onsidered as the indication of existing splendour; and
sought after, as the form in which the beauty of Nature is now to be
admired. All that association accordingly had blended in our minds with
the style of ancient gardening in our own country, was instantly
divested by its appearance in France; and we felt then the whole
importance of that happy change in the national taste, whereby variety
has been made to succeed to uniformity, and the imitation of nature to
come in the place of the exhibition of art.
In every country, and in every department of taste, the earliest object
of art is, the display of the power of the artist; and it is in the last
period of its improvements alone, that this miserable propensity is
overcome. It is hence that the imitation of Nature is not what is at
first attempted; that the forms which she presents are uniformly
neglected, and the merit of the artist is thought to consist in such
artificial designs as bear the most unequivocal marks of his individual
dexterity. The forms of nature are every where to be met with--they are
open to the most vulgar capacity; the power of art, therefore, it is at
first thought, must be shown in the complete subjugation of natural
form, or the complete abandonment of natural beauty. It is hence that
florists uniformly take delight in double flowers and monsters, which
are the farthest removed from the forms of nature; and it is hence that
gardeners always evince so great an anxiety to conduct strangers to the
most ridiculous contortion of natural form, which their domains can
exhibit. There is nothing unnatural or vulgar in this propensity; it
pervades all branches of taste at a certain stage of its progress, and
all ranks of society, to whom a limited capacity of mind is granted. It
is hence that every society exhibits examples of individuals, who aim at
singularity of manners, merely that they may be different from the
generality of mankind; it is hence that many persons, even of a
cultivated mind, shut their eye to the charms of beauty in every
department of taste, merely that they may display their own wretched
vanity in criticising its imperfections; it is hence that painters
select the moment of passion or exertion, for no other reason than for
the display of their anatomical knowledge, or their skill in the
delineation of extraordinary emotion; and that poets have so often
neglected what is really pathetic in the scenes, either of nature or of
man, t
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