v LL6S1800

ESSAYS

ON

THE PICTURESQUE,

VOL. ILL

PIACHE.

ESSAYS

ON

THE PICTURESQUE,

THE SUBLIME AND THE BEAUTIFUL; THE USE OF STUDYING PICTURES,

IMPROVING REAL LANDSCAPE,

aire ——e By, UVEDALE PRICE, Ese. =p @UAM MULTA VIDENT PICTORES IN UMBRIS, ET IN RMINENTIA, QUR NOS NON yibEmus! Cheere, awe VOL. IIL es A 32 £2 eS QD" LONDON: Va

PRINTED FOR J, MAWMAN, 22, POULTRY.

1810,

". ‘ } J.G. Barnard, Printer, Skinner Street, London.

CONTENTS.

M.. Rerton’s Letter to Mr. Price - - -- & Mr. Price’s reafon for anfwering Mr. Rerton’s Letter fo

much in detail = - = Z - = = s ©

As Mr. R. agrees with him in the general principles of im- provement, the difference between them is with regard to the propriety or poffibility of reducing them to practice —the trial as yet has never fairly been made - .

Mr. R.’s principal aim throughout his Letter, is to fhew, that by a ftudy of painting, only wild ideas are acquired. Such a general notion not authorifed by the works of painters— exemplified in thofe of Claude and N. Pouflin - -

In giving the title of «* The New Syftem of Improvement, by Neglect and Accident,’? Mr. R. has tried to ridicule his

own practice - - - - - 4 i The utility of that practice and method of fiudy difcuffed— illuftrated by a paffage from Helvetius - = : Its effect in gardening —- - See! Se ae

Not attended to by Mr. Brown, and one chief caufe of his defects. It is a method of fiudy very generally purfued by painters in their fiudy of nature, but not byimprovers -

Mr. R. however had purfued it according to his own account <

Mr. P. had taken the liberty of recommending, in addition to it, the fiudy of the higher artifis; but is glad to hear Mr. R. had anticipated his advice, and that he acknow- ledges it to be a ftudy effential to the profeffion - -

In their party down the Wye, Mr. R. treated lighty the idea of taking hints from a natural river, towards forming an arti- ficial one. He had found by practical experience, that there is lefs affinity between painting and gardening, than his en- thufiafm for the piéturefque made him originally fancy —-

The principal aim of Mr. R. is to weaken that affinity; but his own method of proceeding, proves the clofenefs of it— that method difcuffed, and compared with the painter’s -

A2

Page.

1

30

32

46 In

1V CONTENTS.

Page.

In all this, convenience and propriety are not the objects of ~ confideration, though not to be neglected - - . The beft landfcape-painters would be the beft landfcape- gardeners, were they to turn their minds to the practical part; confequently, a ftudy of their works the moft ufefut fiudy to an improver - os - - - - Mr. R. has endeavoured to confine his readers’ ideas to mere garden fcenes, and to perfuade them that Mr. P. wifhes that every thing fhould be facrificed to picturefque effect That notion refuted by references to the Effay on the Pic- ~ turefque = = = ~ = - = - > Mr. R.’s illufiration of a garden fcene, by a didactic poem, examined - - = te = athe \ge 2 Alfo his quere, whether the painter’s landfcape is indifpenfible to gardening >—as likewife the meaning of both thofe terms Inftead of the painter’s landfcape, Mr. R. ought, in candour, to have put a fiudy of the principles of painting.’ All painting ~ not rough—infiances of too great fmoothnefs - - Such a painter as Van Huyfum would be a much better judge of the merits and defects of the moft dreffed fcene —of a mere flower-garden—than a gardener; and from the general principles of the art, his judgment and that of the wildeft painter—even of 5. Rofa—would probably agree - - - - - - - - - The more the fcene was extended, the more it would belong

49

55)

6

to the painter, and the lefs to the gardener. Mr. R.has ©

addreffed himfelf to the fears of his employers, and alarm- ed them for their health in picturefque fcenes - - - Dirt and rubbih not picturefque, as fuch - - - Many pleafing fcenes which cannot be painted—that notion, — and the argument Mr. R. has drawn from it, examined - Mr. P. had been warned, that the Brownifis in general would take advantage of his difiinction, and give up the piétu- refque, and keep to beauty only; the advantage it would be of to him, thould they do fo; his furprife and regret that Mr. R. thould have done what nearly amounts toit -

63 65

66

10s."

Before

CONTENTS. v . Page. Before he fays any thing further on the ufe of the picturefque in landfeape-gardening, Mr. P. withes three points to be confidered, Ift. the diftinét character of the picturefque - 72 2dly. The vague meaning of the term gardening - - 73 And, 3dly. The general mixture of the pidturefque with the beautiful. Mr, R. has always chofen to confider the pic- turefque in its rougheft ftate, but has avoided any allufion to picturefque feenery - - - - - - - 7+ He therefore transfers the picturefque to gipfies, &c. not to cafcades and foreft fcenes. Mr. R.’s criticifm of Mr. P.’s obfervation, on the effect of deer in groups, examined - 76 The juftnefs of that obfervation defended, by the pictures

of Claude and Berchem - - ae pet's - 79 The picturefque applied to landfcape-gardening - -ibide Picturefque parts in the moft fimply beautiful rivers - - $3

_ Thofe parts muft be deftroyed or concealed, if the picturefque - be renounced. Beauty no more the immediate refult of _ fmoothnefs, &c. than picturefquenefs is of roughnefs, &c. 84 Should Mr. R. allow of a mixture of roughnefs in his idea of beauty, it is no longer zamixed, no longer feparate from the picturefque; and in that cafe, all he has faid about re- nouncing the latter has no object - = tod Mea Mk Re Propofed alteration at Powis Cafile, by a profeffedimprover 86 ‘That infiance fhews the danger of trying to ridicule the ftudy of painting, and of the picturefque - - - - $8 The diffidence which Mr. R. fhewed in confulting Mr. Knight about the improvements at Ferney Hall, firfi gave Mr. P. a defire of being acquainted with him. The character he

had heard of his drawings, added tothat dere - - 89 The improver not lefs in danger of becoming a mannerift than the painter. Kent anexampleofit + - - 92

Mr. P. did not intend to call in queftion the refpeétability

of Mr. R.’s profeffion ; but on the contrary, to give it a refpectability it hitherto had not deferved = - - - 93

Parallel drawn by Mr. R. between the painter’s ftudies of wild nature, and the uncontrouled opinions of favages - 94 By

vi CONTENTS. . Page. By wild nature, he probably means fimple nature unim- proved by art. How far fuch wild nature, when arranged ~ by the painter, may accord with dreffed fcenery aes Many fcenes in unimproved nature highly beautiful in the firicteft fenfe, and which are of courfe produced by acci-

~ dent, not defign = 4 = A 2 £ rays) Mr. R.’s parallel between modern gardening and the Eng- lifh conftitution = = é M = x S103 A more apt and inftructive-one might have been drawn be- tween it and the art of painting - wa - 104 Mr. R.’s defence of the detail of Mr. Brown’s praétice—the clump - - - - - - - - - 105

Mr. Brown fiudied diftinctnefs, not conneétion. Conneion the leading principle of the art, and the moft flagrantly

and fyftematically violated = - = ~ - 107 ‘The two principal defects in the compofition of landfcapes, that of objects being too crowded or too fcattered. Mr.R.’s

— condemnation of fingle trees in heavy fences very juft - 108 The ground muft be prepared, fenced, and planted too thick at firft. Remedies propofed for the defeéts which

that method, though the beft, will occafion = - 109 The belt - - - = - = 2 x a0 Caufes affigned for its introduction and continuance - 115 Nothing fo convenient as to work by general receipts, fuch

as clumps, belts, &c. - - - . - - ibid. ~

The belt a gigantic hedge—difference between that and the accidental fcreens to old parks—thofe are true objects of imitation to the landfcape-gardener, Mr. R.’s improved belt not properly a belt; certainly not Mr. Brown’s, &c. 116

Even that improved belt fhewn to be tedious from his own account - - - - oh sua - - - 118

My. P.’s recommendation to gentlemen to become their own landfcape-gardeners, not likely to injure the pro-

feffion, and fill Jefs the art lay ake - - - 119 No art more adapted to men of liberal education who haye places in the country; its praGice not difficult -. - 120

Lefs

CONTENTS. vil

; Page. Lefs danger in quacking one’s felf, than in trufting to a bold

empyric - = - : = = _ -. 122 Parallel between the education of a phyfician, and of a

landfcape-gardener = - - - - - ah = 123 The moft perverfe and ignorant improver of his own place, will feldom do fuch extenfive mifchief as is produced by the regular fyftem of clearing and Jevelling—allufion to the /j/lem of torture in the inquifition, compared with the

cruelty of favages ae aS DP stints i 2h No plan, or medicine, proper in almoft every cafe—neither

Brown’s plan nor James’s Powder - - - - 126 Profpects - - =e = - - - - - 12% Why profpects in general are not proper fubjects for painting 129 The fame caufes equally operate on a// views - - ibid— Profpeéts are to be judged of, like any other views, on the

principles of painting - - - - - - 152

But however exquifitely painted, will not have the effea@ of thofe in nature—they are not rea/, and therefore do not

excite the curiofity which reality excites - - - 153 This accounts for what Mr. R. relates of the vifitors at Mat- lock. Mr. P. had called the two arts jffers, but has no objection to adopting Mr.. R.’s idea, and calling them hufband and wife - - - - - - - 134 Mr. R.’s illuftration of the habit of admiring fine pictures and bold icenery, by that of chewing of tobacco - 135 In the fame manner that Mr. R. has reprefented Mr. P. as liking nothing but what is rough and picturefque, a -wrong-headed friend of Mr. Gilpin’s might very plaufibly reprefent him as loving nothing but fmoothnefs - 137 Mr. R.’s examples of fubjects he fuppofes Mr. P. to defpife, becaufe they are incapable of being painted - - 139- They all may be painted - a eRe hy - - 140 Except the immediate defcent down a fieep hill = - - 142- That deficiency of the art, and the argument drawn from NS GS ee nas 7. Recapitulation of the contents, and the defign of Mr. R.’s Letter ye - - - - - = = 186

Remarks

Vill CONTENTS.~

Page.

Remarks on the general, and on the confined, fenfe of the term beautiful - - - - - - - - 151 Illuftrated by that of virtue - 2 ‘ a ~ 153

“A picturefque fcene without any mixture of the beautiful - 157 “Contrafted with a beautiful fcene, unmixed with any thing

picturefque - - - - - - - ~ 158 Effeé& of the different characters of light and fhadow on thefe two fcenes - - - - <i ko = - 161 “Effect of mixing the characters of the two fcenes—effect of Mr. Brown’s ftyle of improvement on both - - 162 ~In what points the defign of the Effay on the Picturefque has been mifconceived - - - - - ~ 163 On gravel walks and paths - - - - - - 165 The effe& of diftinct cutting lines, illuftrated by a remark of A. Caracci, on Raphael and Correggio - - - 166 Gravel walks accord more with beautiful, than with pictu- re{que fcenes - - - - ayy) ie - - 167 On by-roads in a dry foil, as objects of imitation at fome diftances from the houfe - - - - - - 170

On the different effects of the fcythe, and of the bite offheep 171 How banks in pleafure-grounds might be made to have the play of wild, and the polifh of dreffed nature. On diftinct

lines, when applied to the banks of water - - +172 Effeét of diftinctnefs in the lines of gravel walks, and in the banks of water, confidered - = - - - 173

-Fhe picturefque and the beautiful as feparate as their re-

{fpective qualities—but the art of improving depends not

on their conftant feparation, but on their proper mixture— fill more on the higher principles ofunion, connection, &c. 174 Controverfy compared with the ancient tournaments - 176 The effects of connection ina more importantfphere * - 177 Note on Mr. Mason’s exprefiion of Sylvan grace ate ie 219

LETTER

UVEDALE PRICE, Esa.

A

DET LD BR;

SIR;

Am much obliged by your attention, in

having directed your bookfeller to fend me an early copy of your ingenious work. It has been my companion during a long journey, and has furnifhed me with .en- tertainment, fimilar to that which I have occafionally had the honour to experience, from your animated converfation on the fubject. In the general principles and the- ory of the art, which you have confidered with fo much attention, I flatter myfelf that we agree; and that our difference of opinion relates only to the propriety, or, perhaps, poffibility, of reducing them to practice.

B 2 I am

Be eae

I am obliged both to Mr. Knight, and to yourfelf, for mentioning my name as an exception* to the taitelefs herd of Mr. Brown’s followers. But while you are pleafed to allow me fome of the qualities neceffary to my profeflion, you fuppofe me deficient in others, and therefore ftrongly recominend the ftudy of « what the higher « artifts have done, both in their pitures

>

« and drawings: a branch of knowledge which I have always confidered to be not lefs effential to my profeflion than hy- draulics or furveying; and without which I fhould never have prefumed to arrogate to myfelf, the title of “ Land/cape Gar- «< dener,” which, you obferve, is “a tile

“ of no fmall pretenfion.”

* Should the new fyfiem of improving, ‘‘ by negle@ and s¢ accident,” ever prevail fo far as to render this beautiful kingdom one huge picturefque foreft, I doubt whether fuch mention of my name may not be attributed to the fame deli- cate motives which you fo ipgenionfly aflign in excufe for Mr. Mafon’s praife of Brown.

It

ee eet

It is difficult to define Goop TASTE in any of the polite arts; and amongft the refpetive profeflors of them, I am forry . to obferve that it is feldom allowed in a rival; while thofe who are not profeffors, but, being free from the bufinefs or diffi- pation of life, have found leifure to excel in any one of thefe arts, generally find time alfo to cultivate the others; and be- caufe there really does exift fome affinity betwixt them, they are apt to fuppofe it ftill greater.* | ;

During the pleafant hours we paffed to- gether amid{t the romantic {cenery of the Wye, I do remember my acknowledging that an enthufiafm for the picturefque, had

* Thus Mujfic and Poetry are often coupled together, although very few infiances occur in which they are made to affimilate; becaufe the melody of an air is feldom adapted either to the rhyme or meafure of the verfe. In like manner, Poetry and Painting are often joined; but the canvas rarely embodies thofe

figurative perfonages to advantage, which the poet’s enthofiatm prefents to the reader’s imagination.

originally

ee ee

originally led me to fancy greater affinity betwixt Painting and Gardening, than I found to exift after more mature confider- ation, and more practical experience; be- caufe, in whatever relates to.man, propriety and convenience are not lefs objects of good tate, than picturefque effect; and a beauti- ful garden fcene is not more defetive be- caufe it would not look well on canvas, than a dida@tic poem becaufe it neither furnifhes a fubje¢t for the painter or the youfician. There are a thoufand fcenes in nature to delight the eye, befides thofe which may be copied as pictures; and in- deed one of the keeneft obfervers of pic- turefque fcenery (Mr. Gilpin), has often regretted that few are capable of being fo reprefented, without confiderable licenfe

and alteration. If therefore the painter’s land{cape be in- difpenfible to the perfection of gardening, it

Se

it would furely be far better to paint it on canvas at the end of an avenue, as they do in Holland, than to facrifice the health, cheerfulnefs, and comfort of a country refi- dence, to the wild but pleafing fcenery of a painter's imagination.

There is no exercife fo pleafing to the inquifitive mind, as that of deducing theories and fyftems from favourite opi- nions: I was therefore peculiarly inte- refted and gratified by your ingenious diftin@tion betwixt the beautiful and the picturefque; but I cannot admit the pro- priety of its application to landfcape gar- dening; becaufe beauty, and not “pic- “ turefquenefs,” is the chief object of modern improvement: for although fome nurferymen, or labourers in the kitchen garden, may have badly copied Mr. Brown’s manner, yet the unprejudiced eye will dif-

cover innumerable beauties in the works of

i ae

of that great felf-taught mafter: and fince you have fo judicioufly marked the diftinc- tion betwixt the beautiful. and the pic- turefque, they will perhaps difcover, that, where the habitation and convenience of man can be improved by beauty, “ pictu- “ refquene/s’ may be transferred to the ragged gipfy, with whom “ the wild afs, the «« Pomeranian dog, and fhaggy goat’ are more in harmony, than “the fleek-coated « horfe,” or the dappled deer,* which have never till lately been difcovered, when “in “‘ groups, to be meagre and fpotty.”

Amidft the feverity of your fatire on Mr. Brown and his followers, I cannot be ignorant that many pages are directly pointed at my opinions; although with more delicacy than your friend Mr. Knight

* The continual moving and lively agitation obfervable in herds of deer, is one of the circumfiances which painting cannot reprefent; butit is notlefs an object of beauty and cheerfulnels in park fcenery.

has

ALi

has fhewn, in the attempt to make me an object of ridicule, by mifquoting my un- _publifhed MSS.

It is the misfortune of every liberal art to find amongft its profeffors fome men of uncouth manners; and fince my profeffion has more frequently been pra¢tifed by mere day labourers, and perfons of no education, it is the more difficult to give it that rank amongft the polite arts, which I conceive it ought to hold. Yet it is now become my duty to fupport its refpectability, fince you attack the very exiftence of that pro- feflion, at the head of which, both you and Mr. Knight have the goodnefs to fay that I am defervedly placed.

Your new theory of deducing landjcape gardening from painting is fo plaufible, that, like many other philofophic theories, it may captivate and miflead, unlefs duly examined by the teft of experience and_

practice.

Cee

practice. J cannot help feeing great affi- nity betwixt deducing gardening from the painter’s ftudies of wild nature, and de- ducing government from the uncontrouled opinions of man in a favage ftate. The neatnefs, fimplicity, and elegance of Eng- lifh gardening, have acquired the appro- bation of the prefent century, as the happy medium betwixt the wildnefs of nature and the ftiffnefs of art; in the fame man- ner as the Englith conftitution is the happy medium betwixt the liberty of fa- vages, and the reftraint of defpotic go- vernment; and fo long as we enjoy the benefit of thefe middle degrees betwixt extremes of each, let experiments of un- © tried, theoretical improvement be made in fome other country.

So far I have endeavoured to defend Mr. Brown with refpect to the general principle of improvement. But it is ne-

celfary

[11 J ceffary to enter fomething farther into the detail of his practice of what has been lu- dicroufly called clumping and belting. No man of tafte can hefitate betwixt the na- tural group of trees, compofed of various growths, and that formal patch of firs which too often disfigure a lawn, under the name of a clump: but the moft certain method of producing a group of five or fix trees, is to plant fifty or fixty within the fame fence; and this Mr. Brown frequently advifed, with a mixture of firs to proteét and fhelter the young trees during their infancy; but, unfortunately, the negle& or bad tafte of his employers would occafion- ally fuffer the firs to remain long after they had completed their office as nurfes; while others have actually planted jirs only in fuch clumps, totally mifconceiving Mr. _Brown’s original intention. Nor is it un- common to fee thefe black patches fur-

rounded

[vase

rounded by a painted rail, a quick hedge, or even a {tone wall, inftead of that tem- porary fence which is always an object of neceflity, and not of choice. |

Ifa large expanfe of lawn happens un- fortunately to have no fingle trees or groups to diverfify its furface, it is fometimes ne- ceflary to plant them; and if the fize and quantity of thefe clumps or mafies bear proportion to the extent. of lawn, or fhape of the ground, theyare furely lefs offenfive than a multitude of ftarving fingle trees, furrounded by heavy cradle fences, which are often dotted over the whole furface of a park. 1 will grant, that where afew old trees can be preferved of former hedge-rows, the clump is feldom neceflary, except in a flat country where the furface of the lawn may be varied by thick mafles, whofe effect cannot be produced by fingle

trees. The clump, therefore, is never to be

|

ai w

eats el be confidered as an object of prefent beau- ty, but as a more certain expedient for pro- ducing future beauties, than young trees, which very feldom grow when expofed fing- ly to wind and fun.

