Horace Walpole's essay On Modern Gardening: William Kent
Introduction Ancient
gardens Roman gardens Renaissance
gardens John Milton Sir
William Temple William Kent Early
18th century gardens Ha Ha Thomas
Whately Landscape Gardens Lancelot
'Capability' Brown
William Kent
Fortunately Kent and a few others were
not quite so timid, or we might still be going up and down stairs in the
open air.
It is true we have heard much lately, as Sir William Temple did, of
irregularity and imitations of nature in the gardens or grounds of the
Chinese. The former is certainly true; they are as whimsically irregular
as European gardens are formally uniform, and unvaried- but with regard
to nature, it seems as much avoided, as in the squares and oblongs and
straight lines of our ancestors. An artificial perpendicular rock
starting out of a flat plain, and connected with nothing, often pierced
through in various places with oval hollows, has no more pretension to
be deemed natural than a lineal terrace or a parterre. The late Mr.
Joseph Spence, who had both taste and zeal for the present style, was so
persuaded of the Chinese emperor's pleasure-ground being laid out on
principles resembling ours, that he translated and published, under the
name of Sir Harry Beaumont, a particular account of that enclosure from
the collection of the letters of the Jesuits. I have looked it over, and
except a determined irregularity, can find nothing in it that gives me
any idea of attention being paid to nature. It is of vast circumference
and contains two hundred palaces, besides as many contiguous for the
eunuchs, all gilt, painted and varnished. There are raised hills from
twenty to sixty feet high, streams and lakes, and one of the latter five
miles round. These waters are passed by bridges-but even their bridges
must not be straight-they serpentize as much as the rivulets, and are
sometimes so long as to be furnished with resting-places, and begin and
end with triumphal arches. Methinks a straight canal is as rational at
least as a meandering bridge. The colonnades undulate in the same
manner. In short, this pretty gaudy scene is the work of caprice and
whim; and when we reflect on their buildings, presents no image but that
of unsubstantial tawdriness. Nor is this all. Within this fantastic
Paradise is a square town, each side a mile long. Here the eunuchs of
the court, to entertain his imperial majesty with the bustle and
business of the capital in which he resides, but which it is not of his
dignity ever to see, act merchants and all sorts of trades. and even
designedly exercise for his royal amusement every art of knavery that is
practised under his auspicious government. Methinks this is the childish
solace and repose of grandeur, not a retirement from affairs to the
delights of rural life. Here too his majesty plays at agriculture; there
is a quarter set apart for that purpose; the eunuchs sow, reap, and
carry in their harvest in the imperial presence; and his majesty returns
to Pekin, persuaded that he has been in the country.
The French have of late years adopted our style in gardens, but
choosing to be fundamentally obliged to more remote rivals, they deny us
half the merit, or rather the originality of the invention, by ascribing
the discovery to the Chinese, and by calling our taste in gardening le
gout Anglo-Chinois. I think I have shown that this is a blunder, and
that the Chinese have passed to one extremity of absurdity as the French
and all antiquity had advanced to the other, both being equally remote
from nature; regular formality is the opposite point to fantastic
Sharawadgis. The French, indeed, during the fashionable paroxysm of
philosophy, have surpassed us, at least in meditation on the art. I have
perused a grave treatise of recent date, in which the author, extending
his views beyond mere luxury and amusement, has endeavoured to inspire
his countrymen, even in the gratification of their expensive pleasures,
with benevolent projects. He proposes to them to combine gardening with
charity, and to make every step of their walks an act of generosity and
a lesson of morality. Instead of adorning favourite points with a
heathen temple, a Chinese pagoda. a Gothic tower, or fictitious bridge,
he proposes to them at the first resting-place to erect a school; a
little farther to found an academy; at a third distance, a manufacture;
and at the termination of the park to endow an hospital. Thus, says he,
the proprietor would be led to meditate, as he saunters, on the
different stages of human life, and both his expense and thoughts would
march in a progression of patriotic acts and reflections. When he was
laying out so magnificent, charitable, and philosophic an Utopian villa,
it would have cost no more to have added a foundling-hospital, a
senate-house, and a burying-ground. If I smile at such visions, still
one must be glad that in the whirl of fashions, beneficence should have
its turn in vogue; and though the French treat the virtues like
everything else, but as an object of mode, it is to be hoped that they
too will, every now and then, come into fashion again.
The author I have been mentioning reminds me of a French gentleman,
who some years ago made me a visit at Strawberry
Hill. He was so complaisant as to commend the place, and to approve
our taste in gardens-but in the same style of thinking with the
above-cited author he said, 'I do not like your imaginary temples and
fictitious terminations of views: I would have real points of view with
moving objects; for instance, here I would have-(I forget what)-and
there a watering-place'. 'That is not so easy,' I replied, 'one cannot
oblige others to assemble at such or such a spot for one's
amusement-however, I am glad you would like a watering-place, for there
happens to be one; in that creek of the Thames the inhabitants of the
village do actually water their horses; but I doubt whether, if it were
not convenient to them to do so, they would frequent the spot only to
enliven my prospect.' Such Gallo-Chinois gardens, I apprehend, will
rarely be executed.
|