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                        THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY

                              [WILLIAM GILPIN]

                                     A
                                  DIALOGUE
                              UPON THE GARDENS
                                     OF
                          THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE
                            Lord Viscount _COBHAM_
                                     AT
                           STOW IN BUCKINGHAMSHIRE
                                  _(1748)_



                             _Introduction by_

                              JOHN DIXON HUNT

                          PUBLICATION NUMBER _176_
                    WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY
                     UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES
                                  _1976_



    GENERAL EDITORS

  William E. Conway, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library
  George Robert Guffey, University of California, Los Angeles
  Maximillian E. Novak, University of California, Los Angeles
  David S. Rodes, University of California, Los Angeles


    ADVISORY EDITORS

  James L. Clifford, Columbia University
  Ralph Cohen, University of Virginia
  Vinton A. Dearing, University of California, Los Angeles
  Arthur Friedman, University of Chicago
  Louis A. Landa, Princeton University
  Earl Miner, Princeton University
  Samuel H. Monk, University of Minnesota
  Everett T. Moore, University of California, Los Angeles
  Lawrence Clark Powell, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library
  James Sutherland, University College, London
  H. T. Swedenberg, Jr., University of California, Los Angeles
  Robert Vosper, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library


    CORRESPONDING SECRETARY

  Beverly J. Onley, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library




                           INTRODUCTION


Stowe is certainly the most documented of all English Augustan
gardens,[1] and William Gilpin's _Dialogue_ probably one of the most
important accounts of it. He was at Stowe in 1747 and published his
record of that visit anonymously the following year.[2] The _Dialogue_
reached a second edition, with some slight alterations in the text, in
1749 and a third in 1751, when the dialogue was transformed into
narrative.

The _Dialogue_ recommends itself both to the historian of the English
landscape movement, in which Stowe was a prime exhibit, and to the
student of the later vogue for the picturesque, in which Gilpin was a
major participant. His account of Cobham's gardens illuminates some of
the connections between the cult of the picturesque that Gilpin fostered
with his publications of the 1780s and the earlier eighteenth-century
invocation of pictures in gardens.

Perhaps in no other art form were the tensions and transformations in
the arts more conspicuous than in landscape gardening. Gilpin is
especially rewarding in his instinctive attention to these shifting
patterns; although the dialogue form is not very skillfully handled, it
yet allows some play between the rival attitudes. Thus his characters
attend to both the emblematic and the expressive garden;[3] to both its
celebration of public worth and its commendation of private virtue.
While Gilpin seems sufficiently and indeed sharply aware of set-piece
views in the gardens, the three-dimensional pictures contrived among the
natural and architectural features, he also reveals himself as sensitive
towards the more fluid psychological patterns, what one might term the
_kinema_ of landscape response. Above all, his obvious delight in the
landscape garden and appreciation of it vie with an equally strong
admiration for scenery outside gardens altogether.

At the time of Gilpin's visit, Lord Cobham's gardens were substantially
as they are represented in the engravings published in 1739 by the widow
of Charles Bridgeman, one of Stowe's designers. In the year of Gilpin's
visit work had just started in the northeast part of the grounds upon
the natural glade that came to be known as the Grecian Valley.[4]
Whether it is the work of Lancelot ("Capability") Brown, who was then a
gardener at Stowe, or only prophetic of it, the Grecian Valley was a
hint of the less architectural, the more carefully "natural" gardens of
the next decades. Although Gilpin would presumably have seen little of
this most advanced example of gardening style, he would still have
observed what were, in the terms customarily invoked, formal and
informal ingredients at Stowe. From the Rotunda, for example, he looked
over the (now vanished) Queen's Pool, "laid out with all the Decorations
of Art" (p. 15), including the oblong canal itself and various statues;
the first body of water encountered beside the Lake Pavillions (p. 4)
was octagonally shaped and bore an obelisk at its centre. Yet elsewhere
there was frequent occasion to praise prospects that obviously seemed
much less artificial.

If there is any distinction between the two participants in the
_Dialogue_, it is certainly between the one's taste for the evidence of
art and the other's penchant for natural beauties. If their opposition
is not very conspicuously maintained by Gilpin, it is surely because his
own loyalties were divided and were to be reconciled only with some
subtlety and ingenuity later in his career. Callophilus, who cites
Pope's balanced instructions on the mixture of art and nature (p. 26),
is more inclined to appreciate these elements in the garden where
Nature's defective compositions have been improved; the love of beauty
that his name announces is of beauty methodized, though without
exceeding "a probable Nature" (p. 6). On the other hand, his
enthusiastic companion, Polypthon, directs his eponymous ill-will mostly
against the decorations of art: the "hewn Stone" of Dido's Cave
particularly offends him (p. 14), and he "cannot very much admire" the
canal below the Rotunda (p. 15). Yet he seems to share Callophilus'
notions about "mending" nature (p. 23), and it is he who proposes a
landscape that, substituting farm-houses for temples (p. 45),
approximates most clearly to that prettiest of eighteenth-century
landscape ideas, the _ferme ornée_. Polypthon's predilection for scenery
outside gardens seems equally compromised by his ready assent to
Callophilus' praise of the carefully studied contrasts in Stowe gardens:
so that he may turn from the less agreeable vista down the Queen's Pool
and look instead over Home Park, earlier noted for its "rural scene"
(p. 8), and now admired as a natural field--though the cattle prominent
in Rigaud's drawings[5] are not mentioned.

But what is artless for Polypthon is studied by his companion in terms
of art: "the Field is _formed_ by that Semi-circle of Trees into a very
grand Theatre" (p. 15, _my italics_), and his eye registers an
architectural feature--Vanbrugh's Pyramid--as the apt centre of that
field of vision. This particular exchange at the Rotunda suggests that
the usual modern discussion of landscape gardens in terms of their
diminishing formality or escalating informality is less Gilpin's concern
than the mind's involvement with the various landscapes. Callophilus and
Polypthon can apparently both contemplate the same scene from the
Rotunda, southwest towards Kent's Temple of Venus and Vanbrugh's
Pyramid, yet adjudge its artifice differently. What is evidently at work
in Gilpin's record of this garden is the mental experience of it, and in
his case the ambiguities of his visual response.

The complicated geometry that began on Bridgeman's drawing board[6] and
then was transferred to shape the grounds is certainly a survival of the
old-fashioned French style in gardens. Its presence is registered by
Gilpin, who allows Callophilus to note how the Gibbs building, like many
other objects at Stowe designed to be seen along a variety of axes, "has
its Use ... in several Prospects" (p. 8). But the psychology of the
viewer has at least equal weight in Gilpin with the many-faceted object
viewed from different positions.[7] And in those circumstances the
presence of formal or informal designs upon the ground or the
drawing-board matters less than the variety of objects and scenes within
a garden and even, as at the Rotunda, the variety of viewpoint and
interpretation within one vista.

Variety had, of course, always been essential to the English garden and
is a special feature of Stowe, as Pope implies in the _Epistle to
Burlington_ and as the writer of the appendix to Defoe's Tour of 1742
explicitly stated.[8] What we have in Gilpin's _Dialogue_ is both
valuable evidence of response to garden structures, the visitor's rather
than the designer's or client's account, and some hints of how the idea
of variety, itself a painterly term, presented itself to Gilpin in the
days before his picturesque tours.

Gilpin's path through the gardens at Stowe is recorded in the _Dialogue_
as a journal of the mind's responses: the _Advertisement_ (p. iv)
prepares the reader for this with its insistence upon the role memory
has played in its composition. The varieties of mental experience are
sometimes registered by the dialogue form; more often the two visitors
share responses which correspond to the changes of Stowe's scenes. This
is most amusingly illustrated by the "impertinent Hedge" that suddenly
blocks their view (p. 11); Callophilus' ingenious explanation, a curious
parallel to Sterne's blank page in _Tristram Shandy_, is that thereby
the visitor's "Attention" is kept awake (p. 12). More strenuous is their
intellectual involvement with the monuments, statues, and inscriptions
in the Elysian Fields (pp. 19ff), emblems that provoke in Callophilus "a
Variety of grand Ideas" (p. 29). Yet, as the text of the third edition
makes precisely clear (p. 11), in face of the same objects his companion
is more fascinated than he with the formal elements of an art--contrasts
in landscape textures, style of inscriptions (p. 30), or unadmirable
workmanship in bas-reliefs (p. 37). The "Subject[s] for ... Rapsody" (p.
30) that Polypthon mocks were an essential aspect of any Augustan
garden, and six pages later they divert even Polypthon himself into
moralizing. But his stronger inclination is to ignore the iconographical
problems of the Saxon busts (p. 44) and gaze "into the Country" where
his companion solicitously directs his attention to the elegant woods
(p. 45).

The _Dialogue_ allows these and related distinctions to emerge, even
though it does not grapple with their implications. As Callophilus
explains, there should be a grand terrace for strangers, and the shade
of a "close vista" for friends (p. 31). Stowe provided both, just as it
catered to the propensity for retirement--the Hermitage, the Temple of
Friendship, or the Temple of Sleep--as well as for the obligations of
public life--the Temple of British Worthies, the gothic Temple of
Liberty. The most emblematic items in the gardens, upon which
Callophilus predictably expatiates because they were designed to be
easily "read," are in the public places, where they firmly control the
visitors' mental reactions and leave less scope for the private and
enthusiastic reveries of Polypthon. It is a fair assumption that most
visitors to the Temples of Liberty or Ancient and Modern Virtue would
have understood their meanings just as Callophilus did (pp. 40 and
19-21).

But the aesthetic taste of Polypthon for the forms and shapes rather
than the meanings of landscape betrays a potential for less controlled
and more private rhapsodies. His quest "after beautiful Objects" (p. 24)
takes him as much to the northern parts of Great Britain as to gardens
like Stowe, and is obviously prophetic of Gilpin's own picturesque
travels. Like Warton's _Enthusiast or the Lover of Nature_ (1740),
Polypthon rejects "gardens deck'd with art's vain pomps." This is
because he is fascinated with the more radical landscapes of solely
formal elements--the serpentine windings of the river at Stirling (p.
44) or what has been called the abstract garden[9] that comes to
fruition only in the decades after Gilpin's visit under the management
of "Capability" Brown. But the fact that Polypthon finds sufficient
abstract patterns to engage his attention at Stowe suggests that the
Brownian mode was already latent among the richnesses of the
Buckinghamshire gardens.

The "rejection" of Stowe by Polypthon as by Warton also signals their
desire to indulge the enthusiastic fit. His very first reaction upon
arrival at Stowe is an "Exclamation" that expresses _his_ expectations
of aesthetic delight (p. 2). Although his companion is equally
susceptible and is accused by Polypthon of being an "Enthusiast" (p. 49)
and in the third edition of the _Dialogue_ (p. 12) determines himself to
"indulge the thrilling Transport," it seems to be Polypthon whom Gilpin
intends to characterize by expressive as opposed to explanatory
outbursts as they proceed round the gardens. And it is he who concludes
their visit (p. 58) with a catalogue of the various human moods for
which the gardens cater, rather more extravagant in its expressive
fervour than Callophilus' traditional identification of the passions on
faces of other visitors (p. 51).