I fhall now proceed to defend my pre- deceffor’s belt, on the fame principle of ex- pedience. Although I perfectly agree, that, in certain fituations, it has been executed in a manner to be tirefome in itfelf, and highly injurious to the general fcenery; yet there are many places _in which no method could be more fortunately devifed, than a belt or boundary of plantation to encompafs the park or lawn. It is often too long, and always too narrow, but from my own experience I am convinced, that notwithftanding the obftinacy and pre- fumption of which Mr. Brown is accufed, he had equal difficulties to furmount from the profufion, and the pvarfimony of his

employers,

Cea } employers, or he would never have con- fented to thofe meagre girdles of planta- tion which are extended for many miles in length, although not above twenty or thirty yards in breadth. \i- Let me briefly trace the origin, inten- tion, and ufes of a belt. The comfort and pleafure of a country refidence requires, that fome ground, in proportion to the fize of the houfe, fhould be feparated from the adjoining ploughed fields; this inclofure, call it park, or lawn, or pleafure ground, muft have the air of being appro- priated to the peculiar ufe and_pleafure of the proprietor. The love of feclufion and fafety is not lefs natural to man than that_of liberty, and I conceive it would be almoft as painful to live in a houfe without the power of fhutting any door, as in one with all the doors locked: the mind is equally difpleafed with the excefs of li- berty,

ee gan

berty, or of reftraint, when either is too apparent. From hence proceeds the ne- ceflity of inclofing a park, and alfo of hid- ing the boundary by which it is inclofed ; and a plantation being the~—moft._natural means of hiding a park pale, nothing can be more obvious than a drive or walk in fuch a plantation. If this belt be made of one uniform breadth, with a drive as uni- formly ferpentining through the middle of it, I am ‘ready to allow that the way can _ only be interefting to him who wifhes to examine the growth of his young trees; to every one elfe it muft be tedious, and its dullnefs will increafe in proportion to its length. On the contrary, if the plantation be judicioufly made of various breadth, if its outline be adapted to the natural fhape of the ground, and if the drive be conduct- ed irregularly through its courfe, fometimes totally within the dark fhade, fometimes

fkirting

oe ae

fkirting fo near its edge as to fhow the dif- ferent {cenes betwixt the trees, and fome- -times quitting the wood entirely to enjoy the unconfined view of diftant profpects,— it will furely be allowed that fuch a plan- tation is the beft poflible means of conne¢t- ing and difplaying the various pleafing points of view, at a diftance from each other, within the limits of the park ;—and the only juft objection that can be urged, is—where fuch points do not occur often enough, and where the length of a drive is fubftituted for its variety.

This Letter, which has been written at various opportunities, during my journey into Derbyfhire, has infenfibly grown to a bulk which I little expected when I began it; I fhall therefore caufe a few copies to be printed, to ferve as a general defence of an art, which, I truft, will not be totally fuppreffed, although you fo ear-

neftly

Sat: ee

neftly recommend every gentleman to be- come his own landfcape gardener. . With equal propriety might every gentleman become his own architect, or even his own phyfician: in fhort, there is nothing that a man of abilities may not do for himfelf, if he will dedicate his whole attention to that fubject only. But the life of man is not fufficient to excel in all things; and as “ a little knowledge is a dangerous thing,” fo the profeffors of every art, as well as that of medicine, will often find that the moft difficult cafes are thofe, where the patient has begun by quacking him/felf.

The general rules of art are to be ac- quired by ftudy, but the manner. of apply- ing them can only be learned by practice; yet there are certain good plans which, like certain good medicines, may be proper in almoft every cafe; it was therefore no greater impeachment of Mr. Brown’s tafie

© tO

L385 J to anticipate his belt in a naked country, than it would be to a phyfician to guefs, before he faw the patient, that he would prefcribe James’s powders in a fever.

In the volume of my works now in the prefs, I have endeavoured to trace the dif- ference betwixt pamting and gardening, as well as to make a diftinétion betwixt a land{cape and a profpeét; fuppofing the former to be the proper fubject for a painter, while the latter is that in which every body delights; and, in fpite of the faftidioufnefs of connoiffeurfhip, we muft allow fomething to the general voice of mankind. I am led to this remark from obferving the effect of picturefque {cenery on the vifiters of Matlock Bath (where this part of my Letter has been written. ) In the valley a thoufand delightful fubjects prefent themfelves to the painter, yet the vifiters of this place are feldom fatisfied till

they

E 9.0 | they have climbed the neighbouring hills, to take a bird’s-eye view of the Whole {pot, which no painting can_reprefent :—the Jove of profpect feems a natural propen- fity, an inherent paflion of the human mind, if I may ufe fo ftrong an expref- fion.

This confideration confirms my opinion that pamting and gardening are nearly con- nected, but not fo intimately related as you imagine; they are not fifter arts proceed- ing from the fame-ftock,-but rather conge- nial natures, brought together like man and wife ; while therefore you exult in the office of mediator betwixt thefe two “ imaginary perfonages,” you fhould re- collect the danger of interfering in their occafional differences, and efpecially how you advife them both to wear the fame article of drefs.

I fhall conclude this long Letter by an

C2 allufion

Beer id allufion to a work, which it is impoffible for you to admire more than Ido. Mr. Burke, in his Effay on the Sublime and Beautiful, obferves, that habit will make aman prefer the tafte of tobacco to that of fugar; yet the world will never be brought to fay that fugar is not fweet. In like manner both Mr. Knight and you are in the habits of admiring fine pictures, and both live amidft bold and pi¢turefque {cenery: this may have rendered you in- fenfible to the beauty of thofe milder {cenes that have charms for common ob- fervers. I will not arraign your tafte, or call it vitiated, but your palate certainly requires a degree of “irritation” rarely to be expected in garden fcenery; and, I truft, the good fenfe and good tafte of this country will never be led to defpife the comfort of a gravel walk, the delicious

fragrance of a fhrubbery, the foul expand- ing

pe? ing delight of a wide extended profpect,* or a view down a fieep hill, becaufe they are all fubjects incapable of being painted. Notwithftanding the occafional afperity of your remarks on my opinions, and the unprovoked fally of Mr. Knight’s wit, I efteem it a very pleafant circumftance of my life to have been perfonally known to you both, and to have witneffed your good tafte in many fituations. I fhall beg leave, therefore, to fubfcribe myfelf, with much regard and efteem, SIR, Your moft obedient Humble fervant, H. REPTON.

HareStreet, near Romford,

Ty Mych 19h,

* An extenfive profpe@ is here mentioned as one of the fubjects that may be delightful, although not picturefque—But I have repeatedly given my opinion, that however defirable a profpect may be from a tower or belvidere, it is feldom advife- ’ able from the windows of a confiant refidence.

oD P.S. One

oy Re

P.S. One of the etchings in Mr. Knight’s poem has been reprefented as copied from a work of mine; an idea which I believe Mr. Knight never intended to fuggeft: the fame thing may poflibly happen with re{pect to the place mentioned by you at page 200, and the other “two places on “a very large f{cale (page 215,) as laid out *¢ by a profefled improver of high reputa- “tion.” Now this being the title under » which I frequently feel myfelf alluded to from our occafional converfations, I truft to your candour to explain, in a future edition, that thefe places are not works of

mine.

A

LETTER

TO

H. REPTON, Esa.

ON THE APPLICATION OF

THE PRACTICE AS WELL AS THE PRINCIPLES

OF

Landfcape-Painting to Landfcape-Gardening:

a aes AS A SUPPLEMENT TO THE

« ESSAY ON THE PICTURESQUE.”

BY

UVEDALE PRICE, Es:

LETTER, &c.

SIR, HOUGH upon fome accounts I might have wifhed that the printed Letter you have addrefled to me, had been a pri- vate one; yet upon the whole I cannot be forry that you have made it public. Iam thereby enabled freely and openly to dif- cufs the points of difference between us; to enforce fome principles, and enlarge upon others, on which I had touched but flightly, On the other hand, had it been a private Letter, thofe points might have been more amicably difcufled; explana-

tions

E26, 2) tions and corrections might have taken place, which, had you afterwards thought it right to appeal to the public, might _ have fo changed the nature of the appeal, as to make an anfwer from me lefs necef- fary, or at leaft lefs controverfial.

Had fuch a Letter been addrefled to me by a mere theorift in improvement, I fhould have been much lefs folicitous (however high his reputation) to anfwer his objec- tions in detail; for were I ever fo com- pletely to vanquifh fuch an antagonift, it might ftill be faid, that the praétical im- prover only, and one whofe praétice was. extenfive, could point out the moft effential defects in my book as far as it related to improvements: for that whatever princi- ples could not be applied practically, and yet were intended to be fo applied, were worfe than ufelefs; they were likely to

miflead. It is therefore no little fatisfac- tion

C oJ

tion tome, that I am now probably ac- quainted with the chief bent of the argu- ments againft my principles of improve- ments, and in favour of Mr. Brown’s practice; for no perfon is likely to be fo well prepared with thofe arguments as yourfelf.

I do not confider this Letter merely as an anfwer to your’s, but as a Supplement (and perhaps a very neceflary one) to my Effay; and I will own, that without the affiftance your Letter has afforded me, without the hints you there have given me, and the modes of defence and attack which you have fuggefied, I could not fo well have made it.

You have, however, in the courfe of that Letter produced feveral opinions as mine, none of which, as far as I can judge, are warranted by what I have written; fome direétly contrary to the whole tenor.

of

E88 od of my work. Thefe I muft necefflarily point out; and there cannot be a greater advantage in any controverfy, than to be able to fhew clearly that your opponent has mif-ftated your opinions, and then ridiculed and argued againft his own mif- fiatements. Had you thought proper to communicate your Letter to me before it was printed (though I do not mean to in- finuate that I had any right to expect it) you would eafily have been convinced of thofe mif-ftatements by references to my book: this would have faved me from the unpleafant tafk of pointing them out to the public; a tafk which it is difficult to perform without fome retort, and appear- ance of afperity: it would alfo have faved you from, what I am fure you will very fenfibly feel, the mortification of being convicted either of want of candour, or of common attention, where, for your own

fake,

E39 J

fake, the clofeft attention, and the utmoft fairnefs and accuracy were required. It is true, I fhould thereby have loft a very great advantage in cafe of a controverly ; but I fhould by no means regret it, being much more defirous of union than of tri- umph.

From the time I had firft the pleafure of being acquainted with you, I wifhed to be your ally, not your opponent: I flat- tered myfelf, that, having confidered the fame fubjeét in different lights, and by means of a different courfe of fitudy, we might have been of reciprocal ule to each other. I felt great hopes that you might employ your talents (which I thought would naturally lead you that way) in making experiments in land{cape-garden- ing on the principles of landf{cape-painting, and of the art of painting in general. Your reputation would have juftified you in

making

ee

making thofeexperiments, and they in re- ‘turn (if performed for fome time under your own eye,) would, I am convinced, | have encreafed that reputation in no flight degree. You have however chofen to take, what I may well call the oppofite fide—to ftand forth the defender of Mr. Brown; a circumftance which, I affure you, is fincerely lamented by many of your friends and well-wifhers, among whom I may, with great truth, reckon myfelf: they were defirous that you fhould ftand on your own merits, leaving yourfelf free - to avoid whatever, on more mature reflec- tion, might appear defective in any fyftem.

I fhall now proceed to anfwer the dif- ferent parts of your Letter; and muft begin by thanking you for your civility in {fpeak- ing fo favourably of my book. I am much pleafed to find that you agree with me in the general principles of the art ; that is a

great

i ae great point gained: the propriety or pof- fibility of reducing them to practice may be an object of future, and, I truft, of amicable difcuffion. The trial as yet has never fairly been made; if it fhould be, I am perfuaded it will be found, that the

a!

plication of thofe principles, particularly with refpect to water, will produce varie- ties and effects, which will fhame the cold monotony of Mr. Brown’s works.

| ~ The «new fyftem of improvement” you have taken the trouble of forming for me, together with the farcaftic title you have given it, accord but ill with the approba- tion you had juft before beftowed, and that in fo flattering a manner, on my general principles. As little does the confequence of that fyftem accord with my ideas of

improve-

[38.4

improvement; for there is fo great a plea- fure arifing from fine verdure, from neat- nefs, from the marks of habitation, of eafe, and opulence, that rather than fee this beautiful kingdom one huge, though pic- turefque, foreft, I fhould almoft hefitate (had I the choice) whether I might not even prefer its being fini/bed by Mr. Brown; and that, for a lover of pictures, and whofe palate, as you afterwards obferve, requires a degree of irritation, is going a great length.*

It feems to me that your principal aim through the whole of this Letter, is to

* An anecdote I heard fome years ago of Mr. Quin, and which I believe is not fo much hackneyed as many others, feems to me not inapplicable. When grown old, and quite broken down, he one day crawled out to fun himfelf on the South Parade. A conceited young fellow ikipping up to him, cried out, ‘‘Mr. Quin! I am forry to fee you look fo old and infirm; now what would you give to be as young, and as active, and as full of fpirits as lam!’ Quin looked at him very fternly ; “Young man,” faid he, “1 would bid very high indeed—I think I could be content to be as foolifh.”

thew,

Le 3) fhew, that by an attention to 1 cea and to the method of ftudy purfued by pain- ters, only wild and unpolifhed ideas are acquired. I cannot but wonder, that a perfon whofe talents for drawing might have led him to form a more juft opinion on the fubject, fhould have conceived that the ftudy of an art, which has been em- ployed in tracing whatever is moft beau- tiful and elegant, as well as what is wild and romantic, fhould convert its admirers into fo many Cherokees, and make them lofe all relifh but for what is favage and uncultivated. I will beg you to reflect on what fome of the higheft artifts have done both in their pi¢tures and drawings, and — on the character of their productions; you muft be fenfible that the mixture of gay and highly cultivated nature, with the moft {plendid and finifhed works of art in Claude Lorrain—the ftudied and uniform grandeur of the land{capes of N. Pouffin,

D the.

ae” Yeast

the fiyle of his compofitions, fometimes approaching to formality, but from that very circumftance deriving a folemn dig- nity,—are both of them (and many other examples might be given) as diftinét from the wildnefs of mere foreft fcenery, as they are from the tamenefs.of Mr. Brown’s performances. Many painters, it is true, did principally ftudy the wild and unpo- lifhed parts of nature; and from this cir- cumftance, and from my having mentioned in my Effay the effects of neglect and _ac- cident, together with the ufe which all painters had made, and improvers might make of thofe effects, you have formed a Jufiem for me; and have called it “ the new « fyftem of improving by neglect and acci- ‘« dent.” You will, perhaps, be furprifed if I {hould fhew, in the courfe of this Letter, that you have been trying to ridicule (and very undefervedly) your own practice, while you thought you were laughing at

| mune,

LS"

mine. Had you confidered what I have written, with the attention which every man ought to give to what he means to criticife, and candidly taken the {pirit of it, you muft have felt that I never could propofe fo prepofterous a plan as you ap- pear to have formed for me; that I never could mean that the improver fhould aban- don all defign, and leave every thing to chance (the idea you clearly intend to convey by “the new fyftem of improving « by neglect and accident,”) but that by ftudying the effects which had been pro- duced by them, he fhould learn how to defign; that is, how to produce fimilar effects, with as great a degree of certainty as the cafe will admit of, for ftilla great deal muft, and ought to be, left to accident.* This

* I was firuck with a paffage I read lately in Helvetius, which illuftrates this idea, by fhewing its application to a higher purpofe. ‘Le hazard a, et il aura donc toujours part a notre education, et furtout a celle des hommes de genie.

may

D2

ee: eae

This may appear like a contradiction ; but it muft be remembered, that what would be abfurd in many other arts (as for inftance, in architecture) is proper in your's, where vegetation is the chief in- firument in your operations _Trees and plants of every kind (confidered as mate- rials for landfcape) fhould have room to {pread in various degrees, and in various directions, and then accident will produce unthought-of varieties and beauties, with- out injuring the general defign: but if they are allowed to fpread in one direction only, you in a great meafure prevent the operation of accident; and thence the famenefs and heavinefs of the outfides of

clumps, and of all clofe plantations. The

En veut on augmenter le nombre dans une nation? Qw’ox obferve les moyens dont fe fert le hazard pour infpirer aux hommes le defir de s’illuftrer. Cette obfervation faite, qu’on les place a deffein, et frequemment dans les memes pofitions ou le hazard les place rarement. C’eft le feul moyen de les multiplier.”’ Hel- vetius de Homme, chap. 8. .

old

Eyer 3 old gardeners of the Dutch fchool fofally prevented its operation, and imitated ar- chite@ture; and thence the ftill greater formality and ftiffnefs of vegetable walls, and of all that is called topiary work. It has been faid in defence of Mr. Brown, that allowing the clump to be bad, yet fill it is better than an obelifk or pyramid of lime, or yew: this defence would be good, had fuch pyramids and obelifks, and all the ornaments of a Dutch garden, been ftuck upon the fides and fummits of hills, and all the moft confpicuous points of a whole diftrict ; the clump would then have taken the place of more glaring pieces of formality, and therefore would compara- tively have been an improvement : but as the cafe ftands, while Mr. Brown was re- moving old pieces of formality, he was eftablifhing new ones of a more extenfive and mifchievous confequence. Befides, thofe old formalities were acknowledged

D3 as

E363

as fuch, and confined to the garden only ; but thefe new ones have no limits, and are not only cried up as fpecimens of pure, genuine nature, but of nature refined and embellifhed; from which the painter, as well as the gardener, may learn to correét _ and enlarge his ideas and his practice, /

As I have attributed much of the defect in Mr. Brown's fyftem to his not having attended to the effects which had been produced by accident, and to his having, in a great degree, prevented its future operation in his own works—as this is in my opinion a point of no little confe- quence, though (as you have fhewn) ex- tremely open to mifreprefentation; and as itis a point on which I have touched but flightly in my Effay, I will beg leave to dwell upon it a little longer.

Every man will allow that painters and improvers ought to ftudy nature, and na-

ture in contradiftinction to art. Are then all

Ss, Manel

all parts of nature to be {ftudied indifcri- minately? No one will make fuch an affertion. But whence do thefe various combinations arife, of trees fo happily grouped and connected with ground, buildings, and water; of open lawns, of clofer glades, and {fkirtings, in planting and forming which no art has been em- ployed? As it cannot be from defign, it muft be from accident. Of thefe lucky accidents painters have made the greateft ufe; wherever they meet with them they eagerly trace them in their fketch- book; thefe they fiudy, arrange, and combine in a thoufand different ways; thefe are the ftores whence their ereater compofitions are afterwards formed. But of thefe accidents (if we may judge from their works) improvers have as yet made but little ufe.

Again, wherever art interferes, the ef- fect of thefe beautiful and ftriking acci-

D 4, dents

cr 40 J

dents is generally fpoiled to the painter's eye; for the prevailing tafte for clearing either indifcriminately, or in _ diftinct clumps and patches, deftroys_ their con- nection, their playful variety, and intri- cacy. Neglect, therefore, as well as acci- dent, is neceflary to furnifh thefe examples of nature in her moft picturefque ftate ; that is (according to the common ufe of the word) the ftate in which painters do, and improvers ought to ftudy and imitate her; but, in the latter cafe particularly, with fuch modifications as the character of the fcenery may require. Accident and neglect are therefore two principal caufes, of thofe beauties (and they often _deferve that name in its ftricteft fenfe) which painters, lovers of painting, and many whofe natural judgment has not been vitiated by falfe ideas of refinement, admire: and whoever means to ftudy na- ture, muft principally attend to the effects

of

Cc 41 J

of neglect andaccident. But,as Mr. Burke well obferves, “ there is in mankind an uns “ fortunate propenfity to make themfelves, « their views, and their works, the meafure “ of excellence in every thing whatfoever.”

Left you fhould think my arguments for fuch a courfe of ftudy not fufficiently convincing, I can produce an authority for it, which you cannot well difpute; I mean your own practice. I learned from your own mouth, and with much fatis- faction, that you had gone repeatedly into Epping Foreft for the purpofe of ftudy- ing. Of fiudying what? not the effects of art or defign—not of nature indifcrimi- nately; but peculiar effects, peculiar dif- pofitions of trees, thickets, glades, lawns, openings, and {fkirtings of various form and character, which you might after- wards transfer with a higher degree of polifh, but without injuring their loofe and

varied

Kae. 4

varied fhapes, to more ornamented fcenes. You were therefore ftudying the effect of neglect and accident, and it is a ftudy, which, joined to that of the fele¢ctions which painters have made of thofe effects, every profeflor of your art fhould perpe- tually renew; not merely in forefts, but univerfally wherever they occur. He fhould, by the ftudy of pictures, accuftom his eye to catch them, and to fix them in his memory as fources of natural, unaf- fected variety; or he will certainly fall into the wretched famenefs of him, whom you have dignified with the title of “ that « great felf-taught mafter,” and whofe works (if he was felf-taught) fully juftify the Italian proverb.*

I cannot quit the fhort note of your’s, which has occafioned fo large a comment,

* Chi s’infegna ha tn pazzo per maeftro, Vide Effay on the Picturefque, page 4.

without

C 43 J

without obferving, that it feems to be meant as a fort of corrective both of the praifes you have.given and received. With regard to myfelf, I can freely fay that I {poke of your talents as I thought of them, and I praifed them, becaufe it is always pleafant to give praife where it is due.

I did take the liberty of recommending to you the fiudy of what the higher artifts have done, both in their pictures and their drawings; for I will frankly own, that from all the converfations which have paffed between us, I had (perhaps rafhly) conceived, that you were not very conver- fant in them: I cannot recollect, amidft all the romantic fcenes we viewed toge- ther, your having made any of thofe allu- fions to the works of various matters, which might naturally have occurred to a perfon who had ftudied, or even obferved them with common attention. I did there-

fore

LC 44 J

fore take the liberty of recommending what I thought would be of the greateft ufe in your profeflion, but am extremely glad to hear that you had anticipated my advice; that you had ftudied the great matfters, and that you allow (a conceflion of no flight importance) that it is a branch of knowledge effential to the pro- feffion.

