in the Philosophical Magazine and Annals of Philosophy for April
last, to which I am desirous of briefly adverting. He says, “Mr.
M’Mullen having observed, when sulphuric acid is added to peroxide
of manganese, that chlorine is evolved, he conceived it might be
derived from an admixture of muriate of manganese, iron, or copper;
but having washed some of the peroxide of manganese with water, he
did not find that any chloride of silver was precipitable from it;
he, therefore, concluded that the peroxide in question contained no
muriatic salt.” If Mr. Phillips will take the trouble to refer to my
paper, he will find that this is by no means the statement which it
contains. I observed that, in order to separate any soluble [p259]
muriates which the oxide used might, in the first instance, have
contained, “I washed it every day, for three weeks successively,
using sometimes hot and sometimes cold water: _at the end of that
time_, I tested the water, which was _then_ decanted from the
washed manganese, by the nitrate of silver, but without finding the
slightest appearance of precipitated chloride. I then poured upon the
manganese four times its weight of dilute sulphuric acid; allowed the
mixture to stand _for about four weeks_, occasionally agitating it,
and at the end of that time, found, when the dilute acid, now of a
deep crimson colour, _was removed from the subsident manganese_, and
the latter agitated, that the most decisive evidence of the presence
of chlorine was exhibited in the vapour evolved from it.” I stated
further, that I had “carefully preserved this particular mixture,
and that after a lapse of more than twelve months, the residuary
manganese, when the supernatant acid was removed, continued to evolve
chlorine.”
In this experiment my object was effectually to purify the manganese
used from any soluble muriate which might by possibility have been
mixed with it: I did not, however, test the water _first_ used in
washing it, but merely that which was _last_ removed from it.
Mr. Phillips proceeds to observe that he had prepared some
observations, and at considerable length, _to prove_ that the author
of the above paper has been completely misled by “forced analogies”
and “erroneous experiments;” but that it _afterwards_ occurred to
him, that it would be better to show, in a few words, the real source
of the chlorine in question, the evolution of which from peroxide of
manganese _he had noticed some time previous to the publication of
my papers_. That with this view he had procured various specimens of
the peroxide of manganese, (one of them in the crystallized state,)
which were reduced to powder, and on the addition of sulphuric
acid, chlorine was evolved from each. That he then washed separate
portions of them with distilled water, and on the addition of nitrate
of silver to the washings, chloride of silver was immediately
precipitated: sulphuric acid being poured upon the washed peroxide,
no chlorine whatever was evolved. That he further added sulphuric
acid to an unwashed portion, and to one which had [p260] been
washed, and referred both to a _bystander_, who immediately detected
the odour of chlorine in the former, but not in the latter. He then
proceeds to show that the specimens of manganese which he had made
the subject of this experiment contained a portion of lime, and
he infers that the black oxide of manganese consequently contains
muriate of lime.
Mr. Phillips asserts that I have been misled by erroneous
experiments. My reply is, that the experiment to which he refers,
and which I have recapitulated, was carefully made, and is truly
and faithfully detailed. In what, then, is it erroneous? It is not
incompatible with that which he has produced as a refutation of it,
inasmuch as he did not wait the result for which the perusal of my
statement should have prepared him, and which he clearly should not
have anticipated. He states that chlorine was not evolved from washed
manganese at the instant when sulphuric acid was affused upon it.
This is not a contradiction of my statement: I affirmed that, after
washed manganese had been exposed to the action of sulphuric acid
for a very considerable period, I distinctly observed the evolution
of chlorine, and that for twelve months afterwards, _under the
circumstances detailed_, this continued to be the case:—all this
I deliberately re-assert. I have frequently met with specimens of
manganese which, upon the first affusion of sulphuric acid, gave off
chlorine; but _in general_, as far as my experience goes, _this is
not the case_: were it of uniform occurrence, and that the mixture of
sulphuric acid and oxide of manganese rendered chlorine evident to
the smell, the fact _could not have remained unnoticed till now_.
