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Table of contents
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- nature – Leslie A. Lindsay
- Gardening Answers Knowledgebase
Project Gutenberg believes the Court has no jurisdiction over the matter, but until the issue is resolved, it will comply. For more information about the German court case, and the reason for blocking all of Germany rather than single items, visit PGLAF's information page about the German lawsuit. All IP addresses in Germany are blocked. This block will remain in place until legal guidance changes.
Project Gutenberg updates its listing of IP addresses approximately monthly. The poets, who, speaking generally, are constitutionally religious, are always delighted readers of the flower-illumined pages of the book of nature. One of these disciples of Flora earnestly exclaims: Were I, O God, in churchless lands remaining Far from all voice of teachers and divines, My soul would find in flowers of thy ordaining Priests, sermons, shrines The popular little preachers of the field and garden, with their lovely faces, and angelic language--sending the while such ambrosial incense up to heaven--insinuate the sweetest truths into the human heart.
Not a flower But shows some touch, in freckle, streak or stain, Of His unrivalled pencil. He inspires Their balmy odours, and imparts then hues, And bathes their eyes with nectar, and includes In grains as countless as the sea side sands The forms with which he sprinkles all the earth. In the eye of Utilitarianism the flowers are but idle shows.
God might indeed have made this world as plain as a Quaker's garment, without retrenching one actual necessary of physical existence; but He has chosen otherwise; and no earthly potentate was ever so richly clad as his mother earth. The rose is permitted to spread its sweet leaves to the air and dedicate its beauty to the sun, in a way that is quite perplexing to bigots and stoics and political economists.
Yet God has made nothing in vain! The Great Artist of the Universe must have scattered his living hues and his forms of grace over the surface of the earth for some especial and worthy purpose. I have often wished that Lecturers on Botany, instead of confining their instructions to the mere physiology, or anatomy, or classification or nomenclature of their favorite science, would go more into the poetry of it, and teach young people to appreciate the moral influences of the floral tribes--to draw honey for the human heart from the sweet breasts of flowers--to sip from their radiant chalices a delicious medicine for the soul.
Flowers are frequently hallowed by associations far sweeter than their sweetest perfume. Perhaps this is because they are the only things which affect our senses precisely as they did in our childhood. The sweetness of the violet is always the same; and when you rifle a rose and drink, as it were, its fragrance, the refreshment is the same to the old man as to the boy.
Sounds recal the past in the same manner, but they do not bring with them individual scenes like the cowslip field, or the corner of the garden to which we have transplanted field-flowers. Wordsworth seems to have had the lines of George Wither in his mind when he said Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
Thomas Campbell, with a poet's natural gallantry, has exclaimed, Without the smile from partial Beauty won, Oh! Let a similar compliment be presented to the "painted populace that dwell in fields and lead ambrosial lives. Beautifiers of the world! Ministrants of delight! Inspirers of kindly emotions and the holiest meditations!
Sweet teachers of the serenest wisdom! So beautiful and bright, and graceful, and fragrant--it is no marvel that ye are equally the favorites of the rich and the poor, of the young and the old, of the playful and the pensive! Our country, though originally but sparingly endowed with the living jewelry of nature, is now rich in the choicest flowers of all other countries.
Foreigners of many lands, They form one social shade, as if convened By magic summons of the Orphean lyre. These little "foreigners of many lands" have been so skilfully acclimatized and multiplied and rendered common, that for a few shillings an English peasant may have a parterre more magnificent than any ever gazed upon by the Median Queen in the hanging gardens of Babylon.
There is no reason, indeed, to suppose that even the first parents of mankind looked on finer flowers in Paradise itself than are to be found in the cottage gardens that are so thickly distributed over the hills and plains and vallies of our native land. The red rose, is the red rose still, and from the lily's cup An odor fragrant as at first, like frankincense goes up.
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Our neat little gardens and white cottages give to dear old England that lovely and cheerful aspect, which is so striking and attractive to her foreign visitors. These beautiful signs of a happy political security and individual independence and domestic peace and a love of order and a homely refinement, are scattered all over the land, from sea to sea. When Miss Sedgwick, the American authoress, visited England, nothing so much surprised and delighted her as the gay flower-filled gardens of our cottagers.