Gilpin's attention to his characters' intellectual and emotional
reactions illuminates the roles of poetry and painting that have always
been associated with the rise of the English landscape garden.[10] If
Milton's description of the Garden of Eden, so frequently invoked by
eighteenth-century gardenists, implied an informal structure for
designers to emulate, it equally encouraged associationist activity in
gardens. The visual reminders of literary texts at Stowe--_Il Pastor
Fido_ (pp. 2ff) or Spenser (pp. 6-7)--which are sometimes accompanied by
inscriptions which articulate the "dumb poetry" of the decorations
(e.g., p. 13) serve mainly to provoke the imagination of visitors.
Sometimes, as at the Hermitage, Stowe's designers force specific
associations upon the mind; elsewhere they are content to manipulate the
feelings in such a way as to stimulate merely general fancies to which
the visitor himself must put whatever name he wishes. It is consistent
with Gilpin's attempt to identify Polypthon with the less public aspects
of Stowe that it is he who twice formulates his own responses to a
scene: the quotations from Milton (pp. 10 and 52-3) may both describe
the formal features of landscape, but they are also expressive of his
emotional reactions.

Pictures, too, provided associationist focus when recalled in a garden:
the most obvious instance being the probable allusion to Claude at
Stourhead.[11] Yet the actual influence of pictures on landscape gardens
has been generally exaggerated.[12] Where they were perhaps a force
seems to have been in articulating the mental and emotional reaction of
visitors. When Walpole praises William Kent for realizing in gardens
"the compositions of the greatest masters in painting",[13] I suspect
that he is in part rationalizing his own associationalist instinct, when
at Hagley he was reminded of Sadeler's prints or of the Samaritan woman
in a picture by Nicolas Poussin. Allusions to pictures were a means of
focusing evanescent mood.

Gilpin, too, organizes his characters' responses in pictorial focus. The
_Advertisement_ again alerts the reader to these studied painterly aims.
Once inside the gardens Callophilus sees pictures everywhere: variously
disposed objects "make a most delightful Picture" (p. 14), while on at
least three occasions in the first half-dozen pages the ruins,
prospects, and "Claro-obscuro" of trees are discussed in terms that
suggest how his habits of vision have been educated in front of painted
or engraved landscapes which in their turn are recalled to provide a
suitable vocabulary for his experiences.[14] Even Polypthon invokes the
syntax of painting (pp. 25 and 41) to formulate his reactions to
scenery.

It is in these painterly preconceptions of the characters and in
Polypthon's account of Scottish scenery (pp. 23-4) that hints of
Gilpin's later career are announced: the second edition of the
_Dialogue_ even talks of his "Observations" on Stowe, a term that became
a standard ingredient in the titles of his picturesque tours. The
education of sight by the study of paintings and prints was clarified
and expounded in the _Essay on Prints_, written at least by 1758 and
published ten years later. The picturesque tours themselves were started
in the 1770s and published from 1782 onwards. In them Gilpin refines
and enlarges upon the methods and ideas of his Stowe _Dialogue_. The
adjudication between a taste for natural beauties (what his _Three
Essays_ term the "correct knowledge of objects")[15] and the inclination
to adjust them according to painterly criteria (in 1792 termed "scenes
of fancy") is more sophisticated and consistent. He still delights in
the variety of a landscape; but the roughness that Stowe only
occasionally allowed becomes one of his guiding rules in appraising
scenery.

Perhaps the most significant items in the _Dialogue_ for readers of
Gilpin's later writings will be his psychological emphasis and his
attention to verbal and visual associations. Although his picturesque
tours never entirely neglected the topographical obligation to describe
actual localities, it is increasingly an imaginative response to
landscape that is his concern.[16] In the _Dialogue_ he explained how a
good imagination will "improve" upon the sight of a grand object, just
as Burke a few years later was to discuss the essential vagueness of the
sublime and its appeal to the private sensibility. Polypthon's reactions
at Stowe suggest something of this potential in contradistinction to
Callophilus' ability to read the message of each temple or vista. What
Gilpin displays in 1748 is more intricately adumbrated in the _Three
Essays_ of 1792: a scene may strike "us beyond the power of thought ...
and every mental operation is suspended. In this pause of intellect,
this deliquirium of the soul, an enthusiastic sensation of pleasure over
spreads it ...".[17] As the final pages of _Dialogue_ suggest, that
experience was also available in the gardens of Stowe.

But the more mature imagination in Gilpin is tempted simultaneously in
two directions, which perhaps explains why one contemporary was moved to
commend the published tours for being "the Ne plus ultra of the pen and
pencil united."[18] At Stowe he is attentive to the expressive potential
of scenery and its associations ("The Eye naturally loves Liberty" [p.
54]), which are best expounded in the written commentary. But he also
delights in the shapes and forms of scenery, the abstract qualities of
the Stowe landscape that please the eye rather than the mind's eye.
These are best recorded in his watercolours and the illustrations which
become a main feature of his later books.

Bedford College
University of London




                       NOTES TO THE INTRODUCTION


    [1] Before 1753 there was no guide to any English garden except
    Stowe; by then the Stowe guidebook had gone through sixteen
    editions (one in French) plus two pirated editions, the _Dialogue_
    itself which mentions the guidebook on p. 17, and two sets of
    engraved views. For a modern account of Stowe see Christopher
    Hussey, _English Gardens and Landscapes, 1700-1750_ (London:
    Country Life, 1967), pp. 89-113.

    As a companion piece to this facsimile of _Dialogue_, ARS plans to
    publish in its 1976-77 series a facsimile of the _Beauties of
    Stowe_ (1750), with an introduction by George Clarke.

    [2] Gilpin's authorship is argued by William D. Templeman, _The
    Life and Works of William Gilpin (1724-1804), Illinois Studies in
    Language and Literature_, XXIV. 3-4 (Urbana, 1939), pp. 34-5.

    [3] The distinction is made by Thomas Whately, _Observations on
    Modern Gardening_, 5th ed. (London, 1793), pp. 154-5.

    [4] The Grecian Valley is seen first on Bickham's engraved plan of
    1753. This and other plans of Stowe are reproduced by George
    Clarke, "The Gardens of Stowe," _Apollo_ (June, 1973), pp. 558-65.

    [5] See Peter Willis, "Jacques Rigaud's Drawings of Stowe in the
    Metropolitan Museum of Art," _Eighteenth-Century Studies_, 6
    (1972), 85-98.

    [6] See George Clarke, _op. cit._, p. 560.

    [7] On this topic see two essays by Ronald Paulson: "Hogarth and
    the English garden: visual and verbal structures," _Encounters,
    Essays on Literature and the Visual Arts_, ed. John Dixon Hunt
    (London: Studio Vista, 1971), and "The Pictorial Circuit and
    related structures in eighteenth-century England," _The Varied
    Pattern_, ed. Peter Hughes and David Williams (Toronto: Hakkert,
    1971).

    [8] "There is more Variety in this Garden, than can be found in
    any other of the same Size in _England_, or perhaps in _Europe_"
    (p. 290).

    [9] Derek Clifford, _A History of Garden Design_ (London: Faber,
    1962), pp. 138-9.

    [10] "Poetry, Painting, and Gardening, or the Science of
    Landscape, will forever by men of taste be deemed Three Sisters,
    or the _Three New Graces_ who dress and adorn nature": MS.
    annotation to William Mason's _Satirical Poems_, published in an
    edition of the relevant poems by Paget Toynbee (Oxford: Clarendon,
    1926), p. 43. For an anthology of similar comments see _The Genius
    of the Place: The English Landscape Garden 1620-1820_, ed. John
    Dixon Hunt and Peter Willis (London: Elek, 1975).

    [11] See Kenneth Woodbridge, _Landscape and Antiquity_ (Oxford:
    Oxford Univ. Press, 1970), plates 2a, 2b, and 3.

    [12] On this see Derek Clifford, _op. cit._, pp. 140 and 158.

    [13] I. W. U. Chase, _Horace Walpole: Gardenist. An edition of
    Walpole's 'The History of the Modern Taste in Gardening' with an
    estimate of Walpole's contribution to landscape architecture_
    (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 1943), p. 26.

    [14] This is an apt example of the psychological theory of sight
    proposed by E. H. Gombrich, _Art and Illusion_ (New York:
    Pantheon, 1961).

    [15] _Three Essays: On Picturesque Beauty; on Picturesque Travel;
    and on Sketching Landscape_ (London, 1792), p. 49.

    [16] Carl Paul Barbier, _William Gilpin, His Drawings, Teaching
    and Theory of the Picturesque_ (Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press, 1963),
    pp. 71, 106 and 139.

    [17] _Op. cit._, p. 49.

    [18] Cited by Templeman, _op. cit._, p. 228.




                            BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE

                 The facsimile of [William Gilpin's] _A
                 Dialogue Upon The Gardens ... At Stow_
                 (1748) is reproduced from a copy (Shelf Mark:
                 577.e.26[3]) in the British Library. The total
                 type-page (p. 7) measures 156 x 94 mm.




                                     A

                                 DIALOGUE

                             UPON THE GARDENS

                                    OF

                         THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE

                          LORD VISCOUNT _COBHAM_,

                                    AT

                         STOW in BUCKINGHAMSHIRE.


            _Here Order in Variety we see,
             Where all Things differ, yet where all agree._
                                             Mr. POPE.

[Illustration]

                               _LONDON_:

Printed for B. SEELEY, Bookseller in _Buckingham_, and Sold by J. and J.
RIVINGTON, in _St. Paul's Church-Yard_. M DCC XLVIII.

                          [Price One Shilling.]




                                    THE

                              ADVERTISEMENT.


_We read of a great Prince of Antiquity, who would suffer his Portrait
to be taken only by the greatest Artist. And he thought justly without
question: A great Object ought ever to be handled by a great Master. But
yet I am apt to think that if Apelles had not offered his Service, the
Monarch, rather than have had his Form unknown to Posterity, would have
been glad to have employed some meaner Hand.----If Stow had been as
fortunate in this Particular as Alexander, I need not now have taken up
my Pencil: But as this charming Landskip is yet untouched by a Titian,
or a Poussin, a mere Bungler has been tempted to venture upon it._

_But in Excuse for the Meaning of the Performance it may be said, that
it is not designed to be considered as a finished Piece: This View was
not taken upon the Spot, as it ought to have been, but only from my
Memory and a few loose Scratches; if the Public therefore will call it
only a rough Draught, or at best a coloured Sketch, my Ambition will be
fully satisfied. The Curious therefore must purchase it rather from
their necessity than its Merit; as they do meaner Engravings of the
Cartoons, where Dorigny's are not to be had: "'Tis true, Gentlemen, says
the Print-seller, they are far from being good, but take my Word for
it, you will meet with no better."_




                                     A

                                 DIALOGUE

                                 UPON THE

                     GARDENS _of the Right Honourable
                      the_ Lord Viscount COBHAM, _&c._


_Polypthon_ was a Gentleman engaged in a way of Life, that excused him
two Months in the Year from Business; which Time he used generally to
spend in visiting what was curious in the several Counties around him.
As he had long promised his Friend _Callophilus_ to pass away his
Vacancy, at some time or other, in _Buckinghamshire_, he determined upon
it this Year; and accordingly paid him a Visit at * * *. _Stow_ was one
of the first Places where his Curiosity carried him; and indeed he had
scarce got his Foot within the Garden-door, before he broke out into
the following Exclamation.

