lf)S 



THE GARDENER'S MOXTIII ) 



\^May, 



trt'c iiloiiL' str;iii:lit Jivciiucs. swcrpiiiL.' <iii\vii to 

 the ^roiitid ami up a^aiii. luakiui; a living <lra- 

 pcrv of wrcatlis and f't'sdions in coiiiiocfion witli 

 vases and sUitiu's. that vvius particularly jilfasiu^^. 

 A li'adiu^ feature »>f tiie Luxeiubouri^ j,'ardens is 

 the statuary, all in historic connection with events 

 in F'rcneh history. There is St. Genevieve, the 

 Saint Patroness of Paris, her hair, though braided, 

 extendiiiLT to within afoot of her toes; andwithsueh 

 beautiful features that, if a true representative 

 of the lady, an artist niii;ht have canonized her 

 for her beauty alone; though the Holy See had 

 neglected to reward her virtues. Then there is 

 .Marie Stuart, '* Ueine de France 1549-1.587"— a.s 

 the inscription tells us — and many other celeb- 

 rities, especially of the female sex. The Pillar 

 Raises, trained to iron rods and arches, were par- 

 licularly good; but the Pear trees, of which we 

 had heard so much in the past, were yellowish 

 I<i my eyes, and not near iMjual lo tlie good looks 

 of the Pear trees of our own country. On in- 

 (piiring for M. Hardy, in the hope of a good old 

 French Pear talk, we found, as in so many cases 

 in our travels, nothinir but the name and memory 

 remained. He also had passed away. 



AVe must pass the Champs d' Elysees, the Bois 

 du lioulogne, Bois de Vincennes, Versailles, and 

 other places, to have a special notice of one 

 very particularly pretty spot — the Pare Mon- 

 ci'aux. It is rather hard for a stranger to find, 

 though not far from the beautiful Boulevards. 

 I think I inquired a half dozen times in a walk 

 of half a mile ; for the fondness of a Frenchman 

 for a long name, and the way he rattles it ofi'for 

 you is "a caution." So as to be near the 

 great center of these parks, I had taken up my 

 residence at the " Hotel de la ville de Paris, 

 Place Lavelavec, Rue Cambaceres;" but a 

 Frenchman would get this out in less time than 

 you could say " nonsense." But we keep on in 

 faith, and tind at last, by an unpretending iron 

 gate, that our kind directors had told us to " keep 

 on to avenue Velasquez." Said avciue is but a 

 few hundred feet long, but it lands us at once 

 into the pretty morceau of landscape gardening, 

 the Pare Monceaux. The superintendent, loaded 

 down with medals which made a perfect show- 

 case of his breast, we found, a.s in England, ap- 

 parently delighted with the word *' American," 

 and kindly gave me all the information I desired. 

 The Park contained, according to his statement, 

 '• neuf hectares.'''' I should judge, by appearances, 

 about twenty acres. But the art I have before 

 referred to, of throwing up and depressing the 



surl'ace. made it appear very mukIi larger. In 

 fact I do not know that I have ever seen in the 

 world the art of making a small i)la<(' look large^ 

 carried out better than here. Prepared as I was 

 lor this art, and certiiin that I eould not be de- 

 ceived, I wa*! somewhat astonished to find, on 

 crossing a rustic bridge of not over fifty feet 

 long, I was on a popular drive along which I 

 had walked a half hour before, and within reach 

 of which by a stone's throw I had been all the 

 while. Yet, by judicious planting and elevating 

 the earth here and there, views are so arranged 

 that you continually see something fresh. Art 

 is strained to the utmost to bring in this contin- 

 ual variety. Of course, some of these etforts fail. 

 There are some views intended to represent some 

 old Grecian buildings of three thousand years 

 ago. The work is very natural. It is precisely 

 as we see it in pictures. The evergreen ivy has 

 covered the whole, and done its part well. Still 

 you don't believe in its anticiuity. You miss the 

 Date Palms. The tumbled columns are not 

 there. You could not. under the wildest stretch- 

 of the imagination, believe yourself to be " Ma- 

 rius sitting among the ruins of Carthage ;" not 

 even can you think Carthage has been brought 

 there for you. Even the masses of the classical 

 Acanthus growing near the wall, as naturally 

 as it grew in the first iirstance on the fair Tuaid- 

 ens' Grecian grave, does not deceive. You\mut- 

 ter, " Pretty, but humbug," and pass on. 



But there is enough in genuine art here to 

 please even the critical. There seems nothing 

 at least untried. Imagine a clump of crooked 

 trees — large trees — and then you come to an- 

 other ground where they are mostly straight; 

 groups of our Yuccas among rocks, and masses 

 of our variegated Negundo on a closely shaven 

 lawn. So we go on in variety — now a lot of 

 India Rubber trees — then a bed of our garden 

 Egg Plants — and pretty indeed their leaves did 

 look — and perhaps next a bed of common Petu- 

 nias. Perhaps it may be a group of the rare but 

 beautiful leaf plant Carolina princeps — scarce 

 Begonias ; and then perhaps the common Ivy 

 or Spiderwort. Nothing is too common, but it 

 is turned to excellent use ; nothing is too rare to 

 give richness and character. It is indeed a 

 model park. 



1 thought 1 would linisli here, and get back to 

 England ; but one who was with me says, " The 

 flower markets and the artisans' windows are pub- 

 lic gardens — the Champ de Mars, with its Expo- 

 sition (irounds are public gardens — the Botanic 



