92 



THE CiARDENERS' MONTHLY 



[March, 



the Romans. And proof positive it is, that, spite 

 of Virgil's charming Gcorgics, spite 'of Horace's 

 coquetting with the country, the Romans had no 

 taste for it. Nor "have the present ItaHans. Their 

 gardens and villas are for show, not for that enjoy- 

 ment which our gardens give us in the way of 

 peaceful emotion, of pleasant occupation, of com- 

 muning with our " Mother Earth," of greater near- 

 ness to God the Creator. Now trees and grass, the 

 alternation, in other words, of light and shade, and 

 also the mixing and blending thereof, promote 

 these pure feelings, and are the delight of our 

 Northern eyes and hearts. 



Moreover, the Americans have the high privi- 

 lege over the nations of Europe, that we still have 

 nature about us in untutored woods. Such are 

 hard to find in Europe. Forestry is an art there, 

 and iheans the cultivation, conservation and gen- 

 eral management of trees. They get all that, it is 

 true, and, like a well-dressed, respectable gentle- 

 man, they are a virtuous sight. But the original- 

 ity of mature, the individuality, the poetry are 

 mostly gone or out of sight. As yet, I say, as yet 

 we have the woods, the forests, the native growth, 

 the underbrush and all in our American country, 

 but it won't take another hundred years, and we 

 may be worse off than Europe. We may not have 

 their forests, swept and trimmed and well ordered 

 though they be ; we may possibly have next to 

 none at all, if we continue going on the principle 

 of not caring who takes the hindmost. 



Root out of your mind, American stranger 

 in Europe, your sweet memories of woods and 

 grass, and let us look round in Italy where so 

 much is to be enjoyed nevertheless. 



Small as this country is, we can enjoy the great- 

 est diversity of climate, consequently also of pro- 

 ductions, mode of life, etc. First, as to the north- 

 ern half, all north of Rome. Hill, dale, valley, 

 pasture land, ice-clad mountains, rivers, • lakes, 

 swamps and plains alternate. The most remark- 

 able feature is, that from the cold mountains you 

 can descend into the subtropical " Riviera," or the 

 north shore of the Mediterranean where, although 

 you have right behind you the relatively cool dis- 

 tricts of Piedmont and France, as far as the coast 

 itself is concerned, you enjoy a climate similar to 

 that of Naples. There you see in the month of 

 March hedges, garden hedges, of roses, of fine 

 kinds of roses, such as we are proud of having in 

 beds and pots, rank of growth ; ditto of oleander, 

 lemon and orange trees in the open ; fuchsias, gera- 

 niums and many similar things of a height, strength, 

 nav, robustness, that make vou look twice at them 



before you will believe it. In the same way, you 

 see other acquaintances and old friends in a new 

 condition. Very many of the plants and small 

 trees of our green and warmhouses, reared and 

 kept there like fine ladies in their parlors, here ap- 

 pear, like everyday folk, in the gardens of Nizza, 

 San Carlo, Genoa, etc., and, like everyday folk, are 

 all the stronger for it. 



Magnolias also abound on this " riviera " and 

 here, as well as throughout Italy, keep their leaves 

 all the year round. Palms will also flourish in a 

 good many spots, but the date palm will not ripen 

 its fruit, and, on the whole, the palms do not look 

 " to the manor born " with the exception of one spot. 



That spot is the garden of the gaming-house of 

 San Carlo. Partly the favorable situation, but 

 mostly the immense care and lavish expenditure 

 of Monsieur Blanc, the lessee, have produced this 

 spot and made it an ideal one. People call it Par- 

 adise for short. Here the flowers, plants and 

 trees of all zones are made to look at home. By 

 the way " Paradise " is no inapt name. The gam- 

 bling saloon is in the centre of this garden. Here 

 is the fall of man, and penitent is he driven hence 

 by remorse. 



But we must not linger on the seashore, how- 

 ever attractive, both as to color of the water, which 

 is sparkling, and alternating from blue to green, or 

 as to picturesqueness of bold, rocky scenery all 

 along, and remarkable vegetation. Let us dive 

 inland. 



I said we miss grass. I now say we also miss 

 trees in Italy. There are alpine pastures, some few 

 meadows, and there are also royal forests ; other- 

 wise the northern half of Italy is bare of trees. 

 Population has crowded them out; the soil got to 

 be precious. Hills and mountains, by means of 

 walling and terracing, are cultivated to their very 

 tops. The rains wash constantly down the soil 

 and the walls will only retain some small portion 

 of it. Nevertheless the hills and the mountains, 

 as well as the plains, teem in Italy, and, were it not 

 for this kindness of soil and climate, so many mil- 

 lions of men could not live on this relatively small 

 peninsula. 



One system of cultivation seems to prevail all 

 over Italy. I would call it the bedstead system. 

 The land is laid out in regular uniform plots, resem- 

 bling bedsteads. Round its edges grow sometimes 

 olive trees, but mostly mulberry trees, whose fresh 

 leaves during the months of May and June, feed 

 the silkworms. To produce a great variety of 

 these leaves, and of fullest nourishment, the trees 

 are regularly trimmed every winter so as to have 