Why, here is a View that gives me a kind of Earnest of what my
Expectation is raised to!

It is a very fine one indeed (replied _Callophilus_:) I do not wonder it
should catch your Sight: The old Ruin upon the left of the Canal, the
Opening to the Pyramid, the View towards the House, the River, the
beautiful Disposition of the Trees on the other side of it, and that
venerable old Temple, make a fine Variety of Objects. But your Eye is so
taken up with Views at a distance, that you neglect something here at
hand very well worth your notice. What do you think of these two
Pavilions?

_Polypth._ Why really they are light, genteel Buildings enough. I like
these rough Paintings too; they are done in a very free, masterly
Manner. Pray, Sir, do you know the Stories?

_Calloph._ They are both taken from _Pastor Fido_; the disconsolate
Nymph there, poor _Dorinda_, had long been in love with _Sylvio_, a
wild Hunter, of barbarous Manners, in whose Breast she had no reason to
believe she had raised an answering Passion. As she was roving in the
Woods, she accidentally met his Dog, and saw her beloved Hunter himself
at a distance hollowing, and running after it. She immediately calls the
Hound to her, and hides it amongst the Bushes. _Sylvio_ comes up to her,
and enquires very eagerly after his Dog: The poor Nymph puts him off,
and tries all her Art to inspire him with Love, but to no purpose; the
cold Youth was quite insensible, and his Thoughts could admit no other
Object but his Dog. Almost despairing, she at length hopes to bribe his
Affections, and lets him know she has his Dog, which she will return if
he will promise to love her, and give her a Kiss; _Sylvio_ is overjoyed
at the Proposal, and promises to give her ten thousand Kisses. _Dorinda_
upon this brings the Dog: but alas! see there the Success of all her
Pains: the Youth transported at the Sight of his Dog, throws his Arms
round its Neck, and lavishes upon it those Kisses and Endearments, in
the very Sight of the poor afflicted Lady, which she had been flattering
herself would have fallen to her share.--On this other Wall Disdain and
Love have taken different Sides; the Youth is warm, and the Nymph is
coy: Poor _Myrtillo_ had long loved _Amarillis_; the Lady was engaged to
another, and rejected his Passion. Gladly would he only have spoke his
Grief, but the cruel fair One absolutely forbid him her Presence. At
length a Scheme was laid by _Corisca_, the young Lover's Confidant, which
was to gain him Admission into his dear _Amarillis_'s Company. The Lady
is enticed into the Fields with some of _Corisca_'s Companions, (who
were let into the Plot) to play at Blindman's Buff, where _Myrtillo_ was
to surprize her. See there he stands hesitating what use to make of so
favourable an Opportunity, which Love has put into his Hands.----If you
have satisfied your Curiosity here, let us walk towards the Temple of
_Venus_. But hold: we had better first go down towards that Wilderness,
and take a View of the Lake.

_Polypth._ Upon my Word here is a noble Piece of Water!

_Calloph._ Not many Years ago I remember it only a Marsh: it surprized
me prodigiously when I first saw it floated in this manner with a Lake.
Observe, pray, what a fine Effect that old Ruin has at the Head of it:
Its Ornaments too, the Cascade, the Trees and Shrubs, half concealing,
and half discovering the ragged View, and the Obelisk rising beyond if,
are Objects happily disposed.

_Polypth._ Yes, indeed, I think the Ruin a great Addition to the Beauty
of the Lake. There is something so vastly picturesque, and pleasing to
the Imagination in such Objects, that they are a great Addition to every
Landskip. And yet perhaps it would be hard to assign a reason, why we
are more taken with Prospects of this ruinous kind, than with Views of
Plenty and Prosperity in their greatest Perfection: Benevolence and
Good-nature, methinks, are more concerned in the latter kind.

_Calloph._ Yes: but cannot you make a distinction between natural and
moral Beauties? Our social Affections undoubtedly find their Enjoyment
the most compleat when they contemplate, a Country smiling in the midst
of Plenty, where Houses are well-built, Plantations regular, and every
thing the most commodious and useful. But such Regularity and Exactness
excites no manner of Pleasure in the Imagination, unless they are made
use of to contrast with something of an opposite kind. The Fancy is
struck by _Nature_ alone; and if _Art_ does any thing more than improve
her, we think she grows impertinent, and wish she had left off a little
sooner. Thus a regular Building perhaps gives us very little pleasure;
and yet a fine Rock, beautifully set off in Claro-obscuro, and garnished
with flourishing Bushes, Ivy, and dead Branches, may afford us a great
deal; and a ragged Ruin, with venerable old Oaks, and Pines nodding over
it, may perhaps please the Fancy yet more than either of the other two
Objects.--Yon old Hermitage, situated in the midst of this delightful
Wilderness, has an exceeding good Effect: it is of the romantick Kind;
and Beauties of this sort, where a probable Nature is not exceeded, are
generally pleasing.----This Opening will lead us again into the
Terrace.----That large Building, the Inscription lets you see, is a
Temple dedicated to _Venus_.

_Polypth._ Upon my Word a Master has been at work here! I cannot say I
have met with any modern Touching, this long time, that has pleased me
better. I see very little to be cavilled at, with regard either to the
Design, Colouring, or Drawing. These Stories are taken from the
_Fairy-Queen_ I dare say; they look like _Spencer_'s Ideas.

_Calloph._ Yes: that Lady is the fair _Hellinore_, who having left a
disagreeable Husband, and wandering in the Woods, was met by the polite
Sett of Gentry she is dancing with: She likes their Manner of Life, and
resolves to enjoy it with them. Her old Spouse _Malbecco_ is
inconsolable for his Loss: he wanders many Days in search of her, and at
length finds her (you see him at a distance peeping from behind a Tree)
revelling with a beastly Herd of Satyrs. When the Evening comes on, he
follows the Company to their Retirement, takes a commodious stand, and
to his great Torment sees every thing that passes among them. After they
were all laid asleep, he creeps gently to his Lady, and you see him in
the other Painting offering to be reconciled to her again, if she will
return back with him. But _Hellinore_ threatens to awake the Satyrs, and
get him severely handled if he does not immediately leave her. Upon
which the poor Cuckold is obliged to fly, and soon after runs
distracted.

_Polypth._ This loose Story, these luxurious Couches, and the
Embellishments round the Walls, give the Place quite a _Cyprian_ Air,
and make it a very proper Retreat for its incontinent Inhabitant upon
the Roof.----But let us move forward towards yon cubico-pyramidical
Building. It looks like a mighty substantial one: I fancy it is Sir
_John_'s; he is generally pretty liberal of his Stone. However, it
terminates this Terrace extremely well: the Ascent up to it too has a
good Effect.----Pray, do you know what that Field there, upon the right,
is to be improved into?

_Calloph._ I am surprized the Beauty of it, in its present Form, does
not strike you at first sight. It is designed, like a Glass of Bitters
before Dinner, to quicken your Appetite for the elegant Entertainment
that is to follow. For my part, I assure you, I find it a very great
Relief to my Eye, to take it from these grand Objects, and cast it for a
few Minutes upon such a rural Scene as this. Do not you think that
Haycock contrasts extremely well with this Temple? Such Oppositions, in
my Opinion, are highly pleasing.----That Building there is called, _The
Belvidere_. Whatever you may think of it, from this Stand, it has its
Use, I assure you, in several Prospects in the Gardens.----There is a
very good Copy of the _Roman_ Boxers.

_Polypth._ I like its Situation extreamly: it terminates these Alleys,
and that Opening from the Terrace, very beautifully; much better, I
think, than the fighting Gladiator, and _Sampson_ killing the
_Philistine_, do that other vast Terrace; the Objects there, in my
Opinion, are too small for the Distance: Here both are justly
proportioned.

_Calloph._ Your Criticism, I think, is rather too refined: I cannot see
what occasion there is always for a confined View; a more open one
sometimes makes Variety.

_Polypth._ You mistake me: I am not against a Prospect's being bounded
even by the blue Hills in the Country. All I mean is this, that where
Objects are set up to terminate a View, they ought to be of such a
Nature as to afford Pleasure at any Distance they are designed to be
viewed from. These Statues I have been mentioning, are Objects so small,
that at one end of the Terrace it is impossible to make out what is
offered you at the other.----I have too much Envy in my Temper, you must
know, to bear to see any thing perfect; and I came in here fully
determined to cavil, if I saw the least Grounds. But this is a sad
Place, I find, for a malicious Spirit to enter: He whose chief
_Entertainment_ is finding fault, will here meet with a very slender
_Repast_: As the Devil did at Sight of the Creation, in spite of Envy
he must cry out,

    _Terrestrial Heaven!----
    With what Delight could I have walk'd thee round,
    If I could joy in ought: Sweet Interchange
    Of Hill, and Valley, Rivers, Woods, and Plains!
    Now Land, now Sea, and Shores with Forest crown'd,
    Rocks, Dens, and Caves._----

But what have we got here?

_Calloph._ This is the Building we took notice of from the Temple of
_Venus_. I know you are no Friend to a cloathed Statue; so I question
whether you will meet with any thing here to your Taste.

_Polypth._ There is something extremely grand and noble, I have always
thought, in several of the old cloathed Statues, and particularly in
some of the _Roman_ consular ones; yet I must confess I am always better
pleased when I find them without their Finery. Marble, tho' admirably
fitted to express the Roundness of a Muscle, very often fails when it
attempts to give you the Folds of Drapery. The Ancients, it must be
owned, even in their Draperies are often successful; but amongst our
modern Attempts in this Way, how many horrid Pieces of Rock-work have I
beheld!

    ------------ _atram
    Desinet in_ rupem _mulier_----

_Michael Angelo_, whenever he found himself obliged to cloath his
Statues, used to do it with wet Linnen; which is unquestionably the most
advantageous kind of Cloathing for a Statue.

_Calloph._ Since you are not to be pleased here, let us pass on to
something else. There is no Occasion to turn down to that Pyramid; it is
an Object not designed to be viewed at a Yard's Distance; but you will
see its Use by and by, in a Variety of beautiful Views: Let us pursue
our Walk along this Terrace.

_Polypth._ Why here we entirely lose sight of the Garden; our elegant
Prospects are all vanished: I cannot conceive what this impertinent
Hedge does here.

_Calloph._ Did you never experience in a Concert vast Pleasure when the
whole Band for a few Moments made a full Pause? The Case is parallel:
You have already had a great many fine Views, and that you may not be
cloyed, this Hedge steps in to keep your Attention awake. One Extreme
recommends another: The Moralists observe, that a little Adversity
quickens our Relish for the Enjoyment of Life; and it is the Man of
Taste's Care not to distribute his Beauties with too profuse a Hand, for
a Reason of the same kind.

    _Let not each Beauty every where be spy'd,
    Where half the Skill is decently to hide._

But if you must have something to look at, the Park there upon your left
Hand affords you some very fine Views. I like that Equestrian Statue
extremely: It is, in my Opinion, a very beautiful Circumstance. What a
Number of fine Vistas it terminates thro' the Trees, varying its
Appearance in each of them.--There you have a charming View struck out
towards the Temple of Ancient Virtue.

_Polypth._ Methinks that Statue of the Faun stands a little aukwardly:
He might at least, I should think, have fixed himself in the Middle of
the Semi-circle.