The observations of Mr. Phillips, to which I now refer, did not come
into my hands till about three weeks ago. It fortunately happened
that I had still preserved the specimen of washed manganese upon
which sulphuric acid had been affused, under the circumstances
already recapitulated, and it occurred to me that this would afford
occasion, as decisive as I could desire, to put the accuracy of my
original experiment, and the conclusions drawn from it, to further
proof. I am bound to premise that this specimen of manganese,
after having been in the first washed and subjected to the action
of sulphuric acid, as already mentioned, has ever since remained
in [p261] the vessel in which the experiment was at first made,
covered with dilute sulphuric acid,—a period of more than eighteen
months; and it will scarcely be doubted that, in the course of that
long interval, any muriate of lime which it might have originally
contained must have been thoroughly decomposed. Upon removing the
supernatant acid, the residuary manganese gave sensible evidence of
the presence of chlorine; paper stained with the solution of indigo
in sulphuric acid was readily bleached by it, &c. I now proceeded
to wash the manganese in pure water, and continued to do so until
the acid was no longer perceptible to the taste. I then washed it
three times successively with distilled water, and after decanting
off the fluid of the last washing as closely as possible, added pure
sulphuric acid in considerable quantity, and stirred the mixture
thoroughly, after it had cooled, with a glass rod. At this time
no vapour of chlorine was evident either to the smell or to the
usual tests. The mixture was then set aside, and allowed to stand
undisturbed for ten days: at the end of that time, when the acid
was poured off, and the subsident manganese agitated, the vapour of
chlorine was as distinctly manifest as when it was first subjected to
experiment more than a year and a half ago.
_Dublin, June_ 11, 1827.
_Modern Improvements of Horticulture_.
That gardening has always been one of the most natural, as well as
the most useful occupations of mankind, is obvious: that it has
advanced—been retarded—or flourished, according as general taste
or wants, or peculiar political, moral, or local circumstances,
were favourable or adverse, is also sufficiently evident from all
historical testimony;—but in no age has it advanced with such
rapid strides towards perfection as it has done within the last
fifty years. To bring the modern improvements in array before the
reader,—to estimate their advantages in a public and private point
of view,—to look forward from our present elevated station to the
probable results of continued, and extended application,—may be an
amusing, if not an [p262] useful inquiry: it may tend to remove
barriers which are only imaginary, and by freeing the thinking powers
of practitioners from the trammels of custom, lead them forward
into that expanse of operative freedom, where much remains for the
exercise of the inquiring mind, and experimental hand, in exploring
the yet untrodden field of practicability, and calling forth the
still latent powers and susceptibilities of pregnant nature.
When we turn to the history of the first ages, we hear of a garden as
soon as we hear of man; and though, from the paucity of description,
we can only form ideas of such a place from the effusions of the
poet, rather than from the detail of the historian, yet, in judging
from what still appears of aboriginal scenery, we may conclude with
Milton that a garden was a place,
“A happy rural seat of various views;
Groves whose rich trees wept odorous gums and balm;
Others whose fruit, burnished with golden rind,
Hung amiable, and of delicious taste:
Betwixt them lawns—or the flow’ry lap
Of some irriguous valley spread her store.”—_Par. Lost_.
If such a place, it required care to rear the tender—to check the
luxuriant—correct the irregular—to support the burdened—extirpate
the noisome weed—and repulse the browsing animal. Such was the only
occupation of the first gardeners: for in those highly-favoured
spots, those natural paradises, (some of which still remain in
India,) where the groves which formed the habitations also supplied
the simple food of the inhabitants; where the cocoa-nut[48], with
its various liquors, abounded; [p263] where the date, the mango,
tamarind, and lime dropped in profusion into the hand; where the
melon tribe upon, and the nutritious yam beneath the surface of the
bountiful soil, were all spontaneously supplied without care, and
without toil:—in such circumstances, neither sagacity to contrive,
nor ability to perform, were necessary, further than collecting and
preserving those spontaneous gifts of nature.
But population increased; and when mankind became translocated to
regions less favourable to vegetation, and where the spontaneous
productions of the earth were insufficient for their subsistence,
then the business of the planter and cultivator became a necessary
occupation; and hence gardening would begin to assume a systematic
form.
As improvements, and the times in which they took place, have
descended together in continuous and collateral streams, the
narration may be divided into three periods, viz.:—From the earliest
ages to the beginning of the sixteenth century;—from the beginning of
the sixteenth century to the end of the seventeenth;—and from that
period to the present time.
We have already hinted at what were probably natural, or aboriginal
gardens: the account is so far feasible from the fact, that such
places and productions may be met with on the peninsula of India,
at the present day: true it is, they cultivate rice, and some few
inferior plants, where they have opportunity, and use them along with
their wild fruits; but when they cannot procure these cultivated
necessaries, (which sometimes happens,) they must rely on the natural
productions. It is necessary to add, that some of the castes, from
religious principle, abhor the use of almost any kind of animal food;
and, therefore, vegetables are their sole support.
From Egyptian and Jewish history, we learn that gardens [p264]
were an appendage of the palaces of their princes, and other great
men, for personal solace and gratification; but how far the art was
systematized, either in knowledge or practice, history is silent.
