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Upon the Gardens of Epicurus,
Or Gardening in the Year 1685
By
Sir
William Temple
The same faculty of reason, which gives mankind the great
advantage and prerogative over the rest of the creation, seems
to make the greatest default of human nature; and subjects it
to more troubles, miseries, or at least disquiets of life,
than any of its fellow creatures: it is this which furnishes
us with such variety of passions, and consequently of wants
and desires, that none other feels and these followed by
infinite designs and endless pursuits, and improved by that
restlessness of thought which is natural to most men, give him
a condition of life suitable to that of his birth; so that, as
he alone is born crying, he lives complaining and dies
disappointed.
Since we cannot escape the pursuit of passions and perplexity
of thoughts which our reason furnishes us, there is no way
left, but to endeavour all we can either to subdue or to
divert them. This last is the common business of common men,
who seek it by all sorts of sports, pleasures, play, or
business. But, because the two first are of short continuance,
soon ending with weariness, or decay of vigour and appetite,
the return whereof must be attended before the others can be
renewed; and because play grows dull if it be not enlivened
with the hopes of gain, the general diversion of mankind seems
to be business, or the pursuit of riches in one kind or other;
which is an amusement that has this one advantage above all
others, that it lasts those men who engage in it to the very
ends of their lives; none ever-growing too old for the
thoughts and desires of increasing his wealth and fortunes,
either for himself, his friends, or his posterity.
In the first and most simple ages of each country, the
conditions and lives of men seem to have been very near of kin
with the rest of the creatures: they lived by the hour, or by
the day, and satisfied their appetite with what they could get
from the herbs, the fruits, the springs they met with when
they were hungry or dry; then, with what fish, fowl, or beasts
they could kill, by swiftness or strength, by craft or
contrivance, by their hands, or such instruments as wit helped
or necessity forced them to invent. When a man had got enough
for the day, he laid up the rest for the morrow, and spent one
day in labour that he might pass the other at ease; and lured
on by the pleasure of this bait, when he was in vigour, and
his game fortunate, he would provide for as many days as he
could, both for himself and his children, that were too young
to seek out for themselves. Then he cast about, how by sowing
of grain, and by pasture of the tamer cattle, to provide for
the whole year. After this, dividing the lands necessary for
these uses, first among children, and then among servants, he
reserved to himself a proportion of their gain, either in the
native stock, or something equivalent, which brought in the
use of money; and where this once came in, none was to be
satisfied, without having enough for himself and his family,
and all his and their posterity for ever; so that I know a
certain Lord who professes to value no lease, though for an
hundred or a thousand years, nor any estate or possession of
land, that is not for ever and ever.
From such small beginnings have grown such vast and
extravagant designs of poor mortal men: yet none could ever
answer the naked Indian, why one man should take pains, and
run hazards by sea and land all his life, that his children
might be safe and lazy all theirs: and the precept of taking
no care for tomorrow, though never minded as impracticable in
the world, seems but to reduce mankind to their natural and
original condition of life. However, by these ways and
degrees, the endless increase of riches seems to be grown the
perpetual and general amusement or business of mankind.
Some few in each country make those higher flights after
honour and power, and to these ends sacrifice their riches,
their labour, their thought, and their lives; and nothing
diverts nor busies men more than these pursuits, which are
usually covered with the pretences of serving a man's country,
and of public good. But the true service of the public is a
business of so much labour and so much care, that though a
good and wise man may not refuse it, if he be called to it by
his Prince or his country, and thinks he can be of more than
vulgar use, yet he will seldom or never seek it, but leaves it
commonly to men who, under the disguise of public good, pursue
their own designs of wealth, power, and such bastard honours
as usually attend them, not that which is the true, and only
true reward of virtue.
The pursuits of ambition, though not so general, yet are as
endless as those of riches, and as extravagant; since none
ever yet thought he had power or empire enough: and what
Prince so ever seems to be so great, as to live and reign
without any further desires or fears, falls into the life of a
private man, and enjoys but those pleasures and entertainments
which a great many several degrees of private fortune will
allow, and as much as human nature is capable of enjoying.
The pleasures of the senses grow a little more choice and
refined: those of imagination are turned upon embellishing the
scenes he chooses to live in; ease, conveniency, elegancy,
magnificence, are sought in building first, and then in
furnishing houses or palaces: the admirable imitations of
nature are introduced by pictures, statues, tapestry, and
other such achievements of arts. And the most exquisite
delights of sense are pursued, in the contrivance and
plantation of gardens; which, with fruits, flowers, shades,
fountains, and the music of birds that frequent such happy
places, seem to furnish all the pleasures of the several
senses, and with the greatest, or at least the most natural
perfections.
Thus the first race of Assyrian Kings, after the conquests of
Ninus and Semiramis, passed their lives, till their empire
fell to the Medes. Thus the Caliphs of Egypt, till deposed by
their Mamalukes. Thus passed the latter parts of those great
lives of Scipio, Lucullus, Augustus, Dioclesian. Thus turned
the great thoughts of Henry II. of France, after the end of
his wars with Spain. Thus the present King of Morocco, after
having subdued all his competitors, passes his life in a
country villa, gives audience in a grove of orange-trees
planted among purling streams. And thus the King of France,
after all the successes of his councils or arms, and in the
mighty elevation of his present greatness and power, when he
gives himself leisure from such designs or pursuits, passes
the softer and easier parts of his time in country houses and
gardens, in building, planting, or adorning the scenes, or in
the common sports and entertainments of such kind of lives.
And those mighty Emperors, who contented not themselves with
these pleasures of common humanity, fell into the frantic or
the extravagant; they pretended to be Gods or turned to be
Devils, as Caligula and Nero, and too many others known enough
in story.
Whilst mankind is thus generally busied or amused, that part
of them, who have had either the justice or the luck to pass
in common opinion for the wisest and the best part among them,
have followed another and very different scent; and instead of
the common designs of satisfying their appetites and their
passions, and making endless provisions for both, they have
chosen what they thought a nearer and a surer way to the ease
and felicity of life, by endeavoring to subdue, or at least to
temper their passions, and reduce their appetites to what
nature seems only to ask and to need. And this design seems to
have brought philosophy into the world, at least that which is
termed moral, and appears to have an end not only desirable by
every man, which is the ease and happiness of life, but also
in some degree suitable to the force and reach of human
nature: for, as to that part of philosophy which is called
natural, I know no end it can have, but that of either busying
a man's brains to no purpose, or satisfying the vanity so
natural to most men of distinguishing themselves, by some way
or other, from those that seem their equals in birth and the
common advantages of it; and whether this distinction be made
by wealth or power, or appearance of knowledge, which gains
esteem and applause in the world, is all a case. More than
this I know no advantage mankind has gained by the progress of
natural philosophy, during so many ages it has had vogue in
the world, excepting always, and very justly, what we owe to
the mathematics, which is in a manner all that seems valuable
among the civilized nations, more than those we call
barbarous, whether they are so or no, or more so than
ourselves.
How ancient this natural philosophy has been in the world is
hard to know; for we find frequent mention of ancient
philosophers in this kind, among the most ancient now extant
with us. The first who found out the vanity of it seems to
have been Solomon, of which discovery he has left such
admirable strains in Ecclesiastes. The next was Socrates, who
made it the business of his life to explode it, and introduce
that which we call moral in its place, to busy human minds to
better purpose. And indeed, whoever reads with thought what
these two, and Marcus Antoninus, have said upon the vanity of
all that mortal man can ever attain to know of nature, in its
originals or operations, may save himself a great deal of
pains, and justly conclude, that the knowledge of such things
is not our game; and (like the pursuit of a stag by a little
spaniel) may serve to amuse and to weary us, but will never be
hunted down. Yet I think those three I have named may justly
pass for the wisest triumvirate that are let us upon the
records of story or of time.
