PART III. PUBLIC WALKS, AND PUBLIC BUILDINGS OF THE UNIVERSITY. CHAP, I. PUBLIC WALKS. OUR public walks and public buildings are usually made the subject merely of description: it is intended with description to intermix, on the present occasion, a little of literary remark: true, indeed, it is, that the routine of our walks, and gardens, and public edifices, constitutes no part of our Cambridge literature; but what relates to them is concerned both with science and art and a few literary remarks, in treating of them, may seem not out of order in a UNIVERSITY History. On contemplating a spot of ground, before it is laid out, we should inquire what it can be made from its natural qualities and capabilities; what it might be made under the direction of a man of genius and taste; and what it ought to be made, in reference to its future designation and inhabitants. Who expects to find the bold points, and striking contrasts, of mountain-scenery, the roaring cascade, or thundering cataract, on a plain? Who raises plantations of oaks in a corn field? or, who, in a park, looks for light espaliers, and parterres of flowers? But learn to rein Thy skill within the limits she allows; Great Nature scorns controul; she will not bear Mason's English Garden, Let us distinguish, too, between gardens and public walks; between a nobleman's pleasure ground, and a spot to be adapted to the health and exercise of students, to academic retreats, which invite to meditation. A D'Ermenonville, or our own Mason', had they been called, at first, to create beauties on this spot, might certainly have formed some charms, which it now wants: and could they have commanded the Cam, might have done a great deal. I am reminded, too, that Mr. Brown, so much admired for his skill in landscape gardening <, could do wonders on a plain surface, by help of draining a R. L. Gerardin, Viscounte D'Ermenonville, author of an admirable ESSAY ON Landscape. b Author of as admirable a poem, called the English Garden. • Mr. Brown's plan may be seen at the entrance of the University library. He was the particular friend of Mr. Mason, and lies buried in Fenstanton church, a few miles from Cambridge. On his monument is the following inscription, written by Mason. Lancelot Brown, Esq. died February 6, 1783, aged 67 years. Ye sons of elegance, who truly taste The simple charms that genuine art supplies, And offer here your tributary sighs. But know, that more than genius slumbers here; Virtues were his which Art's best powers transcend : Come, ye superior train! who these revere, And weep the Christian, Husband, Father, Friend. marshes, of artificial waters, and vallies, and by removing ground by serpentine walks, and plantations of trees; he wished to display his taste on these grounds, and Mr. Ashby has hinted that the expense would have been scarce worth mentioning; a noble young Duke, then residing in one of the colleges, having proposed to set it on foot, by a subscription of 10001. This subject, at the time, engaged much attention, but the plan was never realized. Whether for pleasure, or for profit, the improvements would have been worth this moderate expense, whether the projector would have received the thanks of the town, or the gratitude of posterity, or to what extent Mr. Brown's specific plan was capable of being realized, are questions foreign to our narration. To the public grounds of an university, what seems congenial, are walks agreeably, but not abruptly winding, lofty trees, seats, or alcoves, not rustic, nor yet fantastical; not placed at random, nor yet formally obtrusive; with edifices adapted to the scenery and place. But, who, in such places would look for tonsile trees, jets d'eaux, and zigzag walks; Chinese temples, or Diogenes's tubs? Not that Mr. Brown's improvements were in this little style: his plan shall presently speak for itself. The eye would certainly have been pleased with walks more winding, with a greater variety of trees, with something more of a winter garden of ever-greens, and of light underwood near the banks of the river, and that without affecting to bring the Wye, or Usk, to these haunts, or obstructing the naviga tion. What future improvers may effect, time only will show. But let these hints supersede much of criticism on landscape gardening: and as the genius of the place does not require, so will our attempts not aspire to length or labour of description. Sed summa sequar fastigia rerum. Virgil. These grounds, then, as they are now disposed, consist of several walks with plantations of majestic elms, except one of a grand row of chesnuts, and two or three of limes. The walks are in general strait, and Cam moves near them; not crowned about here with much of his sedge, nor yet with cheerful underwood, but with slow, sullen course. Milton, therefore, was always for abusing him, whether writing in Latin or English. The narrow Nuda nec arva placent, umbrasq. negantia molles: Milton had a thorough hatred of Cambridge. Hear, on the other side, Cowley: O sacri fontes, et sacræ vatibus umbra! Quas recreant avium Pieridumq. chori! O Camus! Phœbo nullus quo gratior amnis! Eleg. Dedicat. &c. ad Acad. Cantao. Gray and Mason were full of affectionate greetings to the Cam. bed of the river does not admit of large magnificent bridges, but one by the late Mr. Essex, an ingenious architect, formerly of this town, is of great elegance, and universally admired. It may be admitted, that the public walks of our sister university have some superior charms over these we are now describing the walks are generally more winding, without so many formal strait lines, and acute angles; the trees have greater variety of foliage, (and, consequently, you have bolder lights and shades,) and there is more of underwood and shrubbery, amidst their fine oaks, beech, birch, and elms: Cambridgeshire is very parsimonious of trees, and her oak is proverbial for the willowa: the stately wide walk of Christ Church, some overshadowed walks, a more majestic spread of water, a sprightlier course of the river, and the affectionate junction of the two streams, on Christ Church meadow, are extremely interesting and fine, and when considered in detail, or by being compared with what is beautiful in the Cambridge walks, must be allowed to rise by the comparison. But, still our walks have their peculiar beauties, adapted to the place and the walk planted with limes from Clare Hall, forms a vista, lengthened, and of admirable effect. You might say, perhaps, that Oxford has not any thing of the kind equal to this: the eye is also carried across the river through a fine vista, formed by rows of lime and elm, as you come from Trinity library, terminating in Coton * Cowley, we may see, was not ashamed of our Cambridge willow. Felix, qui nunquam plus uno viderit amne! Quiq: eadem Salicis littora more colit! Where meet our streams, indulging short delay. Warton's Complaint of Cherwell. |