XV. THE DESIGN AND THE DELIGHTS OF A GARDEN. The love of famous men for their gardens-Milton, Bacon, Sir W. Temple, Pope, Addison-How to make, and how to mar, a garden-A large proportion of grass indispensable. I NEED not remind you of the many famous men of various professions who in all times and climes have verified Lord Bacon's words, that " gardening is the purest of human pleasures, and the greatest refreshment to the spirit of man," or of the many authors who in prose and in verse have celebrated Flora's charms. Hence it appears (Warton writes in his Essays) that the enchanting art of modern gardening, in which this kingdom claims a preference over every nation in Europe, chiefly owes its origin and its improvements to two great poets, Milton and Pope. He who sang of Paradise Lost, not only sang also of Paradise Regained, but he also tried to set before us the nearest approximation to the latter, which we can see on earth, a beautiful garden of trees, and flowers, and fruits, and sunshine, and singing birds. You will remember his description of "delicious Paradise," with its "inclosure green," its "insuperable height of loftiest shade, cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm," and other goodliest trees, loaden with fairest fruit, blossoms and fruit at once of golden hue, appeared, with gay enamelled colours mixed. Pope not only sang the praises of a beautiful garden and expounded the truest principles and laws for its formation, such as this "He wins all points, who pleasingly confounds, but he realized in their living growth the visions of his fond imagination and the principles of an exquisite taste. Horace Walpole tells us that "Pope had twisted and twirled, and rhymed and harmonized his five acres of ground at Twickenham, till he had formed two or three sweet little lawns, opening and opening, one behind the other, and the whole surrounded with thick impenetrable woods." Here in the sunlight, on the soft and level sward, or in the cool shade of the neighbouring trees, amid graceful outlines, fair and fragrant flowers, and while— "The mellow ouzel fluted in the elm, The redcap whistled, and the nightingale Sang loud, as though he were the bird of day," the poet passed sweet hours of rest and meditation— happily without forebodings of a disaster, when, after his decease, Sir William Stanhope bought the house and grounds, hacked and hewed the trees and shrubs, wriggled a gravel-walk through the midst of them, and in short so destroyed the privacy of the place that, as Walpole writes, "There was not a Muse could walk there, but she was spied by every country fellow with a pipe in his mouth, and the owner was finally compelled to protect himself from public scrutiny by an unsightly wall." And, ever since, the difference between gardeners good and bad has been this-the former have copied, in humble admiration, the outlines, formations, and embellishments of the natural world, while the latter have preferred the novel inventions, absurdities, and vulgarities of their own self-conceit. While the one have repeated to the best of their power the graceful curves and deflections, the infinite but harmonious diversities, the exquisite symmetry and adaptation, of the scenes around them, the other have set to work with measuring tapes and compasses to mark out and define in exact proportions, walks in straight lines, and geometrical beds, in precise correspondence and proportion. In the one case, you have a succession and variety as you stroll among the beds with your view restricted to their separate charms; in the other you see all that is to be seen, the moment you enter the garden. It is the difference between a sweet, modest, gentle woman who welcomes you with an unaffected smile and a voice which is soft and low, and the loud, gaudy, ostentatious, haughty dame, who seems to say, with a patronizing nod, "You're a very lucky fellow to see so much beauty for nothing; be thankful, and pass on." Addison thought that he should be described as "a humorist in gardening," because he mixed together his flowers and vegetables and fruit-trees, but there is nothing incongruous in this combination of things pleasant to the eye and good for food. Who does not admire the blossoms of the peach and the almond, the apple, the cherry, and the plum? Vegetables do not inspire me with the poetical sentiments of the author of— "LINES FOR MUSIC. "The Radish. "There is beauty in the radish, Chorus-Though its heart is in the tomb;' but when they are well grown they are gratifying to the sight as well as to the palate,-for example, the plumes of the asparagus with its scarlet berries, and the rich red foliage of the beet. Wherever there is a garden, and whatever may be the size, there must be a large proportion of grass. "The part next the house," Sir William Temple wrote more than two hundred years ago, "should be a grass plot bordered with flowers." And again, "in a fine garden the first thing that should present itself to the sight should be an open lawn of grass, which in size should be proportionate to the garden. The width of it should be considerably more than the front of the house, and if the depth be one half more than the width, it will have the better effect." On this point there is unanimity among all our great landscape gardeners. "The chief object of all the imitative arts," writes Loudon, "is the production of natural or universal beauty." Few scenes have a more beautiful effect in pleasure grounds than a velvet lawn, presenting a surface of uniform smoothness and verdure. Grand trees, tastefully, that is naturally, planted on these fair lawns, were the primary objects which my dear old friend, Robert Marnock, the best landscape gardener of his day, had in view, when he formed his plans. Mr. Kemp, in his excellent instructions, "How to Lay Out a Garden," writes, "A garden will always look mean without a good open lawn. One broad glade of grass should therefore stretch from the best windows of the house to within a short distance of the boundary, with as little interruption from walks as possible. The plants and groups may be arranged irregularly on either side of this opening, and, where the space will permit, there may be smaller glades through and among these at varied intervals." If such a broad expanse of greensward can be had on two, or even three, sides of the house, the effect of size will be still more fully realized. This arrangement, suggesting any extent of additional attractions, a rose-garden, a rock-garden, a pinetum, a fernery, a winter-garden, a Japanese |