After Socrates, who left nothing in writing, many sects of
philosophers began to spread in Greece, who entered boldly
upon both parts of natural and moral philosophy. The first
with the greatest disagreement, and the most eager contention
that could be upon the greatest subjects: as, whether the
world were eternal, or produced at some certain time? Whether,
if produced, it was by some eternal Mind, and to some end, or
by the fortuitous concourse of atoms, or some particles of
eternal matter? Whether there was one world, or many? Whether
the soul of man was a part of some ethereal and eternal
substance, or was corporeal? Whether, if eternal, it was so
before it came into the body, or only after it went out? There
were the same contentions about the motions of the heavens,
the magnitude of the celestial bodies, the faculties of the
mind, and the judgment of the senses. But all the different
schemes of nature that have been drawn of old, or of late, by
Plato, Aristotle, Epicurus, Descartes, Hobbs, or any other
that I know of, seem to agree but in one thing, which is, the
want of demonstration or satisfaction to any thinking and
unpossessed man; and seem more or less probable one than
another, according to the wit and eloquence of the authors and
advocates that raise or defend them; like jugglers tricks,
that have more or less appearance of being real, according to
the dexterousness and skill of him that plays them; whereas
perhaps, if we were capable of knowing truth and nature, these
fine schemes would prove like rover shots, some nearer and
some further off; but all at great distance from the mark; it
may be, none in sight.
Yet, in the midst of these and many other such disputes and
contentions in their natural philosophy, they seemed to agree
much better in their moral; and, upon their inquires after the
ultimate end of man, which was his happiness, their
contentions or differences seemed to be rather in words, than
in the sense of their opinions, or in the true meaning of
their several authors or masters of their sects: all concluded
that happiness was the chief good, and ought to be the
ultimate end of man; that, as this was the end of wisdom, so
wisdom was the way to happiness. The question then was, in
what this happiness consisted? The contention grew warmest
between the Stoics and Epicureans; the other sects, in this
point, siding in a manner with one or the other of these in
their conceptions or expressions. The Stoics would have it to
consist in virtue, and the Epicureans in pleasure; yet the
most reasonable of the Stoics made the pleasure of virtue to
be the greatest happiness, and the best of the Epicureans made
the greatest pleasure to consist in virtue; and the difference
between these two seems not easily discovered. All agreed; the
greatest temper, if not the total subduing of passion, and
exercise of reason, to be the state of the greatest felicity;
to live without desires or fears, or those perturbations of
mind and thought which passions raise; to place true riches in
wanting little, rather than in possessing much; and true
pleasure in temperance, rather than in satisfying the senses;
to live with indifference to the common enjoyments and
accidents of life, and with constancy upon the greatest blows
of fate or of chance; not to disturb our minds with sad
reflexions upon what is past, nor with anxious cares or raving
hopes about what is to come; neither to disquiet life with the
fears of death, nor death with the desires of life; but in
both, and in all things else, to follow nature, seem to be the
precepts most agreed among them.
Thus reason seems only to have been called in to allay those
disorders which itself had raised, to cure its own wounds, and
pretends to make us wise no other way than by rendering us
insensible. This at least was the profession of many rigid
Stoics, who would have had a wise man, not only without any
sort of passion, but without any sense of pain as well as
pleasure; and to enjoy himself in the midst of diseases and
torments, as well as of health and ease: a principle, in my
mind, against common nature and common sense; and which might
have told us in fewer words, or with less, circumstance, that
a man, to be wise, should not be a man; and this perhaps might
have been easy enough believe, but nothing so hard as the
other.
The Epicureans were more intelligible in their notion, and
fortunate in their expression, when they placed a man's
happiness in the tranquillity of mind and indolence of body;
for while we are composed of both, I doubt both must have a
share in the good or ill we feel. As men of several languages
say the same things in very different words; so in several
ages, countries, constitutions of laws and religion, the same
thing seems to be meant by very different expressions: what is
called by the Stoics apathy, or dispassion; by the Sceptics
indisturbance; by the Molinists quietism; by common men peace
of conscience; seems all to mean but great tranquillity of
mind, though it be made to proceed from so diverse causes, as
human wisdom, innocence of life; or resignation to the will of
God. An old usurer had the same notion, when he said, No
man could have peace of conscience, that run out of his
estate; not comprehending what else was meant by that
phrase, besides true quiet and content of mind; which, however
expressed, is, I suppose, meant by all to be the best account
that can be given of the happiness of man, since no man can
pretend to be happy without it.
I have often wondered how such sharp and violent invectives
came to be made so generally against Epicurus by the ages that
followed him, whose admirable wit, felicity of expression,
excellence of nature, sweetness of conversation, temperance of
life, and constancy of death, made him so beloved by his
friends, admired by his scholars, and honoured by the
Athenians. But this injustice may be fastened chiefly upon the
envy and malignity of the Stoics at first, then upon the
mistakes of some gross pretenders to his sect (who took
pleasure only to be sensual) and afterwards, upon the piety of
the primitive Christians, who esteemed his principles of
natural philosophy more opposite to those of our religion,
than either the Platonists, the Peripatetics, or Stoics
themselves: yet, I confess, I do not know why the account
given by Lucretius of the Gods, should be thought more impious
than that given by Homer, who makes them not only subject to
all the weakest passions, but perpetually busy in all the
worst or meanest actions men.
But Epicurus has found so great advocates of his virtue, as
well as learning and inventions, that there need no more; and
the testimonies of Diogenes Laertius alone seem too sincere
and impartial to be disputed, or to want the assistance of
modern authors: if all failed, he would be but too well
defended by the excellence of so many of his sect in all ages,
and especially of those who lived in the compass of one, but
the greatest in story, both as to persons and events: I need
name no more than Caesar, Atticus, Maecenas, Lucretius,
Virgil, Horace; all admirable in their several kinds, and
perhaps unparalleled in story.
Caesar, if considered in all lights, may justly challenge the
first place in the registers we have of mankind, equal only to
himself, and surpassing all others of his nation and his age,
in the virtues and excellencies of a statesman, a captain, an
orator, an historian; besides all these, a poet, a
philosopher, when his leisure allowed him; the greatest man of
counsel and of action, of design and execution; the greatest
nobleness of birth, of person, and of countenance; the
greatest humanity and clemency of nature, in the midst of the
greatest provocations, occasions, and examples of cruelty and
revenge: it is true, he overturned the laws and constitutions
of his country, yet it was after so many others had not only
begun, but proceeded very far, to change, and violate them; so
as, in what he did, he seems rather to have prevented* others,
than to have done what he himself designed; for though his
ambition was vast, yet it seems to have been raised to those
heights, rather by the insolence of his enemies than by his
own temper; and that what was natural to him was only a desire
of true glory, and to acquire it by good actions as well as
great, by conquests of barbarous nations, extent of the Roman
empire; defending at first the liberties of the plebeians,
opposing the faction that had begun in Sulla and ended in
Pompey; and, in the whole course of his victories and
successes, seeking all occasions of bounty to his friends, and
clemency to his enemies.
* i.e., anticipated.
Atticus appears to have been one of the wisest and best of the
Romans; learned without pretending, good without affectation,
bountiful without design, a friend to all men in misfortune, a
flatterer to no man in greatness or power, a lover of mankind,
and beloved by them all; and by these virtues and
dispositions, he passed safe and untouched through all the
flames of civil dissentions that ravaged his country the
greatest part of his life; and, though he never entered into
any public affairs or particular factions of his state, yet he
was favoured, honoured, and courted by them all, from Sylla to
Augustus.
Maecenas was the wisest counselor, the truest friend both of
his Prince and his country, the best Governor of Rome, the
happiest and ablest negotiator, the best judge of learning and
virtue, the choicest in his friends, and thereby the happiest
in his conversation that has been known in story; and I think,
to his conduct in civil, and Agrippa's in military affairs,
may be truly ascribed all the fortunes and greatness of
Augustus, so much celebrated in the world.