Throughout the Assyrian, Babylonian, Persian, and Macedonian empires,
we learn but little more than that ornamental gardening was carried
to an extravagant height in their artificial formation; insomuch
that one of the Babylonian princes built what were called “hanging
gardens,” that is, a vast and lofty pyramidal structure on arches,
arcades with terraces surmounted by other arcades, and carried up in
gradations to a great height. The terraces being planted with the
choicest trees, presented to the distant spectator a verdant hill
of foliage in the midst of a large city, and lifted the sovereign
proprietor far above the noise and intrusive notice of his vassals
below; at the same time, yielding him all the sweets, seclusion, and
quiet of the country, even in the purlieu of his palace! The idea
of such an ornamented and elevated structure for a mighty sovereign
was certainly sublime, and far surpassing all that has been yet done
(though it has been suggested by Mr. Loudon) in the western world;
and though only a monument of wealth and personal pride, prompted by
conjugal regard, and entirely artificial, was certainly proper for
the place where it stood, worthy of the prince who erected, and the
extensive empire to which it belonged.
Throughout a long-following period, and up to the time of the Romans,
we learn nothing particular respecting gardens, only, that among the
Jews, they had gardens for herbs, vineyards, and even gardens for
cucumbers: but as frequent allusions are made to them, it is probable
that gardening had then become a distinct calling, as we find it was
among the Romans, as soon as their extensive conquests were secured.
As the arts and arms of the Romans went together, no doubt a very
wide circulation of all that was known of gardening in Italy, was
transferred thence. Their writers on rural affairs preferred _agri_
to _horti_culture; but their sound knowledge of the former shews
no inconsiderable share of acquaintance with the principles of
the latter; and as their practice, as well as the seeds of their
products, would be introduced wherever the climate permitted, it
is more than probable they [p265] laid the foundation of British
gardening. The rules and examples left by them, were probably
continued, with occasional accessions to the stock both of practice
and production, throughout the Heptarchy, the domination of the
Saxons, Danes, and Normans: but these troublous times were not
favourable to the prosecution of the arts of peace; and it is not
likely much advancement in the art took place until the Norman power
was fully established; and even then their castellated mansions
precluded any extensive adaptation of garden, from the necessity of
forming the glacis, for the greater security of the baronial hall:
and though it is probable that, at this time, not a dwelling, from
the regal palace to the cottage, but had a garden of some size or
other, yet the best practice was confined to the monasteries, and
other religious corporations of those days, all over Christendom.
Their education and leisure, their foreign intercourse, their
interest in the tithes, and their love of superior vegetables and
condiments, on the many days they were restricted from indulging
in the consumption of animal food, all contributed to incline the
monks to prosecute gardening on the most approved plans. Thus,
Italy, Spain, and Germany became famous for their superior culinary
vegetables, as France was for improved fruits; indeed, when war
depopulated or devastated a country, and when the gardens of the
château became a sacrifice to offensive or defensive operations,
and when the potageries of the hamlets were trodden under foot and
destroyed by a licentious soldiery, the gardens of the religious
houses were often spared, and, consequently, many roots and fruits
found there an asylum, which was denied them in less privileged
places.
In looking over the lists of plants cultivated in those days, we find
the names of a great majority of the common sorts now in use, as
well culinary, as for the table or the press, with a great addition
of physical plants, it being then a prevalent supposition that
remedies for all the ailments of the human frame were existent in
the vegetable kingdom, if they could be detected; the cultivation
and gathering of simples, therefore, was a business which employed
many heads and many hands: even the Corinthian pillars of the noble
profession of physic were not entirely free from that malaria, which
was generated in the fumes of the herbalist’s shop! [p266]
Ornamental gardening had hardly showed its graceful head; the little
that had been done of this in England, was only in imitation of the
Italian school, though without their accompaniments of splendid
architecture, classical sculpture, and costly fountains. Such a
style, in the near neighbourhood of a palace or mansion, is imposing
and suitable, but the outskirts of such gardens, which should have
been gradually blended with and into the free and beautiful forms
of nature, were bounded and deformed by tortuous labyrinths, by
complicated folds of nicely-clipped hedges, involving each other for
no purpose than affording seclusion from the “licentious eye,” or a
“maze to the intruding foot.”
It may be observed as somewhat unaccountable, the excellent taste of
their landscape painters was never transferred from the canvass to
their style of ornamental gardening. But so it was: the people who
had all kinds of assistance from artists of the first order, and from
classical and picturesque association within their own territory,
long remained blind to what was so natural and so manifestly within
their reach!
In useful and profitable gardening, the fine climate of Italy gave
great facility for successful cultivation of a profusion of the
finest fruits, and being an advanced post for the reception of all
valuable plants from both Asia and Africa, it much sooner than other
European countries possessed culinary vegetables in great variety,
and of salad-herbs a numerous list.