That there is a certain affinity between all the polite arts, has been univerfally acknowledged, from Ariftotle and Cicero down to the prefent time; and it feems to me that good tafte, and good judgment, confift in finding out in what circum- ftances, and in what degree, that affinity holds good, and may be practically applied. General aifertions are eafily made, and as they carry no conviction, they require no anfwer; whether thofe who are not pro- feffors, are likely to fuppofe greater affinity

between

Bb a5 J

between the arts than thofe who are, I really cannot tell; but I am pretty certain that this oblique compliment to the latter, at the expence of us Dilettanti, will not bring over the profeffors of painting to admire clumps, belts, &c. and that they will at leaft be of opinion, that there is greater affinity between landfcape paint- ing, and landfcape gardening, than appears in Mr. Brown’s works.

I fhall always remember with pleafure the hours we {pent together on the Wye, and the perfect good-humour and cheer- fulnefs of the whole party; but I could “not help obferving at the time, (and with much concern,) how lightly you treated the idea of taking any hints from any part of a natural river, towards forming an arti- ficial one. You tell me, however, that an enthufiafm for the picturefque, had ori- ginally led you to fancy greater affinity

between

[ 46 J

between painting and gardening, than you found to exift after mature deliberation, and practical experience. As I cannot guefs how far that enthufiafm may ori- ginally have carried you, fo neither can I guefs in what degree mature deliberation, and practical experience, may have altered your ideas: your profeflion, it is true (as it has hitherto been exercifed) may be confidered as a certain preventive againft any fuch enthufiafm, and as a moft radical cure for it, fhould the infection have taken place; but I ftill muft hope that your’s, though lowered, has by no means been extinguifhed by it.

Though your principal aim throughout the whole of your Letter has been to coun- teratt my endeavours, and to weaken: as much as poflible the connection between painting and landfcape gardening, yet your own mode of | proceeding affords the

firongeft

i ae

ftrongeft proof of the clofenefs of that con- nection. Confider only what your procefs is, when you are confulted about the im- provements of a place. One of the firft things you do is to make reprefentations of the principal points, in the ftate in which you find them; and other reprefen- tations of the ftate in which you hope they will be hereafter. In reality, you make the beft pictures you can, with the materials you find there; and alfo with thofe frefh ones you mean to. employ, and to which time mult give effect. Confider the whole progrefs and aim of your ope- ration, and compare it with that of the painter.

According to my notions, were a land- {cape painter employed to corre¢t the de- fects of a fcene that the owner wifhed to improve (an employment which, without degrading his profefflion, would ennoble

your's)

~f ¥¢

Lee od

your’s) he would begin by examining the forms and tints of all the objects, and their connection, by the principles of his art; if he found the trees too crouded, and too

heavy, he would vary and lighten their | maiies in his drawing; if too fcattered, connect them ; where parts were bare, he would place fuch maffes or groups as he thought would beft fuit the compofition. If the houfe were of a harfh colour, he would make it of a more harmonizing tint; if the form of it were flat and without any - relief, or too much in one lump, or (in the oppofite extreme) with its parts too much

‘disjoined, he would give to the whole

more lightnefs, more maflivenefs, more variety, or unity, as the cafe might re-. quire: If there were a river, or a piece of water, he would make fuch alterations in the fhape and the accompaniments, as might have the happieft effect from the

principal

c 49 J

principal ftations. ‘his I conceive would nearly be the painter’s aim and method of proceeding: in what points then do that aim, and that method, differ from your’s? If in none, what clofer affinity can there be between any two arts than between painting and land{cape gardening ? fo clofe indeed is their affinity in thofe moft ma- terial points, difpofition and general effect, that they ought to be, and I hope will be, perfectly incorporated.

In all this, convenience and propriety are not the objects of confideration: not that either of them is to be negle¢ted, but that they are objets of another kind; objeéts of good fenfe, and good judgment, rather than of that more refined and delicate fenfe and judgment, called tafte. Any glaring offence againft either of them is difgufting, but the ftri¢teft obfervance of them will give a man but little reputation

E for

E 3a.

for tafte, unlefs the general effect of the picture be good. In thefe pictures, you, as an improver, difplay your {kill in unit- ing what is prefent, and what is future, into compofitions, and in arranging the forms and tints as they will beft accord: they give the firft impreflion of your ta- lents, and they are in a great degree to be your guides in the execution. It is true, you are not a Claude, a Gafpar, a Pouflin, or a Titian, but you do as much as your powers will enable you to do, which I by no means intend to undervalue, when I place them at an immenfe diftance from fuch mafters; as likewife from others I could name, who, by a fuccefsful ftudy of their works, have transfufed the fpirit of them into their own. Iam perfuaded you have not the vanity to compare your forms and difpofitions of objects (and I fpeak not of effects) to theirs; and that you muft be

fenfible,

cm ] fenfible, that were the minds of artifts fuch as thofe I have mentioned, turned to - the practical part, the fame feeling and experience which guided them to the happieft choices in their pictures, would equally guide them in nature. How, in- deed, fhould it be otherwife? Such men would quickly fee how groups might beft be improved by cutting down, by pruning, or by planting; they would difcover the whole connection of the different land- fcapes, and make the beft ufe of the ma- terials they found in real nature, juft as they would in transferring them on the canvas. The more you ftudy their works, and the lucky accidents of nature, the more you will bring your pictures and your places to refemble the variety and connection of their forms, and the union of their tints; and practice will always fuggeft fuch foftenings as fituation may

E2 | require,

Be require, and fuch facrifices as convenience and propriety may demand.

I muft here obferve, that through the whole of your Letter you have very ftudi- oufly and dextroufly endeavoured to con- fine your reader’s ideas to mere garden fcenes, and what is near the houfe, though you certainly would not wifh your own practice to be fo limited: you have alfo endeavoured to perfuade them, that I think every thing fhould be facrificed to pictu- refque effect. I had forefeen the probabi- lity of fuch mifreprefentation, but thought it the lefs neceflary for me to guard againft it, becaufe the obfervations I have made in my Effay relate almoft entirely to the grounds, and not to what may properly be called the garden.* Still, however, I will beg leave to refer you and your readers to page 37, in which it is mentioned, that

* Effay on the Picturefque, page 366. near

[63 J near the houfe picturefque beauty mutt in many cafes be facrificed to neatnefs, &c.; alfo to io page 325, in which the charac- teriftic c beauty o of lawns is mentioned; alfo to page 192, where the delights of fpring, its flowers and bloffoms, are defcribed; all which, with many other paflages, I think will fhew that I am by no means bigotted to the picturefque, or infenfible to the charms of beauty, though I have tried to difcriminate the two characters. I muft, indeed, take the liberty of referring you to the whole book; for it {trikes me, as I will fairly own, that if you did read it - through, it muft have been in a very cur- fory manner, with a view of obferving what was hoftile to fuch parts of modern gardening as you adhered to, and what were the parts of my oppofite principles moft open to attack: but as to the general chain of reafoning, (fuch as it is) and the

E 3 con-

LE Gad connection and dependance of one princi- ple on another, I am very clear that you either did not attend to them, or had to- tally difcarded them from your memory before you wrote your Letter.

You have obferved, that a beautiful gar- den {cene is not more defective becaufe it would not look well upon canvas, than a didactic poem, becaufe it did not furnifh a fubject to the painter, &c. You will forgive me if I do not think this a very happy illuftration. The principal object of a didactic poem is to inftruct, to be ufe- ful; the ornaments are fubordinate. It therefore bears a much nearer refemblance . to what is called a ferme ornee than to a garden ; and nothing, in my opinion, would more happily illuftrate the various degrees and ftyles of ornament which might ac~- cord with what is ufeful, than the various characters of fuch poems, A didactic

work

D554

work in profe, is a mere farm; it pretends only to be ufeful: though in fuch works, as in mere farms, interefting and amufing parts will often prefent themfelves even to thofe who are not interefted in the general fubjeét; and the more agreeably fo, as they are not intended. Many didactic poems are fermoni propiora: they differ from mere profe only by a certain arrange- ment, and a few poetical ornaments ; either the ground-work of the poem itfelf, or the genius of the poet not leading him to higher effufions. Thefe anfwer very much to an ornamented farm in a country where the foil is good and well cultivated, but where there are no great natural beauties. On the other hand, there are dida¢tic poems, where the moft ftriking imagery is mixed with the inftructive parts, and fo happily, that the ornaments feem to arife out of the fubject, and fink as naturally

E4 into

Cae a

into it again; but rarely appear (as they almoft always do in improved places) like patches of ornament, that catch the vul- gar, and offend the judicious eye. Of this defcription are the two moft renowned of all didactic poems, thofe of Lucretius and Virgil;,and they are the beft illuftrations of the manner in which the ufeful and the ornamental, in places of great natural beauties, fhould be combined together.

-Thofe who with for as great a degree of elegance and high polifh as is compa- tible with grandeur and energy, will imi- tate Virgil; but, like him, they will avoid all flat effeminate fmoothnefs. Like him, they will leave thofe mafterly touches which give a fpirit to the reft, though they will. give te the whole of their {fcenery a more general appearance of polifh, than thofe who take Lucretius for their model. In him certainly the contraft between

what

{ -57 J

what anfwers to the picturefque, the fub- lime, and the beautiful, that is, between the rough, and feemingly neglected parts —the forcible and majeftic images he at other times prefents—and the extreme foftnefs and voluptuoutnefs of his beauti- ful paffages—is much more ftriking than in Virgil; and therefore by many his ftyle has been preferred to that of his more equal, but lefs original rival. Both, how- ever, are far removed from coarfe and flovenly negligence, and from infipid fmoothnefs. But though neither thefe, nor any other didactic poems have the leaft analogy to a garden fcene, yet there is enough of modern poetry that will per- fectly fuit many modern pleafure-grounds. Who is there that has not read, or tried to read, under the name of poems, a number of {mooth, flowing verfes, equally void of imagery and inftruction?

As

bo

As your Letter is addreffed to me in confequence of my book, I could wifh to know from what part of it you have col- lected, that, in my opinion, the painter’s land{cape is indifpenfible to the perfection of gardening? I muft own, at the fame time, that I do not perfectly underftand what idea you annex to that term, though Y conclude you mean by it in general a land{cape with rough and broken parts: ftill, however, there is fomething ex- tremely vague in the term of the painter’s land{cape, as alfo in that of gardening. In its enlarged fenfe and practice, gardening may extend over miles of country; and painters’ land{capes differ from each other as much as the fcenes they reprefent: a Salvator Rofa, or a Mola, for inftance, differ as much from a Claude, as a garden, from a piece of rough pafture. Wover- mans, and many of the Dutch mafters, often

Cc 39 J

often introduced parts of gardens into their landfcapes; Rubens fometimes, and Watteau very frequently, painted garden {cenes only; in Claude, orange-trees and flower-pots are mixed with his buildings : hardly any thing in nature is fo polifhed, fo formal, fo flat, nay fo ugly, as not to have been fometimes made into a land- fcape, and by fome painter of reputation. To afk, therefore, whether the painter’s land{cape is indifpenfible to gardening, is to afk whether all that is rugged and favage, all that is highly cultivated and embellifhed, all that is folemn and ma-~ jeftic, all that is light and fantaftic—in fhort, whether all the different chara¢ters of art and nature are indifpenfible to the perfection of gardening. Now, if inftead of the painter’s landfcape, you had put @ ftudy of the principles of painting, as in can~ dour you ought to have done, the whole

would

[ 60 ] would have been perfectly intelligible, the whole fairly ftated according to the au- thor’s words and obvious meaning: and you yourlelf allow that ftudy to be effential to your profeflion.

I muft here obferve, that as with regard to improvements, you have wifhed to confine your reader's ideas to mere garden {cenes, fo with refpect to painting, you have directed them towards the rudeft ftyles of landfcapes; in order to feparate the two arts as widely as pofflible, and weaken their affinity. You muft be fen- fible, however, that all landfcapes are not rough; that for inftance, Adrian Vander- velde, and Wovermans, are often too {mooth; and I forbear mentioning hiftory, or portrait painters, fuch as Carlo Dolce, &c. being lefs ftri¢tly to the prefent ob- ject. As landfcapes may be confidered (independently of figures and buildings)

as

hei

as copies of the general effects of vegeta- tion, and of the foil it fprings from; fo may flower-painting, as an imitation of the near, and di/tiné effects of the moft beautiful parts of it; and you will own, that nature herfelf is hardly more foft and delicate in her moft delicate produétions, than the copies of them by Van Huyfium. To the greateft delicacy and exactnefs he alfo joined the choice of forms, the effects of light and fhadow, and harmony of tints; in fhort, he knew the principles of his art. Take then the moft drefled and polifhed of all garden fcenes, and what may be fuppofed leaft to intereft a painter—a mere flower-garden, furiounded with fhrubs and exotic trees. If we fuppofe that two fuch flower-gardens were fhewn to fuch a painter—that in the one, the grouping of the fhrubs, the flowers, and their orna- mental accompaniments —their general

effect,

[ 62 J effect, harmony, and conne¢ction—the va- riety of their forms, and their light and fhadow, were fuch as his judgment ap- proved; while in the other, every thing was comparatively fcattered, difcordant and in patches, and had neither the fame variety nor conne¢ction—would he not be a better judge of the degree of fuperiority of the one over the other, and of the cauj/es of that fuperiority, than a perfon who had not ftudied his art? would not his criti- cifms, and his directions, be more likely to improve fuch fcenes, than thofe of a gardener? and were he to paint them, is _ it not probable that the one he preferred would be the more beautiful, both in rea- lity, and on the canvas? The queftion, therefore, is not, whether the Caracci, Francefco Bolognefe, or S. Rofa, would fiudy landfcapes in a flower-garden, but which of two fcenes of the fame charac- ter,

f° 3

ter, (whatever it were, from the Alps toa parterre,) had moft of thofe qualities that accord with the general principles of their art. Confidered in this light, I am perfuad- ed that if inftead of Van Huyfflum, S. Rofa himfelf had been fhewn two fuch flower- gardens, the fame general principles would have made hisand the Dutch painter’s judg- ment agree. If this would be the cafe in a mere flower-garden, the more the fcene was extended and diverfified, the more it would get out of the province of the gar- dener, and into that of the painter.

But you are fo alarmed, left any of your friends and employers fhould be infected with an enthufiafm for the_picturefque (which you feem to confider as nearly fyno- nymous with the art of painting), that you have not only endeavoured to feduce them by the allurements of beauty asa feparate quality, but have alfo addreffed yourfelf to

their

[ 64 J their fears. You have alarmed your vale- tudinarian and hypochondriacal patients for their fpirits and conftitution, by telling them, that the confequence of having that myfterious bug-bear, the painter’s land- {cape, in their places, “is a facrifice of the health, cheerfulnefs, and comfort of a country refidence.” Do you really think that rocks and cafcades (when a gentle- man is fo unfortunate as to have them within the circuit of his walks, or even near his manfion) are more aguifh than grafs and ftagnant water? or is a made river, with its formal fweeps and naked edges, more cheerful and enlivening than a rapid ftream— Che rompe il corfo fra minuti fafli?

Isa fandy or gravelly lane, with broken ground and wild vegetation, lefs healthy or varied than a gravel walk between banks fmoothly turfed?

I be-

ae I believe there are many people who imagine that dirt, rubbifh, and filth, are effential to the picturefque; and that a true connoiffeur can judge of objects of that character by their fmell, as an anti- quarian is fuppofed to know by the tafte, whether a medal has the true ancient erugo. It muft be allowed, that filthy objects are often picturefque, but not be- caufe they are filthy; on the contrary, fuch ideas always muft take off from plea- fure of any kind. All dirt, mud, and filth, as fuch, are fimply ugly ;* fo is mere rubbifh: thiftles and docks may have a rich effect in the fore-ground of a wild fcene, but ground covered with docks, thiftles, or nettles, is merely ugly; fo is ground that has been difturbed and thrown about, though time and vegetation may add picturefque circumftances to uglinefs * Effay on the Picturefque, page 211. F and.

C 66 |

and deformity ;* and though painters are fond of what is called broken ground, yet, when improperly introduced, it offends the painter’s, no lefs than’ the gardener’s eye. All land that is boggy, rufhy, or which in any way has the appearance of being wet, is equally adverfe to the pictu- refque and the beautiful; and that in forefts many fuch parts are found, is no argument that they are picturefque; but, perhaps, befides your anxiety to preferve your friends from that dangerous en- thufiafm which you yourfelf were once feized with, the defire of introducing that ingenious expedient of the picture at the end of the avenue, may have been no flight additional motive for attacking the

painter’s landfcape. You have obferved (what I have often heard remarked, ) that there are a thoufand

*« Effay on the Picturefque, page 214.

{cenes

2 ee

fcenes in nature to delight the eye, befides thofe that may be copied as pictures. This appears to me a very common, but very fallacious argument againft the affinity between painting and improving: all fuch fcenes, with hardly any exception, may be copied as pictures, and thofe which make the beft pictures will probably be the moft beautiful and pleafing fcenes; but then the comparifon muft not be made between a lawn or a pleafure-ground, and a piece of foreft fcenery; but between two lawns, or two pleafure-grounds: for the effect of all high polifh on the chara¢ter of fcenery, as on that of the human mind, is to dimi- nifh variety and energy; and it is hardly necefiary to fay, of what confequence thofe two qualities are in painting. You your- felf are often employed in copying, not only fuch polifhed fcenes as are generally pleafing, though lefs fuited to the canvas,

F 2 but

E68. 9 but alfo fuch as have little to delight either the common, or the picturefque eye: by copying them, their beauties (if they have any) and their defects are made more ap- parent, as well as the additions and cor- rections which may be made. In making thofe additions and corrections, what is your principal aim? Certainly, I believe, to make the beft compofitions, the beft piclures youcan: convenience and propriety are to be the checks, the correctives; they are to prevent you from facrificing too much to what might pleafe the painter only; but fubject to that check, your aim (as I faid before) is to make pictures, and to make them in their general princi- ple, as nearly approaching as poflible to painter’s landfcapes; for I think you will ever kind) which have moft of a whole— of union, connection, and harmony ; that

is,

a ae

is, have moft of the requifites of a picture, are moft to be admired. You will alfo acknowledge, that where any of thofe re- quifites are wanting, you wifh them to be

there. ioe Mr. Gilpin’s regret (if I underftand him right) is, that there are fo few perfect compofitions in nature; fo few where, either in the fore-ground—the difpofition of the trees—the forms of the hills—the manner in which the diftance comes in between the nearer objects, &c. a great painter would not fee defects; or at leaft fomething that might clearly be changed to advantage. But what does this regret prove? Surely, that we fhould highly value fuch compofitions where they exitft, or where they moft nearly approach to perfection, and that we fhould endeavour to form them as far as our powers, and the ftyle of the fcenery will allow; in x F 3 fhort,

E fed

fhort, that we fhould not attend merely to a confined notion of beauty as a feparate quality, but to a more enlarged and ge- neral idea of it. ae ; Before I publifhed my Effay, I was told by a friend who had read it in MS. that _the admirers of Mr. Brown’s fyftem would certainly take advantage of my diftinction, profefs themfelves fatisfied with beauty alone, and ready to give up the pictu- refque: notwithftanding my friend’s pro- phecy, I can fcarcely hope that they will give me fuch an advantage. In the firft place, before they give up all pretenfion to one object of improvement, it would be prudent to eftablifh their title to the other ; and I hope, in the courfe of this Letter, to exhibit fome glaring proofs how great their imprudence would be in that point of view. In the next-place, I fuppofe it will be allowed, that there are (in every fenfe

Cm 3 fenfe of the words) highly piure/que fcenes near many gentlemen’s houfes in this kingdom, and that it alfo will be al- lowed, that to deftroy the peculiar charac- ter of any {cene is not the way to improve it: hence it naturally follows, that to en- able either the owner himfelf, or the pro- feffor, to make any real improvements in fuch fcenes, it is neceflary, not only that they fhould not defpife or renounce, but that they fhould ftudy, and obtain a tho- rough knowledge of the character to which it belongs. Should therefore the Brownifts in general renounce the pictu- refque, they certainly ought to do what I hardly expect—renounce improving all fuch fcenes: and with regard to the pro- feffors, fhould they only renounce the cha- racter, and all ftudy of it, they will at leaft give fair warning; and thofe who, after fuch a declaration, fhould employ them, would have no right to complain of the

F 4 mifchief

[ v2 J

mifchief they might do.* Still, however, Mr. Brown, and thofe whom you have very juftly, though feverely, called “ the tafte- «“ lefs herd of his followers,’ have been univerfally and profeffedly, fmoothers, fhavers, clearers, levellers, and dealers in diftinét ferpentine lines and edges; they have alfo been fatisfied with the equivocal name of improvers, and from them a decla- ration of fuch a nature would be lefs fur- prifing; but that you, a landfcape-gar- dener, and the firft, I believe, that has affumed that title—that you fhould fet out by giving up (or what nearly amounts to it) the picturefque, and by endeavouring to weaken the affinity between painting and land{cape-gardening, is what I am equally grieved and furprifed at.