For Lucretius, Virgil, and Horace, they deserve, in my
opinion, the honour of the greatest philosophers, as well as
the best poets of their nation or age. The two first, besides
what looks like something more than human in their poetry,
were very great naturalists, and admirable in their morals:
and Horace, besides the sweetness and elegancy of his lyrics,
appears, in the rest of his writings, so great a master of
life, and of true sense in the conduct of it, that I know none
beyond him. It was no mean strain of his philosophy, to refuse
being Secretary to Augustus, when so great an emperor so much
desired it. But all the different sects of philosophies seem
to have agreed in the opinion of a wise man abstaining from
public affairs, which is thought the meaning of Pythagoras's
precept, to abstain from beans, by which the affairs
or public resolutions in Athens were managed. They thought
that sort of business too gross and material for the
abstracted fineness of their speculations. They esteemed it
too sordid and too artificial for the cleanness and simplicity
of their manners and lives. They would have no part in the
faults of a government; and they knew too well, that the
nature and passions of men made them incapable of any that was
perfect and good; and therefore thought all the service they
could do to the state they lived under, was to mend the lives
and manners of particular men that composed it. But where
factions were once entered and rooted in a state, they thought
it madness for good men to meddle with public affairs; which
made them turn their thoughts and entertainments to any thing
rather than this; and Heraclitus, having, upon the factions of
the citizens, quitted the government of his city, and amusing
himself to play with the boys in the porch of the temple,
asked those who wondered at him, whether 'twas not better
to play with such boys, than govern such men? But above
all, they esteemed public business the most contrary of all
others to that tranquillity of mind, which they esteemed and
taught to be the only true felicity of man.
For this reason, Epicurus passed his life wholly in his
garden: there he studied, there he exercised, there he taught
his philosophy; and, indeed, no other sort of abode seems to
contribute so much to both the tranquility of mind and
indolence of body, which he made his chief ends. The sweetness
of air, the pleasantness of smell, the verdure of plants, the
cleanness and lightness, of food, the exercises of working or
walking; but above all, the exemption from cares and
solicitude, seem equally to favour and improve both
contemplation and health, the enjoyment of sense and
imagination, and thereby the quiet and ease both of the body
and mind.
Though Epicurus be said to have been the first that had a
garden in Athens, whose citizens before him had theirs in
their villas or farms without the city; yet the use of gardens
seems to have been the most ancient and most general of any
sorts of possession among mankind, and to have, preceded those
of corn or of cattle as yielding the easier, the pleasanter,
and more natural food. As it has been the inclination of Kings
and the choice of philosophers, so it has been the common
favourite of public and private men; a pleasure of the
greatest, and the care of the meanest; and indeed an
employment and a possession, for which no man is too high nor
too low.
If we believe the Scripture, we must allow that God Almighty
esteemed the life of a man in a garden the happiest He could
give him, or else he would not have placed Adam in that of
Eden; that it was the state of innocence and pleasure; and
that the life of husbandry and cities came after the fall,
with guilt and with labour.
Where paradise was, has been much debated, and little agreed;
but what sort of place is meant by it may perhaps easier be
conjectured. It seems to have been a Persian word, since
Xenophon and other Greek authors mention it, as what was much
in use and delight among the kings of those eastern countries.
Strabo, describing Jericho, says, Ibi est palmentum, cui
immixte sunt, etiam aliae stirpes, hortenses, locus ferax,
palmis abundans, spatio stadiorum centum, totus iriguus, ibi
est Regia & Balsami paradisus. [In this place is a
palm grove, to which, even now are other very rare plants, a
fertile place with an abundance of palm trees, in the space of
a hundred furlongs, the whole area is well-watered, here is a
royal palace & a balsamic paradise.] He, mentions, another
place, to be prope Libanum & Paradisum [near
Lebanon & Paradise].
And Alexander is written to have seen Cyrus's tomb in
paradise, being a tower not very great, and covered with a
shade of trees about it. So that a paradise, among them seems
to have been a large space of ground adorned and beautified
with all sorts of trees, both of fruits and of forest, either
found there before it was enclosed, or planted after; either
cultivated like gardens, for shades and for walks, with
fountains or streams, and all sorts of plants usual in the
climate, and pleasant to the eye, the smell, or the taste; or
else employed like our Parks, for enclosure and harbour of all
sorts of wild beasts, as well, as for the pleasure of riding
and walking: and so they were of more or less extent, and of
different entertainment, according to the several humours of
the Princes that ordered and enclosed them.
Semiramis is the first we are told of in story, that brought
them in use through her empire, and was so fond of them, as to
take one wherever she built, and in all, or most of the
provinces she subdued; which are said to have been from
Babylon as far as India. The Assyrian kings continued this
custom and care, or rather this pleasure, till one of them
brought in the use of smaller and more regular gardens: for
having married a wife he was fond of, out of one of the
provinces, where, such paradises or gardens were much in use,
and the country lady not well bearing the air or enclosure of
the palace in Babylon, to which the Assyrian kings used to
confine themselves, he made her gardens, not only within the
palaces, but upon terraces raised with earth, over the arched
roofs, and even upon the top of the highest tower, planted
them with all sorts of fruit-trees, as well as other plants
and flowers, the most pleasant of that country; and thereby
made at least the most airy gardens, as well as the most
costly, that have been heard of in the world. This lady may
probably have been native of the provinces of Chasimir or of
Damascus, which have in all times been the happiest regions
for fruits of all the East, by the excellence of soil, the
position of mountains, the frequency of streams, rather than
the advantages of climate. And it is great pity we do not yet
see the history of Chasimir, which Monsieur Bernier assured me
he had translated out of Persian, and intended to publish; and
of which he has given such a taste, in his excellent Memoirs
of the Mogul's country.
The next gardens we read of are those of Solomon, planted with
all sorts of fruit-trees, and watered with fountains; and
though we have no more particular description of them yet we
may find, they were the places where he passed the times of
his leisure and delight, where the houses as well as grounds
were adorned with all that could be of pleasing and elegant,
and were the retreats and entertainments of those among his
wives that he loved the best; and 'tis not improbable, that
the paradises mentioned by Strabo were planted by this great
and wisest king. But the idea of the garden must be very
great, if it answer at all to that of the gardener, who must
have employed a great deal of his care and of his study, as
well as of his leisure and thought, in these entertainments,
since he wrote of all plants, from the cedar to the shrub.
What the gardens of the Hesperides were, we have little or no
account, further than the mention of them, and thereby the
testimony of their having been in use and request in such
remoteness of place and antiquity of time.
The garden of Alcinous, described by Homer, seems wholly
poetical, and made at the pleasure of the painter; like the
rest of the romantic palaces in that little barren island of
Phenicia or Corfu. Yet, as all the pieces of this transcendent
genius are composed with excellent knowledge, as well as
fancy; so they seldom fail of instruction as well as delight,
to all that read him. The seat of this garden, joining to the
gates of the palace, the compass of the enclosure being four
acres, the tall trees of shade, as well as those of fruit, the
two fountains, the one for the use of the garden, and the
other of the palace, the continual succession of fruits
throughout the whole year, are, for aught I know, the best
rules or provision that can go towards composing the best
gardens; nor is it unlikely, that Homer may have drawn this
picture after the life of some he had seen in Ionia, the
country and usual abode of this divine poet; and indeed, the
region of the most refined pleasure and luxury, as well as
invention and wit: for the humour and custom of gardens may
have descended earlier into the Lower Asia, from Damascus,
Assyria, and other parts of the eastern empires, though they
seem to have made late entrance and smaller improvement in
those of Greece and Rome; at least in no proportion to their
other inventions or refinements of pleasure and luxury.
The long and flourishing peace of the two first empires gave
earlier rise and growth to learning and civility, and all the
consequences of them, in magnificence and elegancy of building
and gardening; whereas Greece and Rome were almost perpetually
engaged in quarrels and wars either abroad or at home, and so
were busy in actions that were done under the sun, rather than
those under the shade. These were the entertainments of the
softer nations, that fell under the virtue and prowess of the
two last empires, which from those conquests brought home
mighty increases both of riches and luxury, and so perhaps
lost more than they got by the spoils of the East.
There may be another reason for the small advance of gardening
in those excellent and more temperate climates, where the air
and soil were so apt of themselves to produce the best sorts
of fruits, without the necessity of cultivating them by labour
and care; whereas the hotter climates, as well as the cold,
are forced upon industry and skill, to produce or improve many
fruits that grow of themselves in the more temperate regions.
However it were, we have very little mention of gardens in old
Greece or in old Rome, for pleasure or with elegance, nor of
much curiousness or care, to introduce the fruits of foreign
climates, contenting themselves with those which were native
of their own; and these were the vine, the olive, the fig, the
pear, and the apple: Cato, as I remember, mentions no more;
and their gardens were then but the necessary part of their
farms, intended particularly for the cheap and easy food of
their hinds or slaves employed in their agriculture, and so
were turned chiefly to all the common sorts of plants, herbs,
or legumes (as the French call them) proper for common
nourishment; and the name of hortus [garden] is taken
to be from ortus [rise], because it perpetually
furnishes some rise or production of some-thing new in the
world.
