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artist, except envy. Though his own designs were more chaste and classic than Kent's, he entertained him in his house till his death, and was more ftudious to extend his friend's fame than
He did not confine his munificence to his own houses and gardens, but spent great sums in contributing to public works, and was known to chuse that the expence should fall on himself, rather than that his country should be deprived of some beautiful edifices.
• His enthufiasm, says Mr. Walpole, for the works of Inigo Jones was fo active, that he repaired the church of Covent Garden because it was the production of that great master, and purchased a gateway at Beaufort-garden in Chelsea, and transported the identical stones to Chiswick with religious attachment. With the same zeal for pure architecture, he aflilted Kent in publishing the designs for Whitehall, and gave a beautiful edition of the antique baths from the drawings of Palladio, whose papers he procured with great cost. Besides his works on his own estate at Lonsborough in Yorkshire, he new fronted his house in Piccadilly, built by his father, and added the grand colonade within the court. As we have few samples of architecture more antique and impofing than that .colonade, I cannot help mentioning the effect it had on my felf. I had not only never seen it, be had never heard of it, at least with any attention, when soon after my return from Italy, I was invited to a ball at Burlington-house. As I passed under the gate by night, it could not strike me. At day-break, looking out of the window to see the sun rise, I was furprised with the viớion of the colonade that fronted me. Ii seemed one of those edifices in Fairy Tales that are raised by genii in a night's time.
* His Lordship's house at Chiswick, the idea of which is borrowed from a well-known villa of Palladio, is a model of taste, though not without faults, some of which are occasioned by too strict adherence to rules and fymmetry. Such are, too many correspondent doors in spaces so contracted; chimnies between windows, and, which is worse, windows between chimnies; and vestibules, however beautiful, yet too little secured from the damps of this climate. The trusses that support the cieling of the corner drawing-room are beyond measure massive, and the ground apartment is rather a diminutive catacomb, than a library in a northern, latitude. Yet there blemishes, and Lord Hervey's wit, who said the house was too small to inhabit, and 100 large to hang to one's watch, cannot depreciate the taste that reigns in the whole. The larger court, dignified by pice turesque cedars and the classic scenery of the small court that unites the old and new house, are more worth seeing than many fragments of ancient grandeur, which our travellers vifit under all the dangers attendant on long voyages. The garden is in the Italian taste, but divested of conceits, and far preferable to every style that reigned till our late improvements. The buildings are heavy, and not equal to the purity of the house. The lavith quantity of urns and sculpture behind the garder front should be retrenched.
• Other works designed by Lord Burlington were, the dormitory at Weltminter school, the assembly-room at York, Lord Harringe
ton's at Petercham, the Duke of Richmond's house at Whitehall, and General Wade's in Cork-street. Both the latter were ill con. trived and inconvenient; but the latter has so beautiful a front, that Lord Chesterfield faid as the General could not live in at his ease, he had better take a house over against it, and look at it. These are mere des tails relating to this illuitrious person's works. His genuine praise is better secured in Mr. Pope's epistle to him.
• Iought not to omit, that his Countess Lady Dorothy Saville, had no less attachment to the arts than her Lord. She drew in crayons, and succeeded admirably in likenesses; but working with too much rapidity, did not do justice to her genius. She had an uncommon talent too for caricatura.'
The last person of whom our Author gives an account in this chapter is William Kent, who was a painter, an architect, and the father of modern gardening. In the first character, we are told, he was below mediocrity; in the second, he was a restorer of the science: in the last, an original, and the inventor of an art that realises painting, and improves nature. Mahomet, says Mr. Walpole, imagined an Elysium, but Kent created many
• To compensate for his bad paintings, continues our Author, • he had an excellent taste for ornaments, and gave designs for most of the furniture at Houghton, as he did for several other persons, Yet chaste as these ornaments were, they were often unmeasurably ponderous. His chimney.pieces, though lighter than those of Inigo, whom he imitated, are frequently heavy; and his constant introduce tion of pediments and the members of architecture over doors, and within rooms, was disproportioned and cumbrous. Indeed, I mucha question whether the Romans admitted regular architecture within their houses ; at least the discoveries at Herculaneum testify, that a light and fantastic architecture, of a very Indian air, made a common decoration of private apartments. Kent's style, however, predominated authoritatively during his life; and his oracle was so much consulted by all who afected talle, that nothing was thought complete without his aslistance. He was not only consulted for furniture, as frames of pictures, glasses, tables, chairs, &c. but for piate, for a barge, for a cradle. And so contemptuous was fashion, that two great ladies prevailed on bim to make designs for their birthday gowns. The one he dressed in a petticoat decorated with columns of the five orders; the other like a bronze, in a copper-coloured fartin, with ornaments of gold.