_Calloph._ You do not certainly attend to his Use: He stands there to
receive the Eye placed at the other End of that Opening.--That elegant
little Building I think they call _Nelson_'s Seat.

_Polypth._ The Painting is done masterly enough: The Inscriptions, I
see, explain the Designs. Those Boys fixing the Trophies are prettily
imagined. From hence that round Building terminates the View extremely
well. Let us walk to it.

_Calloph._ Hold----turn to the Right a little: We must first pay a Visit
here to the Temple of _Bacchus_.

_Polypth._ We have had a pretty long Walk, suppose we sit down here a
Moment: These Walls seem to promise us some Entertainment.

_Calloph._ Here, Sir, you see represented the Triumphs and Happiness of
Drunkenness. Those musical Ladies too are not improper Companions to
this mirthfully-disposed Deity.

_Polypth._ Some of those smaller Figures are really done extremely well:
And those two Vases are delightfully touched. I cannot say I am so much
pleased with the jolly Inhabitant: Even _Bacchus_ himself certainly
never made so enormous a Figure.

_Calloph._ I am admiring the fine View from hence: So great a Variety of
beautiful Objects, and all so happily disposed, make a most delightful
Picture. Don't you think this Building too is a very genteel one, and is
extremely well situated? These Trees give it an agreeable, cool Air, and
make it, I think, as elegant a Retreat for the Enjoyment of a Summer's
Evening, as can well be imagined.----But it is mere trifling to sit
here: Let us walk towards the Rotunda.----This little Alley will carry
us to _Dido_'s Cave.

_Polypth._ _Dido_'s Cave! why 'tis built of hewn Stone! Here she is
however, and her _pious_ Companion along with her.

_Calloph._ Those two Cupids joining their Torches, I never see but I
admire extremely: they are very finely painted.

_Polypth._ I think they are indeed. But let us be a little complaisant,
and not interrupt these kind Lovers too long. I want to see this
Rotunda.

_Calloph._ There then you have it: I hope you cannot complain of an
heavy Building here. I do not know any Piece of Stone-work in the whole
Garden that shews itself to more Advantage than this does, or makes a
more beautiful Figure in a Variety of fine Views from several Parts of
the Garden: Several Parts of the Garden likewise return the Compliment,
by offering a great many very elegant Prospects to it. There you have an
Opening laid out with all the Decorations of Art; a spacious Theatre;
the Area floated by a Canal, and peopled with Swans and Wild-ducks: Her
late Majesty is the principal Figure in the Scene, and around her a
merry Company of Nymphs and Swains enjoying themselves in the Shade.

_Polypth._ I must confess I cannot very much admire----

_Calloph._ Come; none of your Cavils.--Observe how this View is
beautifully contrasted by one on the opposite Side of a different kind;
in which we are almost solely obliged to Nature. You must know I look
upon this as a very noble Prospect! The Field is formed by that
Semi-circle of Trees into a very grand Theatre. The Point of Sight is
centred in a beautiful manner by the Pyramid, which appears to great
Advantage amongst those venerable Oaks: Two or three other Buildings,
half hid amongst the Trees, come in for their Share in the Prospect, and
add much to the Beauty of it.

_Polypth._ I agree with you entirely; nor do I think this other View
inferior to it. That Variety of different Shades amongst the Trees; the
Lake spread so elegantly amongst them, and glittering here and there
thro' the Bushes, with the Temple of _Venus_ as a Termination to the
View, make up a very beautiful Landskip.

_Calloph._ Here is a Vista likewise very happily terminated by the
Canal, and the Obelisk rising in the Midst of it. There is another close
View likewise towards _Nelson_'s Seat.

_Polypth._ Upon my Word, we have a Variety of very elegant Prospects
centred in this Point. I could sit here very agreeably a little longer.

_Calloph._ Nay, if you are inclined to rest, come along with me: I'll
carry you to where you may indulge your Humour with great Propriety.
Deep in the Retirement of that Wood, the God of Sleep has reared his
Habitation, where he will afford you every Convenience to make a Nap
agreeable----It comes into my Head that I forgot to carry you to a
little Place, which it is hardly worth while to travel back to from this
Distance: It is called _St. Austin_'s Cave, and answers its Title very
well; it appears quite Cell-like, stands retired, and is made of no
other Materials but Roots and Moss. In the Inside a Straw Couch offers
you an hard Seat, and the Walls three humorous Inscriptions, in Monkish
Verse. You may buy them, bound up with Copies of all the other
Inscriptions, in a Six-penny Pamphlet, that will be offered us at the
Inn.----There, Sir, is the Temple of Sleep.

_Polypth._ Why really I must confess _Ovid_ himself could scarce have
buried the senseless God in an happier Retirement. This gloomy Darkness,
these easy Couches, and that excellent _Epicurean_ Argument above the
Door, would incline me wonderfully to indulge a little, if these
beautiful Ornaments did not keep my Attention awake. There is wanting
too a purling Stream, to sing a Requiem to the Senses; tho' the Want is
in some measure made up by the drowsy Lullibies of that murmuring Swarm,
which this Shade has invited to wanton beneath it. You would laugh at
me, or I should certainly throw myself down upon one of these Couches;
I am persuaded I should need no Opium to close my Eyes.

_Calloph._ I own sleeping is a Compliment as much due to this Place, as
Admiration and Attention are to _Raphael_ at _Hampton-Court_. But try if
your Curiosity cannot keep you awake. Come, leave these drowsy Abodes,
they are infectious; like luscious Food they will blunt your Appetite
before the Entertainment is half over. Walk down that Alley, and pop
your Head into the first Door you come to.

_Polypth._ What the D----l have we got here? What wretched Scrawler has
been at work upon these Walls?

_Calloph._ I assure you, Sir, I look upon this as a very great
Master-piece. You must know this House is inhabited by a Necromancer;
and that Inscription lets you see the Hand that has been employed to
paint it. The Composition, Drawing, and Pencilling, I can allow you, are
not the most elegant; yet if the Design and Figures are the Artist's
own, I can assure you he has shewn excellent Humour, and an exceeding
good Invention. That Consultation is well imagined; and so are these
Witches and Wizards; their Employments likewise, their Forms and
Attitudes are well varied.---- But I see this is a Scene not suited to
your Taste: Our next, I hope, will please you better.

_Polypth._ Pray, what Building is that before us? I cannot say I dislike
the Taste it is designed in. It seems an Antique.

_Calloph._ It is the Temple, Sir, of Ancient Virtue; the Place I am now
conducting you to. You will meet within it a very illustrious Assembly
of great Men; the wisest Lawgiver, the best Philosopher, the most divine
Poet, and the most able Captain, that perhaps ever lived.

_Polypth._ You may possibly, Sir, engage yourself in a Dispute, by
fixing your Epithets in such an absolute manner; there are so many
Competitors in each of these Ways, that altho' Numbers may be called
truly eminent, it will be a difficult matter to fix Pre-eminence upon
any.

_Calloph._ You will hardly, I fancy, dissent from me, when I introduce
you to these great Heroes of Antiquity: There stands _Lycurgus_; there
_Socrates_; there _Homer_; and there _Epaminondas_. Illustrious Chiefs,
who made Virtue their only Pursuit, and the Welfare of Mankind their
only Study; in whose Breasts mean Self-interest had no Possession. To
establish a well-regulated Constitution; to dictate the soundest
Morality, to place Virtue in the most amiable Light; and bravely to
defend a People's Liberty, were Ends which neither the Difficulty in
overcoming the Prejudices, and taming the savage Manners of a barbarous
State; the Corruptions of a licentious Age, and the Ill-usage of an
invidious City; neither the vast Pains of searching into Nature, and
laying up a Stock of Knowledge sufficient to produce the noblest Work of
Art; nor popular Tumults at Home, and the most threatening Dangers
Abroad, could ever tempt them to lose Sight of, or in the least abate
that Ardency of Temper with which they pursued them.

_Polypth._ A noble Panegyric upon my Word! why, Sir, these great Spirits
have inspired you with the very Soul of Oratory. However, in earnest, I
confess your Encomium is pretty just; and I am apt to believe that if
any of those worthy Gentlemen should take it into his Head to walk from
his Nitch, it would puzzle the World to find his Equal to fix in his
Room.----That old Ruin, I suppose, is intended to contrast with this new
Building.

_Calloph._ Yes, Sir, it is intended to contrast with it not only in the
Landskip, but likewise in its Name and Design. Walk a little nearer, and
you will see its Intention.

_Polypth._ I can see nothing here to let me into its Design, except this
old Gentleman; neither can I find any thing extraordinary in him, except
that he has met with a Fate that he is entirely deserving of, which is
more than falls to the Share of every worthless Fellow.

_Calloph._ Have you observed how the Statue is decorated?

_Polypth._ O! I see the whole Design: A very elegant Piece of Satyr,
upon my Word! This pompous Edifice is intended, I suppose, to represent
the flourishing Condition, in which ancient Virtue still exists; and
those poor shattered Remains of what has never been very beautiful
(notwithstanding, I see, they are placed within a few Yards of a
Parish-church) are designed to let us see the ruinous State of decayed
modern Virtue. And the Moral is, that Glory founded upon true Worth and
Honour, will exist, when Fame, built upon Conquest and popular Applause,
will fade away. This is really the best thing I have seen: I am most
prodigiously taken with it.

_Calloph._ I intend next to carry you to a Scene of another kind. I am
going to shew you the Grotto, a Place generally very taking with
Strangers.----I thought that Piece of Satyr would catch your Attention:
I hope likewise you will be as well pleased here. This Gate will carry
us into the romantic Retirement. What do you think of this Scene?

_Polypth._ Why really, Sir, it is quite a Novelty: This Profusion of
Mirrors has a very extraordinary Effect: The Place seems divided into a
thousand beautiful Apartments, and appears fifty times as large as it
is. The Prospects without are likewise transferred to the Walls within:
And the Sides of the Room are elegantly adorned with Landskips, beyond
the Pencil of _Titian_; with this farther Advantage, that every View, as
you change your Situation, varies itself into another Form, and presents
you with something new.

_Calloph._ Don't you think that serpentine River, as it is called, is a
great Addition to the Beauty of the Place?

_Polypth._ Undoubtedly it is. Water is of as much Use in a Landskip, as
Blood is in a Body; without these two Essentials, it is impossible there
should be Life in either one or the other. Yet methinks it is a
prodigious Pity that this stagnate Pool should not by some Magic be
metamorphosed into a crystal Stream, rolling over a Bed of Pebbles. Such
a quick Circulation would give an infinite Spirit to the View. I could
wish his Lordship had such a Stream at his Command; he would shew it, I
dare say, to the best Advantage, in its Passage thro' the Gardens. But
we cannot _make_ Nature, the utmost we can do is to _mend_ her.----I
have heard a _Scotch_ Gentleman speak of the River, upon which the Town
of _Sterling_ stands, which is as remarkable a Meander as I have ever
heard of. From _Sterling_ to a little Village upon the Banks of this
River, by Land it is only four Miles, and yet if you should follow the
Course of the Water, you will find it above twenty.----There is an House
likewise that stands upon a narrow Isthmus of a Peninsula, formed by
this same River, which is mighty remarkable: The Water runs close to
both Ends of it, and yet if you sail from one to the other, you will be
carried a Compass of four Miles.----Such a River winding about this
Place, would make it a Paradise indeed!