Lucullus, after the Mithridatic war, first brought cherries
from Pontus into Italy, which so generally pleased, and were
so easily propagated in all climates, that within the space of
about an hundred years, having traveled westward with the
Roman conquests, they grew common as far as the Rhine, and
passed over into Britain. After the conquest of Africa,
Greece, the Lesser Asia, and Syria, were brought into Italy
all the sorts of their Mala, which we interpret as apples,
and might signify no more at first, but were afterwards
applied to many other foreign fruits: the apricots, coming
from Empire, were called Mala Epirotica; peaches from
Persia, Mala Persica; citrons of Media, Medica;
pomegranates from Carthage, Punica; quinces, Cathonea,
from a small island in the Grecian seas; their best pears were
brought from Alexandria, Numidia, Greece, and Numantia; as
appears by their several appellations: their plums, from
Armenia, Syria, but chiefly from Damascus. The kinds of these
are reckoned, in Nero's time, to have been near thirty, as
well as of figs; and many of them were entertained at Rome
with so great applause and so general vogue, that the great
Captains, and even consular men, who first brought them over,
took pride in giving them their own names, (by which they run
a great while in Rome) as in memory of some great service or
pleasure they had done their country; so that not only laws
and battles, but several sorts of apples or Mala, and
of pears were called Manlian and Claudian, Pompeian and
Tiberian; and by several other such noble names.
Thus the fruits of Rome, in about an hundred years, came from
countries as far as their conquests had reached; and, like
learning, architecture, painting, and statuary, made their
great advances in Italy about the Augustan age. What was of
most request in their common gardens in Virgil's time, or at
least in his youth, may be conjectured by the description of
his old Corician's gardens in the fourth of the Georgics;
which begins,
Namque sub Oebaliae memini turribus
altis.* [I remember, while under the towers of the
fort.]
* Temple misquotes: 'alti' should be 'arcis.'
Among flowers, the roses had the first place, especially a
kind which bore twice a year; and none other sorts are here
mentioned besides the narcissus, though the violet and the
lily were very common, and the next in esteem; especially the
Breve Lilium, which was the tuberose. The plants he
mentions are the Apium, which though commonly
interpreted parsley, yet comprehends all sorts of smallage,
whereof celery is one; Cucumis, which takes in all sorts of
melons, as well as cucumbers; Olus, which is a common
word for all sorts of pot-herbs and legumes; Verbenas,
which signifies all kinds of sweet or sacred plants that were
used for adorning the altars; as bays, olive, rosemary,
myrtle: the Acanthus seems to be what we called Pericanthe;
but what their Hederae were, that deserved place in a
garden, I cannot guess, unless they had sorts of ivy unknown
to us; nor what his Vescum Papaver was, since poppies
with us are of no use in eating. The fruits mentioned are only
apples, pears, and plums; for olives, vines, and figs, were
grown to be fruits of their fields, rather than of their
gardens. The shades were the elm, the pine, the lime-tree, and
the Platanus, or plane-tree: whose leaf and shade, of
all others, was the most in request; and, having been brought
out of Persia, was such an inclination among the Greeks and
Romans, that they usually fed it with wine instead of water;
they believed this tree loved that liquor, as well as those
that used to drink under its shade; which was a great humour
and custom, and perhaps gave rise to the other, by observing
the growth of the tree, or largeness of the leaves, where much
wine was spilt or left, and thrown upon the roots.
'Tis a great pity that the haste which Virgil seems here to
have been in, should have hindered him from entering farther
into the account or instructions, of gardening, which he said
he could have given, and which he seems to have so much
esteemed and loved, by that admirable picture of this old
man's felicity, which he draws like so great a master, with
one stroke of a pencil in those four words:
Regum aequabat opes animis. [The
wealth of kings.]
That in the midst of these small possessions, upon a few acres
of barren ground, yet he equaled all the wealth and opulence
of Kings, in the ease, content, and freedom of his mind.
I am not satisfied with the common acceptation of the Mala
Aurea for oranges; nor do I find any passage in the
authors of that age, which gives me the opinion, that these
were otherwise known to the Romans than as fruits of the
eastern climates. I should take their Mala Aurea to be
rather some kind of apples, so called from the golden colour,
as some are amongst us; for otherwise, the orange-tree is too
noble in the beauty, taste, and smell of its fruit; in the
perfume and virtue of its flowers; in the perpetual verdure of
its leaves, and in the excellent uses of all, these, both for
pleasure and health; not to have deserved any particular
mention in the writings of an age and nation so refined and
exquisite in all sorts of delicious luxury.
The charming description Virgil makes of the happy apple, must
be intended either for the citron, or for some sort of orange
growing in Media, which was either so proper to that country
as not to grow in any other, (as a certain sort of fig was to
Damascus) or to have lost its virtue by changing soils, or to
have had its effect of curing some sort of poison that was
usual in that country, but particular to it: I cannot forbear
inserting those few lines out of the second of Virgil's
Georgics, not having ever heard any body else take notice of
them.
Media fert tristes succos, tardumque
saporem
Felicis mali; quo non praesentius ullum,
Pocula si quando saevae infecere novercae,
Auxilium venit, ac membris agit atra venena
Ipsa ingens arbos, faciemque simillima
lauro;
Et, si non alios late jactaret odorem,
Laurus erit, folia haud ullis labentia
ventis;
Flos apprirna tenax: animas & olentia
Medi
Ora fovent illo, ac senibus medicantur
anhelis.
Media brings pois'nous herbs, and the flat
taste
Of the bless'd apple, than which ne'er was
found
A help more present, when curs'd step-dames
mix
Their mortal cups, to drive the venom out:
'Tis a large tree, and like a bays in hue;
And did it not such odours cast about,
'Twould be a bays; the leaves with no winds
fall,
The flowers all excel: with these the Medes
Perfume their breaths, and cure old pursy
men.
The tree being so like a bays or laurel, the slow or dull
taste of the apple, the virtue of it against poison, seem to
describe the citron. The perfume of the flowers and virtues of
them, to cure ill scents of mouth or breath, or shortness of
wind in pursy old men, seem to agree most with the orange: if
flos apprima tenax, mean only the excellence of the
flower above all others, it may be intended for the orange; if
it signifies the flowers growing most upon the tops of the
trees, it may be rather the citron; for I have been so curious
as to bring up a citron from a kernel, which at twelve years
of age began to flower; and I observed all the flowers to grow
upon the top branches of the tree, but to be nothing so high
or sweet-scented as the orange. On the other side, I have
always heard oranges to pass for a cordial juice, and a great
preservatives against the plague, which is a sort of venom; so
that I know not to which of these we are to ascribe this
lovely picture of the happy apple; but I am satisfied by it,
that neither of them was at all common, if at all known in
Italy, at that time, or long after, though the fruit be now so
frequent there in fields (at least in some parts) and make so
common and delicious a part of gardening, even in these
northern climates.
'Tis certain those noble fruits, the citron, the orange and
the lemon, are the native product of those noble regions,
Assyria, Media and Persia; and though they have been from
thence transplanted and propagated in many parts of Europe,
yet they have not arrived at such perfection in beauty, taste
or virtue as in their native soil and climate. This made it
generally observed among the Greeks and Romans, that the
fruits of the East far excelled those of the West. And several
writers had trifled away their time in deducing the reasons of
this difference, from the more benign or powerful influences
of the rising sun. But there is nothing more evident to any
man that has the least knowledge of the globe, and gives
himself leave to think, than the folly of such wise reasons,
since the regions that are east to us, are west to some
others; and the sun rises alike to all that lie in the same
latitude, with the same heat and virtue upon its first
approaches, as well as in its progress. Besides, if the
eastern fruits were the better only for that position of
climate, then those of India should excel those of Persia;
which we do not find by comparing the accounts of those
countries: but Assyria, Media and Persia have been ever
esteemed, and will be ever found the true regions of the best
and noblest fruits in the world. The reason of it can be no
other, than that of an excellent and proper soil, being there
extended under the best climate for the production of all
sorts of the best fruits; which seems to be from about
twenty-five, to about thirty-five degrees of latitude. Now the
regions under this climate in the present Persian empire
(which comprehends most of the other two, called anciently
Assyria and Media) are composed of many provinces full of
great and fertile plains, bounded by high mountains,
especially to the north; watered naturally with many rivers,
and those, by art and labour, derived into many more and
smaller streams, which all conspire to form a country, in all
circumstances, the most proper and agreeable for production of
the best and noblest fruits. Whereas if we survey the regions
of the western world, lying in the same latitude between
twenty-five and thirty-five degrees, we shall find them extend
either over the Mediterranean sea, the ocean, or the sandy
barren countries of Africa; and that no part of the continent
of Europe lies so southward as thirty-five degrees. Which may
serve to discover the true genuine reason, why the fruits of
the East have been always observed and agreed to transcend
those of the West.