. Such of the drawings as he designed for Gay's fables, have some truth and nature; but whoever would search for his faults, will find an ample crop in a very favourite work of his, the Prints for Spenfer’s Faery Queen. As the drawings were exceedingly cried up by his admirers, and disappointed the public in proportion, the blame was thrown on the engraver ; but lo far unjustly, that though ill executed, the wretchedness of drawing, the total ignorance of perspective, the want of variety, the disproportion of the buildings, and che aukwardness of the attitudes, could have been the fault of the inventor only. There are figures iffuing from cottages not so
high as their shoulders, cafles in which the towers could not contain
an infant, and knights who hold their spears as men do who are lift. ing a load fideways. The landscapes are the only tolerable parts, and yet the trees are seldom other than young beeches, to which Kent as a planter was accustomed.
• But in architecture, his taste was deservedly admired; and with. out enumerating particulars, the staircase at Lady Isabella Finch's in Berkeley-square is as beautiful a piece of scenery, and, considering the space, of art, as can be imagined. The Temple of Venus at Stowe has fimplicity and merit, and the great room at Mr. Pelham's, in Arlington-itreet, is as remarkable for magnificence. I do not admire equally the room ornamented with marble and gilding at Kenlington. The staircase there is the least defective work of his pencil ; and his ceilings in that palace, from antique paintings, which he first happily introduced, shew that he was not too ridiculoully prejudiced in favour of his own historic compositions.
• Of all his works, his favourite production was the Earl of Lei. cester's house at Holkam in Norfolk. The great hall, with the flight of seps at the upper end, in which he proposed to place a colossal Jupiter, was a noble idea. How the designs of that house, which I have seen an hundred times in Kent's original drawings, came to be published under another name, and without the slightest mention of the real architect, is beyond comprehension. The bridge, the temple, the great gateway, all built, I believe, the two first certainly, under Kene's own eye, are alike passed off as the works of another; and yet no man need envy or deny him the glory of having oppressed a triumphal arch with an Egyptian pyramid. Holkam has its faults, but they are Kent's faults, and marked with all the peculiarities of his style.'
The last chapter of this volume contains the history of modern gardening, and is the most entertaining part of a very entertaining work. Mr. Walpole appears to have taken great pains upon it, and it does no small honour both to his taste and his judgment. He introduces it with observing, that gardening was probably one of the first arts which succeeded to that of building houses, and naturally attended property and individual pofleffion ;- that the word garden has at all times passed for whatever was understood by that term in different countries; but that it meant no more than a kitchen-garden, or orchard, for several centuries, he thinks, is evident from those few descriptions that are preserved of the most famous gardens of antiquity. That of Alcinous, in the Odyssey, is the most renowned in the heroic times; and yet that boasted paradise, when divested of harmonious Greek and bewitching poetry, was only a small orchard and vineyard, with some beds of herbs, and two fountains that watered them, inclosed with a quickset hedge. The whole compass of this pompous garden inclosed-four acres; the trees were apples, figs, pomegranates, pears, olives, and vines. are sure, therefore, our Author says, that as late as Homer's age, an inclosure of four acres, comprehending orchard, vineyard, Rev. March 1781.
and kitchen-garden, was a stretch of luxury the world at that time had never beheld.
As to the hanging gardens of Babylon, though we are not acquainted with their dispofition or contents, we are very certain, our Author says, of what they were not; he means they must have been trifling, of no extent, and a wanton instance of expence and labour. In other words, they were what fumptuous gardens have been in all ages till the present, unnatural, enriched by art, poffibly with fountains, ftatues, balustrades, and fummer-houses, and were any thing but verdant and rural.
Our Author goes on to fhew how naturally and infenfibly the idea of a kitchen-garden flid into that which has for so many ages been peculiarly termed a garden, and by our ancestors in this country diftinguished by the name of a pleafure-garden.
