Part 35

Perhaps I might have been so greedy and insolent, as to have presumed to have monopolized our Shakspeare's line,--"I love France so well, that I will not part with a village of it; I will have it all mine."

Isaac Walton gives the following lines from a translation of a German poet, which makes one equally fond of England:

We saw so many woods, and princely bowers, Sweet fields, brave palaces, and stately towers, So many gardens dress'd with curious care, That Thames with royal Tiber may compare.

The Encyclopædia of Gardening has a rich page (35) devoted to Le Nôtre. The Nouveau Dict. Hist. thus records his genius and his grand and magnificent efforts:--"Ce grand homme fut choisi pour décorer les jardins du château de Vau-le-Vicomte. Il en fit un sejour enchanteur, par les ornamens nouveaux, pleins de magnificence, qu'il y prodigua. On vit alors, pour la premiere fois, des portiques, des berceaux, des grottes, des traillages, des labyrinths, &c. embellir varier le spectacle des jardins. Le Roi, témoin des ces merveilles, lui donna la direction de tous ses parcs. Il embellit par son art, Versailles, Trianon, et il fit à St. Germain cette fameuse terrasse qu'on voit toujours avec une nouvelle admiration. Les jardins de Clagny, de Chantilly, de St. Cloud, de Meudon, de Sceaux, le parterre du Tibre, et les canaux qui ornent ce lieu champêtre a Fontainbleau, sont encore son ouvrage. Il demanda à faire voyage de l'Italie, dans l'espérance d'acquérir de nouvelles connoissances; mais son géniè créateur l'avoit conduit à la perfection. Il ne vit rien de comparable a ce qu'il avoit fait en France."

Notwithstanding the above just and high tribute, I have no hesitation in saying, that it is not superior to the magic picture which the fascinating pen of Mad. de Sevigné has drawn of le Nôtre's creative genius, in her letter of Aug. 7, 1675. Many others of this charming woman's letters breathe her love of gardens.

The Nouveau Dict. Hist. thus speaks of the Pere Rapin:--"A un génie heureux, à un goût sur, il joignoit une probité exacte, un coeur droit, un caractere aimable et des moeurs douces. Il étoit naturellement honnête, et il s'étoit encore poli dans le commerce des grands. Parmi ses différentes Poësies Latinés, on distingue le Poëme des Jardins. C'est son chef d'oeuvre; il est digne du siecle d'Auguste, dit l'Abbé Des Fontaines, pour l'élegance et la pureté du langage, pour l'esprit et les graces qui y regnent." Among the letters of Rabutin de Bussy, are many most interesting ones from this worthy father.

"Rien n'est plus admirable que la peinture naîve que la Pere Vaniere fait des amusemens champêtres; on est également enchanté de la richesse et de la vivacité de son imagination, de l'éclat et de l'harmonie de sa poësie, du choix de la pureté de ses expressions. Il mourut a Toulouse en 1739, et plusiers poëtes ornerent de fleurs son tombeau."--Nouv. Dict. Hist.

La Comtesse de la Riviere, thus alludes to this convent: "Madame de Sevigné a pour ce monastere une vénération qui est audelà de toute expression; elle assure qu'on n'approche pas de ce lieu sans sentir au dedans de soi une onction divine."

The late Sir U. Price, pays a very high compliment to this exquisite poem, in p. 31, vol. i. of his Essays, terming it full of the justest taste, and most brilliant imagery.

In the Earl of Harcourt's garden, at Nuneham, in Oxfordshire, (laid out in some parts under the eye and fine taste of the poet Mason), on a bust of Rousseau are these lines:

Say, is thy honest heart to virtue warm? Can genius animate thy feeling breast? Approach, behold this venerable form; 'Tis Rousseau! let thy bosom speak the rest.

