vel walk. The mass of improvers seem indeed to forget that we are distinguished from other animals, by being

"With leaden eye that loves the ground,"

and are so continually occupied with turns and sweeps, and manœuvring stakes, that they never gain an idea of the first elements of composition.

Such a mechanical system of operations little deserves the name of an art. There are indeed certain words in all languages that have a good and a bad sense; such as simplicity and simple, art and artful, which as often express our contempt as our admiration. It seems to me, that whenever art, with regard to plan or disposition, is used in a good sense, it means to convey an idea of some degree of invention; of contrivance that is not obvious ; of something that raises expectation, and which differs with success from what we

recollect having seen before. With regard to improving, that alone I should call art in a good sense, which was employed in collecting from the infinite varieties of accident (which is commonly called nature, in opposition to what is called art) such circumstances as may happily be introduced, according to the real capabilities of the place to be improved. This is

what painters have done in their art; and thence it is, that many of these lucky accidents being strongly pointed out by them, are called picturesque.

He therefore, in my mind, will shew most art in improving, who leaves (a very material point) or who creates the greatest variety of landscapes; that is of such different compositions as painters will least wish to alter: not he who begins his work by general clearing and smoothing, or in other words, by destroying all those accidents of which such advantages might have been made; but which afterwards, the most enlightened and experienced artist can never hope to restore. When I hear how much has been done

by art in a place of large extent, in no one part of which, where that art has been busy, a painter would take out his sketchbook; when I see the sickening display of that art, such as it is, and the total want of effect-I am tempted to reverse the sense of the famous line of Tasso, and to say of such performances,

Karte che nulla fa, tutta si scopre.

APPENDIX.

GREAT part of my essay was written, before I saw that of Mr. Gilpin on picturesque beauty. I had gained so much information on that subject from his other works that I read it with extreme eagerness, on account of the interest I took in the subject itself, as well as from my opinion of the author. At first I thought my work had been anticipated; I was pleased, however, to find some of my ideas confirmed, and was in hopes of seeing many new lights struck out. But as I advanced, that distinction between the two characters, that line of separation which I thought would have been accurately marked out, became less and less visible; till at length

the beautiful and the picturesque were more than ever mixed and incorporated together, the whole subject involved in doubt and obscurity, and a sort of anathema denounced against any one who should try to clear it up. Had I not advanced too far to think of retreating, I might possibly have been deterred by so absolute a veto, from such authority; but I hope I shall not be thought presumptuous for having still continued my researches, though so diligent and acute an observer had given up the inquiry himself, and pronounced it hopeless.

Mr. Gilpin's authority is deservedly so high, that where I have the misfortune to differ from him his opinion will of course be preferred to mine, unless I can clearly shew that it is ill-founded. I must therefore endeavour to shew in what respects it is ill-founded as often as these points occur, and with the best of my abilities; for any thing short of a victory, is in this case a defeat.

I will first mention, in general, the diffi