In our north-west climates, our gardens are very different
from what they were in Greece and Italy, and from what they
are now in those regions in Spain or the southern parts of
France. And as most general customs in countries grow from the
different nature of climate, soils, or situations, and from
the necessities or industry they impose, so do these.
In the warmer regions, fruits and flowers of the best sorts
are so common and of so easy production, that they grow in
fields, and are not worth the cost of enclosing, or the care
of more than ordinary cultivating. On the other side, the
great pleasures of those climates are coolness of air, and
whatever looks cool even to the eyes, and relieves them from
the unpleasant sight of dusty streets, or parched fields. This
makes the gardens of those countries to be chiefly valued by
largeness of extent (which gives greater play and openness of
air) by shades of trees, by frequency of living streams or
fountains, by perspectives, by statues, and by pillars and
obelisks of stone scattered up and down, which all conspire to
make any place look fresh and cool. On the contrary, the more
northern climates, as they suffer little by heat, make little
provision against it, and are careless of shade, and seldom
curious in fountains. Good statues are in the reach of few
men, and common ones are generally and justly despised or
neglected. But no sorts of good fruits or flowers, being
natives of the climates, or usual among us nor indeed the best
sort of plants, herbs, salads for our kitchen gardens
themselves and the best fruits, not ripening without the
advantage of walls and palisades, by reflexion of the faint
heat we receive from the sun, our gardens are made of smaller
compass, seldom exceeding four, six, or eight acres; in closed
with walls, and laid out in a manner wholly for advantage of
fruits, flowers, and the product of kitchen gardens in all
sorts of herbs, salads, plants, and legumes, for the common
use of tables.
These are usually the gardens of England and Holland, as the
first sort are those of Italy, and were so of old. In the more
temperate parts of France, and in Brabant (where I take
gardening to be at its greatest height), they are composed of
both sorts, the extent more spacious than ours; part laid out
for flowers, others for fruits; some standards, some against
walls or palisades, some for forest-trees, and groves for
shade, some parts wild, some exact; and fountains much in
request among them.
But after so much ramble into ancient times, and remote
places, to return home and consider the present way and humour
of our gardening in England; which seem to have grown into
such vogue, and to have been so mightily improved in three or
four and twenty years of his Majesty's reign, that perhaps few
countries are before us, either in the elegance of our
gardens, or in the number of our plants; and, I believe, none
equal us in the variety of fruits which may be justly called
good; and from the earliest cherry and strawberry, to the last
apples and pears, may furnish every day of the circling year.
For the taste and perfection of what we esteem the best, I may
truly say, that the French, who have eaten my peaches and
grapes at Shene, in no very ill year, have generally
concluded, that the last are as good as any they have eaten in
France, on this side Fontainbleau; and the first as good as
any they have eaten in Gascony; I mean those which come from
the stone, and are properly called peaches, not those which
are hard, and are termed pavies; for these cannot grow in too
warm a climate, nor ever be good in a cold; and are better at
Madrid, than in Gascony itself: Italians have agreed, my white
figs to be as good as any of that sort in Italy, which is the
earlier kind of white fig there; for in the latter kind, and
the blue, we cannot come near the warm climates, no more than
in the Fontignac or Muscat grape.
My orange-trees are as large as any I saw when I was young in
France, except those of Fontainbleau, or what I have seen
since in the Low Countries, except some very old ones of the
Prince of Orange's; as laden with flowers as any can well be,
as full of fruit as I suffer or desire them: and as well
tasted as are commonly brought over, except the best sorts of
Seville and Portugal. And thus much I could not but say in
defence of our climate, which is so much and so generally
decried abroad, by those who never saw it; or, if they have
been here, have yet perhaps seen no more of it, than what
belongs to inns, or to taverns and ordinaries; who accuse our
country for their own defaults, and speak ill, not only of our
gardens and houses, but of our humours, our breeding, our
customs and manners of life, by what they have observed of the
meaner and baser sort of mankind, and of company among us,
because they wanted themselves, perhaps, either fortune or
birth, either quality or merit, to introduce them among the
good.
I must needs add one thing more in favour of our climate,
which I heard the King say, and I thought new and right, and
truly like a king of England, that loved and esteemed his own
country: 'twas in reply to some of the company that were
reviling our climate, and extolling those of Italy and Spain,
or at least of France: he said, he thought that was the best
climate, where he could be abroad in the air with pleasure, or
at least without trouble or inconvenience, the most days of
the year, and the most hours of the day; and this, he thought,
he could be in England, more than in any country he knew of in
Europe. And I believe it is true, not only of the hot and the
cold, but even among our neighbours in France, and the
Low-Countries themselves; where the heats or the colds, and
changes of seasons, are less treatable than they are with us.
The truth is, our climate wants no heat to produce excellent
fruits; and the default of it is only the short season of our
heats or summers, by which many of the latter are left behind,
and imperfect with us. But all such as are ripe before the end
of August, are, for aught I know, as good with us as any where
else. This makes me esteem the true region of gardens in
England, to be the compass of ten miles about London; where
the accidental warmth of air, from the fires and steams of so
vast a town, makes fruits, as well as corn, a great deal
forwarder than in Hampshire or Wiltshire, though more
southward by a full degree.
There are, besides the temper of our climate, two things
particular to us, that contribute much to the beauty and
elegance of our gardens, which are the gravel of our walks,
and the fineness and almost perpetual greenness of our turf.
The first is not known anywhere else, which leaves all their
dry walks, in other countries, very unpleasant and uneasy. The
other cannot be found in France or in Holland as we have it,
the soil not admitting that fineness of blade in Holland, nor
the sun that greenness in France, during most of the summer;
nor indeed is it to be found but in the finest of our soils.
Whoever begins a garden, ought in the first place and above
all to consider the soil, upon which the taste of not only his
fruits, but his legumes, and even herbs and sail ads, will
wholly depend; and the default of soil is without remedy: for,
although all borders of fruit may be made with what earth you
please (if you will be at the charge), yet it must be renewed
in two or three years, or it runs into the nature of the
ground where 'tis brought. Old trees, spread their roots
further than any body's care extends, or the forms of the
garden will allow; and, after all, where the soil about you is
ill, the air is so too in a degree, and has influence upon the
taste of fruit. What Horace says of the productions of
kitchen-gardens, under the name of Caulis, is true of
all the best sorts of fruits, and may determine the choice of
soil for all gardens.
Caule suburbano qui siccis crevit in
agris,
Dulcior, irriguis nihil est elutius
hortis.
Plants from dry fields those of the town
excel;
Nothing more tasteless is than watered
grounds.
Any man had better throw away his care and his money upon any
thing else, than upon a garden in wet or moist ground. Peaches
and grapes will have no taste but upon a sand or gravel; but
the richer these are, the better; and neither salads, peas, or
beans, have at all the taste upon a clay or rich earth, as
they have upon either of the others, though the size and
colour of fruits and plants may, perhaps, be more upon the
worse soils.
Next to your choice of soil, is to suit your plants to your
ground, since of this every one is not master; though perhaps
Varro's judgment, upon this case is the wisest and the best;
for to one that asked him what he should do if his father or
ancestors had left him a seat in an ill air, or upon an ill
soil? he answered, "Why sell it, and buy another in good."
"But what if I cannot get half the worth?" "Why, then take a
quarter; but however sell it for any thing, rather than live
upon it."
