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from any thing if you press him with both legs; you keep his haunches under him going down a hill; help him on the side of a bank; more easily avoid the wheel of a carriage; and approach more gracefully and nearer to the side of a coach or horseman. When a pampered horse curvets irregularly, and twists his body to and fro, turn his head either to the right or left, or both alternately (but without letting him move out of the track), and press your leg to the opposite side; your horse cannot then spring on his hind-legs to one side, because your leg prevents him; nor to the other, because his head looks that way, and a horse does not start and spring to the side on which he looks. Hence the impropriety of the habit which many riders have, of letting their legs shake against the sides of the horse: if a horse is taught, they are then continually pressing him to violent action; and if he is not they render him insensible and incapable of being taught. The fretting of a hot horse will hence be excessive, as it can no otherwise be moderated than by the utmost stillness of the seat, hands, and legs of the rider.
Colts at first are taught to bear a bit, and by degrees to pull at it. If they did not press it, they could not be guided by it. By degrees they find their necks stronger than the arms of a man; and that they are capable of making great opposition, and often of foiling their riders. Then is the time to make them supple and pliant. The part which of all others requires most this pliancy is the neck. Hence the metaphor of stiffnecked for disobedient. A horse cannot move his head but with the muscles of his neck:
this may be called his helm ; it guides his course, changes and directs his motion.
In a word, the inexperienced horseman should endeavour to remember on all occasions, that there is an ability and readiness in a horse to move every limb, on a sign given him by the hands or legs of his rider; as well as to bend his body, and move in a short compass, quick and colJected, so as instantly to be able to perform any motion.
HORSE-SHOE ISLAND, a low island, near the north coast of New Holland at the bottom of the
gulf of Carpentaria, between one and two miles long. Lat. 17° 2′ S.
HORSE-SHOE POINT, the most southerly point, near the east end of the island of St. Christopher. Long. 63° 32′ W., lat. 17° 19′ N.
HORSE'STEALER, n. s.
Horse and steal.
A thief who takes away horses.
of Essex, opposite Walton lights. It is six
Thorley. In 1781 he became archdeacon of St.
HORSHAM, a borough and market town of Sussex, near St. Leonard's forest, thirty-six miles from London, so named from Horsa, brother to Hengist the Saxon. It is one of the largest towns in the county, and has sent members to parliament since the 30th of Edward I. The county gaol is in this town, and the assizes are often held here. It is a borough by prescription, governed by two bailiffs, and burgage holders, &c., who elect the members of parliament. It has a very fine church, and a well-endowed free school; with a weekly market on Saturday, famous for poultry, and a monthly fair. Here are several meeting-houses for dissenters, and several charitable gifts to the poor parishioners.
HORSLEY (John), M. A. and F. R. S., a
HORSLEY (Samuel), a learned modern di-
HORSTIUS (Dr. James), professor of medicine in the university of Helmstadt, was born at Torgau, in 1537, and took the degree of M. D. at Francfort in 1562. He wrote five treatises; 1. On the Qualities of a Good Physician; 2. On those of a Good Apothecary; 3. On the Plague, in German; 4. A Commentary in libros Hippocratis de corde; and, 5, De Noctambulis, ou Sleep-walkers. He died in 1600.
HORSTIUS (Gregory), M. D., nephew of the above, called the Esculapius of Germany, was also born at Torgau in 1578. He graduated at Basil in 1606, and was professor of physic in several universities. He published several books, which are esteemed, and died at Ulm in 1636.
HORTATION, n. s.) Lat. hortatio, hortor. HOR'TATIVE, n. s. The act of exhorting or HOR TATORY, adj. encouraging; a precept which animates or exhilarates. Hortatory, applicable to precepts, not to persons; lively, animating, &c.; as a hortatorý speech, not a hortatory speaker.
HORTENSIUS (Lambert), a philosopher, historian, and poet, born at Utrecht in 1501. He assumed this name because his father was a gardener. He studied at Louvain, and was many years rector at Naarden, where he died in 1577. He wrote De Bello Germanico, and several other works.
HORTENSIUS (Martin), a celebrated astronomer, born at Delft in 1605. He wrote a treatise De Mercurio sub sole viso, et Venere invisa; also two tracts De Utilitate et Dignitate Matheseos; et de Oculo ejusque præstantia. He died a 1539.
9 FEB 1971
HORTICULTURE, n. s. Į Lat. hortus and HOR'TULAN, adj. $ cultura. The art of cultivating gardens Hortulan, belonging to a garden.
This seventh edition of my hortulan kalendar is Evelyn. HORTICULTURE (of Latin hortus, a garden, and colo I till or dress) is the art of practical gardening, and we adopt this term in preference, because of its direct bearing upon practical operations, as well as because it has been very properly used of late to designate some important societies of gentlemen associated to promote the art. See SOCIETY, HORTICULTURAL, OF LONDON, &c.