From the commencement of the sixteenth century the improvements
in gardening began to take the form of a system. The increasing
splendour of the English court, during the reigns of the virgin
queen and her father, and the princely establishments of some of
her courtiers, called the art of gardening into notice and repute,
and gave an impulse to the yet dormant powers of horticultural
practicability. Continental artists were generally employed in
laying out the greater works. The sum of their professional ability
was chiefly geometrical, an exact knowledge of straight lines,
squares, and curves; they could line out a polygonal basin to a
hair’s breadth, and construct a many-tiered jet d’eau in the midst.
Such, however, were the principal features admitted into, and which
constituted the style of those days, and continued through that and
the succeeding [p267] century. In the latter (the seventeenth),
and during the domestic broils which then convulsed the kingdoms,
gardening appears to have been, as to style, almost stationary. In
the mean time, however, the Reformation had been silently working
salutary effects, not only in the deliverance of men from a servile
religious thraldom, but also from the dogmas of precedential custom,
and by imbuing them with a spirit of independence with respect to
others, gave, what was better, a _self-dependence_ in exertion,
whether of mind or action; and, after a few years of revolutionary
excess, and abuse of this inestimable acquisition of mental freedom,
at last, in 1688, settled down into that rational state of composure,
which, with few interruptions, has happily remained to the present
day.
Then it was that gardening, in all its branches, was patronised and
encouraged. Tournefort in France, and Ray in England, enlightened
the public by their description, enumeration, and classification
of plants. Evelyn called attention to the usefulness and national
value of forest trees; several authors developed the mysteries of
kitchen-garden and orchard management; collections of exotic plants
were made, and glass-cases built for their reception; floriculture
received a share of the gardener’s attention; and in short, there
seemed to be, about this time, a general movement by united exertion
to gain what had been previously neglected, and complete what had
been only feebly attempted.
The accession of William and Mary to the British throne very
naturally introduced Dutch gardening and architecture. The old
Italian and French styles received very little, if any, amendment.
The avenue, the canal, the rectangular clumps and borders, the
shelves and slopes, the terrace, with its stairs, were all maintained
and extended, the whole surrounded by exactly-clipped hedges, and
bedotted with fanciful and unnaturally cut trees. This expensive and
ridiculous fashion had its admirers for a time, but at last fell into
disrepute, not by a bull or anathema, but chiefly by the keen sarcasm
of a Pope!
Kitchen-gardens were improved by additional brick-walls for the
more delicate kinds of fruit, as vines, figs, peaches, nectarins,
apricots, &c. Hot-beds were in general use, and, many hot-houses were
erected for different kinds of the above [p268] as well as for the
pine-apple. In those days our fruit-lists contained twenty sorts, of
which there were many varieties. Of culinary vegetables there were,
of roots eighteen, of shoots four, of leaves fourteen, of flowers
three, of seeds three, of pods two, and of herbs for all purposes
twenty-five.
From that period, the commencement of the eighteenth century, every
succeeding year brought forth new objects of the gardener’s care, and
improved operations for his imitation. The acquirements of natural
science, radiating from such a character as Sir Hans Sloane, whose
theories were imbibed and confirmed by the practical abilities of
Philip Miller, were, at that time, like the orb of day bursting
from behind a cloud! Scientific light and practical life were shed
on all around, and the foundation was then laid, by their united
means, on which has been raised almost all the varied structure
of modern horticultural improvement. It would be impossible, as
needless, to give the names of the authors, who, from this period,
showed themselves in print on the subject of gardening, for, were
the respective merits of their literary labours noticed, and the
successive discoveries and advances chronicled, the amount would
be voluminous indeed. But the following celebrated names cannot,
in justice to their memories, be omitted. The great Linnæus was
deservedly at the head of the botanical branch of gardening;
Miller, with his satellites, Gordon, Lee, and Aiton were at that of
practical botany, as well as of all the other parts of operative
gardening; and, as a leading orchardist, Kennedy, and many others
on miscellaneous subjects, produced respectable directories and
kalendars.
The improvement of ornamental gardening kept pace with that of
the more useful. Soon as the old style of rigid formality had
been exposed, it was exploded; more refined principles of taste
prevailed; its outlines became better defined; it was found that
there are certain fixed principles in nature, on which the elements
of true taste are naturally (not capriciously) founded; that delight
and gratification to the eye, or mind, can only arise from the
harmony and fitness of the combinations of art or design; that the
sensations of beauty and sublimity can only be conveyed by congruous
associations of parts to the whole; and that the incidents found in
[p269] conjunction in nature, should be the objects of imitation
of the gardener’s, as they had long been that of the painter’s art,
with this exception, that in the immediate vicinity of the mansion as
much of the old style should be retained as will harmonize with the
necessary artificial façade of the architecture; but soon as departed
from these creations of art, let then appear the varied flow of
nature’s devious garb.