i 9 o THE PRAISE OF GARDENS 



Having remembered this place in its pristine beauty, I could 

 not help condoling with him on its present ruinous situation. I 

 spoke to him of the many alterations which had been made, and 

 all for the worse ; of the many shades which had been taken away, 

 of the bowers that were destroyed by neglect, and the hedge-rows 

 that were spoiled by clipping. The Genius, with a sigh, received 

 my condolement and assured me that he was equally a martyr to 

 ignorance and taste, to refinement and rusticity. 



Seeing me desirous of knowing farther, he went on : 



'You see in the place before you the paternal inheritance of 

 a poet ; and, to a man content with little, fully sufficient for his 

 subsistence : but a strong imagination, and a long acquaintance 

 with the rich, are dangerous foes to contentment. 



'Our poet, instead of sitting down to enjoy life, resolved to 

 prepare for its future enjoyment, and set about converting a 

 place of profit into a scene of pleasure. This he at first supposed 

 could be accomplished at a small expense ; and he was willing 

 for a while to stint his income, to have an opportunity of dis- 

 playing his taste. The improvement in this manner went forward; 

 one beauty attained led him to wish for some other ; but still he 

 hoped that every emendation would be the last. It was now, 

 therefore, found that the improvement exceeded the subsidy 

 that the place was grown too large and too fine for the inhabitant. 

 But that pride which was once exhibited, could not retire ; the 

 garden was made for the owner, and though it was become unfit 

 for him, he could not willingly resign it to another. Thus the 

 first idea of its beauties contributing to the happiness of his life, 

 was found unfaithful ; so that, instead of looking within for satis- 

 faction, he began to think of having recourse to the praises of 

 those who came to visit his Improvement. 



' In consequence of this hope, which now took possession of 

 his mind, the gardens were open to the visits of every stranger ; 

 and the country flocked round to walk, to criticise, to admire, 

 and to do mischief. He soon found that the admirers of his taste 

 left by no means such strong marks of their applause, as the 

 envious did of their malignity. All the windows of his temples, 