We shall not detain the reader with the praises of this pursuit, to be found in almost all our polite writers, but adopt a brief sketch of its history from Horace Walpole, and proceed to give practical directions :
SECT. I.-HISTORY OF GARDENING.
Gardening,' says Mr. Walpole, was probably one of the first arts that succeeded to that of building houses, and naturally attended property and individual possession. Culinary, and afterwards medicinal herbs, were the objects of every head of a family: it became convenient to have them within reach, without seeking them at random in woods, in meadows, and on mountains, as often as they were wanted. When the earth ceased to furnish spontaneously all those primitive luxuries, and culture became requisite, separate enclosures for rearing herbs grew expedient. Fruits were in the same predicament; and those most in use, or that demanded attention, must have entered into and extended the domestic enclosure. Noah planted a vineyard, and drank of the wine; and thus were vineyards, as well as kitchen-gardens and orchards, introduced. No doubt the prototype of all these was the garden of Eden.'
"We have reason to think, that for many centuries the term garden implied no more than a kitchen-garden or orchard. The garden of Alcinous, in the Odyssey, is the most renowned in the heroic times. No admirer of Homer can read this description without rapture.' Yet,' continues our author, 'what was that boasted paradise with which
the gods ordained fo grace Alcinous and his happy land? Why, divested of harmonious Greek and bewitching poetry, it was a small orchard and vineyard, with some beds of herbs and two fountains that watered them, enclosed within a quickset hedge. The whole compass of this pompous garden contained four acres. The trees were apples, figs, pomegranates, pears, olives, and vines. Alcinous's garden was planted by the poet, enriched by him with the fairy gift of eternal summer, and was no doubt an effort of imagination surpassing any thing he had ever seen. As he has bestowed on the same happy prince a pa
lace with brazen walls, and columns of silver, he certainly intended that the gardens should be proportionably magnificent.'
The hanging gardens of Babylon were a still greater prodigy. But, as they are supposed to have been formed on terraces, Mr. Walpole concludes, they were, what sumptuous gardens have been in all ages till the present, unnatural, enriched by art, possibly with fountains, statues, balustrades, and summer-houses, and were any thing but verdant and rural. The suiting of the situation to the nature of the trees seems, from the account given by Josephus, (Contra Apion, lib. i. s. 19), to have been one view in these erections. And the success seems to have been answerable, as the trees, says Quintus Curtius, lib. 5, flourished extremely well, and grew as tall as in their native situations.
The eastern gardens appear to have been planted adjoining to the house or palace to which they belonged. Thus king Ahasuerus went immediately from the banquet of wine to walk in the garden of the palace. Esther, vii. 7. The garden of Cyrus, at Sardis, mentioned by Xenophon, seems also to have been contiguous to the palace: as was that of Attalus, mentioned by Justin, lib. xxxvi. c. 4.
The character of the gardening, among the Greeks, it is not very easy to ascertain. The Academus was a wooded shady place; and the trees appear to have been of the olive species. It was situated beyond the limits of the walls, and adjacent to the tombs of the heroes; and, though we are not informed of the particular manner in which this grove was laid out, it may be gathered from Pausanias's Attica, that it was elegantly ornamented. At the entrance was an altar dedicated to Love. Within were the altars of Prometheus, the Muses, Mercury, Minerva, and Hercules; and at a small distance the tomb of Plato. So that, in all probability, it was highly adapted by art, as well as nature, to philosophic reflection and contemplation. Plutarch says, that before the time of Cimon, the Academus was a rude and uncultivated spot: but that it was planted by that general, and had water conveyed to it. It was divided into gymnasia, or places of exercise, and philosophic walks, shaded with trees. These flourished very well, until they were destroyed by Sylla, along with those in the Lyceum. Near the academy were the gardens of the philosophers, of Plato and Epicurus; which, however, were probably bu small. The scene of Plato's Dialogue concerning Beauty is elegantly described as being on the banks of the Ilissus, and under the shade of the plantane; but, as no artificial arrangement of objects is mentioned, the prospect seems to have been merely natural.
A taste for gardening does not appear to have prevailed among the Romans, otherwise than as a matter of utility, till a very late period; at least the writers on husbandry, Cato, Varro, Columella, and Palladius, make no mention of a garden as an object of pleasure, but solely with
respect to its productions of herbs and fruits. The gardens of Lucullus are the first we find mentioned of remarkable magnificence; though indeed, from the extravagance to which these were arrived, it is evident they could not be the first. Plutarch speaks of them as incredibly expensive, and equal to the magnificence of kings. They contained artificial elevations of ground to a surprising height, of buildings projected into the sea, and vast pieces of water upon land. In short, his extravagance was so great, that he acquired the appellation of the Roman Xerxes. It is not improbable, from the consideration of Lucullus having spent much time in Asia, in a situation wherein he had an opportunity of observing the inost splendid constructions of this kind, that these gardens might be laid out in the Asiatic style.
