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before the operators of the new world. All doubts, all speculative theories, all debateable propositions, should be 
kept out of view—should be carefully discarded from a work, the object of which is chiefly elementary. That is 
what our author, unfortunately for his countrymen, has not done ; too large a space of the vol um e before us is oc¬ 
cupied in collecting authorities to discuss mere quibbles, while great principles—the precious fruit of the lives of 
such men as Uvedale Price, Eepton, Gilpin, and others—are not made of sufficient import, but entrammelled in a mass 
of discussion which destroys their perspicuity of exposition, and consequently renders that obscure which was 
otherwise luminous. Mr. Downing’s sin does not lie in compiling a book chiefly out of English authors, but rather 
from the want of judicious selection; his countrymen have little need of the husk along with the kernel. Our 
author has no sympathy with geometrical gardening, as “ the results evince a fertility of odd conceits, rather than 
the exercise of taste or imagination.” Hence the genius of Le Notre only exemplified “ the law of fashion in the 
gardening taste, from which there was no higher court of appeal.” It is quite certain our author would not have 
appealed to the Dutch school, which he characterises as a “double distilled compound of laboured symmetry, regu¬ 
larity, and stiffness, which seems to convey to the quiet owner so much pleasure, and to the tasteful traveller and 
critic so much despair! ” The truth is, one kin d of gardening, in the mind of Mr. Downing, is alone to be tolerated, 
and this he designates the modern or English style , which, he says, “is imbued with beauty of the most graceful and 
and agreeable character, based upon nature, and refined by art.” 
Mr. Downing hails the introduction of this modern style in glowing language, and Mr. Kent gets his full share 
of praise as the radical reformer of the old school. “ Previous artists,” he remarks, “had confined their efforts 
within the rigid walls of the garden; but Kent, who saw in all nature a garden-landscape, demolished the walls, 
introduced the ha-ha , and, by blending the park and the garden, substituted for the primness of the old inclosure the 
freedom of the pleasure ground.” 
It is manifest from the above verbatim quotations that our American friend is totally unacquainted with the 
numerous princely examples of the purest kind existing in England, neither does he appear to have read her best 
authors on this subject; if he has, it must have been through his modern spectacles. What says one of oiu best 
landscape gardeners (Gilpin) to such Gothic innovations upon the old school ? “ The modern system throws down 
the walls, terraces, steps, and balustrades at ‘ one fell swoop,’ and exposes every recess of retirement, every nook 
of comfort, to the blast, and to the public gaze; the approach invades the precincts of the garden, which now, in 
spotty distinctness, is spread over a space cleared of every vestige of intricacy and repose, while a sunk fence ex¬ 
cludes the cattle from that lawn which is apparently open to them, or the flimsy barrier of an iron hurdle is attached 
to a building whose ivied battlements have witnessed the lapse of ages. What compensation, then, does the modern 
system offer for the destruction of all comfort ? ” Sir Uvedale Price, the most profound as well as the most accom¬ 
plished writer on landscape gardening in the English language, had a high reverence for antiquity; yet he sacri¬ 
ficed an old garden on one occasion, and wrote his own confession of the barbarous act afterwards. “ I may, per¬ 
haps,” says Sir Uvedale, “have spoken more feelingly on this subject, from having done myself what I so condemn 
in others—destroyed an old-fashioned garden. * * * I have long regretted its destruction. I destroyed it, not from 
disliking it; on the contrary, it was a sacrifice I made, against my own sensations, to the prevailing opinion.” 
It is beyond all question that the crude innovations of Kent could not long stand against the profound reasoning 
of Price, whose arguments are based upon the clearest principles of taste; so clear, indeed, and so classically con¬ 
veyed to us, that we almost doubt—were it not that the volume before us places it beyond all doubt—that Mr. 
Downing could by any possibility allow such untenable opinions to go forth under his name. Every residence of 
dignity or of architectural pretensions requires accompaniments of a decorative and substantial character, in con¬ 
formity with the magnitude of the design. Terraces, steps, balustrades, vases, fountains, and other architectural 
embellishments are a necessary and universal auxiliary to such mansions. Eepose and security, as well as every 
principle of good taste, demand that these should be efficiently and distinctly protected by an architectural orna¬ 
mental structure. The line of demarcation should be unequivocally defined. “ But,” says Gilpin, “whence this 
horror of a fence which good sense—a constituent part of good taste—prescribes ? If it be contrary to good sense 
to admit the cattle on the dressed lawn, it is, I conceive, equally contrary to let it appear they are admitted,” 
which would be the case were the ha-ha of Kent introduced, or the miserable subterfuge of the invisible fence 
adopted, which the modern improver so strenuously recommends. Mr. Gilpin, speaking of the division of the dress 
ground from the pasture beyond it, thus forcibly sums up the whole argument:—“I hold it imperious that the 
manorial house, either of ancient or modern date, should be separated from the pasture by a wall. I think it agree¬ 
able to good taste that a Grecian, Italian, or any other pile of sufficient character or magnitude, should also be thus 
accompanied. In cases where this accompaniment is not requisite, or cannot well be applied, I prefer a more solid 
fence to a flimsy one; and a sunk fence I hold to be totally irreconcilable to a shadow of taste.” 
Mr. Downing considers, that in consequence of North America possessing in an eminent degree bold pic¬ 
turesque scenery, noble rivers, stupendous cataracts, bold expansive lakes, that any attempt at imitating, on a 
small scale, anything of this nature must be clearly avoided; now we dissent entirely from such views. It 
might as well be said, and with equal propriety, that because we have our lakes of Cumberland and Kill am ey, 
artificial water is to be excluded from the park. What would, indeed, be the aspect of our noblest country 
residences when deprived of their lakes swarming with waterfowl ? On a small scale even, a limited piece of 
water accompanied with rocky decoration, judiciously planted and arranged with the hand of taste, creates, to the 
possessor of such, an amount of gratification for his daily enjoyment exceeding anything we can pretend to describe. 