• A square piece of ground, says Mr. Walpole, was originally parted off in early ages for the use of the family : .. to exclude cattle and ascertain the property, it was separated from the fields by a hedge. As pride and defire of privacy increafed, the inclosure was dignified by walls; and in climes where fruits were not lavifhed by the ripening glow of nature and soil, fruit-c.des were assisted and sheltered from surrounding winds by the like expedient; for the in'undation of luxuries which have swelled into general necessities, have almost all taken their source from the simple fountain of reason.
• When the custom of making square gardens inclosed with walls was thus established, to the exclufion of nature and prospect, pomp and solitude combined to call for fomething that might enrich and enliven the insipid and unanimated partition. Fountains, firft invented for use, which grandeur loves to disguise and throw out of the question, received embellishments from costly marbles, and at laft, to contradict utility, tossed their waste of waters into air in spouting columns. Art, in the hands of rude man, had at first been made a fuccedaneum to nature; in the hands of oftentatious wealth, it became the means of opposing nature; and the more it traversed the march of the latter, the more nobility thought its power was demontrated. Canals measured by the line were introduced in lieu of meandring streams, and terraffes were hoisted aloft in opposition to the facile rlopes that imperceptibly unite the valley to the hill. Ba. luftrades defended these precipitate and dangerous elevations, and flights of steps rejoined them to the subjacent flat, from which the terras had been dug. Vases and sculpture were added to these unnecelfary balconies, and statues furnished the lifeless spot with mimic representations of the excluded fons of men. Thus difficulty and expence were the constituent parts of those sumptuous and selfish foli. tudes; and every improvement that was made, was but a step farther from nature. The tricks of water-works to wet the unwary, not to refresh the panting spectator, and parterres embroidered in patterns like a petticoat, were but the childish endeavours of fashion and novelty to reconcile greatness to what it had surfeited on.
To crowa these impotent displays of false tafte, the sheers were applied to the Jovely wildness of form with which nature has distinguished each va
rious species of tree and Thrub. The venerable oak, the romantic beech, the useful elm, even the aspiring circuit of the lime, the regular round of the chesnut, and the almoft moulded orange-tree, were corrected by such fantastic admirers of symmetry. The compass and square were of more use in plantations than the nursery-man. The measured walk, the quincunx, and the etoile, imposed their unsatisfying fameness on every royal and noble garden. Trees were headed, and their fides pared away; many French groves seem green chests set upon poles. Seats of marble, arbours, and summer-houses, terminated every villo; and symmetry, even where the space was too large to permit its being remarked at one view, was so essential, that, as Pope observed,
www each alley has a brother,' And half the garden just reflects the other. Knots of flowers were more defensibly fubjected to the fame regu. Harity. Leifure, as Milton expressed it,
in trim gardens took his pleasure. In the garden of Marshal de Biron at Paris, consisting of fourteen acres, every walk is buttoned on each side by lines of flower-pots, which succeed in their feasons. When I saw it, there were nine chou. fand
pots of Afters, or la Reine Marguerite.' Were we to lay before our Readers whatever is curious in this history of modern gardening, we must transcribe the whole; we shall content ourselves therefore with inserting part of what Mr. Walpole says concerning Mr. Kent.
The great principles on which he worked were perspective, and light and made. Groupes of trees broke too uniform or too extenfive a lawn ; evergreens and woods were opposed to the glare of the champaign, and where the view was less fortunate, or so much exposed as to be beheld at once, he blotted out some parts by chick Thades, to divide it into variety, or to make the richest scene more enchanting by reserving it to a farther advance of the spectator's step. Thus, selecting favourite objects, and veiling deformities by screens of plantation ; sometimes allowing the rudelt walte to add its foil to the richest theatre, he realized the compositions of the greatest malters in painting. Where objects were wanting to animate his horizon, his talte as an architect could bestow immediate termination. His buildings, his seats, his temples, were more the works of his pena cil than of his compasses. We owe the restoration of Greece and the diffusion of architecture, to his skill in landscape.
• But of all the beauties he added to the face of this beautiful country, none surpassed his management of water. Adieu to canals, circular basons, and cascades tumbling down marble steps, that lal absurd magnificence of Italian and French villas. The forced eleva. tion of cataracts was no more. The gentle stream was taught to ferpentize, seemingly at its pleasure, and where discontinued by different levels, its course appeared to be concealed by thickets properly interspersed, and glittered again at a distance where it might be Tupposed naturally to arrive. Its borders were smoothed, but preserved their waving irregularity. A few trees scattered here and O 2