“At no great distance is the tennis-court, so situated, as never to be annoyed by the heat, and to be visited only by the setting sun. At the end of the tennis-court rises a tower, containing two rooms at the top of it, and two again under them; besides a banqueting room, from whence there is a view of very wide ocean, a very extensive continent, and numberless beautiful villas interspersed upon the shore. Answerable to this is another turret containing, on the top, one single room where we enjoy both the rising and the setting sun. Underneath is a very large store-room for fruit, and a granary, and under these again a dining-room from whence, even when the sea is most tempestuous, we only hear the roaring of it, and that but languidly and at a distance. It looks upon the garden, and the place for exercise which encludes my garden. The whole is encompassed with Box; and where that is wanting with Rosemary; for Box, when sheltered by buildings, will flourish very well, but wither immediately if exposed to wind and weather, or ever so distantly affected by the moist dews from the sea. The place for exercise surrounds a delicate shady vineyard, the paths of which are easy and soft even to the naked feet.
“The garden is filled with Mulberry and Fig trees; the soil being propitious to both those kinds of trees, but scarce to any other.
“A dining-room, too remote to view the ocean, commands an object no less agreeable, the prospect of the garden: and at the back of the dining-room are two apartments, whose windows look upon the vestibule of the house; and upon a fruitery and a kitchen garden. From hence you enter into a covered gallery, large enough to appear a public work. The gallery has a double row of windows on both sides; in the lower row are several which look towards the sea; and one on each side towards the garden; in the upper row there are fewer; in calm days when there is not a breath of air stirring we open all the windows, but in windy weather we take the advantage of opening that side only which is entirely free from the hurricane. Before the gallery lies a terrace perfumed with Violets. The building not only retains the heat of the sun, and increases it by reflexion, but defends and protects us from the northern blasts.”
ENTRANCE TO THE GARDENS, AYSCOUGH FEE HALL, SPALDING.
After a further description of this gallery written with some care, Pliny begins his praise of his garden apartment. No man but a man of true leisure could have dwelt so lovingly on a description of a summer-house. Herrick loved his simple things as much, and sang them tenderly. The small things that come close to us, to keep us warm from all life’s disappointments, these are the things our hearts sing out to, these are the things we think of when we are from home. “At the end of the terrace, adjoining to the gallery, is a little garden-apartment, which I own is my delight. In truth it is my mistress: I built it; and in it is a particular kind of sun-trap which looks on one side towards the terrace, on the other towards the sea, but on both sides has the advantage of the sun. A double door opens into another room, and one of the windows has a full view of the gallery. On the side next the sea, over against the middle wall, is an elegant little closet; separated only by transparent windows, and a curtain which can be opened or shut at pleasure, from the room just mentioned. It holds a bed and two chairs; the feet of the bed stand towards the sea, the back towards the house, and one side of it towards some distant woods. So many different views, seen from so many different windows diversify and yet blend the prospect.
“Adjoining to this cabinet is my own constant bedchamber, where I am never disturbed by the discourse of my servants, the murmurs of the sea, nor the violence of a storm. Neither lightning nor daylight can break in upon me till my own windows are opened. The reason of so perfect and undisturbed a calm here arises from a large void space which is left between the walls of the bedchamber and of the garden; so that all sound is drowned in the intervening space.
“Close to the bedchamber is a little stove, placed so near a small window of communication that it lets out, or retains, the heat just as we think fit.
“From hence we pass through a lobby into another room, which stands in such a position as to receive the sun, though obliquely, from daybreak till past noon.”
There is one thing in this description that is very noteworthy, the absolute content with everything, the lack of any note of grumbling. After all, the pleasures of that garden apartment were very simple; he took his joy of the sun, the wind, and the distant sound of the sea. Heat, light, and the pleasant music of nature; the bank of Violets near by, the prospect of the villas on the shore glimmering amidst their greenery in the sun; the songs of birds in the thickets of Myrtle and Rosemary, there made up the fine moments of his life.