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“HANNAH:
There’s an engraving of Sidley Park in 1730 that makes you want to
weep. Paradise in the age of
reason. By 1760 everything had
gone – the topiary, pools and terraces, fountains, an avenue of limes –
the whole sublime geometry was ploughed under by Capability Brown.”
At the beginning of
the eighteenth century English landscape gardening was dominated by the
French formal style, of which the most influential exponent was Andre Le
Notre (1613-1700). But this style quickly fell out of fashion partly, perhaps,
because the English countryside itself was becoming increasingly regularised
by the continuing enclosure of common land and agricultural expansion.
It was succeeded by a style that is usually described as classical
picturesque, inspired principally by the great seventeenth century French
landscape painter Claude Lorrain.
The greatest English
exponent of the classical picturesque style in Landscape gardening was
Lancelot “Capability” Brown (1716-83), whose principals reigned supreme
for thirty years from the 1750s. He
hit upon a popular formula in the 1740s which he subsequently repeated,
without variation, choosing to consolidate rather than to innovate.
It was a formula which paid little regard to the architectural style
of the house whose grounds were being ‘improved’.
Unlike the gardens of the early eighteenth century, a garden shaped
by Brown was not intended to stimulate philosophical reflection. Instead it was intended to stimulate a sense of well-being by
presenting a vision of an ideal, timeless state of nature.
Brown’s principles are analogous to those of Edmund Burke in his Philosophical
Inquiry into the Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful (1753),
which was one of the most important aesthetic documents of the eighteenth
century. Here beauty is defined
in the following terms: “Smallness, Smoothness, Gradual Variation and
Delicacy of form.”
Although Brown’s
style became the height of fashion, there were those who were uneasy about
its ubiquity. For example:
Brown began work at Longleat in Wiltshire in the mid 1750s and his
improvements involved the destruction of a 17th century formal
garden. It is hard not to
detect a note of regret for all that has been lost in this description of
Longleat in 1760 by a Mrs Delany: “There is not much alteration in the
house, but the gardens are no more!
They are succeeded by a fine lawn, a serpentine river, wooded hills,
grand paths meandering round a shrubbery, all modernised by the
ingenious and much sought after Mr Brown.”
Animation in
Brown’s tranquil landscapes was provided by constant but small-scale
patterns of movement, such as made by slow-moving sheep or cattle, or
passing clouds reflected in the obligatory lake.
Indeed, Brown’s primary ambition was almost invariably the creation
of a lake in the middle distance, surrounded by trees which would be
reflected in the water.
After Brown’s
death the torch passed to the hugely industrious Humphry Repton (1752-1818),
who had pursued a variety of professions (unsuccessfully) until, during the
course of one sleepless night in 1788, he decided to try landscape gardening
– a subject in which he had been passionately interested for many years.
He didn’t simply imitate Brown’s style, however; he introduced,
for instance, a ‘transitional’ area of walks, terraces, and even
flowerbeds between house and parkland, thus breaking up the sweeping unity
which had been Brown’s ideal. He
was also more sensitive to the character of a house and its environs than
Brown, who tended to impose a standard pattern.
Repton, unlike
Brown, was also a talented artist. His
“Red Books” are famous. In
them he illustrated his proposals in skilful watercolours, which were often
fitted with flaps (or “slides” as Repton called them) that showed the
existing prospect. When the flaps were lifted, they revealed the prospect as it
would be after Repton’s improvements.
Between 1789 and
1815 Repton undertook almost 200 commissions, many of the adaptations of
existing parks. He was,
perhaps, more practical, less dogmatic than many of his contemporaries: “I
have discovered that utility must often take the lead of beauty, and
convenience be preferred to picturesque effect, in the neighbourhood of
man’s habitation.”
Opposition to the Brown/Repton
stranglehold on English gardening taste came from Uvedale Price (1747-1829)
and Richard Payne Knight (1750-1824). Price’s
Essay on the Picturesque (1794) challenges Brown’s aesthetic of
serpentine smoothness: “the two opposite qualities of roughness, and of
sudden variation, joined to that of irregularity, are the most efficient
causes of the picturesque.” Price
is talking about a different kind of picturesque to the classical sort
exemplified in the paintings of Claude; he is talking about the Romantic
picturesque which found its artistic inspiration in the work of the
Neapolitan Salvator Rosa. Rosa’s
wild landscapes, full of remote valleys, craggy cliffs and jagged, mossy
trees are in sharp contrast to Claude’s idyllic serenity.
A few months earlier Knight, Price’s friend and fellow
Herefordshire squire, had produced a long poem, The Landscape, which
was of a similar polemical bent to Price’s Essay. The
Landscape attacks Brown and defends variety and intricacy.
Of great importance to the argument is a pair of engravings by Thomas
Hearn. One is of a Palladian
house in a park clearly improved in the Brown style.
The poem speaks of “some lonely mansion”:
Fresh from
th’improver’s desolating hand,
‘Midst shaven
lawns, that far around it creep
In one eternal undulating sweep…
In the other
engraving an Elizabethan style mansion stands in a rough landscape thick
with trees and foliage and littered with rocks, reflecting Knight’s advice
to his ideal landscape gardener:
Through the rough thicket or the
flowery meadow;
Till bursting
from some deep-imbowered shade,
Some narrow
valley, or some opening glade,
Well mix’d and
blended in the scene, you show
The stately
mansion rising to the view.
Arcadia’s
Mr Noakes would surely approve of such sentiments.
Although, in the words of the play text, he is “obviously an
admirer of Humphry Repton’s Red Books,” he is not a Reptonian; his views
are closer to those of Price and Knight:
“BRICE:
It is all irregular, Mr Noakes.
NOAKES:
It is, sir. Irregularity
is one of the chiefest principles of the picturesque style.”
STUART
LEEKS
This
article originally appeared in the Wolsey Theatre's Arcadia programme,
April 1997.
It
is reproduced here by kind permission of the author and the Wolsey Theatre,
Ipswich.
The
copyright on this article remains with the author.
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