cenery might possibly effect a blemish in the picture, if we
could suppose this picture viewed at large from some remote point in the
heavens. "It is easily understood," says Mr. Ellison, "that what might
improve a closely scrutinized detail, might, at the same time, injure a
general and more distantly--observed effect." He spoke upon this topic
with warmth: regarding not so much its immediate or obvious importance,
(which is little,) as the character of the conclusions to which it
might lead, or of the collateral propositions which it might serve to
corroborate or sustain. There might be a class of beings, human once,
but now to humanity invisible, for whose scrutiny and for whose refined
appreciation of the beautiful, more especially than for our own, had
been set in order by God the great landscape-garden of the whole earth.
In the course of our discussion, my young friend took occasion to quote
some passages from a writer who has been supposed to have well treated
this theme.
"There are, properly," he writes, "but two styles of
landscape-gardening, the natural and the artificial. One seeks to
recall the original beauty of the country, by adapting its means to
the surrounding scenery; cultivating trees in harmony with the hills
or plain of the neighboring land; detecting and bringing into practice
those nice relations of size, proportion and color which, hid from the
common observer, are revealed everywhere to the experienced student of
nature. The result of the natural style of gardening, is seen rather
in the absence of all defects and incongruities--in the prevalence of a
beautiful harmony and order, than in the creation of any special wonders
or miracles. The artificial style has as many varieties as there are
different tastes to gratify. It has a certain general relation to
the various styles of building. There are the stately avenues and
retirements of Versailles; Italian terraces; and a various mixed old
English style, which bears some relation to the domestic Gothic or
English Elizabethan architecture. Whatever may be said against the
abuses of the artificial landscape-gardening, a mixture of pure art in a
garden scene, adds to it a great beauty. This is partly pleasing to the
eye, by the show of order and design, and partly moral. A terrace, with
an old moss-covered balustrade, calls up at once to the eye, the fair
forms that have passed there in other days. The slightest exhibition of
art is an evidence
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