Epistle VI. To Apollinaris.
by
the Same. [Mr. Henley.]
I Was pleas'd with your Concern and Sollicitude, that when you heard I design'd to retreat among my
Tuscan Neighbours in Summer, you persuaded me to the contrary, from an Opinion that the Place is unwholsome.
Indeed
the
Tuscan Coast, that lies along the Seaside, is inconvenient and pernicious to Health:
But this Quarter is remote from the Sea; besides, it lies under the
Apennine Hills, which are the most Healthful in the World; and therefore,
that you may dismiss all your Fears on my Account, mind the Temper of the Air,
the Situation of the country, the Delightfulness of the
Villa;
all which you will find an Entertainment in hearing, as I shall in the Relation.
The Air, in Winter time, is Cold and Frosty. The Soil will not favour the Myrtle,
the Olive, and other Plants, that love a constant Warmth; yet it bears the Laurel,
and produces it extremely Green. Sometimes it kills it, but not more frequently than is usual about the Town.
The Summer is extremely favourable; it is always moving with a gentle Breeze,
yet has more often an easie breathing Air, than a Wind. Hence it is, that you may here observe a great Number of Men in Years,
that are Grand-fathers of many, now in their Youth. You may hear the Old Stories and Talk of our Fore-fathers,
and when once you come hither, you would fancy your self in another Age.
The Form of the Country is very fine. Imagine some vast Amphitheatre,
and such a one, as Nature alone can make. A wide extended Plain is environ'd with Mountains,
which are planted with tall
and aged Groves of Trees on the Top of them. The Game there for Hunting,
is plentiful and various; from thence, as the Mountains falls, there is a Descent of Copices:
Among these are fruitful Eminencies of Ground, (for you seldom meet with a rocky Part,
tho' you look for it;) that are not inferior to the Plains in Fertility,
and mature a rich Harvest, something late indeed, but as perfectly. Under these,
Vineyards are spread, all over the Side of them, and by their Texture,
create one Face all about them: At the End, and Bottom of them, Shrubs grow up in a kind of Border;
and after them you have Meadows and open Fields, that are not to be broken up by any Oxen,
but those of the largest Size, and by the strongest Ploughs. The Soil being very close and tenacious,
when it is first cut, rises in so great Masses of Earth, that it is not subdu'd entirely,
'till the ninth Furrow. The Meadows are flowry and blooming; they produce the Trefoil and other kinds of Herbage,
always tender and soft, and as it were, newly springing. For all of them are nourish'd by a constant supply of Water,
and Rivulets. But where the Water abounds in greatest Plenty, there is no Marshy Ground,
for the Declivity of the Land carries off the Moisture it receives, and does not imbibe,
into the
Tyber. That River divides the Ground in the Center; it is navigable,
and conveys all sorts of Grain to the City, but only in Winter, and the Spring;
in Summer it is low, and loses the Name of a Capacious River by the driness of its Channel,
but recovers it in Autumn. You will be extremely pleas'd in taking this Prospect of the Country from a Mountain:
For you will not imagine, that you view a Spot of Ground, but a Landschape excellently painted;
the Eye is refresh'd with that Variety, with that exact Delineation, wherever it falls.
The
Villa it self, plac'd at the Foot of a Hill, enjoys a View,
as if it were on the Brow of it; and rises so gently, so gradually, with an Ascent,
that deceives you as you mount, that when you do not think you are going up the Side of it,
you are sensible you have ascended. Behind, at some Distance, is the
Apennine Mountain. From that it receives a Gale of Air, however calm or still the Day proves,
yet not the violent or immoderate, but spent and broken by the very Interval.
A great Part of it looks to the South, and as it were, invites the Sun,
at Six in Summer, and in Winter something earlier, into a Gallery,
that is large, and long in Proportion. There are several Lodgings and Apartments in it;
the Court is after the manner of the Antients. Before the Gallery you have a Parterre,
cut in a Variety of Shapes, and distinguish'd with Rows of Box, facing one another:
Lower is a Spot cover'd with Bear's-foot, so soft to the Tread, that the Foot is hardly sensible of it.
