GARDENS OF CELEBRITIES 
robe, for at midsummer it wears a new, and very lovely aspect. 
The gardener has then filled the space to the left with rows of 
choice greenhouse plants, in bloom. All down the long vista, and 
pendant from the glass roof, the cup-like blossoms of fuchsias 
that have climbed all over it inside, soften the glare from the 
hot sun which filters through them, making a cool green shade 
that is very restful and agreeable to the eye. The fuchsia flowers 
are purple and red, red and white, and white and purple; and 
they hang like myriads of silent fairy bells. ‘“‘ Heard melodies 
are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter,’”’ sings Keats—maybe 
these bells do actually ring, or chime the hour, for ears that, 
unlike ours, are not too dull to hear them! 
One of the Misses Berry, those neighbours of Horace Walpole 
who were his great friends, writing in her journal under date of 
June Ist, 1818, says: ‘‘ Drove with the Duke of Devonshire 
in his curricle to Chiswick, where he showed me all the alterations 
that he was about to make, in adding the garden of Lady Mary 
Coke’s house to his own. The house is down, and in the garden 
he has constructed a magnificent hot-house, with a conservatory 
for flowers, the middle under a cupola; altogether it is three 
hundred feet long. The communication between the two gardens 
is through the old greenhouse, of which they have made a double 
arcade, making the prettiest effect imaginable.’’ It was this Duke 
who also brought to Chiswick the beautiful gates, rumour of 
which sent us forth as children on a futile voyage of discovery. 
But besides his horticultural tastes, the sixth Duke of Devonshire 
had a great interest in wild animals, and a love of Natural History. 
He actually had a menagerie, of which his sister Harriet, Countess 
of Granville, gives an amusing account. Among the animals 
were “a few kangaroos who, if affronted, will rip up anyone as 
soon as look at him; elks, emus, and other pretty sportive death- 
dealers playing about.” ‘‘ The lawn,” we are told, was “‘ beautifully 
variegated by an Indian Bull and his spouse, and goats of all colours 
and dimensions.” 
Sir Walter Scott writes in his Diary on May 17th, 1828: “I 
drove down to Chiswick, where I had never been before. A 
numerous and gay party were assembled to walk and enjoy the 
beauty of that Palladian House. The place and highly ornamental 
garden belonging to it, resembles a picture by Watteau. There 
184 