Of all sorts of soil, the best is that upon a sandy gravel, or
a rosiny sand; whoever lies upon either of these may run
boldly into all the best sort of peaches and grapes, how
shallow so ever the turf be upon them; and whatever other tree
will thrive in these soils, the fruits shall be of a much
finer taste than any other: a richer soil will do well enough
for apricots, plums, pears, or figs; but still the more of the
sand in your earth the better, and the worse the more of the
clay, which is proper for oaks, and no other tree that I know
of.
Fruits should be suited to the climate among us, as well as
the soil; for there are degrees of one and the other in
England, where it is to little purpose to plant any of the
best fruits, as peaches or grapes, hardly I doubt beyond
Northamptonshire, at the furthest northwards; and I thought it
very prudent in a gentleman of my friends in Staffordshire,
who is a great lover of his garden, to pretend no higher,
though his soil be good enough, than to the perfection of
plums; and in these (by bestowing south walls upon them) he
has very well succeeded, which he could never have done in
attempts upon peaches and grapes; and a good plum is certainly
better than an ill peach.
When I was at Cosevelt, with that Bishop of Munster that made
so much noise in his time, I observed no other trees but
cherries in a great garden he had made. He told me the reason
was, because he found no other fruit would ripen well in that
climate, or upon that soil; and therefore, instead of being
curious in others, he had only been so in the sorts of that,
whereof he had so many, as never to be without them from May
to the end of September.
As to the size of a garden, which will perhaps, in time, grow
extravagant among us, I think from four or five to seven or
eight acres is as much as any Gentleman need design, and will
furnish as much of all that is expected from it, as any
nobleman will have occasion to use in his family.
In every garden, four things are necessary to be provided for,
flowers, fruit, shade, and water; and whoever lays out a
garden, without all these, must not pretend it in any
perfection: it ought to lie to the best parts of the house, or
to those of the master's commonest use, so as to be but like
one of the rooms out of which you step into another. The part
of your garden next to your house (besides the walks that go
round it) should be a parterre for flowers, or grass-plots
bordered with flowers; or if; according to the newest mode, it
be cast all into grass-plots and gravel walks, the dryness of
these should be relieved with fountains, and the plainness of
those with statues; otherwise, if large, they have an ill
effect upon the eye. However, the part next to the house
should be open, and no other fruit but upon the walls. If this
take up one half of the garden, the other should be
fruit-trees, unless some grove for shade lie in the middle. If
it take up a third part only, then the next third may be
dwarf-trees, and the last standard-fruit; or else, the second
part fruit-trees, and the third all sorts of winter greens,
which provide for all seasons of the year.
I will not enter upon any account of flowers, having only
pleased myself with seeing or smelling them, and not troubled
myself with the care, which is more the ladies' part than the
men's; but the success is wholly in the gardener. For fruit,
the best we have in England, or, I believe, can ever hope for,
are of peaches, the white and red Maudlin, the Minion, the
Chevereuse, the Ramboullet, the Musk, the Admirable, which is
late; all the rest are either varied by names, or not to be
named with these, nor worth troubling a garden, in my opinion.
Of the pavies, or hard peaches, I know none good here but the
Newington, nor will that easily hang till it is full ripe. The
forward peaches are to be esteemed only because they are
early, but should find room in a good garden, at least the
white and brown Nutmeg, the Persian, and the violet Musk. The
only good nectarines, are the Murry and the French; of these
there are two sorts, one very round, and the other something
long, but the round is the best: of the Murry there are
several sorts, but, being all hard, they are seldom well
ripened with us.
Of grapes, the best are the Chasselas, which is the better
sort of our white muscadine (as the usual name was about
Sheen); 'tis called the pearl-grape, and ripens well enough in
common years, but not so well as the common black, or currand,
which is something a worse grape. The parsley is good, and
proper enough to our climate; but all white Frontignacs are
difficult, and seldom ripe, unless in extraordinary summers.
I have had the honour of bringing over four sorts into
England; the Arboyse, from the Franche Compte, which is a
small white grape, or rather runs into some small and some
great upon the same bunch; it agrees well with our climate,
but is very choice in soil, and must have a sharp gravel; it
is the most delicious of all grapes that are not muscat. The
Burgundy, which is a grizelin or pale red, and of all others
is surest to ripen in our climate, so that I have never known
them to fail one summer these fifteen years, when all others
have; and have had it very good upon an east wall. A black
muscat, which is called the Dowager, and ripens as well as the
common white grape. And the fourth is the Grizelin Frontignac,
being of that colour, and the highest of that taste, and the
noblest of all grapes I ever ate in England; but requires the
hottest wall and the sharpest gravel; and must be favoured by
the summer too, to be very good. All these are, I suppose, by
this time, pretty common among some gardeners in my
neighbourhood, as well as several persons of quality; for I
have ever thought all things of this kind, the commoner they
are made, the better.
Of figs there are among us the white, the blue, and the tawny:
the last is very small, bears ill, and I think but a bauble.
Of the blue there are two or three sorts, but little
different, one something longer than the other; but that kind
which smells most is ever the best. Of the white I know but
two sorts, and both excellent, one ripe in the beginning of
July, the other in the end of September, and is yellower than
the first; but this is hard to be found among us, and
difficult to raise, though an excellent fruit.
Of apricots, the best are the common old sort, and the largest
Masculin; of which this last is much improved by budding upon
a peach stock. I esteem none of this fruit but the Brussel's
apricot, which grows a standard, and is one of the best fruits
we have; and which I first brought over among us.
The number of good pears, especially summer, is very great,
but the best are the Blanquet, Robin, Rousselet, Rosati, Sans,
Pepin, Jargonelle. Of the autumn, the Buree, the Vertelongue,
and the Bergamot. Of the winter, the Vergoluz, Chasseray, St.
Michael, St. Germain, and Ambret. I esteem the Bon-Cretien
with us good for nothing but to bake.
Of plums, the best are St. Julian, St. Catherine, white and
blue Pedrigon, Queen-mother, Sheen-plum, and Cheston.
Beyond the sorts I have named, none I think need trouble
himself, but multiply these rather than make room for more
kinds; and I am content to leave this register, having been so
often desired it by my friends, upon their designs of
gardening.
I need say nothing of apples, being so well known among us;
but the best of our climate, and I believe of all others, is
the Golden Pippin; and for all sorts of uses: the next is the
Kentish pippin; but these I think are as far from their
perfection with us as grapes, and yield to those of Normandy,
as these to those in Anjou, and even these to those in
Gascony. In other fruits the defect of sun is in a great
measure supplied by the advantage of walls.
The next care to that of suiting trees with the soil, is that
of suiting fruits to the position of walls. Grapes, peaches,
and winter-pears, to be good, must be planted upon full south,
or south-east; figs are best upon south-east, but will do well
upon east and south-west: the west are proper for cherries,
plums, or apricots; but all of them are improved by a south
wall both as to early and taste: north, northwest, or
north-east, deserve nothing but greens: these should be
divided by woodbines or jessamines between every green, and
the other walls by a vine between every fruit-tree; the best
sorts upon the south walls, the common white and black upon
east and west, because the other trees. being many of them
(especially peaches) very transitory; some apt to die with
hard winters, others to be cut down and make room for new
fruits: without this method the walls are left for several
years unfurnished; whereas the vines on each side cover the
void space in one summer, and when the other trees are grown,
make only a pillar between them of two or three foot broad.
Whoever would have the best fruits, in the most perfection our
climate will allow, should not only take care of giving them
as much sun, but also as much air as he can; no tree, unless
dwarf, should be suffered to grow within forty foot of your
best walls, but the farther they lie open is still the better.
Of all others, this care is most necessary in vines, which are
observed abroad to make the best wines, where they lie upon
sides of hills, and so most exposed to the air and the winds.
The way of pruning them too is best learned from the
vineyards, where you see nothing in winter, but what looks
like a dead stump; and upon our walls they should be left but
like a ragged staff, not above two or three eyes at most upon
the bearing branches; and the lower the vine and fewer the
branches, the grapes will be still the better.
The best figure of a garden is either a square or an oblong,
and either upon a flat or a descent; they have all their
beauties, but the best I esteem an oblong upon a descent. The
beauty, the air, the view makes amends for the expense, which
is very great in finishing and supporting the terrace-walks,
in leveling the parterres, and in the stone stairs that are
necessary from one to the other.