The Tusculan villa of Cicero, though often mentioned, is no where described in his works, so as to give an adequate idea of the style in which his gardens were disposed; and little is to be traced in Virgil relative to this subject. Pines, it seems probable, were a favorite ornament in gardens (Eccl. vii. 65); and flowers, roses especially, were much esteemed (Georg. iv. 118), perfumes indeed having been always highly valued in warm climates. Virgil places Anchises in Elysium, in a grove of bays, of the sweet-scented kind. There appears also to have prevailed among the Romans a piece of luxury relative to gardens, which is equally prevalent at present among us, namely, the forcing of flowers at seasons of the year not suited to their natural blowing and roses were then, as at present, the principal flowers upon which these experiments were tried; as appears from Martial, Lampridius, and others. See Epig. 1. vi. ep. 80,
Trajan's forum, Domitian's baths, and Adrian s villa, the ruins and vestiges of which still excite our astonishment; a Roman consul, a polished emperor's friend, and a man of elegant literature and taste, delighted in what the mob now scarcely admire in a college garden. All the ingredients of Pliny's corresponded exactly with those laid out by London and Wise on Dutch principles. He talks of slopes, terraces, a wilderness, shrubs methodically trimmed, a marble basin, pipes spouting water, a cascade falling into the basin, by trees alternately planted with planes, and a straight walk, whence issued others parted off by hedges of box and apple. trees, with obelisks placed between every two. There wants nothing but the embroidery of a parterre, to make a garden in the reign of Trajan serve for the description of one in that of king William III. In one passage, however, Pliny seems to have conceived that natural irregularity might be a beauty; in opere urbanissimo, says he, subita velut illati ruris imitatio. Something like a rural view was contrived amidst so much polished composition. But the idea soon vanished; lineal walks immediately enveloped the slight scene, and names and inscriptions in box again succeeded to compensate for the daring intrusion of nature.
In the paintings found at Herculaneum are a few traces of gardens. They are small square enclosures, formed by trellis-work and espaliers, and regularly ornamented with vases, fountains, and careatides, elegantly symmetrical, and proper for the narrow spaces allotted to the garden of a house in a capital city.
From these remarks it appears how naturally and insensibly the idea of a kitchen garden slid into that which has for so many ages been peculiarly termed a garden, and by our ancestors in this country distinguished by the name of a pleasure garden. A square piece of ground was originally parted off in early ages for the use of the family: to exclude cattle, and ascertain the property, it was separated from the fields by a hedge. As pride and design of privacy increased, the enclosure was dignified by walls; and, in climes where fruits were not lavished by the ripening glow of nature and soil, fruit trees were assisted and sheltered from surrounding winds by the like expedient; for the inundation of luxuries, which have swelled into general necessities, have almost all taken their source from the simple fountain of reason.
When nature and prospect were thus excluded, by the custom of making square gardens enclosed with walls, pomp and solitude combined to call for something that might enrich and enliven the insipid and unanimated partition. Fountains, first invented for use, which grandeur loves to disguise and throw out of sight, received embellishments from costly marbles, and, at last, to contradict utility as it were, tossed their waste of waters into air in spouting columns. Art, in the hands of rude man, had at first been made a succedaneum to nature; in the hands of ostentatious wealth it became the means of opposing nature; and, the more it traversed the march of the latter, the more nobility thought its power was demonstrated. Canals measured by the
When Roman authors, Mr. Walpole remarks, whose climate instilled a wish for cool retreats, speak of their enjoyments in that kind, they sigh for grottoes, caves, and the refreshing hollows of mountains, near irriguous and shady founts; or boast of their porticoes, walks of plants, canals, baths, and breezes from the sea. Their gardens are never mentioned as affording shade and shelter from the rage of the dog-star. Pliny has left us descriptions of two of his villas. As he used his Laurentine villa for his winter retreat, it is not surprising that the garden makes no considerable part of the account. All he says of it is, that the gestatio, or place of exercise, which surrounded the garden (the latter consequently not being very large), was bounded by a hedge of box, and, where that was perished, with rosemary; that there was a walk of vines; and that most of the trees were fig and mulberry, the soil not being proper for any other sorts. On his Tuscan villa he is more diffuse; the garden makes a considerable part of the description :-and what was the principal beauty of that pleasure ground? Exactly what was the admiration of this country about a century ago; box trees cut into monsters, animals, letters, and the names of the master and the artificer. In an age when architecture displayed all its grandeur, all is purity, and all its taste; when arose Vespasian's amphitheatre, the temple of Peace,
line were introduced in lieu of meandering tended gardens. Hentzer says, after Rous of Warwick, the first park was that at Woodstock. If so, it might be the foundation of a legend that Henry II. secured his mistress in a labyrinth; it was no doubt more difficult to find her in a park than in a palace, where the intricacy of the woods, and various lodgings buried in covert, might conceal her actual habitation. It is more extraordinary that, having so long ago stumbled on the principle of modern gardening, we should have persisted in retaining its reverse, symmetrical and unnatural gardens.