Before I fay any thing farther on the ufe of the picturefque in landfcape-garden- ing, I muft beg leave to call the reader’s

* Effay on the Pi€urefque, page 38. attention

a.

attention to a few points in this contro- verfy. 1 wifh it to be remembered, that, according to the diftinction I have made, (and which you have paid me the com- pliment of calling judicious) the pictu- refque, | by being difcriminated from the beautiful and the fublime, has a feparate character, and not a mere reference to the art of painting. The picturefque, there- fore, in that fenfe, as compofed of rough and abrupt objects, is in many cafes not applicable to modern gardening; but the principles of painting are always fo. This is, in my opinion, a very material differ- ence, and one which I have tried to ex- plain and eftablifh throughout my book; yet it feems to me, that either from defign or inattention, you have not made the diftinction.

In the next place (as I obferved before) the term of gardening is extremely apt to miflead. What would be proper in a

park,

a pe

park, or fheep-walk, would be equally improper very near the houfe, or in fight of the windows. Now I have obferved, that upon all occafions where you re- nounce the picturefque, or wifh to make your readers renounce it, you act like troops, or veffels, that retire under the guns of a battery; you always keep clofe to the manfion; you talk of the habitation and convenience of man, of a garden {cene, &c. One might therefore fuppofe that all the talents of a landfcape-gardener were to be difplayed within a few hundred yards of the houfe, where (as I obferved towards the beginning of my Effay*) the picturefque muft often be facrificed to neatnefs, and to things of comfort, as gravel walks with | regular borders, &c.

In the third place I muft beg it to be remembered, that I have taken no fmall pains to fhew, that, thougha diftinét cha- | * Effay on the Pidureique, page 37.

racter,

Ewe racter, the picturefque is generally mixed with the beautiful, and that it is for want of obferving how nature has blended them that improvers have fallen into fo much tamenefs and infipidity.* Now you have, throughout your Letter, confidered the picturefque as to be applied in its rougheft ftate; as a harfh difcord without being prepared, or refolved—a dofe of crude antimony without any corrective— all by way of deterring your patients from mixing fuch fharp, ftimulating ingredients with the foft emollients of Mr. Brown. It is alfo curious to obferve, how you have avoided mentioning whatever might lead the imagination towards picturefque fcenes, left your readers thould be feduced by the bare recital of them: you therefore, after having, by a fort of proxy, made choice of unmixed beauty (and what that beauty is fhall afterwards be confidered) have re- # Effay on the Pidurefque, page 125.

marked

(e570. a

marked that piCturefquenefs may be tranf-

ferred—not to rocks, deep glens, and ca- verns ; to cafcades, to rivers dafhing among fiones, to wild foreft glades, and thickets —but to the ragged gipfey; with whom [not with the rocks, cafcades, &c.] you obferve that the wild afs, the Pomeranian dog, the fhaggy goat, are more in har- mony than the fleek-coated horfe, &c. The natural thing was to fhew that thefe wild animals were in harmony with wild Jfcenery; no—for fear of alluding to what might endanger the caufe, they are made in harmony with the gip/ey; not with thofe landfcapes in which both they and the gipfey would be the moft proper jigures. You have, in this place, fomewhat far- caftically alluded to an obfervation in my Effay, namely, ‘that the effect of deer in “ groups is apt to be meagre and fpot- “ty.’* This obfervation (which I be- * Effay on the Pi@urefgue, page 63.

lieve

Ee . 1 lieve is not a new one) I have no reafon. to think unfounded. Animals which, like deer, are of a flender make, whofe flender- nefs is not difguifed by fleecy or fhaggy coats, and whofe coats (like thofe of many deer) are mottled, muft furely be more apt to be meagre and {potty when in groups, than fuch as are of a fuller make and ap- pearance, and of a more uniform and har- monizing tint. The effect in trees would be obvious: thin trees, thinly clothed with foliage, and that foliage of a variety of tints, you muft allow would at leaft be apt to be meagre and {potty in groups; and J went no further. The obfervation in my Effay does not fiand alone, as might pof- fibly be fuppofed from your allufion; it was put there to fhew the diftinct quali- ties of deer and fheep, confidered as ani- mals fuited to pictures; it was to fhew, what was very much to my purpofe, and

what

Ame what I am very glad here again to incul- cate, that an object may be highly fuited to the painter without being on that ac- count picturefque in my fenfe of the word; nay, fo far from it, that it may, and often does fuit him from fome quality directly oppofite to thofe which I have affigned to that chara¢ter;* as for inftance, from uni- formity of fhape and of tint. From that uniformity often proceeds what both in colour, and in light and fhadow, is called breadih, which quality of breadth (as I have fhewn in my Effay4.) will often render an object, in itfelf neither grand, beautiful, nor picturefque, extremely fuited to the painter. This principle is in fome degree exemplified in the fheep and the deer, which laft, I think, muft be allowed to be comparatively meagre and {fpotty, * Effay on the Pi@urefque, page 61. 4 Ibid. 165. and

ee 3 I,

and efpecially the dappled kind, which indeed I had not mentioned, but of which you, like a generous adverfary, have given me the advantage.

Claude, who often introduced deer into his pictures, avoided thofe of the mottled kind, and made his of one uniform, quiet tint: he would equally have avoided the Nova Scotia breed of fheep, and all pied animals; for no painter was more atten- tive to general harmony. Berchem, who aimed at great brilliancy, both in touch and colour, painted cattle with their vari- ous marks; and his pictures (though ex- cellent in other refpects) are remarkable for their fpottinefs, and the want of that fullnefs of form and repofe, for which Claude’s are fo diftinguifhed.

Though you have not directly, and in your own name renounced the pi¢tu- re{que, yet no man who did not with it

to

E. 3 J

to be renounced, would fpeak of tranf- ferring it to goats and gipfies. But do you really think it has little to do (in whatever fenfe you take it) with landfcape gardening? Suppole, for inftance, that in a place you were improving, there were a river, in one part of which the banks confifted of foft and frefh meadow and pafture, either level, or gently floping to the water; the natural turf extending to the brink, unlefs where the current had flightly worn it away, or where a low fringe of wood, or flourifhing trees over- hung it, and broke the continuation of its outline. That in other parts the banks were of a rude and pi¢turefque character ; high and abrupt, with rugged old trees projecting from them, and extending their ‘twifted limbs over the fiream; that the ground had crumbled away from among their fhaggy roots, and had left them, and

bits

Eat 4 bits of rock, or rude ftones, arching over the coves beneath them; that both thefe banks, if not within view of the windows, were within the circuit of the home walk: Would you, by way of making the two parts of the fame character, and the whole more firictly beautiful. deftroy thefe rough projecting trees, the rude ftones, the broken ground with its accompaniments, and all their varied reflections in the water? Were you to hint that fuch a thing were poflible, you muft abdicate the firft part of your title. You might fay, however, that beimg there you would not defiroy them. But could you with a wifh make the whole foft and beauti- ful—could you make it fo without the ex- pence of new work, and the rawnefs of its effect, and at once give it the fringe and mellownefs of the other part; would you do it? would you give up the variety and con-

traft of the two characters, and the relief

G they

C 8 J

they would give to each other? would you not rather preferve to each its diftinét ftyle, and be careful how you introduced too much foftnefs and fmoothnefs into the ruder {cene? would you not confider how to make the moft, both of the effect of contraft, and of conneétion ; by fometimes going abruptly from one {cene to the other, and by fome- times gradually foftening the picturefque into the beautiful, and infenfibly blending the one with.the other? would you not do the fame by any other fcenery of the fame kind? Were a wild entangled dingle, with rocks, and a headlong torrent, near the houfe ; would you not be cautious how you deprived it in too great a degree, of its rude, and even entangled look? and would you not, while you facilitated the communication, avoid the appearance of doing fo, and the conftant parade of a walk; would you not think your- felf lucky, if from a dreffed part of the plea-

fure-

£83 4 fure-ground—from out of a flower-garden— you could fuddenly burft into a {cene of this kind?—Should you tell me that near the houfe, and where the walks extended, you would wifh all this to be fmooth and undu- lating, and every mark of roughnefs and abrupthefs deftroyed—I would freely fay, that no profeffed improver ought ever to be admitted, except where a profefled improver had been before; and where the Coflacks had been riflmg, the Pandours might be allowed to plunder.

Thefe, however, are fcenes in which the picturefque ftrongly prevails; but there are a number of others, where the whole is in a high and prevailing degree beautiful, but where there are touches of the other charac- ter which give fpirit to its foftnefs; and this is what in many parts of my Eflay I have endeavoured to point out. For inftance,

in the moft fimply beautiful river the cur- G2 rent

C 84 J

rent will partially undermine the banks, and in places difcover the foil, the roots of trees, or beds of rocks; there will be places where cattle come down to the water, and where ftones and broken gravel will be left on the fhore; there will be various interruptions to foftnefs and fmoothnefs, which inftead of deftroying, or weakening, enhance their charms: but if you renounce the pictu- re{que, and make choice of unmixed beauty only, all thefe muft either be deftroyed, or in a great meafure concealed: and after all, we fhould never forget that the beautiful is no.more the immediate refult of {moothnefs, undulation, and ferpentine lines, than the picturefque is of roughnefs, abruptnefs, and fudden variation; and that beauty, the moft free from any thing rough, is ftill very dif- ferent from what Mr. Brown intended for beauty, as I hope to fhew more fully to- wards the end of this Letter.

Perhaps

Dose J

Perhaps you will tell me I have miftaken your meaning; that by beauty you do not mean to confine yourfelf to what is merely fmooth and undulating, nor to to exclude many of thofe natural circumftances which though rough and abrupt, yet when not too prevalent, accord with, and add to the ge- neral effect; which effect is beauty. Should you fay fo, you will fay precifely. what Lhave faid throughout my book: but in that cafe what is the difpute about? You agree with me in my diftinction between the two cha- racters; they muft be either mixed or un- mixed: if you take beauty alone, feparated from the picturefque, you muft not admit of any thing rough or abrupt with what is fmooth and undulating, (except where na- ture has indivifibly mixed them together, or where they are foftened and difguifed by other cireumftances) elfe it is not unmixed beauty according to our notions. If you G 3 once

ft ee

once admit of a mixture of the pi¢turefque, the whole queftion will be about the degree of mixture, which muft of courfe depend on the general character of the place, that of the particular fpot, and its fituation. But then all you have faid about beauty in con- tradiftinction to picturefquenefs, as far as I can judge, has no object; for who ever thought (unlefs in fome very particular cafes) of introducing picturefquenefs. exclu- five of beauty into garden fcenes, or near the

manfion ? | No one indeed can doubt, that the beauti- ful ought chiefly to be attended to. near the houfe: yet there are fituations, where the prevailing character of beauty, (that is, a greater proportion of foftnefs than of ab- ruptnefs,) would not fo well accord with the ftyle of the place, but where that falfe beauty: of Mr. Brown would totally deftroyit. The ftrongeft inftance I ever met with of the truth

Liver a

truth of this pofition, was an alteration pro- pofed by a profeffed improver at Powis Caf- tle. One of the moft ftriking points in that noble place, is a view through an arch-way after pafling through an inward court. The mountains which divide Shropfhire from Montgomeryfhire, (and which from the grandeur of their character, if not from their height, well deferve that name,) ap- pear almoft in the center of it; beyond the arch-way projects a rock, a fort of abrupt promontory, {hooting forward from that on which the caftle is built: on this is a terras furrounded by an old maflive baluftrade, fuch as the mafflivenefs of the cafile re- quired: fieps of the fame character defcend from it to the bottom of the rock, great part of which is mantled with ivy, fome of whofe luxuriant fhoots twine round the balufters. The effect which this projeéting terras has in throwing off the mountains,—the richnefs of the fore-ground made by its ivied baluf-

G 4, trade,

cf 88 7

trade,—its light and fhadow,—the perfect union of its character with the mountains and the caftle,—can hardly be conceived by thofe who have not feen it. The profeffor propofed to blow up this rock and all its ac- companiments with gunpowder, in order to make the whole ground {mooth, and gent- ly falling from the caftle; in fhort, to place this ancient irregular fabrick, on a regular green flope. The noble owner, both from his own natural judgment and feeling, and from the advice of Mr. Knight, to whom he mentioned the propofal, not only rejected it, but has repaired all that was broken and defaced in this terras; and has preferved, in its true character, what would have been equally regretted by the painter, by the antiquary, and by every man of natural. judgment and refle¢tion.

Too many inftances might probably be produced, where fuch facrilege has not been

, pre-

[> 8 J

prevented; and nothing can fhew in fo ftrong a light, the dangerous tendency of recommending a narrow exclufive attention to beauty as a feparate quality, even where « the habitation and convenience of man “ are to be improved,” inftead of a liberal and enlarged attention to beauty in its more general fenfe, to character, and to the genius loci. It alfo fhews the danger of throwing contempt on the fiudy of the picturefque, and of the principles of painting; for had this profeffor acquired the leaft knowledge of either, he could not have made fuch a propofal. You, who might well have guarded both prefent and future profeflors from fuch blind undiftinguifhing attachment to /y/fem, have rather fanctioned it by your precepts, though I truft you would not by your prac- tice.

I remember your being confulted about the improvements at Ferney Hall, a fmall

place

L ed

place in the neighbourhood of Mr. Knight, the moft ftriking feature of which is a rocky dell near the houfe. I was extrémely pleafed to hear that you had afked Mr. Knight's advice with regard to the management of that part, acknowledging that you had not been fo converfant as himfelf in that ftyle of fcenery.

This inftance of your diffidence, and of your wifh to draw knowledge from others, not merely to imprefs them with an idea of your own, was what firft made me defirous of being known to you. The character I heard of your drawings added to that defire ; and as I was perfuaded that the fame diffi- dence, and readinefs to liften to advice, would lead you to correct any defects they might have, I felt great hopes that the art of landfcape-gardening would be fixed on better principles than it had hitherto been; for I little imagined that you would firive to

leffen

C91 J leffen the confequence of that art, to which you are indebted for your fuperiority in your own.

Thofe drawings of your’s which were fhewn to me, (when confidered as thofe of an improver, and not of a profeffed artift) manifefted talents which made me with to know their author. You will forgive me, however, if I mention in my own juftifica- tion, and by no means with an intention of hurting you, that they ftill (according to my conceptions) pointed out reafons for re- commending to you what I did, and do ftrongly recommend—a ftudy of the higher artifts; for it isa ftudy which never fhould be remitted, either by the painter, or the im- prover. In the fame note* I alfo mentioned what I thought a very neceffary caution to all profeffors of your art; not lefs fo than to thofe of painting: I mean the danger of

* Effay on the Piéturefque, page 351. becoming

co J

becoming mannerifts. The improver par- ticularly, without the ftudy of the higher artifts joined to that of varied nature, is fure to get into a habit of common-place forms; of rounds and ovals, and diftin¢ct clump-like mafles. Thefe, by general effects of breadth and tinting, he may difguife in his drawings, and thus his own eyes, and thofe of his employers will learn to acquiefce in them, nay, to be partial to fuch forms ; and it fhould always be remembered, that Kent, a painter by profeflion, (a bad one it is true,) had been fo accuftomed to con- fider objects as an improver, that at laft he could only copy the little beeches he had planted.

Iam forry you fhould fuppofe that many pages in my Effay are pointed again{t your: opinions; I can fay with great ‘ruth, that there is {carcely one whole page pointed at them. I have, indeed, canvafled with great

freedom

Los J freedom all opinions that appeared to me erroneous, without enquiring who might have adopted them; and if I have uninten- tionally wounded you through Mr. Brown, I am, on every account, fincerely grieved that you ftood within the line of fire.

The refpectability of your profeffion, I never meant to call in queftion, though I will frankly own, that, from what I have faid, there was fufficient reafon for your ftanding | forth in its defence: I was anxious, on the contrary, that it fhould have a refpectability which it hitherto had not deferved, by being founded on more juft, more enlarged, and more liberal principles. It was partly with that view (and I hope I may fay fo without prefumption) that I wifhed to cultivate your acquaintance ; and I fhould not have courted the profeffor, had I wifhed to lower the pro- feflion. You are the firft of that profeffion whofe acquaintance I ever did defire, for you

are

UL Bad

are the firft I ever thought likely to do ho- nour to it, by honouring and cultivating a higher art, and by confidering that as the true road to fame and excellence in your own.

There is only one way in which I can account for the defire you have fo ftrongly manifefted throughout this Letter, of lower- ing the art of painting: you find yourfelf at the head of your own art; but with no mean talents for one branch of the art of painting, you in that, are far from having the fame pre-eminence. You therefore feem to me to have ufed your endeavours, not only to thew that there is much lefs affinity between the two arts than I have fuppofed, but to degrade the art itfelf, and to exalt your own upon its ruins; for nothing furely but fuch a Jaloufie de métier, could have induced you to have made any fort of allufion, any

kind of parallel, between the uncontrouled opinions

[. 6-3

opinions of favages, and an art, the principles of which had been inveftigated with fuch care, and its practice enlarged and refined by a fucceffion of fo many illuftrious men. To make this illuftration the more plaufible, you have oppofed gardening [not land{cape- gardening] to the painter’s ftudies of wild nature. But wherefore of wild nature ex- clufively, when, as I obferved before, the ftudies of many of them are taken from the moft highly embellifhed nature? I am wil- ling to fuppofe, that you mean no more by wild nature, than fimple nature—nature un- touched by art;. and that, perhaps, would have been a more accurate and candid man- ner of ftating it; but then imple nature would have raifed ideas of a variety of foft and delightful fcenes, whereas wild is often -ufed for what is rude and favage, and you might not be forry to give that bias to the minds of your readers. As this wildnefs

and

C 96 J and rudenefs of painters landf{capes, is con- ftantly brought as an argument againft the affinity between painting, and even /and- feape gardening, it will be of great ufe towards clearing up this difputed point, to examine in what this wildnefs confifts—how far it extends—what parts of fuch wild na- ture, when arranged by the painter, may be imitated by the gardener, even in drefled fcenes, and what may not. In order to’ do it in the faireft manner poflible, I will put out of the queftion Claude Lorrain, and all who ftudied highly ornamented na- ture, and will take fuch painters as Mola and Gafpar Pouffin. Examine the forms of their trees—their groups—-the general dif- pofition of them—the connection—the man- ner in which the diftance is introduced be- tween them—and in which they accompany buildings and water. I believe you will own that all this would, in many of their

pictures,

ae

pictures, not ill accord with any kind of {cenery, and that many of thefe forms have much real beauty, as well as piétu- refque effect; that they have a variety of highly pleafing outlines, flowing, and blending into each other, and giving a foftnefs* to the water they accompany; very different both from the abrupinefs of clumps, and from the naked hardnefs of artificial rivers. If this be true, much the greater and more confpicuous part of a mere painter’s landfcape, might, without impropriety, be allied with, nay, even make a part of a dreffed {cene. What part then of fuch piétures would be out of cha- racter in highly polifhed fcenery? It is in an extended fenfe the fore-ground, or what might be termed the ground-plan of the picture; this often confifts of rough and broken ground, and of other rude objects * Effay on the Pidurefque, page 109. H that

Ey 989

that give play, variety, and effe&t of light and fhadow, as well as variety and richnefs _ of tint; fhould it be poflible, however, that in certain cafes the variety and effect of a painter’s fore-ground could, without rude- nefs, be imitated in a garden {cene, I ima- gine you would think it no {mall advantage. But are all unimproved f{cenes in nature rude? are there not in the moft picturefque diftri¢is—are there not in forefis—lawns and openings of the fofteft turf, divided from the general fcenery by an intricate {kreen of thorns and hollies, mixed with larger trees, and enriched with tufts of natural flowers, which have altogether not only a beautiful, but even a drefled appearance? What is the difference be- tween fuch a piece of wild nature, and one of Mr. Brown’s garden fcenes in which he has beft fucceeded? In his, the ground is mowed; it is more exactly, and therefore more

L499 3) e more ftiffly levelled, and has not the fame fr undulation, or (to borrow an expreflion from Mr. Burke) “that change of furface, “ continual yet hardly perceptible at any « point, which forms one of the great con- « flituents of beauty.” Inftead of thofe tufts, thickets, and groups, whofe playful outline and difpofition create that beauti- ful intricacy which leads the eye a kind of wanton chace, his are clumps regu- larly dug, and confequently with a hard outline. Inftead of that varied furface, where the mixture of broken tints gives fuch value to the more uniform green, and fuch delight to the painter’s eye—the un- varied colour and furface of dug ground, abruptly fucceed to the no lefs unvaried furface and colour of mowed grafs. Inftead of the eafy bends of a path, there are the regular and confequently more formal and

H 2 edgy

[i100 “]

edgy fweeps of a gravel walk. He has

indeed the advantage in diverfity ~of-

plants, in gaiety and brilliancy of colours; an advantage, however, which has its dan- ger, and which is liable to great abufe. But let the fame kind of fcene (and there muft be thoufands of them) be placed in a warmer climate—in the fouthern part of North America. There fuch groups and _ thickets would be compofed of the various oaks or maples; of tulip trees, or acacias mixed with magnolias, cedars, kalmeas, rhododendrons, andromedas, &c.; the wild vines, and Virginia creeper climbing up the larger trees, and loofely hanging from their boughs: Would the making all thofe tufts and groups feparate, and clump-like, and digging round them—would levelling the whole ground, and mowing what flowers the fheep had fpared—would the

making

ee ae making of a gravel walk acrofs or around the whole opening improve the beauty of fuch afcene? for the convenience of walk- ing, and the look of neatnefs, and habita- tion, are feparate confiderations. Can any one doubt that there are in wild, that is, unimproved nature, {cenes more foft, more beautiful, than any thing which modern gardening has produced? Nay, that the peculiar beauties of fuch fcenes have been ill imitated, and the true principles of thofe beauties ill underftood? In the fame propor- tion that natural groups and thickets are intricate yet beautiful, clumps are abrupt, without being picturefque; for the line of digging is hard, and renders the round, the oval, or whatever be the fhape, diftinct and formal. It clearly appears to me, that all thefe are defects, and they may be avoided, in a great degree, by endeavouring to fol- low, not to improve by counteracting, the

H 3 happy

[ 108 ] happy accidents of nature; and that the ftiff manner of levelling the ground, (though perhaps an object of greater difficulty, ) might be corre¢ted from the fame model. I wifh, however, not to be mifunderftood, as if I condemned levelling, digging, mow- ing, and gravel walks: where, in a part meant to be pleafure-ground, the furface is rough and uneven, it muft of courfe be levelled and made fmooth; where plants will not otherwife grow luxuriantly, the ground (for fome time at leafi) muft be dug; where fheep are not admitted, it muft be mowed; and a gravel walk, be- fides the great comfort and convenience, has a look of neatnefs and high keeping that is extremely pleafing, though upon a different principle from the natural path. What I mean to fhew is, that there are {cenes in wild, unimproved nature, of the Jame kind as thofe in which modern garden-

Ing

Ewame: J

ing moft excels—{cenes produced by acci- dent, not defign—more foft, more truly beautiful in every refpect, than the imi- tations of them:* they are alfo beautiful on the principles of painting, not of gar- dening, though thofe principles ought to be, and I hope will be, the fame. | will here juft flightly mention, what I may perhaps enlarge upon fome future time, that in the old Italian gardens, where architeCture and gardening were mixed together, effects were produced, to which nothing of the fame kind could be found in unembellifhed nature.

