Chap. XVI.] A FEW NOTES ON PRIVATE GARDENS. 251 



home ; and richly-stored or otherwise remarkable gardens are not 

 so common as with ns. Frequently the chateau-garden is a dismal 

 exhibition of the absurdities of the old school of landscape- 

 gardeners. Lime and other trees shorn into the form of walls ; 

 dreary expanses of gravelled surface ; endless straight avenues 

 instead of open spaces where the breezes might play with the 

 grass ; crumbling fountain-basins suggestive of mouldering tombs ; 

 often an Orangery reminding one of the time when the Orange 

 was our only greenhouse-plant ; and statues that one wishes 

 buried with those who carved them. There are exceptions, and 

 many, but even in the best there is a great deal more of the 

 zoological element that one cares to have in an English garden. 

 The aviary, too, is often disagreeably conspicuous, and the water- 

 fowl plentiful enough to destroy the beauty of the water. The 

 buildings— hoary with time, and frequently interesting as regards 

 architecture— are seldom surrounded by noble trees. The absence 

 of these is frequently accounted for by the destruction through 

 wars, especially round Paris, though the stupid practice of lopping 

 has much to answer for. A revolution in this respect is as much 

 wanted in many gardens in France, as ever it was politically in 

 that country. The admirable culture that one notices in the 

 market-gardens round Paris and some other cities, is rarely 

 seen in the ordinary chateau-garden, which seldom looks so well 

 cultivated as an average English kitchen-garden. A few well- 

 trained trees, however, are always to be seen. The art of training 

 and grafting fruit-trees with ease, seems now to be as deeply 

 engrained into the French as the art of making soup. 



It is in the gardens of the middle-class that we may best judge 

 of French gardening. The merit of these is that they are not 

 wholly sacrificed to the demon of bedding-out, but often contain 

 a variety of plant-form and flowers ; they are frequently fresh 

 and pretty in winter, and laid out without the horrid pattern- 

 beds which make the sight of so many gardens far from soothing. 

 In large gardens at home, wise people sometimes get a little 

 freedom from the tormenting beds that have been the worthless 

 stock-in-trade of the landscape-gardener for centuries ; small 

 gardens are nearly always ruined by these. A bed, in the sense 

 of a body of well-prepared soil, is essential in gardens ; but it is 

 not necessary that beds should take ugly forms. The best pre- 



