Chapter 19

[59] The benevolent mind of the marquis shines even in his concluding chapter; for he there wishes "to bring us back to a true taste for beautiful nature--to more humane and salutary regulations of the country--to produce the _moral_ landscapes which delight the mind. His view of the good mother, seeing her children playing round her at their cottage, near the common, thus "endearing her home, and making even the air she breathed more delightful to her, make these sort of commons, to me, the most delightful of _English gardens_. The dwellings of the happy and peaceful husbandmen would soon rise up in the midst of compact farms. Can there exist a more delightful habitation for man, than a neat farm-house in the centre of a pleasing landscape? There avoiding disease and lassitude, useless expence, the waste of land in large and dismal parks, and above all, by preventing misery, and promoting happiness, we shall indeed have gained the prize of having united the agreeable with the useful. Perhaps, when every folly is exhausted, there will come a time, in which men will be so far enlightened as to prefer the real pleasures of nature to vanity and chimera."

[60] Perhaps it may gratify those who seek for health, by their attachment to gardens, to note the age that some of our English horticulturists have attained to:--Parkinson died at about 78; Tradescant, the father, died an old man; Switzer, about 80; Sir Thomas Browne died at 77; Evelyn, at 86; Dr. Beale, at 80; Jacob Bobart, at 85; Collinson, at 75; a son of Dr. Lawrence (equally fond of gardens as his father) at 86; Bishop Compton, at 81; Bridgman, at an advanced age; Knowlton, gardener to Lord Burlington, at 90; Miller, at 80; James Lee, at an advanced age; Lord Kames, at 86; Abercrombie, at 80; the Rev. Mr. Gilpin, at 80; Duncan, a gardener, upwards of 90; Hunter, who published _Sylva_, at 86; Speechley, at 86; Horace Walpole, at 80; Mr. Bates, the celebrated and ancient horticulturist of High Wickham, who died there in December, 1819, at the great age of 89; Marshall, at an advanced age; Sir Jos. Banks, at 77; Joseph Cradock, at 85; James Dickson, at 89; Dr. Andrew Duncan, at 83; and Sir U. Price, at 83. Mr. Loudon, at page 1063 of his Encyclop. inform us, that a market garden, and nursery, near Parson's Green, had been, for upwards of two centuries, occupied by a family of the name of Rench; that one of them (who instituted the first annual exhibition of flowers) died at the age of ninety-nine years, having had thirty-three children; and that his son (mentioned by Collinson, as famous for forest trees) introduced the moss-rose, planted the elm trees now growing in the Bird-cage Walk, St. James's Park, from trees reared in his own nursery, married two wives, had thirty-five children, and died in 1783, in the same room in which he was born, at the age of a hundred and one years. Reflecting on the great age of some of the above, reminds me of what a "Journal Encyclopédique" said of Lestiboudois, another horticulturist and botanist, who died at Lille, at the age of ninety, and who (for even almost in our ashes _live their wonted fires_) gave lectures in the very last year of his life. "When he had (says an ancient friend of his) but few hours more to live, he ordered snow-drops, violets, and crocuses, to be brought to his bed, and compared them with the figures in Tournefort. His whole existence had been consecrated to the good of the public, and to the alleviation of misery; thus he looked forward to his dissolution with a tranquillity of soul that can only result from a life of rectitude; he never acquired a fortune; and left no other inheritance to his children, but integrity and virtue."

[61] About eighty years previous to Hyll's Treatise on Bees, Rucellai, an Italian of distinction, who aspired to a cardinal's hat, and who laboured with zeal and taste (I am copying from De Sismondi's View of the Literature of the South of Europe) to render Italian poetry classical, or a pure imitation of the ancients, published his most celebrated poem on Bees. "It receives (says De Sismondi) a particular interest from the real fondness which Rucellai seems to have entertained for these creatures. There is something so sincere in his respect for their virgin purity, and in his admiration of the order of their government, that he inspires us with real interest for them. All his descriptions are full of life and truth."

[62] Ben Jonson, in his _Discourses_, gives the following eulogy on this illustrious author:--"No member of his speech but consisted of his own graces. His hearers could not cough or look aside from him without loss. He commanded where he spoke, and had his judges angry and pleased at his devotion: no man had their affections more in his power; the fear of every man that heard him was, lest he should make an end." Mr. Loudon, when treating on the study of plants, observes, that "This wonderful philosopher explored and developed the true foundations of human knowledge, with a sagacity and penetration unparalleled in the history of mankind." What Clement VIII. applied to the eight books of Hooker's Ecclesiastical Polity, may well apply to the writings of Bacon:--"there is no learning that this man hath not searched into. His books will get reverence by age, for there is in them such seeds of eternity, that they will continue till the last fire shall devour all learning." Monsieur Thomas, in his Eulogy of Descartes, says, "Bacon explored every path of human knowledge, he sat in judgment on past ages, and anticipated those that were to come." The reader will be gratified by inspecting the second volume of Mr. Malone's publication of Aubrey's Letters, in the Bodleian Library, as well as the richly decorated and entertaining Beauties of England and Wales, and Pennant's Tour from Chester to London, for some curious notices of the ancient mansion, garden, and orchard, at Gorhambury.