As you have tried to degrade the pain- ter’s ftudies, by comparing them with the opinion of favages; fo you have ftriven to

* T believe, however, that thofe who have been ufed to con- fider Mr. Brown’s works as perfection, think a little like the Chevalier Taylor, the famous oculift: he ufed to fay, that there was as much difference between an eye that he had brufhed, and an unimproyed eye, as between a rough diamond, anda brilliant.

H4 exalt

Paeas J exalt modern gardening, by comparing it to our glorious conftitution. That the Englifh conftitution is the happy medium between the liberty of favages, and the reftraint of defpotic government, I do not merely acknowledge—lI feel it with pride and exultation; but that pride and exultas tion would fink into fhame and defpon- dency, fhould the parallel you have made, ever become juft: fhould the freedom, ener- gy, and variety of our minds, give place to tamenefs and monotony; fhould our opinions be prefcribed to us, and, like our places, be moulded into one form. A much apter and more inftru¢tive parallel might have been drawn between our conftitution, and the art you have fo much wronged. ’ That art, like the old feudal government, meagre, hard, and gothic in its beginning, was mellawed and foftened by long expe- rience and fucceffive trials; and not lefs

improved

bP ex)

improved in fpirit and energy. Such was the progrefs of our conftitution, fuch is its character; fuch alfo was the progrefs of painting, fuch the character of its higheft _ productions, at its brighteft period. The later artifts from Carlo Marat, loft that firmnefs, variety, and energy, and became mannered, cold, and infipid. Such in- deed is the natural progrefs of human arts and inftitutions: the progrefs from op- _preffion to anarchy, (of which we have feen fuch an awful example) is not more natural, than from the eafe of freedom and fecurity, to indolence and apathy: let Eng- land beware; let her guard no lefs againft the one, than againft the other extreme; they generate each other in fucceffion, for apathy invites oppreffion, and oppreflion is the parent of anarchy.

Having faid thus much with refpect to your general defence of Mr. Brown’s fyf-

tem

{- teG tem of improvement, and your illuftration of its excellence, I will next confider your defence of the detail of his practice. If, as you fay, no man of tafte can hefitate between the natural group of trees com- pofed of various growths, and a formal patch of firs (and, I will venture to add, of any other trees) which, as you well ob- ferve, “too often disfigure a lawn under ** the name of a clump’—why not ftrive to imitate thofe natural groups, by attend- ing to the principle on which they pleafe? The firong argument againft Mr. Brown, and that which I ftated in my Effay,* is, that in the courfe of a long practice, and therefore with many opportunities of fee- ing their effecis, he never made a _clump like a_natural croup, though h he did make many natural groups like clumps; I there- fore may fairly conclude that he preferred

* Effay on the Picturefaue, page 359. the

[. tor -] the latter: and as he never (as far as I have obferved,) connected one group with another, but always detached them as much as poflible, I may alfo infer that he ftudied diftin@mels, not connection.

Now, unlefs I am totally wrong in all my notions, ConnecTion.is_the leading principle of your art, and it is the princi- ple that has been, of all others, the moft flagrantly and fyftematically violated. It is by means of this /y/lem of making every

thing diftinct and feparate, that Mr. - Brown has been enabled to do fuch rapid and extenfive mifchief; and thence it is that he is fo much more an object of the painter's indignation than his ftrait-lined predeceffors. He was a mere gardener, but he chofe to be a landf{cape-gardener, without knowing the firft principles of a landicape: the confequences have been fuch as might be expected; for as nothing is fo eafily, fo quickly deftroyed as con-

nection,

f 08. 5 nection, fo nothing is reftored with greater difficulty, or by a more tedious procefs. Two of the principal defects in the com- pofition of landfcapes, whether real or painted, are the oppofite extremes of ob- jects being too crouded, or too fcattered : your cenfure, therefore, of fingle trees dotted over the whole furface of a park, or any other ground, is perfectly juft. Such {cattered trees are rendered much more difgufting by heavy cradle fences, and, un- lefs in very good foils, they alfo (as you obferve) are generally ftarving. I can {peak very ftrongly as to the bad confe- quence of this practice in every point of view, from its having been in too great a degree my own; and it is by no means the only inftance in which I could offer my own former practice (for I do not per- fevere in what | think wrong) as a warn- ing to others. There cannot be a doubt, that the moft certain

[ 109 J certain expedient for producing future beauty, is to prepare and fence the ground, and to fet more plants than are meant to remain; for the young plants muft neither be ftunted, browfed, nor ftarved. But where thofe maffes (as is ufually the cafe) are formed of trees of equal growths, and left clofe together in one thick lump, the variety they give to any ground {carcely deferves that name. The remedy I pro- pofed* (after ftating the defects of the ufual method) was to mix a large pro- portion of the lower growths in every plantation; this, in my opinion, would not only prevent their flat, heavy, uniform appearance, but would alfo furnifh means for varying and foftening the abrupt lines of their outfide boundaries, and corre¢t- ing that folitary, infulated look which they ftill would have. The method of doing it which I fhould recommend, would be to

* Effay on the Pidturefque, page 309.

E16 ig

take trees, both of the larger and {maller growths, from the plantation itfelf, (after they are grown ftrong enough to refift animals) and to tranfplant them on the outfide of the fence; where a ftiff formal outline is apt to remain, even when thé fence itfelf has been taken away. As thefe plants would be to be carried fo fhort a way, though large, they might be re- moved with fafety; and would want no fence, but merely to be ftaked till they had taken root. Their effeét would alfo be immediate; they would at once break, vary, and foften the hard line of the clump by partially concealing it, which trees alone would not effect; but by fuch a mix- ture of thorns, hollies, &c. with foreft trees, the moft painter-like groups and thickets might be formed.

This feems to me the true ufe of plant- ing trees and bufhes detached from the

larger mafles; and thus much it may be fufficient

aie eee

i ant] fufficient to add to what I had before faid in my Effay, with refpect to thofe folitary lumps of various fizes;* whofe principle indeed is the very oppofite to that of con- nection, and by which at this moment the greateft part of the parks and grounds of improved. places throughout the kingdom, are disjoined from the furrounding land- fcape. It requires no acquaintance with the principles of painting, to make any uniformly thick plantation, from a clump, to a large wood; but to vary and to con- nect thofe plantations with others, and with the more detached trees and groups —to compofe and arrange the different parts of the different land{capes of a whole place, without injuring the unity of that whole, certainly does demand an ac- quaintance, and no flight one, with thofe principles: the firft is the province of the

* Effay on the Picturefque, page 291.

mere

ae SF mere gardener, the latter of the landfcape- gardener only.

As to the belt, I thought it had been quite extinct, and never likely to revive; but under your protection it may perhaps again crawl about the ground,

“ And like a wounded fnake, drag its fJow length along.” As “I have fcotched the fnake, not killed it,’ I muft renew the attack. You very truly obferve, “that the love of feclufion and fafety is no lefs natural than that of liberty, and that the mind is equally dif- pleafed with excefs of liberty, or of re- ftraint, when either are too apparent.” But why is this addrefled to me? to me, who have in the ftrongeft manner cenfured the paflion for mere extent*—for the re- moval of boundaries without any other objet—for extent that is to be admired, like virtue, for its own fake—to be appa~

* Effay on the Pidurefque, page 298. rent,

E243 * |] rent, and meafured with the eye as well as with the chain. No one can doubt the ne- ceflity of enclofing a park, ora pleafure- ground, and ‘of hiding (at leaft in a great meafure) that enclofure; the only queftion is about the mode of hiding it.

There are two different ways in which the owner’s vanity (a very powerful and common agent) may operate on this occa- fion, according to the extent of the ground enclofed.

If it fhould be fmall, he will moft fin- cerely wifh that it fhould not be known where the boundary goes; though he may not take the proper method of concealment.

If, on the contrary, the extent fhould be very great, the owner may as fincerely with to mark that extent, by diftinctly marking the courfe of the boundary ; though he would be equally defirous of concealing the fence itfelf

I But

C114 J

But if the owner happen to be a lover of painting, and to have neither the dread of difcovering a fimall, nor the ambition of dif- playing a large extent, he will wifh the con- cealments in any cafe to be fuch as will ac- cord with the reft of the landfcape; nor will he be fhocked if now and then part of the wall, or the pales fhould appear.

The perfon who has a fmall extent, will with to have a fcreen of uniform thicknefs, as an impenetrable difguife; not confidering that the uniformity of the difguife betrays it, and that the ftranger foon gueffes what is behind.

Then, again, the vanity of him who has enclofed an immenfe compafs, will be pleafed that it fhould be marked out diftin¢tlly by a uniformly high plantation; fo that all the neighbours round may not only have to re- late how many miles the whole circuit ex- tends, but may be able to fhew the exact

line

f 115 J line of it to the wondering ftranger, and to make him trace it with his eye.

If ta thefe motives of vanity in the pof- feffor, we add the motives of felf-intereft in the profeffor, it will be eafy to account for the introduction and continuance of belts. The invention of them (a term never more mifufed than in the prefent inftance) is be- yond all others obvious, and the thing being once eftablifhed, it faves all refleCtion on the ftyle and chara¢ter of the part it is to pafs through; then it might be both laid out and executed, not only by a common gardener, but by a common labourer, without the pro- feffor’'s having ever feen the place; for it is only to meafure a certain number of yards from the fence to the outfide of the planta- tion, and to ftuff it with trees, leaving a certain {pace for the drive. It is therefore highly the intereft of every profeflor, who is more defirous of gain than reputation, to

12 work

fe sen]

work by general receipts; fuch as clumps, belts, and ferpentine canals with uniformly — levelled banks, fo long as their employers are kind enough to be fatisfied with them ; and I will own, that fhould my Eflay have the influence, which, as a very zealous author, I muft wifh, though I do not expect it to have, many an honeft profeflor of improve- ment muft, for want of education, feek his bread in fome other way.

You allow that the drive through fuch belts is tedious, and that the dulnefs encreafes with its length: their infides are therefore condemned. What then is the effect of their outfides with refpect to the general land- {cape? which, after all, ought to have fome weight with the landfcape-gardener. They prefent one confpicuous, uniform, unvaried {creen; meagre and drawn up, and differ- ing in-character from all that is on either fide of it; in reality, a gigantic hedge, that

wants

Lain

wants to be hidden, as much, or more than the fence it hides. Obferve the difference of thofe accidental fcreens to many of the old parks, where thickets of thorns and hol- lies, groups, and fingle trees are continued quite to the wall, or the pales; and where, till you fee the boundary, (which, however, from its moffes and ivy is at leaft a very picturefque object) you might fuppofe your- felf near the center, not at the extremity of the park. Thefe furely are the fcreens which ought to be imitated by landfcape- gardeners, for they accord with the reft of the fcenery, and at every ftep form land- {capes ; and where perfect concealment is the object, they are beft calculated to produce it without difcovering the intention. — Still, however, if the owner fays, I do not care about landfcape and variety, I like unifor- mity and continued fhade, he is quite in the right to pleafe himfelf, though it may be dull

13 to

Faas. to others; it anfwers his purpofe, and a very good one; but let not two fuch diftiné ideas, as convenience and beauty, be con- founded. The belt you have fo accurately defcribed, *¢ of one uniform breadth, with a drive as « uniform, ferpentining through the middle “ of it,” is, I believe, what, with little dif- ference, has been moft generally made; and it anfwers perfectly to its name. But fuch a plantation as you afterwards have propofed, of «« various breadths, and its outline adapted to * the natural fhape of the ground,” is hardly a belt, or at leaft is not Mr. Brown’s belt, and I criticifed what had been, not what might be, made. I am very ready to ac~- knowledge the great fuperiority of fuch a belt; a fuperiority which encreafes, as it grows more unlike the thing it is named from: but ftill you muft excufe me if I fuggeft (not indeed by way of ftrict argu- ment)

Gy amo

ment) that you have fhewn the dulnefs of any belt in a way which will have much more effect than any thing | have written, by prefenting a much more lively image of its tirefome monotony. You, the defender of belts, can fo little bear the deal confinement, even of your own highly improved belt, that after fkirting near the edges, and looking wiftfully out of it, at laft finding an open- ing, you fairly efcape from it entirely, « to se enjoy the unconfined view of diftant prof- « pects ?” an example that, I believe, would be followed by moft perfons in the fame fituation.

It is true, that | have very earneftly and generally recommended it to gentlemen who have places, that they fhould qualify themfelves for becoming their own land- {cape-gardeners, by one of the moft pleafing and liberal of all ftudies; that of the princi- ples of painting, the works of painters and

I 4 of

[4420 oi]

of nature.* This you think (perhaps with too much partiality towards profefled im- provers) might tend to fupprefs—not the profeffion—but the art itfelf. I cannot help thinking, that fo far from fupprefling or in- juring either, it would, on the contrary, be of great advantage to both. As to fup- prefling the art, you muft recollect that there was a time when there were profeflors of eloquence; there are none now: is the art fuppreffed? Would the great orators of this day—who rival thofe of Greece and Rome—would they have had more variety, energy, and effect, had fome profeffor taught them the routine of eloquence, its tropes and figures, and endeavoured to mould their minds to his conceptions ?

Of all the arts, none is more adapted to men of liberal education, who pafs much of their time at their own country-feats, than

* Effay on the Pi¢turefque, page 375.

land{cape-

i ae landfcape-gardening. They muft be conti- nually among land{capes, (for there are few diftricts, unlefs very much improved, that do not furnifh fomething for the painter,) and with the leaft attention to pictures and to compofition, the principles of landfcape- gardening would infenfibly prefs themfelves upon their minds; and in moft points the practice is far from difficult. Not fo with architecture, though a ftudy highly becom- ing every man of tafte and property, and intimately connected with gardening: mo- dels of architecture are thinly fpread; the occafions of imitating them are rare, and the practical part requires a very different degree of accuracy. There are alfo many arts whole theory is curious and interefting, but in which the method of acquiring practi- cal knowledge is tedious, or difgufting. Such is medicine; a fcience which often illuftrates the art of gardening more happily than one

might

[* ee y

might fuppofe. No man voluntarily fre- quents hofpitals and fick rooms, as he does woods and rivers, and all the parts of land- {cape; yet every man would do well to know enough of the general effect of drugs, and of their particular effect on his habit, to guard againft the hafty decifion of, perhaps, an able phyfician, but who has neither the fame opportunities of ftudying the conftitu- tion of his patient, nor the fame motives for ftudying it. This will be very readily ap- plied to the other art.

All quackery, I allow to be bad, in either of the arts, and much fhould in both be left to nature; but he who quacks himfelf, has

an extreme intereft in his patient, and will

be afraid of violent remedies ; not fo the ©

bold empyric, who undertakes to improve a place, or a conftitution. As you have ftarted the idea of this illuftration, I will carry it on a little farther. Many places, like many

con-

a

C 123 J

conftitutions, want but little to be done to them, and an honeft and able profeflor in either art, will do but little. Ignorance, on the other hand, is always rafh and med- dling ; and the defign of my work is to guard againft the rafhnefs and active ignorance of quacks. But were the mafs of profeffors in your art to mix theory with practice; were they to ftudy the works of painters, and to compare them with nature; were they to do fo with as much diligence, as the eminent profeffors of medicine ftudy the works of former phyficians of every age and country, and compare their doctrines and experiments with the varying characters of difeafes in real fubje¢ts—the refpectability of the profeflion would be effectually eftab- lifhed, and we fhould confult the profeffors of either art with equal confidence in their fkill.

Whatever effect my recommendation may produce, believe me your profeflion is

nN

[ 124 J

inno danger. Should the profeffors. of it in general (as indeed muft be the cafe) im- prove in proportion to the tafte and know- ledge of their employers, that encreafed tafte, and the knowledge of theory joined to prac- tice, will fecure them employment, even among thofe who are the moft capable of directing their own works; for whenever juft and new ideas are to be acquired from a profefior, every affluent man who has ex- tenfive plans of improvement, will certainly

(unlefs prevented by conceit, or avarice) be

defirous of confulting him. But in any cafe

there will always remain a fufficient number of rich and helplefs perfons, who muft en- deavour to purchafe what they have not themfelves. It is not to fuch men (who muft always be directed,) that I have ad- drefled my advice; yet {till they are not uninterefted in its fuccefs: for, as I -before obferved, the tafte and knowledge of the general mafs of profeffors, will naturally

encreafe

E 125 J

encreafe in proportion to that of the general mafs of their employers, and confequently thofe who are unable to act themfelves, will at leaft be directed by more fkilful guides.

After all, fhould any perverfe, ignorant, and defperate amateurs (as they have hu- mouroufly been named) take one part of my advice only; and, contrary to its {pirit and obvious meaning, boldly act for them- felves without any previous ftudy or re- flexion—they {till would feldom occaficn fuch extenfive and irreparable mifchief as the regular fyftem of clearing and levelling; and as they probably would have no imita- tors, their improvements would be confined to one fpot, and one point of time. Their extravagancies alfo, though mifchievous, might be amufing; and, like other wanton, licentious effects of freedom, as pumping, ducking, tarring and feathering, have a mix- ture of the barbarous and the ludicrous—

at

f eG J

at once fhock and divert you. Even the revengeful and ftudied cruelty of favages, | horrid as it is, yet ftill is lefs odious and dif- gufting than the cold, fettled, regular /y/tem

of oppreffion and torture of the inquifition. The method of applying general rules, (as you have remarked) can only be learnt by practice; but I fhould much doubt whe- ther there be any plan, or any medicine «© proper almoft in every,cafe.” I have read indeed of a panacea, but I believe it to be as rare as a plan of improvement of the fame accommodating nature: certainly the cha- rater will neither fuit Mr. Brown’s plan, nor James’s powder; and it would, in my idea, be no {mall impeachment to a phyfician, could it be foretold, before he had feen his patient, that he would prefcribe that excel- lent medicine, whatever the diforder, or the fort of fever might be; for that is the true parallel with Mr. Brown’s anticipated plan, | which

Leer 2

which was not to be executed (as you have fuppofed) in a naked country. But indeed a phyfician who, like Mr. Brown, had but one plan of operations, muft treat all difor- ders, Sangrado-like, in the fame manner.

