Читать книгу The Palace and Park - Edward Winslow Forbes - Страница 50

The Crystal Palace and its grounds occupy two hundred acres, and it is of importance to note that, in the formation of the gardens, the same uniformity of parts is adhered to as in the building itself; that is to say, the width of the walks, the width and length of the basins of the fountains, the length of the terraces, the breadth of the steps, are all multiples and sub-multiples of the one primary number of eight. By this symmetrical arrangement perfect harmony prevails, unconsciously to the looker-on, in the structure and in the grounds.

As the visitor quits the building from the Central Transept, let him pause at the top of the broad flight of steps leading to the first terrace, and notice the prospect before him. At his feet are the upper and lower terraces, bordered by stone balustrades, the long lines of which are broken by steps and projecting bastions. Along these balustrades, at intervals, the eye is attracted by the statues that surmount them. Straight before him runs the broad central walk, and, on either side of it, on the second terrace, the ground is covered with green turf, now relieved by beds filled with gay-coloured flowers, and further heightened in effect by fountains which throw water high up into the air. As a side boundary to the foreground of this picture, the wings of the building stretch out in their blue colouring, their cheerful, light aspect, harmonising with the rest of the scene. Looking straight forward, below the level of the second terrace, we see the large circular fountain, surrounded by white marble statues, which stand out sharp and clear against the dark landscape beyond. On either side, on a yet lower level, a glimpse is caught of the glistening waters in the two largest fountains, backed by embankments of turf; and beyond these again, if we could only lift our vision over the plateau, we should see the waters of the large lake, whose islands are peopled by monsters that inhabited the earth when the world was young. To the right, and to the left, in the grounds, are pleasant sloping lawns, dotted here and there with trees, and thickly planted shrubs; and then, beyond the Palace precincts, stretching away into the far distance, is visible the great garden of Nature herself, a picture of rural loveliness, almost unmatched by any scene so close as this to the great London city. Undulating scenery prevails: here it is rich with bright verdure, there dark with thick wood: here, the grass field; there, the grey soil, which, in the spring time, is covered with the delicate green of young wheat; and, in the autumn, waves thick with golden corn. Across the fields run long lines of hedgerows, telling plainly of the country in which they are found; and in the very heart of all, the village church spire shoots through the trees, surrounded by clusters of cottages, whose modest forms are almost hidden by the dark foliage in which they are nestled. The exquisite scene is completed by a long line of blue hills that ranges at the back of all.

VIEW OF GREAT TRANSEPT.

Gardening, as an art, has flourished in all countries; and has possessed in each such distinctive features as the climate, the nature of the soil, and its physical formation, as well as the character of the people, have created. In the Gardens before us two styles are seen, The Italian and The English Landscape. A few words may be sufficient to describe the leading characteristics of both.

In Italy, during the middle ages, internal warfare confined men to their fortresses, and no gardens existed save those “pleasaunces” cultivated within the castle’s quadrangle. When times grew more peaceful, men became more trustful, ventured forth, enjoyed the pleasures of a country life, and gardening prospered. In monasteries especially, the art received attention; but it was not until the beginning of the 16th century that a decided advance was manifest, and then we have to note a return to the style of gardening that flourished in ancient Rome itself. Lorenzo de’ Medici possessed a garden laid out in the revived classical manner, and this style, which is recognised as the Italian, has existed in Italy with certain modifications ever since. Its chief features are the profuse use of architectural ornaments—the grounds being subdivided into terraces, and adorned with temples, statuary, urns, and vases, beds cut with mathematical precision, formal alleys of trees, straight walks, hedges cut into fantastic devices, jets of water, elaborate rock-work, and fish-ponds dug into squares or other geometrical forms. Everything in these gardens is artificial in the extreme, and in set opposition to the wild luxuriance of nature; and although the trees and shrubs are planted with a great regard to precision, they are too frequently devoid of all artistic effect. During the last century, the Italian style became blended with English landscape-gardening, but without much success; for the formality of the original style clings to all Italian gardening at the present day.

View from the Terrace.

English gardening does not seem to have been regularly cultivated until the reign of Henry VIII.; although previously to his time, parks and gardens had been laid out. Bluff King Hal formed the gardens of Nonsuch Palace in Surrey on a most magnificent scale, decking them out with many wonderful and curious contrivances, including a pyramid of marble with concealed holes, which spirted water upon all who came within reach—a practical joke which our forefathers seem to have relished highly, for the ingenious engine was imitated in other gardens after that period. In this reign also were first laid out by Cardinal Wolsey the Hampton Court Gardens, containing the labyrinth, at that period an indispensable device of a large garden. The artificial style in James I.’s time called forth the indignation of the great Lord Bacon, who, although content to retain well-trimmed hedges and trees, pleaded strongly in the interest of nature. He insisted that beyond the highly dressed and embellished parts of the garden, should ever lie a portion sacred from the hand of man—a fragment of wild nature! He calls it “the heath, or desert.” During Charles II.’s reign, landscape-gardening received an impulse. It was in his time that Chatsworth was laid out, and that buildings were introduced into gardens. During his reign, too, lived Evelyn—a spirit devoted to the service of the rural genius. In his Diary, Evelyn makes mention of several noblemen’s and gentlemen’s gardens which he visited, and some of which indeed he himself devised. His remarks convey an idea of the state of gardening during the reign of the merry monarch. “Hampton Park, Middlesex,” he says, “was formerly a flat, naked piece of ground, now planted with sweet rows of lime trees, and the canal for water now near perfected; also the hare park. In the garden is a rich and noble fountain, with syrens, statues, &c., cast in copper by Fanelli, but no plenty of water. There is a parterre which they call Paradise, in which is a pretty banqueting-house set over a cave or cellar.” It was under Charles too that St. James’s Park was formed, a labour upon which the king employed Le Nôtre, the celebrated gardener of Versailles—an artist of singular good taste, and with an admirable eye for the picturesque.