This Spot is enclos'd with a Walk, set round with Greens, close and differently cut:
After this, is an Alley, turning in Form of a Circle, within which you have Box-Trees variously figur'd,
and small Trees, kept low by Care. All this is fenc'd by a Wall cover'd by several Stages of Box,
and conceal'd from the Eye. On the other side is a Meadow, as pleasing by Nature,
as what I have mention'd is by Art; and further on, you have open Fields,
and several other Pasture-Grounds, and Knots of little Trees. At the Head of the Gallery is a Dining-Room;
the Door of it fronts the Extremity of the Parterre, and the Windows view the Meadow,
and a large Tract of the Country. This way, a side of the Gallery looks to that Part of the
Villa, which advances forward; and to the Groves and Heads of Trees,
in the Riding-Place near it. On one Side of the Gallery, towards the middle,
there is an Apartment, something retiring backward, that surrounds a little Court,
shaded with four Plane-Trees. In the midst of these
is a Bason of Marble, and the Water that is pour'd from it affords a Refreshment to the Plane-Trees about,
and the Grass that grows under them, by a gentle sprinkling. In this Apartment is a Bed-Chamber,
where no Light, Noise, or even Sound can penetrate; and contiguous to it,
is a Room for daily Entertainment of my Friends. Another Gallery comes upon this little Court,
and points to
all the same Views with the former. There is another Chamber, which enjoys the Verdure and Shade of a Plane-Tree,
set near it; fac'd with carv'd Work in Marble, Breast-high, up to a Balcony;
there is a painting of Branches, and of Birds fitting upon them (with a little Fountain beneath) that equals the Beauty of the Marble:
In this Fountain is a Bason, and about it a Number of Tubes and Canals,
that make an agreeable murmur. In a Corner of the Gallery, you pass into a spacious Chamber,
opposite to the Dining Room; that looks to the Parterre from some Windows,
and the Meadows from the other. Beneath it is a Water-work, that plays under the Windows,
delightful both for the Sight, and hearing of the Fall; for the Water,
descending from an Height into a Marble Receiver, grows white and foamy.
That same Chamber is very warm in Winter, as having the full Advantage of the Sun.
Next it is a Stove, and if the Day be overcast, the Vapour of it supplies the Place of the Sun.
Thence you go into the Undressing Room for
the Bath, it is large and pleasant; then you enter the Cold-bathing Room:
where is a Vessel for that Use, large, and sufficiently dark. If you be inclin'd to swim more at Liberty,
and with more Warmth, there is a Bath in the Court, and near it a Well,
from whence you may be cool'd with fresh Water, if the warm be incommodious.
On the Side of the Cold-bathing
Room is another of a middle Temper, where the Sun is very favourable;
tho' he is more so to the Hot-bathing Apartment, because it is more prominent.
There are three Stair-cases to go down to it, two expos'd to the open Sun,
the other more remote from it, but as lightsome. Above the Undressing Room for the Bath,
is a Tennis-Court, that will admit of several diverting Exercises, and has a Variety of Quarters for it;
and not far from the Bath, is a Tennis Court, that will admit of several diverting Exercises,
and has a Variety of Quarters for it; and not far from the Bath is a Stair-case,
that carries you first into three Apartments, and then into a close Gallery:
One of those Apartments looks over the Plane-tree Court, the other to the Meadows,
the other to several Vineyards, so that they are expos'd to different Parts of the Heaven;
and different Prospects: At the End of the cover'd Gallery is a Chamber taken out of it,
which looks to the Riding-Ground, the Vineyards and the Mountains.
Contiguous to it, is another very obvious to the Sun, especially in Winter: From this you enter an Apartment,
that joins the Riding-House to the
Vill: This is the Face and View of it in Front:
On the South-side, there is a rais'd close Gallery, which does not seem to look to the Vineyards,
but to touch them. In the midst of this Gallery is a Dining-Room, that receives a very wholesome Air from the
Apennine Valleys: It has a View through very large Windows to the Vineyards,
and from a folding Door to the same from whence the Eye traverses the Gallery.
On that side where the Chamber has no Windows, there is a private Stair-Case,
that is us'd in the Serving up of an Entertainment. At the End of it is a Chamber,
to which the Gallery affords a Prospect as agreeable as the Vineyards.
Under it is a Gallery, like a Subterraneous one, that is very cool in Summer,
and content with the Air it incloses, neither wants, nor admits, any other.
After these two close Galleries, where the Chamber ends, is an open Gallery,
cool in the Forenoon, and warm in the decline of the Day. This leads to two Apartments;
one is compos'd of four Chambers, the other of three, which, as the Sun takes his Circuit,
either enjoy the Gleam, or the Shade. Before these Buildings so well and agreeably dispos'd,
is a large Riding-Ground, it is open in the middle, and immediately offers itself entire to the View of those that enter it;
it is surrounded with Plane-Trees, which are cloath'd with Ivy: Thus the top of these Trees is green with their proper Leaves, and the lower part is cover'd
with a Foreign Foliage. The Ivy wanders over the Trunk and Branches, and joins the Neighbouring Plane-Trees together,
in its Passage. Between these Planes, are Box Trees; the exterior part of them is encompass'd with Laurel,
which mingles its Shadow with that of the Plane-Trees: The Bound of the Riding-House is here straight,
in the Extremity it breaks off in a Semi-circle, and alters its Figure;
it is surrounded and cover'd with Cypress-Trees,
that make the Shade of it more close and gloomy. In the Inner Rounds of it (for it has a Variety) it receives the clearest Day:
It displays every where a beautiful show of Roses, and an agreeable Sun-shine corrects the too great Coolness of the Shade.