As we are got into the North, I must confess I do not know any Part of
the Kingdom that abounds more with elegant natural Views: Our
well-cultivated Plains, as you observed before, are certainly not
comparable to their rough Nature in point of Prospect. About three Years
ago I rode the Northern Circuit: The Weather was extremely fine; and I
scarce remember being more agreeably entertained than I was with the
several charming Views exhibited to me in the northern Counties.
Curiosity indeed, rather than Business, carried me down: And as I had my
Time pretty much to myself, I spent it in a great measure in hunting
after beautiful Objects. Sometimes I found myself hemmed within an
Amphitheatre of Mountains, which were variously ornamented, some with
scattered Trees, some with tufted Wood, some with grazing Cattle, and
some with smoaking Cottages. Here and there an elegant View likewise was
opened into the Country.----A Mile's riding, perhaps, would have carried
me to the Foot of a steep Precipice, down which thundered the whole
Weight of some vast River, which was dashed into Foam at the Bottom, by
the craggy Points of several rising Rocks: A deep Gloom overspread the
Prospect, occasioned by the close Wood that hung round it on every
Side.--I could describe to you a Variety of other Views I met with
there, if we _here_ wanted Entertainment in the Way of Landskip. One,
however, I cannot forbear mentioning, and wishing at the same time that
his Lordship had such Materials to work with, and it could not be but he
would make a most noble Picture.----The Place I have in view is upon the
Banks of the River _Eden_ (which is indeed one of the finest Rivers I
ever saw). I scarce know a fitter Place for a Genius in this Way to
exert itself in. There is the greatest Variety of garnished Rocks,
shattered Precipices, rising Hills, ornamented with the finest Woods,
thro' which are opened the most elegant Vales that I have ever met with:
Not to mention the most enchanting Views up and down the River, which
winds itself in such a manner as to shew its Banks to the best
Advantage, which, together with very charming Prospects into the
Country, terminated by the blue Hills at a Distance, make as fine a
Piece of Nature, as perhaps can any where be met with.

_Calloph._ I admire your Taste in Landskip extremely; you have marked
out just such Circumstances as would take me most in a View. I am I find
almost as enthusiastic a Lover of Nature as you are. Yet tho' I can
allow her to have an excellent _Fancy_, I do not think she has the best
_Judgment_. Tho' Nature is an admirable _Colourist_, her _Composition_
is very often liable to Censure. For which Reason I am for having her
placed under the Direction of _Art_: And the Rule I would go by should
be Mr. _Pope_'s;

    --_Treat the Goddess like a modest Fair,
    Not over-dress, nor leave her wholly bare._

Suppose, therefore, we leave your romantic Nature, and continue our View
of her here, where she is treated according to this Prescription of the
Poet.----That Building is called the Temple of Contemplation; those
Bas-relief Heads it is adorned with, are, I assure you, extremely good
ones.

_Polypth._ Pray, Sir, what kind of a Building have we yonder, that
struck our Sight as we crossed that Alley?

_Calloph._ We will walk up to it if you please: It is a _Chinese_ House.

_Polypth._ A mighty whimsical Appearance it makes truly.

_Calloph._ In my Opinion it is a pretty Object enough, and varies our
View in a very becoming manner. Its cool stand upon the Lake, and those
canvas Windows, designed as well to keep out the Sun, as let in the Air,
give us a good Notion of the Manner of living in an hot Country. It is
finely painted in the Inside: Will you look into it?

_Polypth._ Finely painted indeed! Our Travellers tell us the _Chinese_
are a very ingenious People; and that Arts and Sciences flourish amongst
them in great Beauty. But for my Part, whenever I see any of their
Paintings, I am apt, I must confess, in every thing else to call their
Taste into question. It is impossible for one _Art_ to be in Perfection,
without introducing the rest. They are all _Links_ of the same _Chain_:
If you draw up one, you must expect the rest will follow. _Cognoscitur
ex socio_, is an old Rule you know in judging of _Men_; and I believe it
may be applied with as much Propriety in judging of _Arts_. It is hardly
to be imagined that any _Art_, perfect in its Kind, would claim any
Kindred, or even bear to keep Company with such a wretched _Art of
Painting_ as prevails amongst the _Chinese_: Its whole Mystery consists
in dawbing on glaring Colours: Correctness of Drawing, Beauty of
Composition, and Harmony of colouring, they seem not to have even the
least Notion of.

_Calloph._ I like your Reflections extremely. We should certainly have
some more elegant Productions from _China_, if they were able to answer
the Character I have sometimes heard given of them. They have very
little of true, manly Taste, I fancy, among them: Their Ingenuity lies
chiefly in the knick-knack Way; and is, I imagine, pretty much of the
_Dutch_ Kind.----Hold, Sir: This Way if you please. We will walk again
towards the River, and pursue it to the Canal.----It is divided, you
see, into three Parts; one takes its Rise from the Grotto; another from
the Pebble Bridge (as it is called) which is, I think, a pretty Object;
and the third issues from a dark Wood.----There, Sir, let me present you
to an illustrious set of your gallant Countrymen. This Place is called
the Temple of _British_ Worthies; and is gloriously filled, you see,
with the greatest Wits, Patriots, and Heroes, that are to be met with in
our Chronicles.

    _Unspotted Names, and memorable long!
    If there be Force in Virtue, or in Song._

Does not your Pulse beat high, while you thus stand before such an
awful Assembly? Is not your Breast warmed by a Variety of grand Ideas,
which this Sight must give Birth to?----There you have a View of the
calm Philosophers, who sought Virtue in her Retirement, and benefited
Mankind by Thought and Meditation.----Some took the human Mind for their
Theme, examined the various Powers it is endowed with, and gave us, _to
know ourselves_.----Others took _Nature_ for their Subject, looked thro'
all her Works, and enlarged our Notions of a God----While others, warmed
with a generous Resentment against Vice and Folly, made Morality their
Care: To the cool Reasoner serious Philosophy, without any Ornament but
Truth, was recommended: To the gayer Disposition the moral Song was
directed, and the Heart was improved, while the Fancy was delighted: To
those who were yet harder to work upon, the Force of Example was made
use of: Folly is put to the Test of Ridicule, and laughed out of
Countenance, while the moral Scene, like a distorting Mirror, shews the
Villain his Features in so deformed a Manner, that he darts at his own
Image with Horror and Affright.----On the other Side you are presented
with a View of those illustrious Worthies, who spent their Lives in
Action; who left Retirement to the cool Philosopher, entered into the
Bustle of Mankind, and pursued Virtue in the dazzling Light in which she
appears to Patriots and Heroes. Inspired by every generous Sentiment,
these gallant Spirits founded Constitutions, stemmed the Torrent of
Corruption, battled for the State, ventured their Lives in the Defence
of their Country, and gloriously bled in the Cause of Liberty.

_Polypth._ What an happy Man you are, thus to find an Opportunity of
moralizing upon every Occasion! What a noble View you have displayed
before me; when perhaps if I had been alone, I should have entertained
myself no otherwise than in examining the Busts; or if I read the
Inscriptions, they would only have drawn a Remark from me, that they
were well wrote.--The Assembly yonder on the opposite Side of the Water,
will be, I suppose, the next Subject for your Rapsody. Pray what Titles
are those Gentry distinguished by? At this Distance I can hardly find
out whether they are Philosophers or Milk-maids.

_Calloph._ Why, Sir, you have there a View of the Kingdom of
_Parnassus_: That Assembly is composed of _Apollo_, and his
Privy-council. But as I believe they will hardly pay us, by any Beauty
in their Workmanship, for our Trouble, should we go round and make them
a Visit; it is my Advice that we walk directly from hence to the Temple
of Friendship, and so return by that Terrace back again to those Parts
of the Garden that remain yet unseen.

_Polypth._ With all my Heart: But let us turn in here, I beseech you,
and walk as much in the Shade as possible, for the Day grows vastly
warm.

_Calloph._ I am ready to follow you amongst the Trees, not more out of
Complaisance than Inclination: I like a cool Retreat as well as you.
When I plan a Garden, I believe, I shall deal much in shady Walks;
wherever I open a grand Terrace, I intend to lengthen out by its Side a
close Vista: through the one I shall lead Strangers, in the other enjoy
my Friends. I am a great Admirer of walking in a Shade; it is a kind of
Emblem of the most agreeable Situation in Life, the retired one: Every
fantastic View is hid from us, and we may if we please, be Poets, or
Philosophers, or what we will. I own I admire the Taste of these buzzing
Insects, sporting themselves in the Shade; a glaring Sun-shine neither
in the World, nor in a Walk, is agreeable to my Way of thinking.

_Polypth._ If all the World thought as you do, we should have neither
Statesmen to mend our Laws, nor Coblers to mend our Shoes: We should
all run and hide ourselves amongst Trees, and what then would become of
Society?

_Calloph._ If I thought you did not will-fullyy mistake my Meaning, I
would take the Trouble of telling you that I am an Advocate for no other
_Retirement_ than such as is consistent with the Duties of Life. A Love
for which kind of Retirement, _properly qualified_, is _Health_ to the
Mind; but when it is _made up_ unskillfully, it throws us into a _fatal
Lethargy_, from whence begins the Date of an useless Life. Every
virtuous Mind, in a greater or a less Degree, has a turn this Way, and
the _best_, I believe, ought to be at the _most_ Pains to guard against
carrying this Inclination into the Extreme.

_Polypth._ And yet the Annals of most Nations let us see that their
greatest Men have often indulged it; and much for the Benefit of Mankind
too; witness many of the illustrious Worthies we have just been
visiting: You forget the Panegyric you bestowed upon them.

_Calloph._ No, Sir: But do you remember that I placed these cool
Reasoners on the best Side of a Comparison with those who entred into
the World, and spent their Lives in Action? On the contrary, this latter
kind of Men have always stood fairest in my Esteem. The Life of a
Recluse I would recommend to none but a Valetudinarian. We were intended
to assist each other as much as we are able. For my Part, it has always
been my Opinion, that _one good Man_ does more Service in the World,
than _a thousand good Books_.----But we'll drop our Argument at present,
because I see we have finished our Walk.

_Polypth._ Is that Building the Temple of Friendship? I cannot say that
I extremely admire it: But I hope I shall meet with more Entertainment
within, than I am able to do without----Well: This is elegant I must
confess.

_Calloph._ Ay, look round, and tell me if you are not struck by several
very beautiful Objects. Those Busts I assure you are _all_ pretty well
done, and _some_ of them extremely well.

_Polypth._ So they are indeed: But I am chiefly intent upon the
Painting, which I am much taken with: It is by the same Hand, I dare
say, with that in the Temple of _Venus_. That Emblem of Friendship
above the Door, those of Justice and Liberty, and those other Ornaments
upon the Walls, are well touched. What is that Painting upon the
Cieling? I do not rightly understand it.

_Calloph._ Why, Sir, it is a Piece of Satyr: I am sure you will like it
if you will give yourself the Trouble to examine it: It is in your Taste
I know exactly.----There you see sits _Britannia_; upon one Side are
held the Glory of her Annals, the Reigns of Queen _Elizabeth_ and
_Edward_ III. and on the other is offered the Reign of----, which she
frowns upon, and puts by with her Hand.

