The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 13, No. 350, January 3, 1829

It would be difficult to find a subject which has been more fervently treated by poets and philosophers, than the love of gardens. In old Rome, poets sung of their gardens. Ovid is so fond of flowers, that in his account of the Rape of Proserpine, in his Fasti, he devotes several lines to the enumeration of flowers gathered by her attendants. But the passion for gardening, which evidently came from the East, never prevailed much in Europe till the times of the religious orders, who greatly improved it.

Our anecdotical recollections of the taste for gardens must be but few, or they will carry us beyond our limits. Lord Bacon appears to have done more towards their encouragement than any other writer, and his essay on gardens is too well known to admit of quotation. Sir William Temple has, however, many eloquent passages in his writings, in one of which he calls gardening the "inclination of kings, the choice of philosophers, and the common favourite of public and private men; a pleasure of the greatest, and the care of the meanest; and, indeed, an employment and a possession, for which no man is too high or too low." Perhaps John Evelyn did more than either of these philosophers. Temple's garden at Moor Park was one of the most beautiful of its kind; but at the time when Evelyn introduced ornamental gardening into England, there were no examples for imitation. All was devised by his own active mind; and in the political storms of his time, his garden and plantations became subjects of popular conversation; while the intervals of his secession from public life were filled up in writing several practical treatises on his favourite science. At Wotton, in Surrey, may be seen the large, enclosed flower-garden, which was to have formed one of the principal objects in his "Elysium Britannicum;" and this idea has been partly realized by one of his successors.

Andrew Marvell has, however, anathematized gardens with much severity, in some lines entitled "The Mower against Gardens;" and commencing thus:—

Luxurious man, to bring his vice in use,Did after him the world seduce,And from the fields the flowers and plants allure,Where nature was most plain and pure.He first enclos'd within the garden's squareA dead and standing pool of air;And a more luscious earth from them did knead,Which stupify'd them while it fed, &c,

On the other side, old Gerarde asks his courteous and well-willing readers—"Whither do all men walk for their honest recreation, but where the earth has most beneficially painted her face with flourishing colours? and what season of the year more longed for than the spring, whose gentle breath entices forth the kindly sweets, and makes them yield their fragrant smells." Lord Bacon, too, thus fondly dwells on part of its allurements:—"That flower, which above all others yields the sweetest smell in the air, is the violet. Next to that is the musk-rose, then the strawberry leaves, dying with a most excellent cordial smell. Then sweet briars, then wall flowers, which are very delightful to be set under a parlour, or lower chamber window. But those which perfume the air most delightfully, not passed by as the rest, but being trodden upon and crushed, are three, that is burner, wild thyme, and water mints. Therefore, you are to set whole alleys of them, to have the pleasure where you walk or tread." Sir William Temple says Epicurus studied, exercised, and taught his philosophy in his garden. Milton, we know, passed many hours together in his garden at Chalfont; Cowley poured forth the greatness of his soul in his rural retreat at Chertsey; and Lord Shaftesbury wrote his "Characteristics," at a delightful spot near Reigate. Pope, in one of his letters, says, "I am in my garden, amused and easy; this is a scene where one finds no disappointment;"—and within the same neighbourhood, Thomson

"Sung the Seasons and their change."

England can likewise boast of very great names who have been attached to this art, though they have not written on the subject. Lord Burleigh, Sir Walter Raleigh, Lord Capell, William III—for Switzer tells us, that "in the least interval of ease, gardening took up a great part of his time, in which he was not only a delighter, but likewise a great judge,"—the Earl of Essex, whom Lord William Russell said "was the worthiest, the justest, the sincerest, and the most concerned for the public, of any man he ever knew;" Lord William Russell too, who, as Switzer tells us, "made Stratton, about seven miles from Winchester, his seat, and his gardens there were some of the best that were made in those early days, such indeed as have mocked some that have been done since, and the gardens at Southampton House, in Bloomsbury Square, were also of his making." Henry, Earl of Danby, the Earl of Gainsborough, "the Maecenas of his age," the Earl of Halifax, the friend of Addison, Swift, Pope, and Steele; Lord Weymouth, of Longleate; Dr. Sherard, of Eltham; the Earl of Scarborough, an accomplished nobleman, immortalized by Pope, and by the fine pen of Chesterfield; and the Duke of Argyle, with numerous other men of rank and science, have highly assisted in elevating gardening to the station it has long since held.6

