THE CHARM OF GARDENS 



I have no doubt that in Roman England such wells 

 were built where the supply of water was not equal to 

 great distribution. But it is amazing to think that such 

 a tiny village as Laurentium, where Pliny had one of his 

 villas outside Rome, held three Inns, in each of which 

 were baths always heated and ready for travellers, and 

 that it has taken us until the present day to bring the 

 bath into the ordinary house. 



Naturally, when one casts one's eyes over a picture of 

 a Roman garden in England, and compares it with a gar- 

 den of to-day, the very first thing we find missing is that 

 mass of colour and that wonderful variety of bloom that 

 constitutes the apex of modern gardening. Where they 

 were surprised, or gave themselves sudden shocks to the 

 eye, it was by means of little grottos, fountains, vistas at 

 the ends of long alleys, statues in a wild part of a garden, 

 or unexpected seats commanding a prospect opened out 

 by an arrangement of the trees. We prepare for our- 

 selves wildernesses in which the Spring shall paint her 

 wonderful picture of Anemones, Daffodils, Crocuses, and 

 such flowers ; where Blue Bells and Primroses, Ragged 

 Robin, and Foxgloves hold us by their vivid colour. Our 

 scarlet armies of Geranium, our banks of purple Asters, or 

 the flaming panoplies of Roses with which we illuminate 

 our gardens would seem to the Roman something 

 wonderful and strange. Yet, in a sense, his taste 

 was more subtle. He held green against green, a bed 

 of Herbs, the occasional jewel of a clump of Violets, 

 more to his manner of liking. And he arranged his 

 garden so as to contain as many varieties of walks as 

 possible. 



In the evenings now, when I am, by chance, staying 

 in the house whose garden holds that summer-house I 

 love, I can see my old Roman of my dreams wandering 

 ever his estate, and I almost feel his presence near me as 



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