_Polypth._ Excellent, upon my Word! Faith, this is good! Never accept
it, honest Lady, till Corruption is at an End, and public Spirit
revives.

_Calloph._ With so little Malevolence as I know you are possessed of, I
do not think I ever met with any body in my Life so eager to catch at
any thing to blame; or to whom an Opportunity of that kind afforded a
more seeming real Pleasure than it does to you.----But I know it
proceeds from an honest Nature.----Well: Suppose we continue our
Walk.----I look upon that Statue as one of the finest in the World: I
would give all the Money in my Pocket for a Sight of the Original.

_Polypth._ The Posture always to me appears a little too much strained.
I can scarce throw myself into such an Attitude. Yet it is fine I must
confess.

_Calloph._ You have the best View of it, Sir, from hence. Most of the
Engravings I have met with give us the back View, but I think the Statue
appears infinitely to the best Advantage when taken in Front. The Air of
the Head is delightful, and cannot be hid without depriving the Figure
of half its Life.----I am leading you now to that genteel Piece of
Building which goes by the Name of the Palladian Bridge.

_Polypth._ I have seen, I think, something like it at my Lord
_Pembroke_'s.

_Calloph._ I believe, Sir, the Model was taken from thence. Tho' if I
remember right, the Roof is there supported by Pillars on both Sides.

_Polypth._ I think it is.----But what have we got there? You are taking
me past something curious.

_Calloph._ I beg your Pardon: Indeed I had almost forgot the Imperial
Closet: And I wonder I should, for I assure you I have the greatest
Veneration for its Inhabitants.--There, Sir, is a noble Triumvirate.
_Titus_, _Trajan_, and _Aurelius_, are Names which want not the Pomp of
Title to add a Lustre to them.

_Polypth._ I wish you could persuade all the Kings in _Europe_ to take
them as Patterns. But, God knows, public Spirit is now at a low Ebb
amongst us: There is more of it in that single honest Sentiment, _Pro
me: si merear, in me_, than I believe is to be found in this degenerate
Age in half a Kingdom.

_Calloph._ I see, my good Friend, you can moralize upon Occasion too.

_Polypth._ Moralize! The D----l take me, if I would not this Moment, in
spite of--

_Calloph._ Nay, come, don't grow serious: You know I have long since
laid it down as a Rule, to stop my Ears when you get into your political
Vein. I am not now to learn that there is no keeping you within the
Bounds of Temperance upon that Topic.

_Polypth._ Well then, let us have something else to talk about.----Yon
Wall at this Distance seems to promise us some Bass-relief.

_Calloph._ Yes, Sir; you are there presented with a View of the
different Quarters of the World, bringing their various Products to
_Britannia_. It is a pretty Ornament enough for a Bridge, which, like
the Art of Navigation, joins one Land to another.

_Polypth._ I can't say I much admire the Workmanship. There is a great
Degree of Awkwardness in several of the Figures.

_Calloph._ Why really I am so far of your way of thinking, that I must
own I am no great Admirer of this kind of Work, except it be extremely
fine.----The best thing in this Way, that ever I met with, is a Piece of
Alt-relief which his Lordship keeps within Doors. We shall scarce, I
believe have time now, but we must take an Opportunity of seeing it
before you leave the Country. You will meet with likewise in those
Apartments several very good Pictures: I remember spending an Afternoon
about half a Year ago, in a very agreeable Manner amongst them. But this
Piece of Alt-relief struck me beyond every thing. The Story is
_Darius_'s Tent; and it is so charmingly told, that I have had, I can
tell you, a meaner Opinion of _Le Brun_ upon that Subject, ever since I
have seen it: The Composition is so just, the Figures so graceful and
correct, nay, the very Drapery so free and easy, that I declare I was
altogether astonished at the Sight of it.

_Polypth._ Well; I shall find some Opportunity of paying it a Visit.
There is so much Art required, and so much Difficulty attends doing any
thing in this Way as it ought to be, that when we do meet with a good
Piece of Workmanship of this kind, it affords us an extreme
Pleasure.----So, Sir _William_, have I met you here! I should rather
have expected to have seen you among the _British_ Worthies.----This
same _Penn_, Sir, I assure you, is a great Favourite of mine. I esteem
him one of the most worthy Legislators upon Record. His Laws, I am told,
act still with great Force in _Pensylvania_, and keep the honest,
inoffensive People there in extreme good Order.

_Calloph._ Our Sailors mention his Colony as a very happy Set of People;
they live entirely at Peace amongst themselves; and (bred up in a
strict Observance of Probity) without any Knowledge of an Art Military
amongst them, are able to preserve the most sociable Terms with their
Neighbours.----These Busts seem to have escaped your Observation.

_Polypth._ No, Sir, I am not so incurious as to suffer any thing that
has been in _Italy_ to slip my Notice: Some of those particularly that
stand on the Side next _Rawleigh_, I was exceedingly taken with.

_Calloph._ Pray what is your Opinion of checquered Marble's being made
use of in Busts?

_Polypth._ Why, Sir, I never see any of these party-coloured Faces, but
I am moved with Indignation at the Sculptor's ridiculous Humour. It is
so absurd a Taste, that I cannot conceive how it should ever enter into
a Workman's Head, to make every Feature of a Man's Face of a different
Colour; and it amazes me, I assure you, that we meet with daily so many
Instances of such Absurdity.----In several Parts of the Garden, I have
had various Views of that old _Gothic_ Building; we are now at last I
hope moving towards it. I am so wonderfully pleased with its outward
Appearance, that I shall be disappointed if I don't meet something
answerable within.

_Calloph._ Why, Sir, as old as it looks, I assure you it is not yet
finished. You will meet with nothing ornamental in the Inside; so I
would have you persuade yourself it has already done all in its Power to
entertain you. And upon my Word I think it has done a great deal:
Without it, I am sure this Part of the Garden would be quite naked and
lifeless; nor would any other Part appear with so much Beauty. It puts
one in Mind of some generous Patriot in his Retirement; his own
Neighbourhood feels most the Effects of that Bounty, which in some
measure spreads itself over a whole Country.

_Polypth._ I like this Disposition within, I assure you, altogether as
well as its Form without.----There are two or three Pieces of the best
painted Glass that I have any where met with: Those little historical
Pieces are exceedingly beautiful; and so are those Landskips
likewise.----This Hill I think appears rather too naked.

_Calloph._ Throw your Eye over it then, and tell me if you are not
ravished with the View before you. Nothing certainly in the kind can be
more beautiful or great, than that pompous Pile rising in so
magnificent a manner above the Wood. The Building cannot possibly be
shewn to greater Advantage: The Appearance it _makes_ presents you with
an Idea sufficiently grand; yet your Imagination cannot be persuaded but
that it is in fact much grander, and that the Wood hides a great Part of
what is to be seen from your Eye. This is a most delightful manner of
pleasing: A grand Object left to a good Imagination to improve upon,
seldom loses by its Assistance. Our View likewise is greatly added to in
point of Beauty, by those several other smaller Buildings which offer
themselves, some only half hid amongst the Branches, and others just
peeping from amongst tufted Trees, which make very beautiful little
garnished Dishes in this most elegant Entertainment.

_Polypth._ As you have thus painted the near Objects, let my Pencil, I
beg, come in for a few rough Touches in the backgrounds: Without
something of an Off-skip, your Man of Art, you know, seldom esteems his
View perfect. And in this Landskip there are as many beautiful Objects
thrown off to a Distance as can well be imagined: That Variety of fine
Wood; that bright Surface of Water, with the pointed Obelisk in the
Midst of it; those two Pavilions upon the Banks of the Canal; and the
still more distant View into the Country, are Objects which, in my
Opinion, make no small Addition to the Beauty of your Landskip; or, to
carry on your Allusion, may very well come in as a second Course in your
Entertainment.----Our Attention, I think, in the next Place, is demanded
by this venerable Assembly. That old Gentleman there sits with great
Dignity: I like his Attitude extremely: If I understood the _Runic_
Character, I might have known probably (for this Inscription I fancy
would inform me) by what Title he is distinguished. But the Gracefulness
of his Posture discovers him to have been nothing less than an Hero of
the first Rank. He puts me in Mind of a _Roman_ Senator, sitting in his
Curule Chair to receive the _Gauls_.

_Calloph._ Why, Sir, you have done him great Honour I must own; but you
have not yet honoured him according to his Dignity: He is nothing less,
Sir, I assure you, than the Representative of a _Saxon_ Deity. You see
here

    __Thor_ and _Woden_ fabled Gods_----

with the whole System of your Ancestor's Theology. Walk round the
Assembly, they will smile upon a true _Briton_, and try if you can
acknowledge each by his distinct Symbol.

_Polypth._ I must confess they do not to me seem accoutered like Gods:
For my Part, I should rather suspect them to be Statues of Heroes and
Lawgivers, metamorphised into Divinities by the Courtesy of the Place: I
shall not however go about to dispute their Titles; but like my good
Ancestors before me, acquiesce piously in what other People tell
me.----Tho' I cannot say but that Lady there, bearing the Sun (who
represents I suppose _Sunday_) looks whimsical enough; and makes just
such an Appearance as I could imagine the misled Conception of an
enthusiastic _Saxon_ might mould his Deities into. But in these other
Figures I must own I cannot see Superstition at all characterized, which
you may observe generally forms its Objects of Worship into the most
mis-created things that can possibly enter the Imagination of Man.

_Calloph._ Why, Sir, amongst the _Greeks_ and _Romans_, you may observe
several very well-shaped Deities: The _Hercules_, the _Apollo_, and the
_Venus_, are at this Day Standards of Beauty.

_Polypth._ Yes; but I am apt to attribute this rather to the Imagination
of their Sculptors, than their Priests. To _shew Art_, rather than to
_express Religion_, was the Point aimed at in these enchanting Pieces of
Workmanship.----But when Superstition acted without Controul; when the
fantastic Notions of Priests were put into the Hands of ordinary
Workmen, even amongst the polite _Greeks_ and _Romans_ themselves, Lord!
what misshapen Monsters crouded into Temples, and reared themselves
aloft above Altars! Search other Countries likewise, _Egypt_ and
_Africa_, _China_ and _Japan_, or any Place either ancient or modern,
where Superstition prevails, and I dare engage in the whole Catalogue of
their Deities you will scarce meet with one that bears any thing like
the human Shape.

_Calloph._ Why their Demi-Gods, or canonized Heroes, of which all pagan
Nations had Abundance, were generally I fancy represented in the human
Form. And these _Saxon_ Divinities, I suppose, pretend not to any
superior Rank----But however, as no Degree of Veneration is exacted
from you, you may I think let them rest quietly upon their Pedestals,
without any farther Molestation.----We have a good View into the
Country from hence. Those Woods are extremely elegant in their kind; we
must certainly contrive to take a Ride thither some Evening. They are
laid out in a very fine Manner, and cut into very beautiful Ridings.