Thofe who affect to defpife all profpects, as beneath the notice of lovers of painting, deferve the title you have indirectly beftow- ed upon them (and perhaps defigned for me) of faftidious connoifleurs. I muft ob- ferve on this occafion, that there is a wide difference between defpifing profpects one- felf, and rallying thofe who defpife every thing elfe—the mere profpect-hunters. I muft alfo obferve, that my attack was not direGtly made upon the exclufive love of profpects, though a very fair fubject for raillery. It was levelled againft the paffion for whitening objects—the paffion for dif- tinétnefs; and the profpeci-hunter was brought in to illuftrate the effects of that

-paffion.

i $884) 4

paffion.* If I do defpife profpects, I am | conftantly acting againft my inclination by

climbing up, not only high hills, but towers

and churches; certainly not for the painter’s

landfcape. In my own place I have three

diftinét profpects, — bird’s-eye views feen

from high hills—of which I am not a little

proud, and to which I carry all my guefts of every defcription. If they like nothing elfe

in the place, I do not converfe with them on

pictures, or landfcape-gardening ; but if they

have the affectation I have fometimes been

witnefs to, that of holding all profpects in

contempt as unworthy the attention of a

man of true tafie, I do not feel very eager

to converfe with them on any fubject.

A profpect of mere extent, if that extent be very great, has, without any ftriking features, a powerful effect on the mind. If to extent you add arichly wooded and cul-

Effay on the Piéturefque, page 179.

tivated

Lee | tivated country, with a varied boundary of hills or mountains; and to that again, effects of water and buildings, it is enchantment. If from a high fummit you look from moun-

tain to mountain, acrofs their craggy breaks,

and down unto their receffes, it is awful

and fublime. Yet neither fuch grand nor fuch beautiful profpects as thofe which. I have juft defcribed, nor yet many others of intermediate ftyles and degrees, are in ge- r _neral proper fubjects for pictures. This I . imagine to arife, not from the height whence they are viewed, but from another caufe which equally operates on all views; namely, the want of any objects of importance either in the fore-ground, or the middle diftance. Apply this to any view, even to fuch as are taken from a low ftation, and where the ex- tent is limited: If it want thofe nearer objeéts, it will feldom fuit the painter in point of compofition; though, from the refources of

K his

Ege |

his art, (by means of broken tints—of breadth and effect of light and fhade,—by his management of the fky, &c.) he may contrive in reprefenting fuch a view, to dif- guife, or compenfate its original defect. With regard to profpects, they are for the moft part taken from the higheft and openeft part of a hill, where there is the leaft ob- ftruction, and confequently where there is feldom either fore- -ground, or fecond dif- tance. On that account they do not make good land{capes; and on that circumftance, as I conceive, is founded the principal dif- tinction, not merely between a landfcape and a profpect, but generally between what is, and is not proper for a picture in point of compofition. Any view that is unbroken, unvaried, undivided by any objects in the nearer parts, whether it be from a mountain or a plain, is, generally eons ill fuited to the painter.

Confider

bay 7 Confider for a moment what would be the effect in any good compofition of the limited kind, either real or painted, were all the near objects fwept away, and only the diftant ones left. Try the fame experiment on any admired compofition of a great maf- ter, in which an extenfive diftance is intro- duced : let all that. in any way intercepts, breaks, divides, and accompanies that dif- tance—all that throws it off, and marks the gradations—all the ftrong maffles, the power- ful tones of colour, the diftinét and forcible touches that contraft with its foft fading tints,—let all be removed—it becomes a mere. profpect, and nothing elfe. Again, (to prove, as they do in arithmetic, fubtrac- tion by addition) let the objects taken from fuch a picture, be added to a mere profpect ; it becomes a compofition, a painter's land- {cape. With refpect to the point of fight being taken high, that has frequently a very grand K 2 effect,

[. 132 J

effect; and that Titian thought fo, is plain from the numerous prints after his compo- fitions; in many of which, as it may be proved by the height of the horizontal line, he has fuppofed himfelf on a confiderable eminence. Where beauty is the painter's object (as was the cafe with Claude) it is certainly more judicious to place the hori- zontal line lower, which he accordingly does. | |

All this feems to point out, that though profpects are not in general fuch compofi- tions as painters felect, yet that both the feparate parts, and the general effect of each profpect—its maffes—its boundaries— its compofition as a piece of diftance, are to be judged of, like any other fcene, on the principles of painting. I therefore can have no doubt, if two fuch painters as Claude and Titian were obliged to paint two mere pro/- pects, that the profpeét which Claude chofe for his picture, would be the moft generally

pleafing

rt

E33 J

pleafing among the pleafing ones; and that which Titian chofe, the moft ftriking among the fublime. In faét, the fame diftance, the grandeur of whofe boundary, whofe aerial perfpective, whofe gradual diminution of tints we fo much admire in a profpect, forms avery principal part of many of Titian’s, Claude’s, and other painters’ landfcapes ; they only frame and accompany it.

There is, however, an obvious reafon why mere profpects, however exquifitely painted, cannot have the effect of thofe in nature. They are not rea/, and therefore do not excite the curiofity which reality does, both as to the particular fpots, and the circumftances attending them: as to the real geography of what is really fpread out before us, and the many doubts, enquiries, and obfervations it fuggefts to the curious traveller, and alfo to the painter in his own line; who from fuch eminences can beft remark, what diftricts promife the moft interefting {cenery. Thefe

_K8 are

[ 134 J

are the circumftances which make the love of profpects a natural propenfity, indepen- dently of their beauty; it was therefore un- neceflary to apologize for making ufe of too firong an expreflion, when you called curiofity an inherent paflion of the human mind. That paffion will very naturally ac- count for the vifitors at Matlock having done what you, and I, and every one in the fame fituation, would probably have done; but why this confideration fhould have con- firmed you in your opinion, that painting and gardening are lefs intimately related than you at firft conceived them to be, it is difficult to guefs.

Thefe two arts, according to a very ufual | figure, I had called fifiers; but I can have no objection to adopting your idea, and calling them hufband and wife; for the union is ftill clofer. You have not, indeed, afligned to your new-married couple their refpective fexes, but I can have no doubt about them,

Land>

pigs a Landfcape-gardening is clearly the lady, and I muft fay that you have taken a very unfair advantage of your intimacy with her. You have tried to make her elope; and you have proceeded, as feducers generally do, not only by flattering her on her own peculiar charms and accomplifhments, but by en- deavouring to degrade her hufband in her eyes: one of the moft powerful, but not the moft honourable means of feduction. He that acis fo, more than interferes between hufband and wife; not he who with equal love and regard for both, fincerely tries to promote a lafting union. Whofe aim it is to raife, not lower them: in each other's efteem; but at the fame time to convince the wife that fhe can never appear fo ami- able, or fo refpectable, as when clofely united to her hufband ; and I may add in this cafe, to fuch a hufband. |

When I came to the illuftration which you have taken from Mr. Burke, and which,

K 4, in

[ 736. J in his Effay, is perfectly juft and in its place, I was curious to fee what ufe you would make of it; and I was greatly {urprized to find how you had applied it: I hardly be- lieved it at firft, and fome of my friends had the fame hefitation, till they had read it a fecond time. A landfcape-gardener, who is alfo an artift, can find no apter way of il-. luftrating the habit of admiring fine pictures and bold picturefque {cenery, than by the habit of chewing tobacco! You fuppofe fuch admiration may have the fame kind of effect on mental tafte, as the ufe of fuch a naufeous herb has on the /en/e of taftng— that of making it infenfible to the beauty of milder fcenes. You, therefore, by a kind of negative affirmation, infinuate that my tafte is vitiated; not feeling that a habit of obfervation and fele¢tion, (even fuppofing it in a great meafure directed towards the higher ftyles of painting and of fcenery,) acts very differently on the faculties of the

mind,

La? ed

mind, from what a ftrong and perverfe tafte does on the palate; and that, far from dead- ening the organs, it makes them more alive to every fine fenfation, in every ftyle. Sir Jofhua Reynolds’s enthufiafm for M. Angelo, and high admiration of Titian’s landf{capes, did not make him lefs delighted with Correggio and Claude, with Watteau and Teniers; and he who felt all the favage grandeur of Salvator’s fcenery, equally en- joyed the view from his houfe on Richmond terras.

Whoever reads your Letter without having read my book, muft probably conclude that Iam a fort of tyger, who pafs my life ina jungle, with no more idea of the fofter beau- ties of nature than that animal. I fear I am not lefs expofed to an imputation of a very different kind; and I fhould not be fur- prized, were fome wrong-headed friend of Mr. Gilpin to reprefent me as a man fo in

love with {moothnefs, as to have no relifh

for

C 138 J for what is rough, abrupt, and picturefque. He might very plaufibly fay, that, not con- tented with oppofing Mr. Gilpin, my enthu- fiafm for beauty and its difting qualities, had led me much farther; that I had gone beyond Mr. Burke, and, as if his arguments and illuftrations on that fubjeét were not f{ufficient, had added whole chapters of my own. He might treat me as a falfe friend, and afk whether a man can be a true lover of the picturefque, who allows, that near the houfe it ought to be facrificed to neatnefs and convenience—who talks of the cha- racteriftic beauties of a lawn, of its fmooth- nefs and verdure; who dwells with rapture on the fofter beauties of nature—on the fragrance and colours of flowers—on the profufion of blofioms, and all the charms of {pring. I might thus be convicted of having no tafte or fecling for any thing, unlefs (as is - fometimes

[ 139 J

fometimes fuppofed to happen) the one poi- fon fhould expel the other.

I now come to the examples you have given, of different fubjects which I am fup- pofed to defpife myfelf, and to with others to defpife, because they are incapable of be- ing painted. Before I make any remarks on the examples themfelves, I will beg leave toafk you, whether you ferioufly think that any perfon was ever fo abfurd as to declare, or even to think, that cbjects of fight which were incapable of being painted, were there- fore to be defpifed. Should you difcover any perfon who had declared that, (or any thing which nearly approaches it,) to be his opinion—treat him as Dogberry defired to be treated—fet him down as an afs—but no more think of arguing with him than with Dogberry, or his reprefentative. -If it be merely a phantom you have raifed, in order to. combat it, I muft fay your talents might have been more worthily employed. It is

never

%

[ 140 J]

never reckoned very creditable to difplay one’s wit on a butt who cannot retort; and thofe poor fatherlefs opinions, which nobody owns, and nobody defends, muft be confi- dered in that light: the victories obtained over them both, are alfo much alike in point of glory and difficulty.

As to the examples themfelves, I imagine that a gravel walk and a fhrubbery, not only may, but often have been painted, though they will not make good pictures. So have wide extended profpects, and there is one mere bird’s-eye view in Claude’s Liber Veri- tatis. It might be thought uncandid to fup- pofe, that you mean to reproach the art of painting with not being able to exprefs the

fragrance of a fhrubbery, though your words will bear that conftruction: fuch a conftruc- tion might alfo be fupported by a note in the

former part of your Letter*. You there ob- —

ferve (what a lefs keen obferver might have

* Page 8.

difcovered )

[ ia J

difcovered) “ that the continual moving, and lively agitation obfervable in herds of deer, is one of the circumftances which painting cannot reprefent, but that it is not lefs an object of beauty and cheerfulnefs in park {cenery.”” The fame obfervation might have been made with equal truth and novelty on the warbling of birds, and its cheerful effect in garden {cenery ; for actual audible found is not more incapable of being painted, than actual continued motion; and real fenfible fragrance is juft upon the fame footing.

After all, for what purpofe is this circum- fiance mentioned ? is it to eftablifh the fupe- riority of nature over painting? I am very far from denying it. That of landfcape- gardening over land{cape-painting? there has been no queftion about their ref{pective fuperiority. But if there had, how does it aifect that queftion? does the landfcape- gardener claim any merit in the grouping of deer, as he does in that of trees? does he

difpofe

[ 142 J

difpofe and drill them, and direct their con- tinual motion and lively action? Were there occafion, it might be fhewn, on the con- trary, that in this refpect the art of painting is much fuperior. The painter does catch and record momentary action; itis the pride and the difficulty of his art: The improver can only prepare the fcene in general, and leave it to chance how the figures may be dil- pofed. This circumftance of continued mo- tion, has, in my opinion, as little to do with the affinity between painting and gardening, as with their refpective fuperiority. What does it then prove? what I am forry to fay there are but too many proofs of already—a defire of pointing out, on every occafion, what might in any way be thought to de- preciate that art, which you have unfortu-

nately chofen to confider as a rival one. The only example you have given of a 1ere object of fight, incapable, at any mo- ment, of being painted, is a view down a

fteep

C 143 J

fteep hill. That is, (if I comprehend it) the immediate and uninterrupted progre/s of the defcent; for the general effect of looking down from a height on lower objects, has been perpetually expreffed in painting. This deficiency of the art (fuch as itis) has been frequently cited as an argument againft the affinity between painting and landfcape gar- dening ; but in what manner it applies, I have not been able to difcover. If it could be proved, that in the eye of a lover of paint- ing, what was incapable of being expreffed upon canvas, was therefore incapable of giv- ing pleafure, the argument would be un- anfwerable; it otherwife hardly deferves an anfwer. As lovers of painting (uniefs I am firangely miftaken) never judge by fo abfurd arule, but by the general principles of the art, the only queftion will be, whether thofe general principles can be applied to a view down a fteep hill, though it be incapable of

being

C144 J

being aCtually reprefented. Can it be doubted, whether the ftyle of the immedi- ate fore-ground and every part of it—the difpofition and character of the trees quite down to the roots—the effects of light and fhadow—the harmony of the colours—the whole of the compofition, may not be judged of in that, juft as in any other landfcape? And let me afk you, whether you would not think a painter tolerably affected, who, if his opinion were defired of all thofe particu- lars, were to an{wer, that he could not judge of them at all, nor of any fcene in zhat direc- tion, for it was incapable of being painted. Had I not fo often heard this circumftance mentioned, and with great triumph, by the adverlaries of painting, I fhould be afhamed of having faid fo much about an impoflibi- lity, that feems to have no more to do with the application of the principles of painting to objects of fight, or with the affinity between

painting

SS a Se

C 145 J

painting and gardening, than the impofli- bility of painting real founds, real fmells, or

real motion.* : When

* I did not intend to have faid any thing more on the fubject of this deficiency, but it has fince been taken up, and con- nected with a doctrine, which, if true, would certainly give weight to the argument that has been drawn from it. This doctrine is, that the chief, or rather the only way in which the art of painting can be ufeful to that of gardening, is by making reprefentations of the parts to be improved: and thence it is inferred, that where fuch reprefentations (from whatever caufe) cannot be made, the painter has no other method of explaining his ideas, or giving directions, fo that, according to the words of Mr. Mafon, “the inftructor leaves his pupil in the lurch, «‘ where afliftance is moft required;”’ that is, (for no other deficiency is mentioned) where it is required to form a judg. ment of the difpofition and effet of objects as they appear to the fpectator when he is looking down a fieep hill. In order to fhew that the doctrine juft mentioned is mine, Mr. Mafon has made ufe of a very eafy, but neither a very candid, nor ingenious method of perverting an author’s meaning—that of adding fome words of his own to part of a fentence of mine. I had faid, that “ the landfcapes of great painters are the only models that approach to perfection ;’’* he has left out the reft of the fentence, which explained and limited my meaning, and has added “for defigners of real icenery to work by.’’4 I thall make no further comment on fuch a ftyle of criticifm, but hall proceed to fay a few more words on this deficiency in the art of painting.

The greateft oppofers of the alliance between that art, and

* Effay on the Picturefque, p. 8 of the firft edit. p- 9 of the fecond. + Effay on Defign in Gardening, by Mr.G,Mafon, page 189, RB; the

[ 146 J

When I reflect upon the whole of your Letter, I cannot help being ftruck with the very fingular contraft between your profef- fions at the beginning of it, and the whole tenor of it afterwards. You fet out by agreeing with me in the general princi- ples of your art, which general principles, according to my doétrine, are precifely thofe

the art of gardening, would probably allow, that the owner of a place might liften with ‘attention and intereft to the remarks of a painter, on the manner in which many groups of trees might be broken, or united; or in which parts of the diftance might be let in, or fhut out; on the picturefque effect which projecting trees, roots, ftones, and broken ground, with a torrent forcing its way among them, had on the eye when viewed from below. On all thefe points he might think his hints and ob- fervations very juft; but fhould they afterwards get to the top of the fame bank, and look down the courfe of the torrent, and fhould the painter hen attempt to expatiate on the fame effects reverfed—the owner, according to Mr. Mafon, might ftop him fhort, and tell him,---You muft leave this to me, and my gar- dener, for you know you cannot reprefent this view in a picture, exactly as it appears to us looking at it from the brink of the precipice; and therefore you can have no idea yourfelf, and can give me no idea, how it fhould be improved, or what fhould, or fhould not, be done. If the painter thought it worth his while to anfwer fuch a reafoner, he would not be at a lofs for arguments, but he probably would do as TI fhall now—not fay another word on the fubject

of

C 147 J

of painting: you alfo allow, that the ftudy of what the higher artifts have done (in other words, the ftudy of thofe principles in their works) is effential to your profeffion. After fuch an exordium, I hoped and expetted, that you would briefly have given a general idea (which, in your great work, you might explain more at large) in what points this ftudy would be ufeful,.and in what it could not be applied, withthe reafons deduced from practical experience. This (if you entered upon the fubject at all) would have been a liberal and candid manner of treating it, which, without obliging you to go into a long detail, might have enlightened your readers: but, in the very next page, you feem to dread the force of the con- ceflions you had. made, and begin your attack on the affinity between gardening and painting; the ftudy of which laf, you had juft confidered as fo effential. In the fucceeding page, the attack proceeds with

L 2 nore

f 148 J more violence. The painter’s landf{cape, in- ftead of being ftudied for the purpofe of improving the landfcapes of the place, is to be hung up, @ /a Hollandoife, at the end of the avenue; it is made ufe of as a fort of fcape-goat, on which all the picturefque fins of the place are to be difcharged, and by means of which, the reft of the grounds may be freed from all painter-like effects, and the poffeffor fecured from colds, agues, and the blue devils. Soon afterwards, the uncontrouled opinions of favages are brought in to illuftrate the ftudies of painters; an ac- quaintance with which (and no flight one) you acknowledge not only to be effential to your art, but that without it, you fhould never have prefumed to arrogate to yourfelf the title of Landfcape-Gardener. The at- tack upon painting is then fufpended during feveral pages, the offenfive war being changed to a defenfive one, in fupport of your ally Mr. Brown. But in the 18th page

you

C149 J

you open your battery again, with an illuftra- tion ftill more degrading to the art than that of the favages: I need not put our readers in mind of it; they willimmediately recollect the comparifon between the love of pictures, and of tobacco. You clofe the whole argu- ment (in which, after the two firft pages, not a fyllable is faid in favour of an art to which you are fo much indebted) with an account of its deficiencies, in not being able to reprefent a gravel walk, a fragrant fhrub- bery, an extenfive profpect, or a view down a fteep hill; to which catalogue may be _ added continual motion.

I muft fay, that, according to your repre- fentation of the art of painting, its powers and effects, you, as an improver, have totally thrown away your time in ftudying what the higher artifts have done in their pi¢tures and drawings; and {till more fo, if it be con- fidered, that the picturefque is to be ba-

L 3 nifhed

[ 56 J

nifhed from improved places. If you take the term picturefque in a very ufual fenfe, as fignifying painier-like, that is, as giving an idea of fuch combinations of form, colour, and light and fhadow, or of any one of them, as ftrike artifis, though they may not pleafe a common obferver, (and which therefore might not be ill diftinguifhed by fome fuch word as painter-like) the banifhing of fuch effects muft make the ftudy of the higher artifts totally ufelefs. If again you take piCtu- refque in my firicter, but far from contra- dictory fenfe of it—as defcribing what is rough and abrupt, with fudden deviations —the banifhing of all fuch objects, will render the above-mentioned ftudy of almoft as little ufe ; for even in the works of thofe painters who have moft ftudied the beauti- ful, you will have difficulty in finding many inftances of it totally detached from the pic- turefque.

As,

[ast J

As, according to my notions, your art very much depends on mixing in proper de- grees, and according to circumftances, the two characters, and in fome cafes on pre- ferving them nearly unmixed—and as fome confufion is likely to arife from the term beautiful being made ufe of both in a gene- ral and a confined fenfe, I will here add a few remarks to what I have faid in my Effay, which may help to clear up a fubject, whofe chief difficulties (like thofe of many others) have arifen from the uncertain and licentious ule of words.

It feems to me, that the term ~beautiful, in its moft general and extended acceptation, is applied to all that allures, attracts, or pleafes the eye in every fiyle. It is applied to rocks, precipices, rugged old trees, tor- rents, &c. as well as to fhrubs, flowers, meadows, and gentle ftreams, and that in

the moft indilcriminate manner; to gay and L 4, brilliant

[ 152 J brilliant colours, however difcordant, for they are highly attractive; and for the fame reafon to peculiar and ftriking, though un- connected and incongruous forms.

