side, at least, of every house must be appropriated to useful rather than ornamental purposes. In the original plan of Uppark, it is evident, by the little attention given to its appearance, that the architect intended the north front should

not be seen; but when the buildings, which formed the due importance of the east or entrance front, were taken down, the entrance still continued as before.

It is difficult to give an adequate idea of the improvement which has been actually executed, without inserting the whole

series of sketches and plans by which the report is illustrated, and which consists of nine distinct drawings.

The foregoing sketches [figs. 201 and 202] shew the entrance from the park to the pleasure-ground and flower-garden, which is defended by a wall of flint-work; and, after passing through the iron-gates, the road continues in the highly-dressed pleasure-ground, till it enters the quadrangle to the north of the house, in which a corridor and portico of Doric columns mark the entrance.

FRAGMENT XIX.

CONCERNING COMBINATION.

I CONFESS myself at some loss for an appropriate title for the subject of this section. Perhaps it will best be explained by comparing a mansion of the last century with those venerable piles of more ancient date; many of which have been sacrificed to the prim spruceness of that modern fashion which dictates uniformity of style through the whole building, and, consequently, renders it necessary to hide, by planting, all such offices, or appendages, as cannot be made to assimilate with its character. To this may be added, the prevailing custom of placing a house in the middle of a park, detached from all objects, whether of convenience or magnificence; and thus making a country residence as solitary and unconnected as the prison on Dartmoor.

Let us compare such a scene with the ancient family mansion of two or three centuries ago, and which may, perhaps, have undergone repairs or additions, in different styles, during a long succession of generations. We shall often observe a combined mass of buildings, irregular in their outline, and, perhaps, even discordant in their style; but the confused mixture in a mansion, with its offices attached and detached, gives an imposing assemblage, while the church, and even the village, or, at least, some houses of dependants, add to that quantity and variety, without which there can be no real greatness or importance. It is a mistaken idea, that a place is increased in its grandeur by removing all its subordinate parts to a distance, or out of sight on the contrary, many of

our most venerable palaces are attached, at least on one side, to the neighbouring town; while views into gardens and park scenery are enjoyed from the principal apartments.

Except in the cases of some royal domains, the examples of such venerable edifices are becoming more and more scarce; partly from the prevalence of bad taste, that generally accompanies wealth suddenly acquired, and partly from the propensity which dictates the pulling down and rebuilding, rather than preserving and restoring the ancient specimens of former magnificence. This erroneous practice is further increased by the fashion of detaching the mansion from its natural dependancies, rather than combining it with them. Amongst these, perhaps, there was none deemed more appropriate, in old times, than the church or chapel, or family place of burial and worship. This, so far from casting the gloom which modern times have annexed to such combinations, was formerly considered as an object of pride and pleasure to the living, by combining the associated remembrance of many generations of the same family.

If there be a pleasing association excited by a collection of family pictures, in the hall of an ancient mansion; if we look back, with a degree of pride and satisfaction, on the ancient costume of the stiff portraits of former proprietors, how much more forcibly do the busts, and statues, and recorded deeds of former worthies, arouse the mind to a feeling of respect, when we know that all which can remain is sacredly preserved on the spot where they once enjoyed the regard of their contemporaries! Not having received the permission of the noble proprietor to mention the name of his place, I must take the liberty to explain the subject by the help of a sketch, without giving the name.

Near the ancient seat of a NOBLE FAMILY, the parish church (to which is attached the burial place, used by the family for more than seven centuries) is so close to the site of the mansion, that some may, perhaps, think it too near; but a modern house has been restored on the original site, and is now so intimately connected with the church, the churchyard, and offices belonging to the house, that it is impossible not to be pleased with the combined effect of such a mass of buildings. This I have recommended to be increased, by preserv

ing a picturesque cottage, formerly the parsonage, and adding a cemetery, to form the boundary of the churchyard.

It is remarkable, that, in this neighbourhood, a custom prevails of profusely gilding the tombs and gravestones, which are some of white and some of a black stone; and I suggested the idea of intermixing shrubs and beds of flowers with the gilded and carved ornaments: the novelty of the scene would tend to remove that degree of disgust which ought not to be excited by the emblems of mortality, while we believe in the immortality of man.

FRAGMENT XX.

CONCERNING CONTRASTS.

THE gaudy sketch, which accompanies this fragment, was taken at the moment when a dark and heavy summer's shower was suddenly succeeded by a bright effulgence of light, in a conservatory from which the glass roof had been removed. Although the effect was such as neither this sketch nor any painting can express, it may yet be useful in elucidating the following remarks concerning contrasts. The first contrast here shewn, is, that in the shape of the trees, betwixt the straight, stiff, and upright forms to the right, and those drooping forms to the left; and, though we admire the stately and aspiring character of the hollyhock and larkspur among flowers, with the cedar and cypress among trees, yet, if we turn to the opposite side, we shall confess the justice of Mr. Burke's remark, that a certain degree of weakness is not incompatible with beauty; and that in vegetables, as in the human form, the apparent need of support increases the interest we feel in what is graceful or beautiful.

The sketch first serves to exemplify the contrast betwixt aspiring and drooping plants, as well as the contrast of colours.

I have occasionally planted, near each other, such trees as the liburnum and the acacia, with weeping birch and willows; adding such flowers and shrubs as gracefully accord, by the pendulous manner of their growth; this makes a source of pleasing variety in our gardens: while, in others, I have collected together all the different species of some beautiful genus : thus, in the thornery at Woburn, are to be found every species of thorn which will bear the climate.

I have, also, endeavoured to delineate, but found it impossible to do justice to, the rainbow, either in its vivid hues, or its transparent effect. I should have wished to give an adequate idea of that harmonious contest, which I witnessed, betwixt the vivid meteor in the sky, and the assemblage of objects seeming to vie with the rainbow in the richness of their colours.

The next contrast I shall mention is that of light and dark, not in shadow and shade, but of a variety in colouring observable in nature, and well worth cultivating in the art of gardening, although difficult to represent in painting. Of this I shall enumerate several kinds.

Firstly. The difference of a leaf with the light shining full upon it, which renders it an opaque object, and the same leaf seen transparent, by the light shining through it.*

Secondly. The contrast produced amidst the more gaudy colouring, by the sort of repose that the eye derives, sometimes from white flowers, as of the jasmine, the passion-flower, and other plants, whose leaves are dark and not glossy: sometimes the same repose is produced by a mass of light foliage, at a little distance, appearing without shape or colour, as in a bed of mignionette.

Thirdly. The contrast in texture; some plants and flowers appearing as if composed of silk; others, of cloth or velvet; some smooth as satin; others, harsh, rough, and prickly.

Fourthly. The contrast of size; some, like the aloe, the horse-chestnut, or the tulip-tree, bearing their blossoms above the reach of man; and others, like the diminutive rock-plants, and miniatures of nature, requiring to be raised, or placed on tables, and in flower-pots or baskets. Sometimes plants of the same species assume new dimensions, forming a contrast with their more common measurements; as in the diminutive dwarf Burgundy rose, and the gigantic viola tricolor; which

Having, one day, when at Holwood, pointed this out to Mr. Pitt, as a source of the delight we experience in a sunny day, from an open trellis of vines overhead, or the foliage in the roof of a conservatory, he was so forcibly struck with the remark, that he made several experiments with leaves of different shapes and tints, some of which, from the opaquer ramification of their fibres, or other circumstances of texture, &c. became new objects of delight to a mind like his, capable of resorting to the beauties of nature, as a relief from the severer duties of his arduous situation.