8. Investigation of the Causes of Scarcity of 1800. 8vo. 2s. 6d.
9. Miscellaneous Thoughts on Planting Timber Trees, chiefly for the climate of Scotland, by Agricola, 8vo. Edinb. 1777.
10. Description of a Patent Hot-house, 1804. 12mo. 5s.
In "Public Characters of 1800 and 1801," a portrait is given of him, a list of his works, and it thus speaks of him: "The manners of this ingenious and very useful man were plain and frank, an indication of an honest and good heart. He was benevolent and generous, a tender parent, and a warm friend, and very highly respected in the circle of his acquaintance." There is a portrait of him, painted by Anderson, and engraved by Ridley. A copy is given in the Mirror, (published by Vernon and Hood), of Nov. 1799. Another is given in the Gentleman's Magazine. He died at West Ham, Essex, in 1808, aged 69. Mr. Lysons, in the Supplement to his Environs of London, gives a few particulars of him.
Horace Walpole. He was the youngest son of Sir Robert Walpole, who so long guided the destinies of England, and whose attractive and benevolent private life, seems to have fully merited the praise of Pope's elegant muse:
Seen him I have; but in his happier hour
Of social pleasure,—ill exchang'd for power—
Seen him uncumber'd with the venal tribe,
Smile without art, and win without a bribe.
The best portraits of this intelligent and acute writer, Horace Walpole, are the portrait in Mr. Dallaway's richly decorated edition of the Anecdotes of Painting, from Sir Joshua Reynolds, and that in Mr. Cadell's Contemporary Portraits, from Lawrence. Dance also drew him. Another portrait is prefixed to the ninth volume of his works, in 4to. 1825, from a picture in the possession of the Marquis of Hertford. There is another portrait, engraved by Pariset, from Falconot. Mr. Walpole died in March, 1797, at his favourite seat at Strawberry-hill, at the age of eighty. His manners were highly polished, from his having, during the course of a long life, frequented the first societies. His conversation abounded with interesting anecdote and playful wit. Felicity of narration, and liveliness of expression, mark his graceful pen. The Prince de Ligne (a perfect judge) thus speaks of his History of the Modern Taste in Gardening:—"Je n'en admire pas moins l'eloquence, et la profondeur, de son ouvrage sur les jardins." Mr. Walpole himself says:—"We have given the true model of gardening to the world: let other countries mimic or corrupt our taste; but let it reign here on its verdant throne, original by its elegant simplicity, and proud of no other art than that of softening nature's harshnesses, and copying her graceful touch."
Sir U. Price, in vol. i. p. 18 of his Essays, pays high respect to Mr. Walpole, and differs from him "with great deference and reluctance." He observes:—"I can hardly think it necessary to make any excuse for calling Lord Orford, Mr. Walpole; it is the name by which he is best known in the literary world, and to which his writings have given a celebrity much beyond what any hereditary honour can bestow." Mr. Johnson observes:—"To his sketch of the improvements introduced by Bridgman and Kent, and those garden artists, their immediate successors, we may afford the best praise; he appears to be a faithful, and is, an eloquent annalist." It is impossible to pass by this tribute, without reminding my reader, that Mr. Johnson's own review of our ornamental gardening, is energetic and luminous; as is indeed the whole of his comprehensive general review of gardening, from the earliest period, down to the close of the last century.
The Hon. Daines Barrington. He devoted himself to literary pursuits; was a profound antiquary, and a truly worthy man. He died in 1800, aged 73, at his chambers in the Temple, and was buried in the Temple church. The attractive improvements in the gardens there, may be said to have originated with him. He possibly looked on them as classic ground; for in these gardens, the proud Somerset vowed to dye their white rose to a bloody red, and Warwick prophesied that their brawl
——in the Temple garden,
Shall send, between the red rose and the white,
A thousand souls to death and deadly night.