The perfectest figure of a garden I ever saw, either at home
or abroad, was that of Moor Park in Hertfordshire, when I knew
it about thirty years ago. It was made by the Countess of
Bedford, esteemed among the greatest wits of her time, and
celebrated by Doctor Donne; and with very great care,
excellent contrivance, and much cost; but greater sums may be
thrown away without effect or honour, if there want sense in
proportion to money, or if nature be not followed; which I
take to be the great rule in this, and perhaps in every thing
else, as far as the conduct not only of our lives, but our
governments. And whether the greatest of mortal men should
attempt the forcing of nature, may best be judged by observing
how seldom God Almighty does it himself, by so few true and
undisputed miracles as we see or hear of in the world. For my
own part, know not three wiser precepts for the conduct either
of Princes or private men, than
--Servare modum, finempue tueri,
Naturamque sequi.
[The text reads finempue, which is apparently a
misprint for finemque. The whole quotation
translates as "Guard the way, preserve the boundary, follow
nature."]
Because I take the garden I have named to have been in all
kinds the most beautiful and perfect, at least in the figure
and disposition, that I have ever seen, I will describe it for
a model to those that meet with such a situation, and are
above the regards of common expense. It lies on the side of a
hill (upon which the house stands) but not very steep. The
length of the house, where the best rooms and of most use or
pleasure are, lies upon the breadth of the garden, the great
parlours open into the middle of a terraced gravel-walk that
lies even with it, and which may be, as I remember, about
three hundred paces long, and broad in proportion; the border
set with standard laurels, and at large distances, which have
the beauty of orange-trees, out of flower and fruit: from this
walk are three descents by many stone steps, in the middle and
at each end, into a very large parterre. This is divided into
quarters by gravel-walks, and adorned with two fountains and
eight statues in the several quarters; at the end of the
terrace-walk are two summer-houses, and the sides of the
parterre are ranged with two large cloisters, open to the
garden, upon arches of stone, and ending with two other
summer-houses even with the cloisters, which are paved with
stone, and designed for walks of shade, there being none other
in the whole parterre. Over these two cloisters are two
terraces covered with lead, and fenced with balusters; and the
passage into these airy walks is out of the two summer-houses,
at the end of the first terrace-walk. The cloister facing the
south is covered with vines, and would have been proper for an
orange-house, and the other for myrtles, or other more common
greens; and had, I doubt not, been cast for that purpose, if
this piece of gardening had been then in as much vogue as it
is now.
From the middle of the parterre is a descent by many steps
flying on each side of a grotto that lies between them
(covered with lead, and flat) into the lower garden, which is
all fruit-trees, ranged about the several quarters of a
wilderness which is very shady; the walks here are all green,
the grotto embellished with figures of shell-rockwork,
fountains, and water-works. If the hill had not ended with the
lower garden, and the wall were not bounded by a common way
that goes through the park, they might have added a third
quarter of all greens; but this want is supplied by a garden
on the other side the house, which is all of that sort, very
wild,shady, and adorned with rough rockwork and fountains.
This was Moor Park, when I was acquainted with it, and the
sweetest place, I think, that I have seen in my life, either
before or since, at home or abroad; what it is now I can give
little account, having passed through several hands that have
made great changes in gardens as well as houses; but the
remembrance of what it was, is too pleasant ever to forget,
and therefore I do not believe to have mistaken the figure of
it, which may serve for a pattern to the best gardens of our
manners, and that are most proper for our country and climate.
What I have said of the best forms of gardens, is meant only
of such as are in some sort regular; for there may be other
forms wholly irregular, that may, for ought I know, have more
beauty than any of the others; but they must owe it to some
extraordinary dispositions of nature in the seat, or some
great race of fancy or judgment in the contrivance, which may
produce many disagreeing parts into some figure, which shall
yet upon the whole, be very agreeable. Something of this I
have seen in some places, but heard more of it from others,
who have lived much among the Chinese; a people, whose way of
thinking seems to lie as wide of ours in Europe, as their
country does. Among us, the beauty of building and planting is
placed chiefly in some certain proportions, symmetries, or
uniformities; our walks and our trees ranged so, as to answer
one another, and at exact distances. The Chinese scorn this
way of planting, and say a boy that can tell an hundred, may
plant walks of trees in straight lines, and over against one
another, and to what length and extent he pleases. But their
greatest reach of imagination, is employed in contriving
figures, where the beauty shall be great, and strike the eye,
but without any order or disposition of parts, that shall be
commonly or easily observed. And though we have hardly any
notion of this sort of beauty, yet they have a particular word
to express it; and where they find it hit their eye at first
sight, they say the Sharawadgi is fine or is admirable, or any
such expression of esteem. And whoever observes the work upon
the best Indian gowns, or the painting upon their best screens
or purcellans, will find their beauty is all of this kind,
(that is) without order. But I should hardly advise any of
these attempts in the figure of gardens among us; they are
adventures of too hard achievement for any common hands; and
though there may be more honour if they succeed well, yet
there is more dishonour if they fail, and 'tis twenty to one
they will; whereas in regular figures, 'tis hard to make any
great and remarkable faults.
The picture I have met with in some relations of a garden made
by a Dutch governor of their Colony, upon the Cape de Buen
Esperace, is admirable, and described to be an oblong figure,
of very large extent, and divided into four quarters by long
and cross walks, ranged with all sorts of orange-trees,
lemons, limes and citrons; each of these four quarters is
planted with the trees, fruits, flowers and plants that are
native and proper to each of the four parts of the world; so
as in this one enclosure are to be found the several gardens
of Europe, Asia, Africa and America. There could not be, in my
mind, a greater thought of a gardener, nor a nobler idea of a
garden, not better suited or chosen for the climate, which is
about thirty degrees, and may pass for the Hesperides of our
age, whatever or wherever the other was. Yet this is agreed by
all to have been in the islands or continent upon the
south-west of Africa, but what their forms or their fruits
were, none, that I know, pretend to tell; nor whether their
golden apples were for taste, or only for sight, as those of
Montezuma were in Mexico, who had large trees, with stocks,
branches, leaves and fruits, all admirably composed and
wrought of gold; but this was only stupendous in cost and art,
and answers not at all, in my opinion, the delicious varieties
of Nature in other gardens.
What I have said of gardening, is perhaps enough for any
gentleman to know, so as to make no great faults, nor be much
imposed upon in the designs of that kind, which I think ought
to be applauded, and encouraged in all countries. That and
building being a sort of creation, that raise beautiful
fabricks and figures out of nothing, that make the convenience
and pleasure of all private habitations, that employ many
hands, and circulate much money among the poorer sort and
artisans, that are a public service to one's country, by the
example as well as effect, which adorn the scene, improve the
earth, and even the air itself in some degree. The rest that
belongs to this subject, must be a gardener's part; upon whose
skill, diligence, and care, the beauty of the grounds, and
excellence of the fruits will much depend. Though if the soil
and sorts be well chosen, well suited, and disposed to the
walls; the ignorance or carelessness of the servants can
hardly leave the master disappointed.
I will not enter further upon his trade, than by three short
directions or advices: first, in all plantations, either for
his master or himself, to draw his trees out of some nursery
that is upon a leaner and lighter soil than his own where he
removes them; without this care they will not thrive in
several years, perhaps never; and must make way for new, which
should be avoided all that can be; for life is too short and
uncertain, to be renewing often your plantations. The walls of
your garden without their furniture, look as ill as those of
your house; so that you cannot dig up your garden too often,
nor too seldom cut them down.
