even these pages would not have softened her bloody disposition, which she seems to have inherited from that insolent monster, her father. "Mary's sufferings (says this enchanting historian) exceed, both in degree and duration, those tragical distresses which fancy has feigned, to excite sorrow and commiseration; and while we survey them, we are apt altogether to forget her frailties; we think of her faults with less indignation, and approve of our tears as if they were shed for a person who had attained much nearer to pure virtue. With regard to the queen's person, all contemporary authors agree in ascribing to Mary the utmost beauty of countenance, and elegance of shape, of which the human form is capable. Her hair was black, though, according to the fashion of that age, she frequently borrowed locks, and of different colours. Her eyes were a dark grey; her complexion was exquisitely fine, and her hands and arms remarkably delicate, both as to shape and colour. Her stature was of an height that rose to the majestic. She danced, she walked, and she rode with equal grace. She sung, and played upon the lute with uncommon skill." One cut from venison, to the heart can speak, Here Pope!—ah, never must that tow'ring mind 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.'" Can storied urn or animated bust But I will bid th' Arcadian cypress wave, ——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. 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. Serves only to discover scenes of woe, Thy works, and alms, and all thy good endeavour, 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, 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. Stretch'd on her sable bier, the grave beside, From these cold lips did softest accents flow? Did this cold hand unasking want relieve, Il reÇut deux presens des Dieux, 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." 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. THE END.Printed by Lowe and Harvey, Playhouse Yard, Blackfriars. |