Beauty and health are the attributes of gardening. In illustration of the former, we remember a passage from Gervase Markham, thus: "As in the composition of a delicate woman the grace of her cheeke is the mixture of red and white, the wonder of her eye blacke and white, and the beauty of her hand blew and white, any of which is not said to be beautifull if it consist of single or simple colours; and so in walkes or alleyes, the all greene, nor the all yellow, cannot be said to be most beautifull; but the greene and yellow, (that is to say the untroade grasse, and the well-knit gravelle) being equally mixt, give the eye both lustre and delight beyond comparison." Abercrombie lived to the age of eighty, when he died by a fall down stairs in the dark. He was present at the battle of Preston Pans, which was fought close to his father's garden walls. For the last twenty years he lived chiefly on tea, using it three times a-day; his pipe was his first companion in the morning, and last at night. He never remembered to have taken a dose of physic in his life; prior to his last fatal accident, nor of having a day's illness but once."

The association of gardening with pastoral poetry, was exemplified in Shenstone's design of the Leasowes—as Mr. Whately observes—a perfect picture of his mind, simple, elegant, and amiable, and which will always suggest a doubt whether the spot inspired his verses, or whether in the scenes which he formed, he only realized the pastoral images which abound in his songs. That elegant trifler, Horace Walpole, was enthusiastically fond of gardening. One day telling his nurseryman that he would have his trees planted irregularly, he replied, "Yes, sir, I understand; you would have them hung down—somewhat poetical."

PHILO.

NOTES OF A READER

PORTRAIT OF SIR WALTER SCOTT

Appended to a fine portrait of Sir Walter Scott, in the Literary Souvenir for 1829, is the following—by Barry Cornwall:—

We can scarcely imagine a thing much more pleasant indeed, to an artist, than to be brought face to face with some famous person, and permitted to examine and scrutinize his features, with that careful and intense curiosity, that seems necessary to the perfecting a likeness. It must have been to Raffaelle, at once a relaxation from his ordinary study, and a circumstance interesting in itself, thus to look into faces so full of meaning as those of Julius and Leo—and to say, "That look—that glance, which seems so transient, will I fix for ever. Thus shall he be seen, with that exact expression (although it lasted but for an instant) five hundred years after he shall be dust and ashes!"

This was probably the feeling of Raffaelle; and it must have been with a somewhat similar pride that our excellent artist, Mr. Leslie, accomplished his portrait of Sir Walter Scott, which the reader will have already admired in this volume. It is surely a perfect work. No one, who has once seen the great author, can forget that strange and peculiar look (so full of meaning, and shrewd and cautious observation—so entirely characteristic, in short, of the mind within) which Mr. Leslie has succeeded in catching. One may gaze on it for ever, and contemplate an exhaustless subject—all that the capacious imagination has produced and is producing,—the populous, endless world of fancy.

Let the reader look, and be assured that there is the strange spirit that has discovered and wrought all the fine shapes that he has been accustomed to look upon with wonder—Claverhouse, and Burley, and Bothwell,—Meg Merrilies and Elspeth—the high and the low—the fierce and the fair—Cavaliers and Covenanters, and the rest—presenting an assemblage of character that is absolutely unequalled, except in the pages of Shakspeare alone. There is no other writer, be he Greek, or Goth, or Roman, who has ever astonished the world by creations so infinitely diversified. The mind of the author appears so free from egotism, so large and serene, so clear of all images of self, that it receives, as in a lucid mirror, all the varieties of nature.