The second is, in all trees you raise, to have some regard to
the stock, as well as the graft or bud; for the first will
have a share in giving taste and season to the fruits it
produces, how little soever it is usually observed by our
gardeners. I have found grafts of the same tree upon a
Bon-cretien stock, bring Chasseray pears, that lasted till
March, but with a rind green and rough: and others, upon a
Metre-John stock, with a smooth and yellow skin, which were
rotten in November. I am apt to think, all the difference
between the St. Michael and the Ambrette pear (which has
puzzled our gardeners) is only what comes from this variety of
the stocks; and by this, perhaps, as well as by raising from
stones and kernels, most of the new fruits are produced every
age. So the grafting a crab upon a white-thorn brings the
Lazarolli, a fruit esteemed at Rome, though I do not find it
worth cultivating here; and I believe the Cidrato ( or
Hermaphrodite) came from budding a citron upon an orange. The
best peaches are raised by buds of the best fruits upon
stocks, growing from stones of the best peaches; and so the
best apples and pears, from the best kinds grafted upon
stocks, from kernels also of the best sorts, with respect to
the season, as well as beauty and taste. And I believe so many
excellent winter pears, as have come into France since forty
years, may have been found out by grafting summer pears of the
finest taste and most water, upon winter stocks.
The third advice is, to take the greatest care and pains in
preserving your trees from the worst disease, to which those
of the best fruits are subject in the best soils, and upon the
best walls. 'Tis what has not been (that I know of) taken
notice of with us, till I was forced to observe it by the
experience of my gardens, though I have since met with it in
books both ancient and modern. I found my vines, peaches,
apricots and plums upon my best south walls, and sometimes
upon my west, apt for several years to a soot, or smuttiness
upon their leaves first, and then upon their fruits, which
were good for nothing the years they were so affected. My
orange-trees were likewise subject to it, and never prospered
while they were so; and I have known some collections quite
destroyed by it. But I cannot say, that I ever found either my
figs or pears infected with it, nor any trees upon my east
walls, though I do not well conjecture at the reason. The rest
were so spoiled with it, that I complained to several of the
oldest and best gardeners of England, who knew nothing of it,
but that they often fell into the same misfortune, and
esteemed it some blight of the spring. I observed after some
years, that the diseased trees had very frequent upon their
stocks and branches a small insect of a dark brown colour,
figured like a shield, and about the size of a large
wheat-corn: they stuck close to the bark, and in many places
covered it, especially about the joints: in winter they are
dry, and thin-shelled; but in spring they begin to grow soft,
and to fill with moisture, and to throw a spawn like a black
dust upon the stocks, as well as the leaves and fruits.
I met afterwards with the mention of this disease, as known
among orange-trees, in a book written upon that subject in
Holland, and since in Pausanias, as a thing so much taken
notice of in Greece, that the author describes a certain sort
of earth which cures Pediculos Vitis; or, the lice of
the vine, This is of all others the most pestilent disease of
the best fruit-trees, and upon the very best soils of gravel
and sand (especially where they are too hungry:) And is so
contagious, that it is propagated to new plants raised from
old trees that are infected, and spreads to new ones that are
planted near them, which makes me imagine, that it lies in the
root, and that the best cure were by application there. But I
have tried all soil without effect, and can prescribe no other
remedy, than to prune your trees as close as you can,
especially the tainted wood, then to wash them very clean with
a wet brush, so as not to leave one shell upon them that you
can discern. And upon your oranges to pick off every one that
you can find, by turning every leaf, as well as brushing clean
the stocks and branches. Without these cares and diligences,
you had better root up any trees that are infected, renew all
the mold in your borders or boxes, and plant new sound trees,
rather than suffer the disappointments and vexation of your
old ones.
I may perhaps be allowed to know something of this trade,
since I have so long allowed myself to be good for nothing
else, which few men will do, or enjoy their gardens, without
often looking abroad to see how other matters play, what
motions in the state, and what invitations they may hope for
into other scenes.
For my own part, as the country life, and this part of it more
particularly, were the inclination of my youth itself, so they
are the pleasure of my age; and I can truly say, that among
many great employments that have fallen to my share, I have
never asked or sought for any one of them, but often
endeavoured to escape from them, into the ease and freedom of
a private scene, where a man may go his own way and his own
pace, in the common paths or circles of life.
Inter cuncta leges et percunctabere doctos
Qua ratione queas traducere leniter aevum,
Quid curas minuat, quid te tibi reddat
amicum,
Quid pure tranquillet, honos an dulce
lucellum,
An secretum iter, et fallentis semita
vitae.
But above all, the learned read and ask
By what means you may gently pass your age,
What lessens care, what makes thee thine
own friend,
What truly calms the mind; honour, or
wealth,
Or else a private path of stealing life?
These are questions that a man ought at least to ask himself,
whether he asks others or no, and to choose his course of life
rather by his own humour and temper, than by common accidents,
or advice of friends; at least if the Spanish proverb be true,
That a fool knows more in his own house, than a wise man in
another's.
The measure of choosing well, is, whether a man likes what he
has chosen, which I thank God has befallen me; and though
among the follies of my life, building and planting have not
been the least, and have cost me more than I have the
confidence to own; yet they have been fully recompensed by the
sweetness and satisfaction of this retreat, where, since my
resolution taken of never entering again into any publick
employments, I have passed five years without ever going once
to town, though I am almost in sight of it, and have a house
there always ready to receive me. Nor has this been any sort
of affectation, as some have thought it, but a mere want of
desire or humour to make so small a remove; for when I am in
this corner I can truly say with Horace,
Me quoties reficit gelidus Digentia rivus,
Quid sentire putas, quid credis amice
precare?
Sit mihi quod nunc est etiam minus, ut mihi
vivam,
Quod superest aevi, si quid superesse
volent Dii.
Sit bona librorum, et provisae frugis in
annum
Copia, ne dubiae fluitem spe pendulus
horse,
Hoc satis est orasse Jovem qui donat et
aufert,
Me when the cold Digentian stream revives,
What does my friend believe I think or ask?
Let me yet less possess, so I may live,
Whate'er of life remains, unto myself.
May I have books enough, and one year's
store,
Not to depend upon each doubtful hour;
This is enough of mighty Jove to pray,
Who, as he pleases, gives and takes away.
That which makes the cares of gardening more necessary, or at
least more excusable, is, that all men eat fruit that can get
it; so as the choice is, only whether one will eat good or
ill; and between these the difference is not greater in point
of taste and delicacy, than it is of health: for the first, I
will only say, that whoever has used to eat good, will do very
great penance when he comes to ill: and for the other, I think
nothing is more evident, than as ill or unripe fruit is
extremely unwholesome, and causes so many untimely deaths, or
so much sickness about autumn, in all great cities where 'tis
greedily sold as well as eaten; so no part of diet, in any
season, is so healthful, so natural, and so agreeable to the
stomach, as good and well-ripened fruits; for this I make the
measure of their being good; and let the kinds be what they
will, if they will not ripen perfectly in our climate, they
are better never planted, or never eaten. I can say it for
myself at least, and all my friends, that the season of summer
fruits is ever the season of health with us, which I reckon
from the beginning of June to the end of September, and for
all sicknesses of the stomach (from which most others are
judged to proceed) I do not think any that are like me, the
most subject to them, shall complain, whenever they eat thirty
or forty cherries before meals, or the like proportion of
strawberries, white figs, soft peaches, or grapes perfectly
ripe. But these after Michaelmas I do not think wholesome with
us, unless attended by some fit of hot and dry weather, more
than is usual after that season; when the frosts or the rain
have taken them, they grow dangerous, and nothing but the
autumn and winter pears are to be reckoned in season, besides
apples, which, with cherries, are of all others the most
innocent food, and perhaps the best physick. Now, whoever will
be sure to eat good fruit, must do it out of a garden of his
own; for besides the choice so necessary in the sorts, the
soil, and so many other circumstances that go to compose a
good garden, and produce good fruits, there is something very
nice in gathering them, and choosing the best, even from the
same tree. The best sorts of all among us, which I esteem the
white figs and the soft peaches, will not carry without
suffering. The best fruit that is bought, has no more of the
master's care, than how to raise the greatest gains; his
business is to have as much fruit as he can upon as few trees;
whereas the way to have it excellent, is to have but little
upon many trees. So that for all things out of a garden,
either of salads or fruits, a poor man will eat better, that
has one of his own, than a rich man that has none. And this is
all I think of, necessary and useful to be known upon this
subject.
[Note: this essay
was printed in Sir William Temple Upon the
Gardens of Epicurus: With Other XVIIth
Century Garden Essays, Introduction by
Albert Forbes Sieveking. London: Chatto
and Windus, Publishers, 1908. The text was
taken from the online version at the Internet
Archive. In this transcription all English
translations of Latin shown within brackets
are mine.]