is a substitution of little things for great when we
would put a whole country into a nobleman’s livery.
I know nothing which to me would be so pleasing or
affecting, as to be able to say when I am in the midst
of a large estate—This man is not the victim
of his condition; he is not the spoiled child of worldly
grandeur; the thought of himself does not take the
lead in his enjoyments; he is, where he ought to be,
lowly-minded, and has human feelings; he has a true
relish of simplicity, and therefore stands the best
chance of being happy; at least, without it there
is no happiness, because there can be no true sense
of the bounty and beauty of the creation, or insight
into the constitution of the human mind. Let
a man of wealth and influence shew, by the appearance
of the country in his neighbourhood, that he treads
in the steps of the good sense of the age, and occasionally
goes foremost; let him give countenance to improvements
in agriculture, steering clear of the pedantry of
it, and showing that its grossest utilities will connect
themselves harmoniously with the more intellectual
arts, and even thrive the best under such connection;
let him do his utmost to be surrounded with tenants
living comfortably, which will bring always with it
the best of all graces which a country can have—flourishing
fields and happy-looking houses; and, in that part
of his estate devoted to park and pleasure-ground,
let him keep himself as much out of sight as possible;
let Nature be all in all, taking care that everything
done by man shall be in the way of being adopted by
her. If people chuse that a great mansion should
be the chief figure in a country, let this kind of
keeping prevail through the picture, and true taste
will find no fault.
I am writing now rather for writing’s sake than
anything else, for I have many remembrances beating
about in my head which you would little suspect.
I have been thinking of you, and Coleridge, and our
Scotch Tour, and Lord Lowther’s grounds, and
Heaven knows what. I have had before me the tremendously
long ell-wide gravel walks of the Duke of Athol, among
the wild glens of Blair, Bruar Water, and Dunkeld,
brushed neatly, without a blade of grass or weed upon
them, or anything that bore traces of a human footstep;
much indeed of human hands, but wear or tear of foot
was none. Thence I pass’d to our neighbour,
Lord Lowther. You know that his predecessor,
greatly, without doubt, to the advantage of the place,
left it to take care of itself. The present lord
seems disposed to do something, but not much.
He has a neighbour, a Quaker, an amiable, inoffensive
man[33], and a little of a poet too, who has amused
himself, upon his own small estate upon the Emont,
in twining pathways along the banks of the river,
making little cells and bowers with inscriptions of
his own writing, all very pretty as not spreading far.
This man is at present Arbiter Elegantiarum, or master
of the grounds, at Lowther, and what he has done hitherto
is very well, as it is little more than making accessible
what could not before be got at.