Its general acceptation among painters and lovers of painting, is, I believe, no lefs extended, but with this difference—that they apply the principles of painting to thefe va- rious ftyles, and call beautiful, in its ex- tended fenfe, whatever has a connection and union of form, colour, and light and fha-

dow.

Tis ftill one principle thro’ all extends,

And leads thro’ different ways to different ends. Whate’er its effence, or whate’er its name, Whate’er its modes, ’tis fiill in all the fame: ’Tis juft congruity of parts combin’d,

To pleafe the fenfe, and fatisfy the mind.*

This union, this harmony, this connection,

this breadth, this congruity of parts, may

be confidered as one principle, and it feems

to be the grand principle neceffary to all * The Landfeape, p. 2. v.95.

fiyles

£153 J

ftyles; and therefore what poffefles it, though purely fublime, or purely pictu- ref{que, is called by that title of higheft and moft favoured excellence, Beauty, as well as what is more ftrictly beautiful. On this account, objections have been made to my diftinétion, and even that of Mr. Burke, as too narrow and confined ; but I believe the difpute is, as ufual, about names.

Beauty is, in one fenfe, a colleétive idea, and includes the fublime as well as the pic- turefque: In the other, itis confined to par- ticular qualities, which diftinguifh it from the two other characters, juft as their par- ticular qualities diftinguifh them alfo from it, and from each other. Virtue, in the fame manner, is fometimes a collective idea of many qualities; fometimes, as with re- {pect to women, confined to the fingle one of chaftity; or, as anciently, with refpect to men, to that of courage: in fhort, to

what

C154 7] what was moft efteemed in either fex. Vir- tue therefore feems to be in a moral and metaphyfical light, precifely what beauty is with regard to fenfible objects; and no one, I imagine, who underftands modern, or ancient languages, will venture to affert, that becau/e there is a collective idea of virtue, therefore there is no confined idea annexed to the word. The qualities of union, har- mony, connection, &c. are not peculiar to the beautiful as diftin¢ét from the fub-

lime, or the picturefque; they are qua-

lities common to them all; they are gene-

ral, not dilcriminating qualities; they are

neceflary to give effect to the diftinct and peculiar qualities of each of thofe characters, but do not therefore deftroy, or confound them.

For inftance, a number of broken rocks, and rugged old trees, with a ftony torrent dafhing among them, are all ingredients of

the

[ 155 J

the piéturefque—-of the fublime—or of both, Thefe, perhaps, may be fo unhappily mixed together, as to produce little or no effect; but fhould they be ever fo happily united, either in nature or painting, will they there- fore become beautiful in the confined fenfe? In like manner, fmooth undulating ground, frefh verdure and foliage, tender bloffoms and flowers, are all ingredients of the beau- tiful. Thefe alfo may be fo ill combined (and of examples there is no {carcity) as to have but little effect; yet fhould thefe alone be ever fo happily united, will they therefore become fublime, or picturefque in the con- fined fenie? or, I may almoft fay, in any fenfe ?

As thefe are very material points in this difcuffion, I will requeft your indulgence, and that of my other readers, for what al- ways has need of it—defcription of {cenery. I will endeavour (though well aware what

I rifque

f 156 J

I rifque in the undertaking) to exprefs a certain combination of natural objects, which, as nearly as the cafe will allow, may anfwer to my idea of unmixed beauty; and likewife to point out the difference between that, and a fcene merely picturefque, as alfo the difference between both of them, and a fcene of Mr. Brown’s.

It muft be remembered, however, that many of the moft firictly beautiful objects in nature, have a mixture of roughnefs in fome parts, which of courfe cannot be fe- parated from them, and which mixture, as J remarked in my Effay,* fhould ferve as a leffon to improvers, not to aim at fuch a fe- paration in their general fyftem. I muft therefore premife, that the fimply beautiful fcene | fhall attempt to defcribe, is by no means intended to recommend an affected felection of fuch objects as have moft of the

'* Effay on the Pidturefque, page 125 and 128. feparate

E ter 3

feparate qualities of beauty; but to fhew, ‘that even with fuch an affeCted feleCtion, and with as ftudied an exclufion of whatever has any of the feparate qualities of the piCu- refque,* a fcene might be formed, to which, I truft, the painter would not have the fame objection as to one of Mr. Brown’s; though he might not call it picturefque, or chufe it for the fubject of a landfcape.

I eafily conceive, that a perfon who is very much ftruck with a fcene that exhibits the varied, and firongly marked effeéts of bro- ken ground; of fudden projections, and deep hollows; of old twifted trees, with furrowed bark; of water tumbling in a deep-worn channel over rocks and rude ftones, and half loft among fhaggy roots, decaying ftumps, and withered fern; and who views the whole in fome favourable moment of light and fhadow,—may very naturally call that whole beautiful; for he gives to what fo much

* Efffay on the Pi@urefque, page 61.

pleafes

=

i. tae J

~ . pleafes him, the epithet which conveys the

higheft commendation. But fuppofe that, at the extremity of fuch a {cene, he were to enter a glade, or a {mall valley of the fofteft turf and fineft verdure ; the ground on each fide fwelling gently into knolls, with other glades and recefles ftealing in between them; the whole adorned with trees of the {mootheft and tendereft bark, and moft elegant forms, mixed with tufts of various evergreens and flowering fhrubs: all thefe growing as luxuriantly as in garden mould, yet difpofed in as loofe and artlefs groups as thofe in forefts; whilft a natural pathway led the eye amidft thefe intricacies, and towards the other glades and recefies. Suppofe a clear and gentle fiream to flow through this retirement, on a bed of the puref{t gravel or pebbles; its bank fometimes fmooth and level, fometimes indented and varied in height and form, and in parts even abrupt,

[ 159 J abrupt, and the foil appearing ; but all rude- nefs concealed by tufts of flowers, trailing plants, and others of low growth, hanging over the clear water; the broken tints of the foil feen only through their boughs as through a veil, and juft giving a warmth and variety to the reflexions. Imagine that foon after, this brook (according to that beautiful image in Milton) J aes fpread . Into a liquid plain, then fiood unmov’d, Pure as the expanfe of heaven:

that over this lake, in fome parts, trees of the moft pleafing form and foliage extended their branches, while the vine, the honey- fuckle, and other climbers, hung from them in loofe feftoons, almoft into the water: that in other parts the trees retired farther back, and the turf came quite to the brink, and almoft level with its furface: that further on, the bank {welled more fuddenly, and

Was

‘ao 4

was partially fringed and crowned with fuch plants as are moft admired for beauty of leaves and flowers; and that amidft them, {mooth ftones of different forms and fizes, but their furface fometimes varied and foft- ened by the rich velvet of mofles, mixed their mellow and brilliant tints with thofe of the flowers, and the general hue of vegetation ; while the whole was rendered more foft and enchanting by the clear mirror that reflected them.

After having viewed fuch a fcene, let him return at once to the former one; would he then give it the fame epithet he did be- fore? I think he would fenfibly feel, that

the character of each was as diftin¢t as their |

caufes, and that a fcene compofed almoft |

entirely of objects, rough, rugged, abrupt, and angular, with various marks of age and decay, and without one frefh and tender colour, could never be claffed with another

{cene,

ies a

fcene, where foftnefs, flow of outline, luxu- riancy of vegetation, frefhnefs and tender-

nefs of colour, characterized every object. Again, (to fhew how much the accidents of light and fhadow heighten or diminifh the peculiar character of each fcene, accord- ing to their own character) fuppofe, that while he was viewing the rude fcene, a fud- den gleam of funfhine glanced on the rug- ged trunks, and pierced into the receffes of the torrent, while catching lights were fhifting upon the fern, the projecting roots, and broken ground; and that behind the -moffy ftagheaded trees, dark clouds arofe, with breaks between them into the blue fky : the whole would then be infinitely more ftrik- ing. In the other {fcene, however, though fuch a fky, with fuch lights, would alfo have a /firiking effect, yet, from the irrita- tion which always attends fudden contrafts, it would take off from its repofe, its calm M delight;

Pi 28ee 3]

delight; in a word, from its beauty :* but let it be viewed under the influence of a warm fetting fun, or the mild glow of twi- light, and then each fcene will have the accompaniment that moft fuits, and heigh- tens its character. .

Having thus feparated the two charac- ters, try what would be the effect of unit- ing them. Smooth part of the banks in the rough {cene—mix luxuriant trees, flowering plants, and frefh foliage with the gnarled and half decaying oaks—add _ {iill-water and reflexions to the noify torrent—and you will feel how beauty will advance, as picturefquenels retires. Again, break the banks in the other fcene, and make thofe breaks more vifibly abrupt—place fome of the rough oaks, among the fmoother and frefher trees—take away the fhrubs—and let the water dafh among rude ftones—and

* Eflay on the Piéturefque, chap. 6. part 1. you

L 163 |] | you can have no doubt that you would lofe in beauty, what you would gain in pic- turefquenefs.

But fhould Mr. Brown come, and level the banks in both fcenes to one fmooth edge, clump the trees, dam up all the water, and make every thing diftinct, hard, and imeonnected—the beautiful and the pic- turefque would equally difappear, and the infipid and the formal alone remain.

I fhall here wifh to enlarge upon fome few points, in which, I believe, the de- fign and purport of my Effay have by many people been totally mifconceived: at the fame time I know how difficult it is to guard againft, or to correct fuch falfe ideas; particularly when they are cherifhed by thofe, who, perhaps, have been too ready to adopt them. In matters of greater con- fequence, wherever party runs high, he who exprefles warmly his love of freedom, and

M 2 hatred

[ 164 ] hatred of defpotifm—however carefully he may diftinguifh freedom from licentioufnefs, and defpotifm from limited monarchy—muft never hope for candour: he will be treated by zealots, as a friend to anarchy and confu- fion, as an enemy to all order and regularity, as one who would wifh to fee mankind in what is called a ftate of nature. In the fame manner, from fpeaking warmly of certain wild unpolifhed {fcenes, I have been repre- fented as a perfon, who, had I the power, would deftroy all the comforts of a place; all gravel walks and fhrubberies (in which cafe it would at leaft be proper to begin

with my own) would allow no mowing, but.

wet every body in high grafs,—tear their clothes with brambles and briars,—and fend them up to their knees through dirty lanes between two cart-ruts. Though I expected a good deal of this kind of mifconception, yet it feemed to me quite unneceflary to

re

ee

[165 J

recommend thofe comforts which every body was fond of, and with great reafon; efpe- cially as I was not treating of the garden, but of the grounds. My point was to fhew, that there were many ftriking circumftances in nature, which were either neglected, or defiroyed, from a narrow exclufive attach- ment to high polifh; and alfo from extend- ing that polifh too far, and with too little attention to beauty in its more general and enlarged fenfe.

As, notwithftanding thefe mifconceptions, my book has been more favourably received than I had any reafon to expect, I will enter into fome little detail (not very amufing I fear) on the fubject of thofe comforts; and it isa fubjecét, which cannot be more pro- perly difcuffed than in a letter addreffed to you.

In this climate, particularly, gravel walks are indifpenfible; and neatnefs and fymme-

M 3 try

F 1669

try require, that in the moft dreffed parts they fhould be of uniform breadths, and confequently between two regular borders. On that account, however ufeful and even ornamental, they cannot have the playful variety of a path; which, in my idea, is owing; not merely to the variety of its curves, but to the lines of thofe curves being foften- ed into the untrodden grafs, and the tranfi- tions infenfibly made: for thence proceed, what Hogarth calls the waving lines that lead the eye a kind of wanton chace, and to which diftincinefs puts an immediate end. Were a gardener, for inftance, to copy, as nearly as poflible, all the waving lines of a path, and to make them as diftinct as thofe of a gravel walk, nothing could be more abfurd and unnatural.

The whole of this principle is admirably exemplified in the remark of Annibal Ca- racci, on the different ftyles of painting (not

drawing )

[ 167 J

drawing) of Raphael and Correggio. He was fo ftruck with thefe infenfible tranfitions in the works of Correggio, that, in aletter to his coufin Ludovico, he faid, “« That St. Paul of « Raphael, which I formerly looked upon as “amiracle, now feems to me a thing of “© wood; fo hard it is, and fo cutting.” It muft be remembered alfo, that this was the judgment, not of a mere colourift, but of one whole ftyle of drawing was remarkable for its firmnefs and precifion. If, therefore, fucha painter may be fuppofed to have juft ideas on the fubje@t, a pathway (for no objeét is tri- fling which clearly fhews the principle) has more of the requifites of beauty, than any walk with diftinét edges. Still, however, the gra- vel walk, from its fymmetry, its neatnefs, and its drefied appearance, accords much more with what is foft and beautiful, than with what is rude and picturefque. For example, were the fimply beautiful fcene which I have

M 4 jult

hae OS juit defcribed, clofe toa gentleman’s houfe, he would very naturally make a regular gravel walk through it, and he would do very right; for convenience, neatnefs, and a drefled ap- pearance, are in fuch cafes among the firft confiderations. But then, according to the doctrine I have endeavoured to eftablifh, fuch a walk would not improve the beauty of the fcene, though it would give it, what, on another principle, is highly pleafing: On the contrary, however well it might be ma- naged, however artfully carried among the trees and fhrubs, and partially concealed and broken by them, {till the lines of it would ftifly cut acrofs every thing, and never, like thofe of the pathway, play as it were into the other objects, and infenfibly fteal among them. It was on that account I obferved, that near the houfe picturefque beauty (for in that early part of my Effay I had made no objection to the term) muft often be

Jfacrificed

[ 169 J

facrificed to neatnefs ; but that it was a facri- fice, and one which fhould not wantonly be made.* Now, I believe, there are a num- ber of perfons who, were they rich enough, would have regular gravel walks in every part of their whole place; and fhould they make them in fuch a fcene as I have been mentioning, at a diftance from the houfe, I fhould think it a wanton facrifice; for a dry path without borders would anfwer every purpofe of convenience, without taking off from the retired character of the place. In a rude f{cene, the facrifice would be much greater, for fymmetry and regularity are par- ticularly adverfe to the picturefque.4.

With regard to a natural path, either through a meadow, or acrofs more intricate ground, itis, I believe, very generally popu- Jar; a bye-road, from an idea of ruts and

* Effay on the Pidturefque, page 37. “3 I page 64, mire,

tage J

mire; very naturally much lefs fo; though the principal diftinction between both of them, and whatever has a regular border, is the fame. There are, however, bye-roads in dry foils, upon a level furface, and where there are few heavy carriages, that to me have a remarkably cheerful look ; and fo far are they from giving an idea of any thing flovenly, that the manner in which the foil (whether fand or gravel) and the grafs are prefled and blended together, has rather the ap- pearance of an operation of great nicety and attention. I fhould think, therefore, that in all fcenery at fome diftance from the houfe, (particularly of the wilder kind) fuch roads and paths would anfwer every purpofle of comfort and convenience, without formality : they might be dug out, and ftoned juft like any other gravel walk or road, only have no diftinét borders; and what would be a great additional motive, they would give

an

C3171] an idea that the general foil was dry: whereas the borders always feem to indicate that the gravel extends no farther, and was brought there on purpofe.

All the fame principles hold good with refpect to mowing. It is a very common ob- fervation, that fheep are the beft gardeners, and itis a very juft one: the operation of the {cythe, like that of the fpade, is always dif- tinct and uniform; whereas the bite of fheep has the fame kind of effect on the general face of the grafs, that the conftant tread of animals produces on the borders of paths and roads: it leaves flight inequalities, (in a way which the f{cythe cannot imitate) even on the moft clofely bitten turf, and on the fides of banks many tufts of flowers untouched ; all which gives play and variety to the furface. A pleafure-ground can hardly be too nicely mowed, but fome of the cir- cumftances of a fheep-walk might well be

imitated

C 172 J

imitated in particular parts of it, and efpe- cially on banks, or what are called garden flopes. Thefe, when bare, and clofe fhaven, have a remarkably cold, naked, and hard appearance :* dug clumps on their fides give them a bliftered look, and deftroy that play of outline and eafy tranfition, which never fhould be neglected ; but were holes made in them of different fizes, from that of a clump to a fingle plant, and where the foil itfelf was not excellent, filled with rich mould, and no longer dug, when the plants had taken root—not only the lower fhrubs, but tufts of flowers might be fo difperfed (yet ftill connected, and with room to mow be- tween them) that every part of the bank would have the play and variety of wild, and the polifh of dreffed nature.

The whole that has been faid on the fub- ject of diftinét lines, applies in a much

* Effay on the Picturefque, page 108. fironger

C173 J ftronger manner to the boundaries of water. One great reafon for having borders to a gravel walk is, that the operations of hoeing and weeding, (fo neceflary to high keep- ing,) may be regularly and exactly carried on: but water needs no operation of that kind. The very purpofe of a walk makes it inconvenient to have many boughs ex- tended beyond its edge: but they may ex- tend over water without any inconvenience ; and there, befides their breaking the too long continuance of a line, they furnifh ob- jects of reflexion: a very material difference between that and a walk. In dreffed walks and roads, though the curves of paths, and of bye-roads, might give hints for correcting their too great famenefs, yet the fweeps muft in a great degree be regular; and a number of inlets would be ridiculous and inconvenient where you are to walk: butin the banks of water, coves and inlets, with

their abruptneffes and irregularities, may be

partially

[tet a

partially concealed and difguifed; and, if not too frequent, will produce great variety, without any unpleafant break in the out-

line. | To return from this minute detail, to ge- neral diftinétions and principles; all the re- flexions I have made, fince I publifhed my Effay, have confirmed me in my opinion, that whatever be the name applied to ob- jets, the beautiful, and the picturefque, muft remain as feparate as their refpective qualities; as feparate as rough and {mooth, as abrupt and gradual. But though it is ne- ceffary that the improver fhould know their diftinct natures, juft as the painter muft know his diftinct colours before he mixes them, yet it is not on their conftant fepara- tion, as you have propofed, but on blending them as circumftances may point out, that your art muft greatly depend: ftill more however on the thorough knowledge and the application of thofe higher principles of union.

Lae union, connection, &c. by means of which, all the characters of vifible nature are, as it were, incorporated, into one general title of excellence.

The joint compliment you have paid to my friend and me, I can for my own part return with great fincerity; and, on this occafion, I dare fay I may anfwer for Mr. Knight. I fear, however, that as you com- plain of the occafional afperity of my fup- pofed remarks on your opinions, you will not think me grown milder in this open and continued controverfy ; for in the courle of pointing out and explaining the tendency of many indireét attacks and infinuations, which at firft fight might not be obvious, fome degree of fharpnefs in my anfwer would naturally arife: but he who writes a formal challenge, muft not expect a billet- doux in return. I may alfo obferve, that every man (whatever the game may be)

has

[ 176 J

has his particular manner of playing; an allufion, which may not unaptly be applied to writing. I have been told by fome of my friends, that my play is fharp; I believe it may be fo; but were I to endeavour to alter it, I could not play at all. I truft, however, that my friends will vouch for me, that whatever fharpnefs there may be in my ftyle, there is no rancour in my heart.

On reading over what I have written, I could not but lament that there fhould be any controverly between us. Controverfy at beft is but a rough game, and in fome points not unlike the ancient tournaments; where friends and acquaintance, merely for a trial of {kill, and love of victory, with all civility and courtefy tilted at each others breafts—tried to unhorfe each other—grew more eager and animated—drew their fwords—ftruck where the armour was weakeft, and where the fteel would bite to the quick—and all

without

Lag

without animofity. As thefe doughty comba- tants of the days of yore, after many a hard blow given and received, met together in perfect cordiality at the famous rouna tables ; fo I hope we often fhall meet at the tables of our common friends. And as they, for- getting the fmarts of their mutual wounds, gaily difcourfed of the charms of beauty, of feats of arms, of various firatagems of war, of the difpofition of troops, the choice of ground, and ambufcades in woods and ravines---fo we may talk of the many correfpondent difpofitions and ftratagems in your milder art; of its broken picturefque ravines, of the intricacies and concealments of woods and thickets, and of all its fofter,

and more generally attractive beauties. Though I have already, perhaps, dwelt too long on that great principle, Connec- tion, yet I cannot conclude this Letter with- out mentioning an example of its effe¢ts in amore important {phere. Not that its ef- N fects

[ 178 J fects are doubtful, but that it is an exam- ple by no means unapplicable to the fubject on which I have been writing, and one that, jn the prefent crifis, cannot be too much imprefied on our minds.