_Polypth._ Ay, that is the kind of Improvement that takes most with me
(let us step in here a Moment, we are caught I see in a Shower). I am
altogether of the Poet's Opinion, that

    _'Tis _Use_ alone that sanctifies Expence._

Were I a Nobleman, I should endeavour to turn my Estate into a Garden,
and make my Tenants my Gardiners: Instead of useless Temples, I would
build Farm-houses; and instead of cutting out unmeaning Vistas, I would
beautify and mend Highways: The Country should smile upon my Labours,
and the Public should partake in my Pleasures. What signifies all this
ostentatious Work? Is any Man the better for it? Is it not Money most
vilely squandered away?

_Calloph._ So far from it, that I assure you, considered even in a
public Light, I look upon it as an Expence that may very properly be
said to be sanctified by _Use_.

_Polypth._ I suppose you are going to tell me that it feeds two or
three poor Labourers; and when you have said this, I know not what more
you can say to defend it. But how is it possible for a Man to throw away
his Money without doing some Service in the World?

_Calloph._ How? Why by spending it in gaming, to the Encouragement of
Cheats and Sharpers: By squandering it away upon Lusts and Appetites, in
the Support of Stews and Bawdy-houses: Or by Dealing it out in Bribes,
in opposition to Honesty, and to advance Corruption. In Arts like these,
what Numbers consume their Wealth! It is not enough for them to prevent
Mankind's being benefited by their affluent Circumstances; but they do
their utmost, while they diminish their Fortunes, to make all they can
influence as worthless as themselves. So that I assure you I should look
upon it as a very great Point gained, if all our Men of Fortune would
only take care that their Wealth proves of no Disservice to Mankind.
Tho' I am far from desiring they should stop there: I would have them
endeavour to turn it into some useful Channel. And in my Opinion, it is
laid out in a very laudable Manner, when it is spent, as it is here, in
circulating thro' a Variety of Trades, in supporting a Number of poor
Families, and in the Encouragement of Art and Industry.

_Polypth._ Well, Sir, I confess Wealth thus laid out, is beneficial to a
Country; but still you keep from the Point: I ask whether all these good
Ends would not be answered, and more too, were this Wealth laid out
according to my Scheme, in public Works, or something of an _useful_
Nature.

_Calloph._ And so you have no Notion of any Use arising from these
elegant Productions of Art: You cannot conceive how they should be of
any Service to the Public. Why you are a mere _Goth_, an unpolished
_Vandal_; were you impowered to reform the Age, I suppose I should see
you, like one of those wild misguided People, coursing furiously round
the Land, and laying desolate every thing beautiful you met with. But in
my Opinion, Sir, these noble Productions of Art, considered merely as
such, may be looked upon as Works of a very public Nature. Do you think
no _End_ is answered when a Nation's Taste is regulated with regard to
the most innocent, the most refined, and elegant of its Pleasures? In
all polite Countries the Amusements of the People were thought highly
deserving a Legislator's Inspection. To establish a just Taste in these,
was esteemed in some measure as advancing the Interest of Virtue: And
can it be considered as a Work entirely of a private Nature, for a
superior Genius to exert itself in an Endeavour to fix a true Standard
of Beauty in any of these allowed and useful kinds of Pleasure? In the
Way of Gardening particularly, the Taste of the Nation has long been so
depraved, that I should think we might be obliged to any one that would
undertake to reform it. While a Taste for Painting, Music, Architecture,
and other polite Arts, in some measure prevailed amongst us, our Gardens
for the most Part were laid out in so formal, aukward, and wretched a
Manner, that they were really a Scandal to the very Genius of the
Nation; a Man of Taste was shocked whenever he set his Foot into them.
But _Stow_, it is to be hoped, may work some Reformation: I would have
our Country Squires flock hither two or three times in a Year, by way of
Improvement, and after they have looked about them a little, return Home
with new Notions, and begin to see the Absurdity of their clipped Yews,
their Box-wood Borders, their flourished Parterres, and their lofty
Brick-walls.----You may smile, but I assure you such an Improvement of
public Taste, tho' there is no Occasion to consider it as a matter of
the first Importance, is certainly a Concern that ought by no means to
be neglected. Perhaps indeed I may carry the Matter farther than the
generality of People; but to me I must own there appears a very visible
Connection between an _improved_ Taste for Pleasure, and a Taste for
Virtue: When I sit ravished at an Oratorio, or stand astonished before
the Cartoons, or enjoy myself in these happy Walks, I can feel my Mind
expand itself, my Notions enlarge, and my Heart better disposed either
for a religious Thought, or a benevolent Action: In a Word, I cannot
help imagining a Taste for these exalted Pleasures contributes towards
making me a better Man.

_Polypth._ Good God! what an Enthusiast you are! Polite Arts improve
Virtue! an Assertion indeed for a Philosopher to make. Why are they not
always considered as having a natural Tendency to Luxury, to Riot, and
Licentiousness?

_Calloph._ No more, in my Opinion, than a wholesome Meal has to a
Surfeit, or reading the Scriptures to Heresy: All things are capable, we
know, of Abuse; and perhaps the best things the most capable: And tho'
this may indeed argue a Depravity in _us_, yet it by no means, I think,
argues a Tendency in _them_ to deprave us. However, (to let what I have
yet said stand for nothing) I can tell you one very great Piece of
Service arising to the Country from Wealth laid out in this elegant
manner, which you seem so much to grumble at; and that is, the Money
spent in the Neighbourhood by the Company daily crouding hither to
satisfy their Curiosity. We have a kind of a continual Fair; and I have
heard several of the Inhabitants of the neighbouring Town assert, that
it is one of the best Trades they have: Their Inns, their Shops, their
Farms, and Shambles, all find their Account in it: So that, in my
Opinion, viewed in this Light only, such Productions of Art may be
considered as very great Advantages to every Neighbourhood that enjoys
the lucky Situation of being placed near them.----To this Advantage
might be added, the great Degree of Pleasure from hence derived daily to
such Numbers of People: A Place like this is a kind of keeping open
House, there is a Repast at all times ready for the Entertainment of
Strangers. And sure if you have any Degree of Benevolence, you must
think an _useful End_ answered in thus affording an innocent
Gratification to so many of your Fellow-creatures. A _Sunday_ Evening
spent here, adds a new Relish to the Day of Rest, and makes the Sabbath
appear more chearful to the Labourer after a toilsome Week. For my
Part, I assure you I have scarce experienced a greater Pleasure than I
have often felt upon meeting a Variety of pleased Faces in these Walks:
All Care and Uneasiness seems to be left behind at the Garden-door, and
People enter here fully resolved to enjoy themselves, and the several
beautiful Objects around them: In one Part a Face presents itself marked
with the Passion of gaping Wonder; in another you meet a Countenance
bearing the Appearance of a more rational Pleasure; and in a third, a
Sett of Features composed into serene Joy; while the Man of Taste is
seen examining every Beauty with a curious Eye, and discovering his
Approbation in an half-formed Smile.--To this I might still add another
Advantage, of a public Nature, derived from these elegant Productions of
Art; and that is their Tendency to raise us in the Opinion of
Foreigners. If our Nation had nothing of this kind to boast of, all our
Neighbours would look upon us a stupid, tasteless Set of People, and not
worth visiting. So that for the Credit of the Country, I think,
something of this kind ought to be exhibited amongst us. Our public
Virtues, if we have any, would not, I dare say, appear to less Advantage
when recommended by these Embellishments of Art.

_Polypth._ I wonder you should not know me better than to imagine I am
always in earnest when I find fault. My Thoughts and yours, I assure
you, agree exactly upon this Subject. I only wanted to engage you in
some Discourse till the Shower was over; and as the Sky seems now quite
clear, if you will, we'll venture out, and visit what we have yet to
see.

_Calloph._ You are a humorous Fellow: This is not the first time you
have made me play my Lungs to no purpose.----As we walk along this
Terrace, you may observe the great Advantage of low Walls: By this means
the Garden is extended beyond its Limits, and takes in every thing
entertaining that is to be met with in the range of half a County.
Villages, Works of Husbandry, Groups of Cattle, Herds of Deer, and a
Variety of other beautiful Objects, are brought into the Garden, and
make a Part of the Plan. Even to the _nicest_ Taste these rural Scenes
are highly delightful.

_Polypth._ Nay you may add, that whoever has no Relish for them, gives
Reason for a Suspicion that he has no Taste at all.

    _Straight mine Eye hath caught new Pleasures,
    Whilst the Landskip round it measures;
    Russet Lawns, and Fallows gray.
    Where the nibbling flocks do stray;
    Mountains, on whose barren Breast
    The labouring Clouds do often rest;
    Meadows trim with Daisies pide,
    Shallow Brooks, and Rivers wide:
    Towers and Battlements it sees
    Bosom'd high in tufted Trees,
    Where perhaps some Beauty lies,
    The Cynosure of neighbouring Eyes.
    Hard by a Cottage Chimney smokes,
    From betwixt two aged Oaks._

_Calloph._ Can you repeat no more? I could have listened with great
Pleasure if you had gone on with the whole Piece. It is quite Nature:
That View of an old Castle, _bosom'd high in tufted Trees_, pleases me
exceedingly: And the two following Lines,

    _Where perhaps some Beauty lies,
    The Cynosure of neighbouring Eyes,_

give it an elegant, romantic Air; and add greatly to the Idea before
conceived.----But to pursue our former Argument: It must be owned indeed
that these Walks want such Openings into the Country as little as any
Place can well be imagined to do; yet even _Stow_ itself, I assure you,
is much improved by them. They contrast beautifully with this more
polished Nature, and set it off to greater Advantage. After surfeiting
itself with the Feast here provided for it, the Eye, by using a little
Exercise in travelling about the Country, grows hungry again, and
returns to the Entertainment with fresh Appetite. Besides, there is
nothing so distasteful to the Eye as a confined Prospect (where the
Reasonableness of it does not appear) especially if a dead Wall, or any
other such disagreeable Object steps in between. The Eye naturally loves
Liberty, and when it is in quest of Prospects, will not rest content
with the most beautiful Dispositions of Art, confined within a narrow
Compass, but (as soon as the Novelty of the Sight is over) will begin to
grow dissatisfied, till the whole Limits of the Horizon be given it to
range through.

_Polypth._ The Eye, according to your Account, seems to be something
like a Bee: Plant as many Flowers as you will near its Hive, yet still
the little Insect will be discontented, unless it be allowed to wander
o'er the Country, and be its own Caterer.----I have got a few very
severe Exclamations at my Tongue's End, which I will not vent till you
have told me the Architect's Name, who has loaded the Ground with that
monstrous Piece of Building, tho' I believe I can guess him without
your Information.

_Calloph._ Suffer me to intercede in his Behalf. You are so unmerciful a
Reprover, that I have not Patience to hear you. The Room above is
designed, I am told, to be fitted up in a very elegant manner; but as
very little is yet done to it, we shall find nothing I fancy to answer
the Trouble of going up Stairs.----This Part of the Garden, you see, is
yet unfinished. If we have the Pleasure of your Company in this Country
next Year, you will see I dare say great Alterations here. That _Base_
is to shoot up into a lofty Monument: And several of those Objects you
see before you are to take new Forms upon them.

_Polypth._ Yonder likewise seems to be a Monument[19] rising: Pray who is
it intended to do Honour to?

_Calloph._ Why, Sir, it is intended to do Honour to a Gentleman, who has
done Honour to his Country: It is dedicated to the Memory of Captain
_Grenville_, and joins with the Nation in applauding a Man, who pushed
forwards by Honour, and a Love for his Country, met Danger and Death
with the Spirit of a _Roman_.----Well, how do you like the Plan which
you see laid out before you?