There are attractive pages in this little volume of the Viscount's, which would have interested either Shenstone, or Gainsborough, particularly the pages 59, 143, 145, and 146, (of Mr. Malthus's translation), for in these pages "we feel all the truth and energy of nature." A short extract from p. 131, will enable the reader to judge of the writer's style:--"When the cool evening sheds her soft and delightful tints, and leads on the hours of pleasure and repose, then is the universal reign of sublime harmony. It is at this happy moment that Claude has caught the tender colouring, the enchanting calm, which equally attaches the heart and the eyes; it is then that the fancy wanders with tranquillity over distant scenes. Masses of trees through which the light penetrates, and under whose foliage winds a pleasant path; meadows, whose mild verdure is still softened by the transparent shades of the evening; crystal waters which reflect all the near objects in their pure surface; mellow tints, and distances of blue vapour; such are in general the objects best suited to a western exposure. The sun, before he leaves the horizon, seems to blend earth and sky, and it is from sky that evening views receive their greatest beauty. The imagination dwells with delight upon the exquisite variety of soft and pleasing colours, which embellishes the clouds and the distant country, in this peaceful hour of enjoyment and contemplation."

He was enthusiastically devoted to the cultivation of his gardens, which exhibited enchanting scenery, umbrageous walks, and magnificent water-falls. When thus breathing the pure air of rural life, the blood-stained monsters of 1793 seized him in his garden, and led him to the scaffold. "He heard unmoved his own sentence, but the condemnation of his daughter and grand-daughter, tore his heart: the thought of seeing two weak and helpless creatures perish, shook his fortitude. Being taken back to the Conciergerie, his courage returned, and he exhorted his children to prepare for death. When the fatal bell rung, he recovered all his wonted cheerfulness; having paid to nature the tribute of feeling, he desired to give his children an example of magnanimity; his looks exhibited the sublime serenity of virtue, and taught them to view death undismayed. When he ascended the cart, he conversed with his children, unaffected by the clamours of the ferocious populace; and on arriving at the foot of the scaffold, took a last and solemn farewell of his children; immediately after he was dismissed into eternity."

Sir Walter Scott, after noticing "the wild and squalid features" of Marat, who "lay concealed in some obscure garret or cellar, among his cut-throats, until a storm appeared, when, like a bird of ill omen, his death-screech was again heard," thus states the death of another of the murderers of the Malherbes:--"Robespierre, in an unsuccessful attempt to shoot himself, had only inflicted a horrible fracture on his under-jaw. In this situation they were found like wolves in their lair, foul with blood, mutilated, despairing, and yet not able to die. Robespierre lay on a table in an anti-room, his head supported by a deal box, and his hideous countenance half-hidden by a bloody and dirty cloth bound round his shattered chin. As the fatal cars passed to the guillotine, those who filled them, but especially Robespierre, were overwhelmed with execrations. The nature of his previous wound, from which the cloth had never been removed till the executioner tore it off, added to the torture of the sufferer. The shattered jaw dropped, and the wretch yelled aloud, to the horror of the spectators. A mask taken from that dreadful head was long exhibited in different nations of Europe, and appalled the spectator by its ugliness, and the mixture of fiendish expression with that of bodily agony."

Mons. Malherbes loved to relate an answer made to him by a common fellow, during his stay at Paris, when he was obliged to go four times every day to the prison of the Temple, to attend the king: his extreme age did not allow him to walk, and he was compelled to take a carriage. One day, particularly, when the weather was intensely severe, he perceived, on coming out of the vehicle, that the driver was benumbed with cold. "My friend," said Malherbes to him, in his naturally tender manner, "you must be penetrated by the cold, and I am really sorry to take you abroad in this bitter season."--"That's nothing, M. de Malherbes; in such a cause as this, I'd travel to the world's end without complaining."--"Yes, but your poor horses could not."--"Sir," replied the honest coachman, "my horses think as I do."

I cannot pass by the name of Henry, without the recollection of what an historian says of him: "L'Abbé Langlet du Fresnoy a publié cinquante-neuf lettres de a bon Roi, dans sa nouvelle edition du Journal de Henry III. on y remarque du feu de l'esprit, de l'imagination, et sur-tout cette éloquence du coeur, qui plait tout dans un monarque.--On l'exortoit à traiter avec rigueur quelques places de la Ligue, qu'il avoit rédites par la force: La satisfaction qu'on tire de la vengeance ne dure qu'un moment (répondit ce prince généreuse) mais celle qu'on tire de la clemence est eternelle. Plus on connoitre Henri, plus on l'aimera, plus on l'admiriroet."