ON A GIRL SLEEPING

Thou liv'st! yet how profoundly deepThe silence of thy tranquil sleep!Like death it almost seems:So all unbroke the sighs which flowFrom thy calm breast of spotless snow,Like music heard in dreams.Thy soul is filled with gentle thought,Unto its shrine by angels broughtFrom Heaven's supreme abode;Thy dreams are not of earthly things,But, borne upon Religion's wings,They lift thee up to God.Blackwood's Magazine.

A species of fames canina is to be met with amongst schoolboys, which affects the juveniles most when most in health. We remember a gentleman offering a wager, that a boy taken promiscuously from any of the public charity-schools, should, five minutes after his dinner, eat a pound of beef-steaks.—Brande's Jour.

THE GIPSY'S MALISON

Suck, baby, suck, mother's love grows by giving,Drain the sweet founts that only thrive by wasting;Black manhood comes, when riotous guilty livingHands thee the cup that shall be death in tasting.Kiss, baby, kiss, mother's lips shine by kisses,Choke the warm breath that else would fail in blessings;Black manhood comes, when turbulent guilty blissesTender thee the kiss that poisons 'mid caressings.Hang, baby, hang, mother's love loves such forces,Strain the fond neck that bends still to thy clinging:Black manhood comes, when violent lawless coursesLeave thee a spectacle in rude air swinging.—So sang a wither'd Sibyl energetical,And bann'd the ungiving door with lips prophetical.C. LAMB. Blackwood's Magazine.

EPICURES

As a mere untravelled practical Englishman, and, moreover, of the old school, Quin, no doubt, ranks high in the lists of gastronomy: but he is completely distanced by many moderns, both in love for and knowledge of the science. Among the most noted of the moderns we beg to introduce our readers to Mr. Rogerson, an enthusiast and a martyr. He, as may be presumed, was educated at that University where the rudiments of palatic science are the most thoroughly impressed on the ductile organs of youth. His father, a gentleman of Gloucestershire, sent him abroad to make the grand tour, upon which journey, says our informant, young Rogerson attended to nothing but the various modes of cookery, and methods of eating and drinking luxuriously. Before his return his father died, and he entered into the possession of a very large monied fortune, and a small landed estate. He was now able to look over his notes of epicurism, and to discover where the most exquisite dishes were to be had, and the best cooks procured. He had no other servants in his house than men cooks; his butler, footman, housekeeper, coachman, and grooms, were all cooks. He had three Italian cooks, one from Florence, another from Sienna, and a third from Viterbo, for dressing one dish, the docce piccante of Florence. He had a messenger constantly on the road between Brittany and London, to bring him the eggs of a certain sort of plover, found near St. Maloes. He has eaten a single dinner at the expense of fifty-eight pounds, though himself only sat down to it, and there were but two dishes. He counted the minutes between meals, and seemed totally absorbed in the idea, or in the action of eating, yet his stomach was very small; it was the exquisite flavour alone, that he sought. In nine years he found his table dreadfully abridged by the ruin of his fortune; and himself hastening to poverty. This made him melancholy, and brought on disease. When totally ruined, having spent near 150,000l., a friend gave him a guinea to keep him from starving; and he was found in a garret soon after roasting an ortolan with his own hands. We regret to add, that a few days afterwards, this extraordinary youth shot himself. We hope that his notes are not lost to the dining world.

COLLEGE DREAMS

How often in senior common-rooms may be marked the gradual dropping asleep of the learned and venerable members! First, after a few rounds of the bottle, the tongues, which are tired of eulogizing or vituperating the various dishes which had smoked upon the board, gradually begin to be still,—soon conversation comes absolutely to a stand,—the candles grow alarmingly long in the wick,—comparative darkness involves the sage assembly,—and first one, then another, drops off into a placid and harmonious repose. Then what dreams float before the eyes of their imagination! Blue silk pelisses jostling shovel hats, church spires dancing in most admired disorder, fat incumbents falling down in a fit, neat clerical-looking gigs standing at vicarage doors, and these all incongruously commingled with white veils, lawn sleeves, roast beef, pulpit cushions, bright eyes, and small black sarsnet shoes. Suddenly the chapel bell dissolves the fleeting fabric of the vision; and, behold! the white veil is a poet's imagination, the church spire is still at a miserable distance, the vicarage is a Utopian nonentity, and the fat incumbent, in a state of the ruddiest health, is the only reality of the dream.