During the reign of William and Mary, Hampton Court was considerably improved. Some Dutch features were introduced into gardening, and vegetable sculpture, and parterres in lace, came into vogue.

To the Dutch must be conceded the earliest manifestation of a love for gardening, in Northern Europe—a feeling possessed by them even before the thirteenth century. The taste owed its origin, no doubt, partly to the general monotony of their country, partly to the wealth of their merchants, and partly to an extended commerce, which enabled the Dutch to import from the East those bulbous roots which have long been cultivated in Holland, and were once valued at fabulous prices. Dutch gardening soon acquired a peculiar character of its own. The gardens of Loo, laid out in the time of William III., were excellent examples of the symmetrical Dutch style; a canal divided the upper from the lower garden; the beds were cut in squares, and filled at various seasons of the year with tulips, hyacinths, poppies, sun-flowers, &c.; straight walks intersected the grounds, which were adorned with numerous statues, grotto-work, and fountains, some exceedingly whimsical and curious; the trees and shrubs were cut into devices, principally in pyramidal forms, whilst hedges separated the different parts of the garden, and were not allowed to grow above a certain height. Straight rows and double rows of trees constitute another characteristic of the Dutch style, and elaborate lace-like patterns for parterres were much in vogue during the latter part of the seventeenth century. The influence of this style upon English gardens may still be perceived in the clipped hedgerows and trees, green terraces, and now only prim, now magnificent avenues, so frequent in our country.

It would appear that from William down to George II., gardening in England suffered sad deterioration as an art. Formality prevailed to the most deadening and oppressive extent. The shapes of men and animals were cut in trees, and the land was threatened with a vast and hideous collection of verdant sculpture. Pope and Addison came to the rescue of nature, and ridiculed the monstrous fashion. Pope, in one of his papers in “The Guardian,” details an imaginary set of plants for sale, including a “St. George, in box, his arm scarce long enough, but will be in condition to stick the dragon next April;” and a “quickset hog shot up into a porcupine by being forgot a week in rainy weather.” Addison, in “The Spectator,” says, “Our British gardeners, instead of humouring nature, love to deviate from it as much as possible. Our trees rise in cones, globes, and pyramids. We see the marks of the scissors upon every plant and bush.” Pope himself laid out his grounds in his villa at Twickenham; and his gardens there, which still bear the impress of his taste, attest to his practical skill as a gardener.

The satire of these great writers contributed not a little to a revolution in English gardening. Bridgeman seems to have been the first to commence the wholesome work of destruction, and to introduce landscape gardening; and it is said that he was instigated to his labour by the very paper of Pope’s, in “The Guardian,” to which we have alluded. But Kent, at a later period, banished the old grotesque and ridiculous style, and established the new picturesque treatment. He laid out Kensington Gardens, and probably Claremont. Wright and Brown were also early artists in the new style, and deserve honourable mention for their exertions in the right direction. The former displayed his skill at Fonthill Abbey, the seat of Mr. Beckford; Brown was consulted at Blenheim, where he constructed the earliest artificial lake in the kingdom—the work of a week. Nor must Shenstone, the poet, be forgotten. His attempt, towards 1750, to establish the rights of nature in his own ornamental farm at the Leasowes, places him fairly in the front rank of our rural reformers. Mathematical precision and the yoke of excessive art were thus cast off, and nature was allowed a larger extent of liberty and life. She was no longer tasked to imitate forms that detracted from her own beauty without giving grace to the imitation; but she was questioned as to the garb which it chiefly delighted her to wear, and answer being given, active steps were taken to comply with her will. Then came Knight and Price to carry out the goodly work of recovery and restoration. To them followed Mr. Humphrey Repton, the accomplished scholar under whose eye the gardens of Cobham Hall were planned, and under whose influence all the celebrated landscape-gardens of his time were fashioned. And as the result of the united labours of one and all, we have the irregularly-bounded pieces of water which delight the English eye, the shrubberies, the noble groups of trees, the winding walks, the gentle undulations, and pleasant slopes—all which combined give a peculiar charm to our island landscapes, that is looked for in vain in fairer climates and on a more extended soil.

In the Crystal Palace Gardens, the Italian style has not been servilely copied, but rather adapted and appropriated. It has been taken, in fact, as the basis of a portion of our garden, and modified so as to suit English climate and English taste. Thus, we have the terraces and the architectural display, the long walks, the carefully cut beds, and the ornamental fountains: but the undulations of greensward, that bespeak the English soil, give a character to the borrowed elements which they do not find elsewhere. The violent juxtaposition of the two styles of gardening—the Italian and the English—it may readily be conceived, would produce a harsh and disagreeable effect. To avoid the collision, Sir Joseph Paxton has introduced, in the immediate vicinity of the terraces and the broad central walk, a mixed or transitional style, combining the formality of the one school with the freedom and natural grace of the other; and the former character is gradually diminished until, at the north side of the ground, it entirely disappears, and English landscape-gardening is looked upon in all its beauty.