When this Variety of Rounds and Bendings is at an end, it returns to a straight Border,
and that not a single one: For several Ways and Alleys are divided by middle Rows of Box-Trees;
here a green Spot, there the Box itself intervenes, mark'd out in a Thousand Forms,
and cut in Letters, that sometimes declare the Name of the Master, and sometimes that of the Workman.
You see alternately small Pyramids, and Apple-Trees; and this Rustick Beauty of a Spot,
which you would say was convey'd all at once into a Place so elegantly set out,
is adorn'd towards the middle with Plane-Trees, which are kept very low,
on each side: Then you enter into a Tract cover'd with Bears foot, that is bending and pliable;
where is likewise a Number of Figures and of
Names, express'd in the Plants. At the Extremity, is a Bed of white Marble,
cover'd with a Vine, supported by four Pillars of Carystian Marble: From the Bed a flow of Water,
as it were, forc'd out by the Weight of those that lie upon it, is receiv'd in a Stone Basin,
and from that, in a thin Shell of Marble, and it is so imperceptibly manag'd,
that it fills it, and never overflows. When I am dispos'd to eat in this Place,
the
more solid Dishes are plac'd on the Sides of this Basin, and the lighter put in Vessels that float in the Water,
some in the Shape of Boats, others in that of Birds. Over against it is a Fountain,
that flings out, and again receives its Water; for when it has been thrown to a good height,
it falls back upon itself, and by two Openings that have a Communication,
it descends and mounts again incessantly, opposite to the Bed, against the Chamber.
This gives an equal Grace to the Bed, as it borrows from it: It shines all over with Marble;
its folding Doors jutt out among the Greens, and are almost cover'd with them;
then it looks upwards and downwards to other Greens from the higher and lower Window.
Near it is another little Apartment, that retires, as it were, into the same Chamber,
and is distinct from it. Here is a Bed, and Windows on every side, and yet the Light of it is something gloomy by the Shade that covers it:
For a very Luxuriant Vine creeps along over all the Building, and rises to the top of
it: You repose there as in a Grove, but are not expos'd to the Rain, as you would be there.
Here a Fountain likewise starts up, and loses itself in the same Place.
There are Marble Seats dispos'd in several Places, that relieve a fatigue of walking,
as well as a Chamber. Near the Seats are small Fountains, the Rivulets that issue from then purl along thro' the whole Riding-Ground,
in Pipes and Canals, and follow where the Hand of
Art directs them. Sometimes these Greens, sometimes those, and sometimes all together,
are wash'd with them. I had finish'd this Account long ago, in fear of being too particular,
if I had not propos'd to go about every Corner with you in my Letter:
For I was not apprehensive, that it should be tiresome to you in the Reading,
which would not have been tedious in the View; especially, when, if you pleas'd,
you might rest at Intervals, and, as it were, sit down, laying aside my Epistle.
Besides, I indulg'd my own fondness, for I love what I have in a great measure begun;
or finish'd, after it had been set on foot by another. In short, (for why should not I impart either my Judgment or Error,
to you?) I think it the first Duty of a Writer, to read the Title of his Subject,
and often ask himself what he undertook to write upon; and to know, that if he does stay upon his Subject,
he is not to long; but very prolix, if he fetches in every thing that is foreign to it.
You observe, in what a Multitude of Verses
Homer and
Virgil describe the Arms of
Æneas and
Achilles;
yet both are short, because they perform what they design'd:
You see how
Aratus traces over, and collects even the minutest Stars,
yet he keeps within Bounds. For this is no Excursion, but the Work itself.
Thus to descend from great Matters to smaller, when I endeavour to represent an entire View of my Country Seat to you,
if I speak nothing that is strain'd, and digressive,
it is not the Letter which gives the Description, but the
Vill, which is the Subject of it, that is extravagant. But I must return where I began,
least I incur a just Exception, according to my own Rule, if I should depart too far from my Subject.
I have given you the Reasons, why I prefer my
Tuscan Seat, to those at
Tusculum, Præneste, or
Tybur. For, over and above what I have related,
that Retreat is more quiet, and better supply'd; and therefore more secure;
there is no Necessity of a set Dress for Business or Visits, no impertinent Calls from the Neighbourhood.
All is pleasing and profoundly easie, which is an addition to the healthful Temper of the Climate;
as the Sky is more clear, and the Air more serene here, I enjoy the greatest Vigour,
both of Mind and Body. For I exercise my Mind with Studies, and my Body with Hunting.
My People live no where in a better Course of Health: I am sure, that hitherto I have lost (thanks to kind Heaven) not one of those I brought hither with me.
May the Gods ever continue those Joys to myself,
and this Lustre to the Place hereafter.
Adieu.