—Blackwood's Magazine.

WOMAN

Nothing sets so wide a mark "between the vulgar and the noble seed" as the respect and reverential love of womanhood. A man who is always sneering at woman is generally a coarse profligate, or a coarse bigot, no matter which.

ANGLING

We have often thought that angling alone offers to man the degree of half-business, half-idleness, which the fair sex find in their needle-work or knitting, which, employing the hands, leaves the mind at liberty, and occupying the attention so far as is necessary to remove the painful sense of a vacuity, yet yields room for contemplation, whether upon things heavenly or earthly, cheerful or melancholy.—Quarterly Rev.

THE GATHERER

"A snapper-up of unconsidered trifles."SHAKSPEARE.

LAUGHTER

"Laugh and grow fat," is an old adage; and Sterne tells us, that every time a man laughs, he adds something to his life. An eccentric philosopher, of the last century, used to say, that he liked not only to laugh himself, but to see laughter, and hear laughter. "Laughter, Sir, laughter is good for health; it is a provocative to the appetite, and a friend to digestion. Dr. Sydenham, Sir, said the arrival of a merry-andrew in a town was more beneficial to the health of the inhabitants than twenty asses loaded with medicine." Mr. Pott used to say that he never saw the "Tailor riding to Brentford," without feeling better for a week afterwards.

LEGAL PEARL-DIVERS

Every barrister can "shake his head," and too often, like Sheridan's Lord Burleigh, it is the only proof he vouchsafes of his wisdom. Curran used to call these fellows "legal pearl-divers."—"You may observe them," he would say, "their heads barely under water—their eyes shut, and an index floating behind them, displaying the precise degree of their purity and their depth."

GRAMMATICAL LEARNING

An author left a comedy with Foote for perusal; and on the next visit asked for his judgment on it, with rather an ignorant degree of assurance. "If you looked a little more to the grammar of it, I think," said Foote, "it would be better."—"To the grammar of it, Sir! What! would you send me to school again?"—"And pray, Sir," replied Foote, very gravely, "would that do you any harm?"

SWEARING BY PROXY

Cardinal Dubois used frequently, in searching after any thing he wanted, to swear excessively. One of his clerks told him, "Your eminence had better hire a man to swear for you, and then you will gain so much time."

THE MUNIFICENT SAINT

A devout lady offered up a prayer to St. Ignatius for the conversion of her husband; a few days after, the man died; "What a good saint is our Ignatius!" exclaimed the consolable widow, "he bestows on us more benefits than we ask for!"

PRODIGALITY

A petty journalist was boasting in company, that he was a dispenser of fame to those on whom he wrote. "Yes, Sir," replied an individual present, "you dispense it so liberally, that you leave none for yourself."

PHYSIOGNOMISTS

Pickpockets and beggars are the best practical physiognomists, without having read a line of Lavater, who, it is notorious, mistook a highwayman for a philosopher, and a philosopher for a highwayman.

EPITAPH

In the Broadway churchyard, Westminster, on three children, who all died very early, the eldest being little more than three years of age:—

Three children, not dead, but sleeping lies,With Christ they live above the skies,Wash'd in his blood, and for his dress,Christ's glorious robe of righteousness,In which they shine more bright by farThan sun, or moon, or morning star;In Paradise they wing their way,Blooming in one eternal day.G.W.N.

1

Gough's Camden.

2

The Bairam of the Turks answers to our Easter, as their Ramadan does to our Lent.

3

The Drunkard; the Spanish origin of this title is endeavoured to be recognised in its title.

4

Daughter of Dr. Grey, author of Memoria Technica, &c. rector of Hinton, Northamptonshire, and prebendary of St. Paul's.

5

At Shaffhausen.

6

"Portraits of English Authors on Gardening."