The mutual connection and dependance of all the different ranks and orders of men in this country; the innumerable, but vo- luntary ties by which they are bound and united to each other, (fo different from what are experienced by the fubjects of any other monarchy,) are perhaps the firmeft fecu- rities of its glory, its firength, and its hap- pinefs. Freedom, like the general atmof- phere, is diffufed through every part, and its fteady and fettled influence, like that of the atmofphere on a fine evening, gives at once a glowing warmth, and a union to all® within its fphere: and although the fepara- tion of the different ranks and their grada- tions, like thofe of- vifible objects, is known and afcertained, yet from the beneficial

mixture,

[ 179 J mixture, and frequent intercommunication of high and low, that feparation is happily difeuifed, and does not fenfibly operate on the general mind. But fhould any of thefe moft important links be broken; fhould any fudden gap, any diftiné& undifguifed line of feparation be made, fuch as between the noble and the roturier, the whole firength of that firm chain (and firm may it ftand) would at once be broken.

May the ftrength of that exalted princi- ple, whofe effects I have fo much enlarged upon, enable us to cultivate this and every other art of peace in full fecurity, whatever ftorms threaten us from without; and as it fo happily pervades the true fpirit of our government and conftitution, may it no lefs prevail in all our plans for embellifhing the

outward face of this noble kingdom,

ee a: AeA eee Till Albion fmile One ample theatre of fylvan grace,* I will * This line has, I believe, been often quoted, and always

as defcriptive of the happy effects of modern gardening on the

[user I will now conclude this long comment on your Letter, and as it is the firft, fol hope it will be the laft time of my addreffing you in this public manner; in every private intercourfe and communication, I fhall al- ways feel great fatisfaction.

I ‘am; Sir; Your moft obedient d Humble fervant, UVEDALE PRICE.

the general face of the country: to me it appears to have exactly the oppofite tendency, and for that reafon I have made ufe of it; though I hope it will not be thought that, like Panurge, I am always crying au rebours. I by no means, how- ever, conceive that Mr. Mafon intended, by f/wan grace, to inculcate fuch a doétrine, as that all parts of an improved place fhould be wild, in thickets, and free from every ap- pearance of art; but that the general features and outline of the place fhould be fo far fylvan, as not to be disjoined from ° the furrounding objeéts. This fingle word fylvan, added to many other inftances throughout his poem, is to me a plain indication that Mr. Mafon had, in his idea, a much more free, connected, and painter-like fiyle of improvement, than he had feen practifed by any of thofe, whofe works he had juft recom- mended to his reader’s attention.

A

DIALOGUE THE DISTINCT CHARACTERS

or

The Picturesque and the Beautiful.

IN ANSWER OBJECTIONS OF MR. KNIGHT PREFACED BY AN INTRODUCTORY ESSAY ON BEAUTY ;

WitH

REMARKS

ON THE

IDEAS OF SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS AND MR. BURKE,

UPON THAT SUBJECT.

VOR, Ill. 0

au NDS

Ndi a 4 Nee cs cy

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.

—<

IT has often occurred to me since I pub- lished my Essay on the Picturesque, that, in order to understand thoroughly the dis- tinction [have endeavoured to establish, the reader should previously be acquainted with that which Mr. Burke has so admirably -pointed out and illustrated, between the Sublime and Beautiful. At first sight, it may appear presumptuous in me to sup- pose, that my Essay is likely to be more familiarly known than Mr. Burke’s; but a ‘new publication is often more generally read at the time, than an old one of infi- nitely greater excellence. On that ground, I may, perhaps, be allowed to give a short abridgment of Mr. Burke’s system, as far oO 2

184

as it relates to the Sublime and Beautiful in visible objects, with which I am chiefly concerned. . Such an account, though per- fectly useless to those who have read the original Essay with attention, may give some idea of its general tendency to those who have never read it, and induce them to consult the work itself; and may also serve to recal its leading principles to those who have only given it a cursory reading. The two great divisions on which Mr. Burke’s system is founded, are self-preserv- ation, and society ; the ends of one or other of which, he observes, all our passions are calculated to answer. ‘The passions which concern self-preservation, turn most- ly on pain and danger, and they are the most powerful of all the passions : what- ever, therefore, is fitted in any way to excite the ideas of pain and danger—that is to say, whatever is in any sort terrible, or conver- sant about terrible objects—is a source of the sublime ; that is, it is productive of the strongest emotions the mind is capable of feeling. The passion caused by the greator

185

sublime in nature, when those causes ope rate most powerfully, is astonishment; and astonishment is that state of the soul, in which all its motions are suspended with some degree of horror. This is the effect of the sublime in its highest degree : the in- ferior effects are imitation: reverence, and respect. Mr. Burke then goes through the principal causes of the sublime—obscurity : power ; all general privations, as vacuity, darkness, solitude, silence ; then considers ereatness of dimension ; infinity; the artifi- fal infinite, as arising from uniformity and SUCCESSION ; and, lastly, the effects of colour, of light, as well as of its opposite darkness, in producing the sublime. If even the bare enumeration of these causes of our strong- est emotions has something striking in it, Ww hat. must they be, when set forth ‘and il- lustrated by a writer of the most splendid and poetical i imagination, that ever adorned this, or, perhaps, any other, country !

The other head under which Mr. Burké classes the passions, that of Society, he di- vides into two sorts—the society of the

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sexes, which answers the purposes of pro- pagation ; and that more general society which we have with men and with animals, and which we may in_ some sort be said to have with the inanimate world. The object of the mixed passion, which we “call love, 1s the beauty of the sexr.. Men are, carried to the sex im general, as itis the sex, and by the common lay, of nature ; but,they are attached to particulars by personal beauty. 1 call beauty (Mr. Burke then adds,) a S0- cial quality ; for where women and men, and not only they, but when other animals, give us a sense of joy and pleasure in be- holding them, (and 1 there are many that. do so) they inspire. us with sentiments of ten- derness and affection towards their persons: we like to have them near us, and we enter willingly into a kind of relation with them, unless we should haye strong reasons to the contrary. This ve 'y: just and natural dis- tinction between the mixed passion of love which relates to the sex, and that perfectly unmixed love and tenderness which is uni- versally the effect of beauty, must be con-

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stantly kept in the reader’s mind, when he is considering this part of Mr. Burke’s sys- tem; according to which, he applies the name of beauty to such qualities as induce in us a sense of tenderness and affection, or some other passion the most nearly resem- bling these.

Mr. Burke afterwards takes a review of the opinions that have been entertained of Beauty, and points out the impropriety of applying that term to virtue, or any of the’ severer, or sublimer qualities of the mind ; and also shews that it does not-consist in proportion, in perfection, or in fitness, or utility: he then examines in what it really’ consists, and what are its qualities. Of. these qualities, I shall merely give the enu- meration, and shall do what will be most satisfactory, by copying Mr. Burke’s own comparison of them with the qualities of the sublime. “ Sublime objects are vast in their dimensions ; beautiful ones compara- tively small : beauty should be smooth and polished ; the great, rugged and negligent: beauty should shun the right line, yet devi-

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ate from it insensibly: the greatin many cases loves the right line, and when it de- viates, makes a strong deviation : beauty, should not be obscure; the great ought to be dark and gloomy : beauty should be light and. delicate; the erent ought. to be solid, and even massive.’

This is-the skeleton of Mr. Burke’ $ SYS- tem of the sublime and beautiful, and ofthe: distinction between the two characters. As far as I have been able to observe, his prin- ciples of the, sublime are more generally admitted than. those of the beautiful; which, : if, true, may be easily accounted, for : we have been used,to consider the terrible as a principal source of the sublime; in poetry, and therefore were prepared to, have that principle extended to the whole compass of visible objects, and to haye it founded on the great basis of self-preservation,: but with respect to the beautiful, we had not,the same preparation ;,and, as, we have |been, aceus- tomed to. apply: the. ‘term in a. very vague and licentious manner, fis attempt,to re- strain the sense within more exact and narrow

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bounds, has not, I imagine, been so favour- ably received. Ifsuch were the case in this country, his ideas of the beautiful were less likely to be adopted in France, as the word beau, from its beingso particularly opposed to joli, almost always, I believe, indicates, that the object is comparatively large ; whereas it is one part of Mr. Burke’s system, that beautiful objects are comparatively small. Some of his other qualities of beauty have been dbjected to by his own countrymen; and altogether, as I conceive, his idea of beauty has been thought too confined. Now, as I have introduced a third distinct cha- racter, that of the Picturesque, I am more interested than Mr. Burke himself could be, to shew that his idéa of the beautiful is not too limited ; for, when three separate cha- racters are to be distinguished from each other, each of them must of course be kept within stricter bounds- |

In order to examine how far the idea of beauty may be limited, the first enquiry will be, whether in those times when beauty of form was most particularly attended to.

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we can trace any idea of the beautiful as separate from all other characters. Lthink it clearly appears, that, although beauty of the highest kind was attributed to all the superior Goddesses, and that the ancient artists endeavoured to express it in their re- presentations of them, yet the beauty of Venus, if not more perfect, was at, least without the smailest tinge of any other cha- racter ; whereas Juno, Pallas, Diana, and the other Goddesses had a mixture of awful majesty, of the severity of wisdom, of war- like valour, or of rigid, chastity. These, in- deed, w ere additrons, to beauty, but.one may properly say, that in this case, additio probat minoren :and what particularly strengthens Mr. Burke’ssystem is, that the effects which all such additions produce, are opposite to those of beauty. The effect of beauty, as Mr. Burke has so well pointed out, whether in the human species, in animals, or, even in inanimate objects, is love, or some pas- sion the most nearly resembling it :, now, the effect of majesty or severity, even when allied to beauty, is ave—a sensation very

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differentfrom love; and thence the poet, who most studied all that belongs to love and beauty, has pronounced, that majesty and love cannot dwell together. Iflove cannot dwell with majesty, it certainly can as little dwell with that severity which arises from the more manly virtues and habits ; especi- ally when accompanied with something ap- proaching to manly strength and vigour of body. Cupid, therefore, tells his; i that he feels a dread of Minerya from her terrible and masculine. appearance ;* and such must always.be, the effect, of any mix- ture of the sublime; with the beautiful ; but the goddess of love, is likewise the goddess of pediect unmixed beauty. .

‘In point of beauty, singly considered, the female form has always had thepreference ; and to that Mr. Burke’s principles of beauty most strictly apply : it may only be doubt- ed whether he be right in saying, without any restriction, that fie tial objects are

* Asda w fANTEp UTD, DCepee YAP ETb, XA Hapom, Kab Desvars

ar dpixn.—Lucian, 19th Dial. of the Gods. ,

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comparatively small. But, on the other hand, there seems to be as little reason for making them comparatively large ; for, we must naturally suppose, in the human figure particularly, some just standard of ‘height and proportion; in which case, all who pos- sessed the qualities of beauty, ‘but wete above that standard, would, as faras size is concerned, begin to rise into’ grandeur 3

and all below it, to sink’ into’ prettiness— beauty being the’ golden inean. It must be owned, howev er, that! like'the Frenéh, the more ancient Greeks appear to have consi- dered Jaree stature as Almost a requisite of beauty, not only in'men, but’ m women: this, I think, may ‘have arisen from thé very high estimation in which strength of body, and, “Consequently, largeness of stature, was held in those ancient tinies, when the words which signify beauty, and beautiful, were first made use of ; and thence that combin® ed sense of the words may have remained; when, from the high perfection and refine- ment of the arts, a more just and delicate.

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notion, and representation of beauty, sepa- rate from strength and size, had taken place. I may here observe, that the most admired statue of Venusnow existing,and the allow- ed model of female beauty, is rather below the common standard ; a circumstance which, as far as it goes, seems to fa- vour Mr. Burke’s idea, that beautiful ob- jects are comparatively small.* But, what-

* There is a passage in Virgil which might be quoted, in opposition to what I have just observed: it is where /Eineas describes the appearance of Venus to him, at the moment when he is going to kill Helen—

«« Alma parens confessa Deam, qualisque videri “ Celicolis, et guanta solet.”

This, however, seems to refer to the proportion of dei- ties in respect to each other ; for it is clear, from the pas- sage itself, that this was an unusual manner of appearing, and that upon most occasions, her stature was no larger than that of women in general. I may add, too, that it was a moment of great importance : she wished to make an immediate and awful impression on /Eineas, and to pre- vent him from doinga deed very unwortby ofa hero, and par- ticularly of her son. She was also to appear on the same theatre with Juno and Pallas; who, though invisible to mortals in general, may be supposed to have been im their own celestial forms, and their full stature.

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ever may be the prevailing opinion on that point, I think it is perfectly clear-that his general principles of beauty—that smooth- ness, gradual variation, delicacy of make, tender colours, and such as insensibly melt into each other—are strictly applicable to female beauty ; so much so, that not one of them can be changed or diminished, without a manifest dimimution of that quality. The manner in which the ancients have represented their male deities, will throw still more light on their ideas of beauty as a ‘separate character. The two most beau- tiful of their gods, Apollo and Bacchus,en- joy perpetual youth ; thatis, they continue in the state in which the male sex is most like to the female; they are represented without beards; their limbs smooth and round, and without any marked articula- tion of the muscles ; in Bacchus, particu- larly, the turn of the limbs, and the style of face are perfectly female; and his extreme beauty and feminine appearance are men- tioned at the same time by the poets, as con- nected with cach other,

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Tu formosissimus alto Conspiceris ceelo ; tibi, cum sine cornibus adstas ro Fae aie * Virgineum caput est.

On the other hand, their awful and terrible deities, Jupiter, Neptune, Pluto, and Mars, are represented in the full strength of man- hood, or of more advanced maturity.

It may be said, perhaps, that in the finest statue of Apollo which has been preserved, dignity is intimatety connected with beau- ty; and that the mixture has produced the highest idea of male beauty, of which we have any model. ‘This is perfectly true,and seems to contradict what I have before ob- served: but, if instead of a few statues sav- ed from the general wreck of ancient,sculp-

* There were mystic representations of many deities, to- tally different from the characters of them in the poets, and from the statues which accord with their descriptions. Not only Bacchus, but even Venus was represented with a beard. Her statue at Paphos, which is said to be the ori- ginal Venus, was an androgynous figure, with along beard. With such representations, however, I have no more concern, than with the form of any Egyptian bieroglys phic.

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ture, we could at once view and compare with each other all the different master- pieces which existed at the same _ pe- riod, we suould probably find the nicest shades of distinction, not only between dif- ferent deities, but between the different charaeters of the same deity.* |The Belvi- dere Apollo is in. the act of slaying the Py- thon ; he is the destroying, not the creating power—* Severe in youthful beauty ;” there may have beea other equally perfect sta- tues of him as the god of poetry and mu- sic; he may have been represented in the enthusiasm of those divine arts, or in the softer emotions of love, a passion to which none of the deities was more subject ; and certainly the expression of rapture or ten- derness, is more congenial to beauty, than

* There cannot be a stronger instance of such a nice dis- tinction, than that of the three famous statues of Scopas, representing three different names of Cupid—that is, three shades or distinctions of the passion of Love. ‘The names are Epes, Wepos, Mobos. There probably are no terms that exactly Correspond with these, in any other language.

197 that of anger, however dignified. In suchi representations of him, his beauty might have born the same relation to that of the statue we possess, as the beauty of the Guidian Venus did to different statues of Juno or Minerva ; that is, would have had. less of awful and severe dignity, and more of loveliness. We may be sure, also, that beauty, and not dignity, was the prevailing character of the Apollo. The highest idea of dignity is found only in the father of gods and men, in the Jupiter of Phidias or Lysippus, of Homer or Virgil; whether he be represented in the terrible exercise of his power, as bending his awful brow, and shaking the heavens with his nod ; or with that mild countenance, by which he dif- fuses serenity through all nature. This seems to shew that dignity, though it may be united with youth, more properly belongs to maturer age; and that may be one rea- son why the addition of it takes off, in some

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degree, from the genuine character and ef- fect of beauty.*

No one can doubt that youth is the sea- son of beauty : it is then that the lines are most flowing, the frame most delicate ; that the skin has its most perfect smoothness and clearness ; and every part that gradual va- riation, which, at a more advanced period, gives way to stronger marked lines and an- gular forms, and ends in wrinkles and de- cay: the same holds good in all animals, and not less in the vegetable world. On this Jast point, Mr. Burke has touched more slightly ; and therefore I shall dwell some- what longer upon it, as [ think it will tend to illustrate the whole subject.

Almost all trees,except the pointed tribe

* The following passage shews the opinion of the an- cients on this subject. ‘ Diligentia ac decer in Polycleto, “ cui quanquam a plerisque tribuatur palma, tamen, ne ni- “hil detrahatur, deesse pondus putant. Nam ut humane ‘¢ forme decorem addiderit supra verum, ita non explevisse “deorum authoritatem videtur. Quin zxtatem quoque “ oraviorem videtur refugisse, nihil ausus preter leves ge- “nas.” Quint. Inst, lib. xii cap, 10.

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of firs, display, when in health and vigour, the greatest variety of undulating forms in their general outline: all groups of them do the same ; and large continued masses of them mark the inequalities of the ground they stand upon, however broken and abrupt the ground itself may be, by the same graceful undulations. As this is the general character of allscenery where there is much natural wood in a flourishing state, and as trees and woods form the principa!] outlines in all pleasing scenery, it surely is a sufficient reason for a strong inherent love of undulating lines in the general face of nature. Such a style of scenery, chiefly prevails in situations free from violent winds, and where the fertility of the soil, corresponds with the ideas impressed by the general aspect : but where the country is rocky and barren, and subject to storms and hurricanes,there the forms of the trees, like those of the rocks on which they grow, are usually abrupt and broken; and ex- hibit marks of sudden violence, or prema- ture decay.

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The trees in the pictures of Claude, who studied what was soft and beautiful in na- ture, are almost all of the first kind ; while those of Salvator Rosa, who chose the wildest and most savage views, are as gene- rally of the second: their forms are indeed so sharp and broken, and they are often so destitute of fohage, that a person used only to the full and swelling outlines of rich ve- getation, would scarcely know them to be trees. ‘These last, however, have frequently a grand, generally a stmiking and peculiar character ; but when we call such broken, diseased and decaying forms (and, I may add, the colours that accompany them) beautiful, either in reality or imitation, we clearly speak in direct opposition to nature; for it is just as unnatural to call an old, de- caying, leafless tree beautiful, as to calla withered, bald, old man or woman, by that most ill-applied term.

If; from trees, we go to those vegetable productions which nature seems to have taken most pleasure in adorning, we shall perceive that the same undulation prevails.

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Fruit and flowers are allowed to be the most beautiful of vegetable productions :. the forms of most kinds of fruit are round, or oval, or at least are composed .of swelling curves without any angles; as they ripen, their form and colour edueiy attain their perfection ; and, no one doubts, that when ripe, that is, when in their most perfect state, they are most beautiful to the eye. In flowers, the exiremities of the leaves are cut into an infinite diversity of shapes, many of which are strongly angular, and and distinguished (as simuiar leaves in trees are,) by the terms sawed, and jagged ; but the general form of the most admired among them, presents, a swelling outline: in them nature seems to act.upon a small, as she does in trees on a Jarge scale ; ior those trees, the particular leaves. of which are di- vided into angles, have often as varied un- dulations in their general outline, as most others of the deciduous sorts. _

I may here observe, that there is as much analogy as their different natures may be

eonceived to afford, between the respective beauty of young trees in their different de- grees of growth, opposed to those which have nearly attained their full size,and that of children of different ages, compared with the form of men and women when it has acquired its full perfection. In the early state of many trees, there are particular circumstances of beauty which they after- wards lose ; such, for instance, as the smoothness of their bark ; but in point of form, the very circumstance of rapid growth, though extremely pleasing in other respects, often produces a comparatively strageling outline ; whereas in full-grown trees, the shoots being less luxuriant and more connected with each other, the whole has a greater fulness of form, a more gradual variation in the general outline, and a richer and more clustering effect in the different parts. Much in the same manner,children, and the unformed youth of both sexes, have generally more delicate skins and complex- ions, than when their growth is completed;

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but the limbs, during that state of increase, have seldom that fulness, that just symme- try and connection with each other, so ne- eessary to perfect beauty.

{ must own itstrikes me, that if there be any one position on this subject likely to be generally admitted, it is, that each production of nature 2s most beautiful in that particular state, before which her work would have ap- peared incomplete and unfinished, and after which it «ould seem to be tending, however gradually, towards decay. It may, perhaps, be doubted, how far the complete state, whether in animals or vegetables, is the precise moment of beauty; some may think it a little before the perfect expansion, though none after ; but in my opinion,

Crude is the bud, and stale the fading flower. On Venus’ breast the full-expanded rose, Alone with all its sweets, and all its richness glows. This state of full expansion and comple- tion in the works of nature, may, I think, be admitted as a general criterion ; and from observing the qualities which are more com~

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nionly found in objects during that state, we surely may be said to obtain more just and rational ideas of the qualities and prin- ciplesof beauty,than from any other source; and those, I believe, Mr, Burke has very ac- curately ‘pointed out, though not on the ground that I have taken, But although these qualities, more or less, exist in all beautiful objects, and though no object can be beautiful that is totally deprived of them,. yet they still are only qualities or ingredi- ents; and beauty is a thing of much too re- fined