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Many other travellers, from almost all parts of the world, have experienced and expressed the same sensations on visiting our shores, and it would be easy to compile a voluminous collection of their published tributes of admiration. As I glided on, as smoothly as in a sledge, over the level iron road, with such magical rapidity--from the pretty and cheerful town of Southampton to the greatest city of the civilized world--every thing was new to me, and I gave way to child-like wonder and child-like exultation.
What a garden-like air of universal cultivation! What beautiful smooth slopes! What green, quiet meadows! What rich round trees, brooding over their silent shadows! What exquisite dark nooks and romantic lanes! What an aspect of unpretending happiness in the clean cottages, with their little trim gardens! What tranquil grandeur and rural luxury in the noble mansions and glorious parks of the British aristocracy! How the love of nature thrilled my heart with a gentle and delicious agitation, and how proud I felt of my dear native land!
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It is, indeed, a fine thing to be an Englishman. Whether at home or abroad, he is made conscious of the claims of his country to respect and admiration. As I fed my eyes on the loveliness of Nature, or turned to the miracles of Art and Science on every hand, I had always in my mind a secret reference to the effect which a visit to England must produce upon an intelligent and observant foreigner.
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Happy Brittannia! And here let me put in a word in favor of the much-abused English climate.
nature – Leslie A. Lindsay
I cannot echo the unpatriotic discontent of Byron when he speaks of The cold and cloudy clime Where he was born, but where he would not die. Rich is thy soil and merciful thy clime. King Charles the Second when he heard some foreigners condemning our climate and exulting in their own, observed that in his opinion that was the best climate in which a man could be out in the open air with pleasure, or at least without trouble and inconvenience, the most days of the year and the most hours of the day; and this he held was the case with the climate of England more than that of any other country in Europe.
To say nothing of the lovely and noble specimens of human nature to which it seems so congenial, I may safely assert that it is peculiarly favorable, with, rare exceptions, to the sweet children of Flora. There is no country in the world in which there are at this day such innumerable tribes of flowers.
There are in England two thousand varieties of the rose alone, and I venture to express a doubt whether the richest gardens of Persia or Cashmere could produce finer specimens of that universal favorite than are to be found in some of the small but highly cultivated enclosures of respectable English rustics. The actual beauty of some of the commonest flowers in our gardens can be in no degree exaggerated--even in the daydreams of the most inspired poet.
And when the author of Lalla Rookh talks so musically and pleasantly of the fragrant bowers of Amberabad, the country of Delight, a Province in Jinnistan or Fairy Land, he is only thinking of the shrubberies and flower-beds at Sloperton Cottage, and the green hills and vales of Wiltshire. Charles Mackintosh makes the same observation. I am pleased to find Mrs. Stowe recognize the superiority of English landscape-gardening and of our English verdure. The pains that are taken in sowing, tending, cutting, clipping, rolling and otherwise nursing and coaxing it, being seconded by the often-falling tears of the climate, produce results which must be seen to be appreciated.
Would that he were still in the land of the living by the side of his friend Leigh Hunt, who has been pensioned by the Government for his support of that cause for which they were both so bitterly persecuted by the ruling powers in days gone by. I flattered myself into the belief that Hazlitt was interested in some of my descriptions of Oriental scenes. What moved him most was an account of the dry, dusty, burning, grassless plains of Bundelcund in the hot season.
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I told him how once while gasping for breath in a hot verandah and leaning over the rails I looked down upon the sun-baked ground. But the vision soon melted away, and I was again in exile. I wept like a child. It was like a beautiful mirage of the desert, or one of those waking dreams of home which have sometimes driven the long-voyaging seaman to distraction and urged him by an irresistible impulse to plunge headlong into the ocean.
When I had once more crossed the wide Atlantic--and not by the necromancy of imagination but by a longer and more tedious transit found myself in an English meadow,--I exclaimed with the poet, Thou art free My country! I felt my childhood for a time renewed, and was by no means disposed to second the assertion that "Nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower.
It is impossible to put into any form of words the faintest representation of that delightful summer feeling which, is excited in fine weather by the sight of the mossy turf of our country.