streams, and terraces were hoisted aloft in opposition to the facile slopes that imperceptibly unite the valley to the hill. Balustrades defended these precipitate and dangerous elevations, and flights of steps rejoined them to the subjacent flat from which the terrace had been dug. Vases and sculpture were added to the unnecessary balconies, and statues furnished the lifeless spot with mimic representations of the excluded sons of men. Thus difficulty and expense were the constituent parts of those sumptuous and selfish solitudes; and every improvement that was made was but a step farther from nature. The tricks of water-works to wet the unwary, not to refresh the panting spectator; and parterres embroidered in patterns like a petticoat, were but the childish endeavours of fashion and novelty to reconcile greatness to what it surfeited on.
To crown these impotent displays of false taste, the shears were applied to the lovely wildness of form with which nature has distinguished each various species of tree and shrub. The venerable oak, the romantic beech, the useful elm, even the aspiring circuit of the lime, the regular round of the chestnut, and the almost moulded orangetree, were corrected by such fantastic admirers of symmetry. The compass and square were of more use in plantations than the nursery-man. The measured walk, the quincunx, and the etoile, imposed their unsatisfying sameness on every royal and noble garden. Trees were headed, and their sides pared away: many French groves seem green chests set upon poles. Seats of marble, arbors, and summer-houses, terminated every vista; and symmetry, even where the space was too large to permit its being remarked at one view, was so essential, that, as Pope observed,
It does not precisely appear what our ancestors meant by a bower: it was probably an arbor; sometimes it meant the whole frittered enclosure, and in one instance it certainly in cluded a labyrinth. Rosamond's bower was indisputably of that kind; though whether composed of walls or hedges we cannot determine. square and a round labyrinth were so capital ingredients of a garden formerly, that in Du Cerceau's architecture, who lived in the time of Charles IX. and Henry III., there is scarcely a ground-plot without one of each.
In Kip's Views of the Seats of our Nobility and Gentry, every house is approached by two er three gardens, consisting, perhaps, of a gravel walk, and two grass-plats or borders of flowers. Each rises above the other by two or three steps, and as many walls and terraces, and so many iron gates, that we recollect those ancient romances in which every entrance was guarded by giants or dragons. Yet, though these and such preposterous inconveniences prevailed from age to age, good sense in this country had perceived the want of something at once more grand and more natural.
These reflections, and the bounds set to the waste made by royal spoilers, gave origin to parks. They were contracted forests, and ex
Milton's description of Eden is a warmer and more just picture of the present style than Claude of Lorraine could have painted from Hagley or Stourhead. The first lines we quote exhibit Stourhead, says our author, on a more magnificent scale :—
Through Eden went a river large,
Hagley seems pictured in what follows:-
Of porous earth, with kindly thirst updrawn,
landscape in these lines!
From that sapphire fount the crisped brooks,
In beds and curious knots, but nature boon
A happy rural seat of various view.
Now let us turn to an admired writer, posterior to Milton, and see how cold, how insipid, how tasteless is his account of what he pronounced a perfect garden. We speak not of his style, which it was not necessary for him to animate with the coloring and glow of poetry. It is his want of ideas, of imagination, of taste, that deserve censure, when he dictated on a subject which is capable of all the graces that a knowledge of beautiful nature can bestow. Sir Wil'iam Temple was an excellent man; Milton, a genius of the first order.
"The best figure of a garden,' says Sir William, is either a square or an oblong, and either upon a flat or a descent: they have all their beauties, but the best I esteem an oblong upon a descent. The beauty, the air, the view, make amends for the expense, which is very great in finishing and supporting the terrace walks, in levelling the parterres, and the stone stairs that are necessary from one to the other. The perfectest figure of a garden I ever saw, either at home or abroad, was that of Moor park in Hertfordshire, when I knew it about thirty years ago. It was made by the countess of Bedford, esteemed among the greatest wits of her time, and celebrated by Dr. Donne; and with very great care, excellent con