THE CHARM OF GARDENS 



And this delightful Herb whose tender Green 

 Fledges the River's Lip on which we lean. 

 Ah, lean upon it lightly ! for who knows 

 From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen." 



Little did the dull ploughman think of Roses in the 

 hedge, or Violets in the bank, he'd little care except 

 for a dish of Pulse. Yet, all the time, curious men were 

 studying botany, dredging the earth for secrets, as the 

 astronomer swept the sky. The Arviells, Gilbert and 

 Hernicus, were, one in Europe, the other in Asia, collect- 

 ing good plants and herbs to replenish the Jardins de 

 Sante the monks kept — that in the thirteenth century, 

 too; with war clouds everywhere, and steel-clad knights 

 wooing maidens in castles by the secondhand means of 

 luting troubadours. 



The Arts of Rome were dead, buried, and cut up by 

 the plough. (How many ploughmen, such as Chaucer 

 knew, turned long brown furrows over Roman vine- 

 yards, and black crows, following, pecked at bright 

 coins, brought by the plough to light.) 



All at once, it must have seemed, the culture of flowers, 

 was in the air : Carnations became the rage ; then 

 men spent heaven knows what on a Tulip bulb ; built 

 orangeries ; sent Emissaries abroad to cull flowers in 

 the East. The great men's gardeners, great men them- 

 selves, kept flowers in the plot of ground about their 

 cottages ; gave out a seed or so here and there ; talked 

 garden gossip at the village ale-house. (Tradescant 

 steals Apricots from Morocco into England. A Carew 

 imports Oranges. The Cherry orchards at Sittingbourne 

 are planted by one of Henry the Eighth's gardeners. 

 Peiresc brings all manner of flowers to bloom under 

 our grey skies : great numbers of Jessamines, the clay- 

 coloured Jessamine from China ; the crimson American 

 kind ; the Violet-coloured Persian.) 



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