200 THE PRAISE OF GARDENS 



I should like to inflame the whole world with my taste for 

 gardens. It seems to me impossible for an evil-doer to share it. 

 He is not capable of any taste at all. But if, for this reason, I 

 rate highly the vvild-herborist, the deft and agile butterfly-hunter, 

 the minute scrutinizer of shells, the stern lover of minerals, the 

 icy geometrician, the three frenetics of poetry, music and painting, 

 the abstract thinker and the subtle chemist, there is no virtue 

 which I do not attribute to the man who loves to project and 

 execute gardening. 



Engrossed in this passion, the only one which keeps pace with 

 advancing years, a man day by day casts off such as disturb peace 

 of mind or social order. When he has passed the draw-bridge at 

 the gate of the city, that refuge of moral and physical corruption, 

 to work in or enjoy the country, his heart laughs with Nature, and 

 experiences the same feeling as his lungs in absorbing the fresh 

 air, which regenerates them. 



Fathers, instil into your children the garden-mania. They will 

 grow up the better for it. Let other arts be only studied to 

 heighten the beauty of the one I advocate. Engaged in planning 

 how to shade a glen, or in contriving how to divert the course of 

 a stream, one is too busy ever to become a dangerous citizen, an 

 intriguing general, or a caballing courtier. If such a man had 

 designs to write against the laws, to lay his grievances before the 

 ministry of war, to overthrow a superior, or hatch plots at court, 

 he would arrive too late, for his head would be fall of his Judaea 

 trees, or his flower-borders, or with the ordering of his grove of 

 plane-trees. . . . 



Let not the mason's art come in awkwardly to overload the 

 Earth, under pretence of supporting it : let not their lime burn up 

 the enamel of the meadows — let not their cement make the daisy, 

 the violet and the pansy lie low, let not their feet soil the bed of 

 the Nymphs. I love to see them sport with young Sylvan boys, 

 for whom they begin to have a budding passion, as yet un- 

 conscious. Steps are alarming. Gentle slopes are required for 

 their sports. 



Let all trades be banished from gardens. Above all no 