The king, knowing his fine taste for sculpture and painting, sent him to Italy, and the Nouv. Dict. Hist. gives this anecdote: "La Pape instruit de son mérite, voulut le voir, et lui donna une assez longue audience, sur la fin de laquelle le Nôtre s'écria en s'adressant au Pape: J'ai vu les plus grands hommes du monde, Votre Sainteté, et le Roi mon maître. Il y a grande différence, dit le Pape; le Roi est un grand prince victorieux, je suis un pauvre prêtre serviteur des serviteurs de Dieu. Le Nôtre, charmé de cette réponse, oublia qui la lui faisoit, et frappant sur l'épaule du Pape lui répondit à son tour: Mon Révérend Pere, vous vous portez bien et vous enterrerez tout la Sacré College. Le Pape, qui entendoit le François, rit du pronostic. Le Nôtre, charmé de plus en plus de sa bonté, et de l'estime particuliere qu'il témoignoit pour le Roi, se jeta au cou du Pape et l'embrassa. C'étoit au reste sa coutume d'embrasser tous ceux qui publioient les louanges de Louis XIV., et il embrassoit le Roi lui-même, toutes les fois que ce prince revenoit de la campagne."

I will conclude by mentioning a justly celebrated man, who, it seems was not over fond of his garden, though warmly attached both to Boileau, and to Mad. de Sevigné,--I mean that most eloquent preacher Bossuet, of whom a biographer, after stating that he was so absorbed in the study of the ancient fathers of the church, "qu'il ne se permettoit que des délassemens fort courts. Il ne se promênoit que rarement même dans son jardin. Son jardinier lui dit un jour: Si je plantois des Saint Augustins, et des Saint Chrysostomes, vous les viendriez voir; mais pour vos arbres, vous ne vous en souciez guere."

Mr. Worlidge, who wrote during part of the reigns of Charles II. and James II. judiciously observes, that "the glory of the French palaces, often represented to our English eyes in sculpture, are adorned with their beauteous gardens before them; which wanting, they would seem without lustre or grandeur."

He was fined £30,000 for having taken a favourite of the king's, in the very presence chamber, by the nose, for having insulted him, and afterwards dragging him out of the room.

It was to this nobleman, that Addison addressed his elegant and sublime epistle, after he had surveyed with the eyes and genius of a classical poet, the monuments and heroic deeds of ancient Rome.

Lord Chesterfield thus speaks of this distinguished man:--"His private life was stained by no vices, nor sullied by any meanness. His eloquence was of every kind; but his invectives were terrible, and uttered with such energy of diction and countenance, that he intimidated those who were the most willing and the best able to encounter him." Sir W. Chatham Trelawney used to observe of him, that it was impossible for the members of the side opposed to him in the House of Commons to look him in the face when he was warmed in debate: he seemed to bid them all a haughty defiance. "For my own part," said Trelawney, "I never dared cast my eyes towards his, for if I did, they nailed me to the floor."

Smollet says, that he displayed "such irresistible energy of argument, and such power of elocution, as struck his hearers with astonishment and admiration. It flashed like the lightning of heaven against the ministers and sons of corruption, blasting where it smote, and withering the nerves of opposition; but his more substantial praise was founded upon his disinterested integrity, his incorruptible heart, his unconquerable spirit of independance, and his invariable attachment to the interest and liberty of his country." Another biographer thus mentions him:--"His elevated aspect commanded the awe and mute attention of all who beheld him, whilst a certain grace in his manner, conscious of all the dignities of his situation, of the solemn scene he acted in, as well as his own exalted character, seemed to acknowledge and repay the respect he received; his venerable form, bowed with infirmity and age, but animated by a mind which nothing could subdue; his spirit shining through him, arming his eye with lightning, and cloathing his lips with thunder; or, if milder topics offered, harmonizing his countenance in smiles, and his voice in softness, for the compass of his powers was infinite. As no idea was too vast, no imagination too sublime, for the grandeur and majesty of his manner; so no fancy was too playful, nor any allusion too comic, for the ease and gaiety with which he could accommodate to the occasion. But the character of his oratory was dignity; this presided in every respect, even to his sallies of pleasantry."

Sir Walter Scott's attachment to gardens, breaks out even in his Life of Swift, where his fond enquiries have discovered the sequestered and romantic garden of Vanessa, at Marley Abbey.

So thought Sir W. Raleigh;

Sweet violets, love's paradise, that spread Your gracious odours ... Upon the gentle wing of some calm-breathing wind, That plays amidst the plain.

The lines in Twelfth Night we all recollect:

That strain again;--it had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.