1 64 THE PRAISE OF GARDENS 



I only see in these vast and richly ornamented estates the 

 vanity of the proprietor and of the artist, who, always eager to 

 display, the one his wealth and the other his talent, prepare, at 

 a great expense, ennui for any one desirous of enjoying their 

 work. A false taste for grandeur, which is not made for man, 

 poisons his pleasures. 



The "grand air" is always melancholy: it makes us think of 

 the miseries of the man who affects it. Amid his parterres and 

 grand alleys, his littleness does not increase : a tree twenty feet 

 high shelters him as well as one of sixty feet : he never occupies 

 more than his three feet of space, and is lost like a worm in his 

 immense possessions. 



There is another taste directly opposed to that, and still more 

 ridiculous, in so far as it does not even permit the enjoyment of 

 the walk, for which gardens are made. 



I understand, I replied : it is that of those pretty virtuosi, those 

 small florists, who swoon at the sight of a ranunculus, and prostrate 

 themselves before a tulip. Whereupon I related to them what 

 had formerly happened to me in London, in that flower-garden 

 into which we were ushered with so much formality, and where 

 we saw displayed so pompously all the treasures of Holland on 

 four beds of dung. I did not forget the ceremony of the parasol, 

 and of the little wand, with which they honoured me, all unworthy 

 as I was, as well as the other spectators. 



I humbly confessed to them, how, being desirous to exert 

 myself when my turn came, and to venture to go into ecstacies 

 at the sight of a tulip, of which the colour appeared to me 

 striking, and the form elegant, I was mocked, hooted, hissed by 

 all the connoisseurs ; and how the garden-professor, passing from 

 his contempt for the flower to that for the panegyrist, did not 

 condescend to look at me during the whole interview. I think, 

 I added, that he greatly regretted having profaned his wand and 

 parasol. . . . 



What then will the man of taste do, who lives for the sake 

 of living, who can enjoy by himself, who seeks real and simple 

 pleasures, and who wishes to make for himself a walk within 