[63] The reader will be amply gratified by Mr. Johnson's review of the general state of horticulture at this period, in his History of English Gardening, and with the zeal with which he records the attachment of James I. and Charles, to this science; and where, in a subsequent chapter, he glances on the progress of our Botany, and proudly twines round the brows of the modest, but immortal, Ray, a most deserved and generous wreath.

[64] I subjoin a few extracts from the first book of his English Husbandman, 4to. 1635:--"A garden is so profitable, necessary, and such an ornament and grace to every house and housekeeper, that the dwelling-place is lame and maimed if it want that goodly limbe, and beauty. I do not wonder either at the worke of art, or nature, when I behold in a goodly, rich and fertill soyle, a garden adorned with all the delights and delicacies which are within man's understanding, because the naturall goodnesse of the earth (which not enduring to bee idle) will bring forth whatsoever is cast into her; but when I behold upon a barren, dry, and dejected earth, such as the Peake-hills, where a man may behold snow all summer, or on the East-mores, whose best herbage is nothing but mosse, and iron-stone, in such a place, I say, to behold a delicate, rich, and fruitful garden, it shewes great worthinesse in the owner, and infinite art and industry in the workeman, and makes mee both admire and love the begetters of such excellencies."

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."

[65] Mr. Loudon, in his Encycl. of Gardening, fondly reviews the taste for flowers which pervaded most ranks during the time of Elizabeth, and Evelyn.

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."

[66] In his Diary is the following entry:--"1658, 27 Jan. After six fits of an ague, died my son Richard, five years and three days old onely, but, at that tender age, a prodigy for witt and understanding; for beauty of body, a very angel; for endowment of mind, of incredible and rare hopes. He was all life, all prettinesse. What shall I say of his frequent pathetical ejaculations uttered of himselfe: _Sweete Jesus, save me, deliver me, pardon my sins, let thine angels receive me!_ So early knowledge, so much piety and perfection! Such a child I never saw! for such a child I blesse God in whose bosome he is!"

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.

[67] In "A Picturesque Promenade round Dorking," are selected many interesting particulars of Mr. Evelyn.

[68] Essex lost his head for having said that Elizabeth grew old and cankered, and that her mind was as crooked as her carcase. Perhaps the beauty of Mary galled Elizabeth.

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."

[69] I will merely give this brief extract as one out of many of great force and beauty, from his _Salmonia_:--"If we look with wonder upon the great remains of human works, such as the columns of Palmyra, broken in the midst of the desert, the temples of Pæstum, beautiful in the decay of twenty centuries, or the mutilated fragments of Greek sculpture in the Acropolis of Athens, or in our own Museum, as proofs of the genius of artists, and power and riches of nations now past away, with how much deeper feeling of admiration must we consider those grand monuments of nature, which mark the revolutions of the globe; continents broken into islands; one land produced, another destroyed; the bottom of the ocean become a fertile soil; whole races of animals extinct; and the bones and exuviæ of one class covered with the remains of another, and upon the graves of past generations--the marble or rocky tomb, as it were, of a former animated world--new generations rising, and order and harmony established, and a system of life and beauty produced, as it were, out of chaos and death; proving the infinite power, wisdom, and goodness, of the GREAT CAUSE OF ALL BEING!" I must trespass on my reader, by again quoting from _Salmonia_:--"I envy no quality of the mind or intellect in others; not genius, power, wit, or fancy; but if I could choose what would be most delightful, and I believe most useful to me, I should prefer _a firm religious belief_ to every other blessing; for it makes life a discipline of goodness--creates new hopes, when all earthly hopes vanish; and throws over the decay, the destruction of existence, the most gorgeous of lights; awakens life even in death, and from corruption and decay calls up beauty and divinity: makes an instrument of torture and of shame the ladder of ascent to Paradise; and, far above all combinations of earthly hopes, calls up the most delightful visions of palms and amaranths, the gardens of the blest, the security of everlasting joys, where the sensualist and the sceptic view only gloom, decay, annihilation, and despair!"

[70] In this delightful essay, he says, "the most exquisite delights of sense are pursued, in the contrivance and plantation of gardens, which, with fruits, flowers, shades, fountains, and the music of birds that frequent such happy places, seem to furnish all the pleasures of the several senses."

[71] Mr. Johnson, in his History of English Gardening, admirably confirms this conflagration argument, by quoting the opinion or testimony of the celebrated Goëthe.

[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_.