brought on an incurable disorder, and when just at the point of death, he called for a cup of his beloved liquor. Those, who were standing round him, surprized at the demand, endeavoured to persuade him to the contrary; but he persisted, and, when the bowl was brought him, attempted to drink, but could not; wherefore, giving away the bowl, he observed with a smile, that it would be hard if two such friends as he and the cup should part at least without kissing; and then expired.

ESSAY XXI.

OF all men, who form gay allusions of distant happiness, perhaps a Poet is the most sanguine. Such is the ardour of his hopes, that they often are equal to actual enjoyment; and he feels more in expectance than actual fruition. I have often regarded a character of this kind with some degree of envy. A man possessed of such warm imagination commands all nature, and arrogates possessions of which the owner has a blunter relish. While life continues, the alluring prospect lies before him; he travels in the pursuit with confidence, and resigns it only with his last breath.

It is this happy confidence, which gives life its true relish, and keeps up our spirits amidst every distress and disappointment. How much less would be done, if a man knew how little he can do! How wretched a creature would he be, if he saw the end as well as the beginning of his projects! He would have nothing left but to sit down in torpid despair and exchange employment for actual calamity.

I was led into this train of thinking upon lately visiting the beautiful Gardens of the late Mr. Shenstone, who was himself a Poet, and possessed of that warm imagination, which made him ever foremost in the pursuit of flying happiness. Could he but have forseen the end of all his schemes, for whom he was improving, and what changes his designs were to undergo, he would have scarcely amused his innocent life with what, for several years employed him in a most harmless manner, and abridged his scanty fortune. As the progress of this Improvement is a true picture of sublunary vicissitude, I could not help calling up my imagination, which, while I walked pensively along, suggested the following Reverie.

As I was turning my back upon a beautiful piece of water enlivened with cascades and rock-work, and entering a dark walk by which ran a prattling brook, the Genius of the place appeared before me, but more resembling the God of Time, than him more peculiarly appointed to the care of Gardens. Instead of shears he bore a scythe; and he appeared rather with the implements of husbandry, than those of a modern gardener. 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:

* 1773.

"You

"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, re"solved 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 ac"complished at a small expence; and he was willing "for a while to stint his income, to have an oppor"tunity of displaying his taste. The Improvement "in this manner went forward; one beauty attained "led him to wish for some other; but be still hoped "that every emendation would be the last. It was "now therefore found, that the Improvement ex"ceeded the subsidy, that the place was grown too "large and too fine for the inhabitant. But that

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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 satisfaction, 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 opened "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 ad"mirers 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, "and the walls of his retreats, were impressed with "the characters of prophaneness, ignorance, and "obscenity;

<< obscenity; his hedges were broken, his statues "and urns defaced, and his lawns worn bare. It "was now therefore necessary to shut up the gar"dens once more, and to deprive the publick of "that happiness, which had before ceased to be his

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own.

"In this situation the Poet continued for a time "in the character of a jealous lover, fond of the Beauty he keeps, but unable to supply the extravagance of of every demand. The Garden by this "time was completely grown and finished; the "marks of art were covered up by the luxuriance "of nature; the winding walks were grown dark; "the brook assumed a natural sylvage; and the "rocks were covered with moss. Nothing now re"mained but to enjoy the beauties of the place, "when the poor Poet died, and his Garden was obliged to be sold for the benefit of those, who "had contributed to its embellishment.

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"The beauties of the place had now for some "time been celebrated as well in prose as in verse; "and all men of taste wished for so envied a spot, "where every urn was marked with the Poet's pen"cil, and every walk awakened genius and medi"tation. The first purchaser was one Mr. Truepenny, a button-maker, who was possessed of "three thousand pounds, and was willing also to "be possessed of taste and genius.

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"As the Poet's ideas were for the natural wildness "of the landscape, the button-maker's were for the "more regular productions of art. He conceived "perhaps that as it is a beauty in a button to be "of a regular pattern, so the same regularity ought "to obtain in a landscape. Be this as it will, he "employed the shears to some purpose; he clipped up the hedges, cut down the gloomy walks, made

"vistos

"vistos upon the stables and hog-sties, and showed "his friends that a man of taste should always be doing.

"The next candidate for taste and genius was a "Captain of a ship, who bought the Garden because "the former possessor could find nothing more to "mend; but unfortunately he had taste too. His

great passion lay in building, in making Chinese "temples, and cage-work summer-houses. As the "place before had an appearance of retirement and

inspired meditation, he gave it a more peopled "air; every turning presented a cottage, or ice"house, or a temple; the Improvement was con"verted into a little city, and it only wanted in"habitants to give it the air of a village in the "East Indies.

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"In this manner, in less than ten years, the Improvement has gone through gone through the hands of as many proprietors, who were all willing to have "taste, and to show their taste too. As the place "had received its best finishing from the hand of "the first possessor, so every innovator only lent a "hand to do mischief. Those parts, which were ob"scure, have been enlightened; those walks which "led naturally, have been twisted into serpentine "windings. The colour of the flowers of the field is "not more various than the variety of tastes, that "have been employed here, and all in direct con"tradiction to the original aim of the first improver. "Could the original possessor but revive, with what "a sorrowful heart would he look upon his favourite "spot again! He would scarcely recollect a Dryad "or a Wood-nymph of his former acquaintance, "and might perhaps find himself as much a stranger in his own plantation, as in the deserts of "Siberia."

ESSAY