    [19] Since this View of the Gardens was taken, the Monument here
    spoken of has been finished. The following Lines are a Translation
    of its Inscription, which in the Original is wrote in Latin.

As a Monument To testify both his Applause and Grief, RICHARD Lord
Viscount COBHAM Erected this Naval Pillar to the Memory of his Nephew
CAPTAIN GRENVILLE, Who commanding a Ship of War in the _British_ Fleet
Under ADMIRAL ANSON, In an Engagement with the _French_, was Mortally
wounded upon the Thigh By a Fragment of his shattered Ship; Yet with his
last Breath had the Bravery to cry out, How much more desireable is it
thus to meet Death, "Than, convicted of Cowardice, to meet Justice!"

May this noble Instance of Virtue Prove instructive to an abandoned Age,
And teach _Britons_ how to act In their Country's Cause!

_Polypth._ As far as I can judge of the future Landskip from this
Sketch, it will be an admirable one. I am extremely taken with it. That
Bason has a very fine Effect.--I could return back the same Round with
great Pleasure, but my Watch informs me that Mr.----, has been
expecting us this half Hour.

_Calloph._ Is it so late? The Time has stole off very slily. However you
need be under no Apprehensions; that honest Gentleman is seldom very
hasty in his Motions.

Having thus finished their Round, our two Gentlemen directed their Faces
back again towards the Gate.

_Polypthon_, notwithstanding the sour Humour he had given so many
Evidences of in his Walk, began now to relent, and could talk of nothing
but the agreeable Entertainment that had been afforded him. Sometimes he
would run out into the highest Encomiums of the many beautiful
Terminations of the several Walks and Vistas; and observe how many Uses
each Object served, and in how many different Lights it was made to vary
itself. "For Instance, says he, the Pavilion you shewed me from the
Temple of _Venus_, terminates that Terrace in a very grand Manner; and
makes likewise a very magnificent Appearance, where it corresponds with
another of the same Form, at the Entrance into the Park: Yet the same
Building, like a Person acquainted with the World, who can suit his
Behaviour to Time and Place, can vary itself upon occasion into a more
humble Shape, and when viewed thro' a retired Vista, can take upon it
the lowly Form of a close Retreat."----When he had enlarged pretty
copiously upon this Subject, he would next launch out into the highest
Praises of the vast Variety of Objects that was every where to be met
with: "Men of all Humours, says he, will here find something pleasing
and suited to their Taste. The thoughtful may meet with retired Walks
calculated in the best Manner for Contemplation: The gay and chearful
may see Nature in her loveliest Dress, and meet Objects corresponding
with their most lively Flights. The romantic Genius may entertain itself
with several very beautiful Objects in its own Taste, and grow wild with
Ideas of the inchanted kind. The disconsolate Lover may hide himself in
shady Groves, or melancholy wander along the Banks of Lakes and Canals;
where he may sigh to the gentle Zephyrs; mingle his Tears with the
bubbling Water; or where he may have the best Opportunity, if his Malady
be grown to such an Height, of ending his Despair, and finishing his
Life with all the Decency and Pomp of a Lover in a Romance. In short,
says he, these Gardens are a very good Epitome of the World: They are
calculated for Minds of every Stamp, and give free Scope to Inclinations
of every kind: And if it be said that in some Parts they too much
humour the debauched Taste of the Sensualist, it cannot be denied on
the other hand, but that they afford several very noble Incitements to
Honour and Virtue."----But what beyond all other things seemed most to
please him, was the amicable and beautiful Conjunction of _Art_ and
_Nature_ thro' the whole: He observed that the _former_ never appeared
stiff, or the _latter_ extravagant.

Upon many other Topicks of Praise _Polypthon_ run out with great Warmth.
_Callophilus_ seemed surprized, and could not forbear asking him, By
what means his Opinions became so suddenly changed? "Why, says he, Sir,
I have said nothing now that contradicts any thing I said before. I own
I met with two or three Objects that were not entirely to my Taste,
which I am far from condemning for that Reason; tho' if I should, it is
nothing to the purpose, because I am now taking a Survey of the whole
together; in which Light I must confess I am quite astonished with the
View before me. Besides, I hate one of your wondering Mortals, who is
perpetually breaking out into a Note of Admiration at every thing he
sees: I am always apt to suspect his Taste or his Sincerity. It is
impossible that all Genius's can alike agree in their Opinions of any
Work of Art; and the Man who never _blames_, I can scarce believe is
qualified to _commend_. Besides, finding fault now and then, adds Weight
to Commendation, and makes us believed to be in earnest. However,
notwithstanding what you may think of my frequent Cavils, I assure you,
with the greatest Sincerity, I never before saw any thing of the kind at
all comparable to what I have here seen: I shall by no means close this
Day with a _Diem perdidi_; nor would the _Roman_ Emperor himself, I
believe, have made the Reflection if he had spent his condemned Hours in
this Place."

By this time the Gentlemen were come to the Gate, thro' which
_Polypthon_ assured his Friend he passed with the greatest Reluctance,
and went growling out of this delightful Garden, as the Devil is said to
have done out of Paradise.

                                _FINIS._




                          WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK
                            MEMORIAL LIBRARY

                 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES

                      The Augustan Reprint Society

                          PUBLICATIONS IN PRINT




                      The Augustan Reprint Society

                         PUBLICATIONS IN PRINT


                               1948-1949

16. Henry Nevil Payne, _The Fatal Jealousie_ (1673).

18. "Of Genius," in _The Occasional Paper_, Vol. III, No. 10 (1719),
and Aaron Hill, Preface to _The Creation_ (1720).


                              1949-1950

19. Susanna Centlivre, _The Busie Body_ (1709).

22. Samuel Johnson, _The Vanity of Human Wishes_ (1749), and two
_Rambler_ papers (1750).

23. John Dryden, _His Majesties Declaration Defended_ (1681).


                              1951-1952

26. Charles Macklin, _The Man of the World_ (1792).

31. Thomas Gray, _An Elegy Wrote in a Country Churchyard_ (1751),
and _The Eton College Manuscript_.


                              1952-1953

41. Bernard Mandeville, _A Letter to Dion_ (1732).


                              1964-1965

110. John Tutchin, _Selected Poems_ (1685-1700).

111. _Political Justice_ (1736).

113. T. R., _An Essay Concerning Critical and Curious Learning_
(1698).


                              1965-1966

115. Daniel Defoe and others, _Accounts of the Apparition of Mrs.
Veal_ (1705, 1706, 1720, 1722).

116. Charles Macklin, _The Convent Garden Theatre_ (1752).

117. Sir Roger L'Estrange, _Citt and Bumpkin_ (1680).

118. Henry More, _Enthusiasmus Triumphatus_ (1662).

120. Bernard Mandeville, _Aesop Dress'd or a Collection of Fables_ (1740).


                              1966-1967

124. _The Female Wits_ (1704).


                              1968-1969

133. John Courtenay, _A Poetical Review of the Literary and Moral
Character of the Late Samuel Johnson_ (1786).

136. Thomas Sheridan, _A Discourse Being Introductory to His
Course of Lectures on Elocution and the English Language_
(1759).

137. Arthur Murphy. _The Englishman from Paris_ (1756).


                              1969-1970

138. [Catherine Trotter] _Olinda's Adventures_ (1718).

139. John Ogilvie, _An Essay on the Lyric Poetry of the Ancients_
(1762).

140. _A Learned Dissertation on Dumpling_ (1726) and _Pudding and
Dumpling Burnt to Pot or a Compleat Key to the Dissertation
on Dumpling_ (1727).

141. Sir Roger L'Estrange, Selections from _The Observator_ (1681-1687).

142. Anthony Collins, _A Discourse Concerning Ridicule and Irony in
Writing_ (1729).

143. _A Letter From a Clergyman to His Friend, with an Account of
the Travels of Captain Lemuel Gulliver_ (1726).

144. _The Art of Architecture_, A Poem (1742).


                              1970-1971

145-146. Thomas Shelton,_ A Tutor to Tachygraphy, or Short-writing_
(1642) and _Tachygraphy_ (1647).

147-148. _Deformities of Dr. Samuel Johnson_ (1782).

149. _Poeta de Tristibus: or the Poet's Complaint_ (1682).

150. Gerard Langbaine, _Momus Triumphans: or the Plagiaries of the
English Stage_ (1687).


                              1971-1972

151-152. Evan Lloyd, _The Methodist. A Poem_ (1766).

153. _Are These Things So?_ (1740), and _The Great Man's Answer to
Are These Things So?_ (1740).

154. Arbuthnotiana: _The Story of the St. Alb-ns Ghost_ (1712), and _A
Catalogue of Dr. Arbuthnot's Library_ (1779).

155-156. A Selection of Emblems from Herman Hugo's _Pia Desideria_
(1624), with English Adaptations by Francis Quarles and Edmund
Arwaker.


                              1972-1973

157. William Mountfort, _The Life and Death of Doctor Faustus_
(1697).

158. Colley Cibber, _A Letter from Mr. Cibber to Mr. Pope_ (1742).

159. [Catherine Clive] _The Case of Mrs. Clive_ (1744).

160. [Thomas Tryon] _A Discourse ... of Phrensie, Madness or
Distraction_ from _A Treatise of Dreams and Visions_ [1689].

161. Robert Blair, _The Grave. A Poem_ (1743).

162. [Bernard Mandeville] _A Modest Defence of Publick Stews_
(1724).


                              1973-1974

163. [William Rider] _An Historical and Critical Account of the
Lives and Writings of the Living Authors of Great Britain_
(1762).

164. Thomas Edwards, _The Sonnets of Thomas Edwards_ (1765,
1780).

165. Hildebrand Jacob, _Of the Sister Arts; An Essay_ (1734).

166. _Poems on the Reign of William III_ [1690, 1696, 1699, 1702]

167. Kane O'Hara, _Midas: An English Burletta_ (1766).

168. [Daniel Defoe] _A Short Narrative History of the Life and Actions
of His Grace John, D. of Marlborough_ (1711).


                              1974-1975

169-170. Samuel Richardson, _The Apprentice's Vade-Mecum_ (1734).

171. James Bramston, _The Man of Taste_ (1733).

172-173. Walter Charleton, _The Ephesian Matron_ (1668).

174. Bernard Mandeville, _The Mischiefs That Ought Justly to be apprehended
From a Whig-Government_ (1714).

174X. John Melton, _Astrologaster_ (1620).

Publications of the first fifteen years of the society (numbers 1-90)
are available in paperbound units of six issues at $16.00 per unit from
Kraus Reprint Company, 16 East 46th Street, New York, N. Y. 10017.

Publications in print are available at the regular membership rate of
$5.00 for individuals and $8.00 for institutions per year. Prices of
single issues may be obtained upon request. Subsequent publications may
be checked in the annual prospectus.

                 _Make check or money order payable to_

              THE REGENTS OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA

                              _and send to_

               The William Andrews Clark Memorial Library
           2520 Cimarron Street, Los Angeles, California 90018


Transcriber's Note. The original punctuation and spelling have been
retained.





End of Project Gutenberg's A Dialogue upon the Gardens, by William Gilpin