2 THE PARKS AND GARDENS OP PARIS. [Chap. I. 



and so on ; without the eternal repetition of common things which 

 one too often sees. 



The islands seen from the margin of the lakes are beautiful, in 

 consequence of the presence of a varied collection of the finest 

 shrubs and trees. They show at a glance the superiority of per- 

 maaent embellishment over fleeting annual display. The planting 

 of these islands was expensive at first, and required a good know- 

 ledge of trees and shrubs, besides a large amount of taste in the 

 designer ; but it is so done that were the hand of man withheld 

 from them for half a century they would not suffer in the least. 

 Nothing could be easier than to find examples of gardens quite as 

 costly in the first instance which, while involving a yearly expen- 

 diture, would be ruined by a year's neglect. In spring the scene 

 is animated by the cheerful flush of bloom of the many shrubs 

 that burst into blossom with the strengthening sun, and while the 

 Oaks are yet leafless the large, swollen flower-buds of the splendid 

 deciduous Magnolias may be seen conspicuous at long distances 

 through the other trees. In summer, along the margins of these 

 islands the fresh pyramids of the deciduous Cypress start from 

 graceful surroundings of hardy Bamboos and Pampas grass, and 

 far beyond is a group of bright silvery Negundo in the midst of 

 green vegetation, with an infinite variety of tree-form around. In 

 autumn the number and richness of the tints of the foliage afford 

 a varied picture from week to week; and in winter the many 

 graceful forms of the deciduous trees among the evergreen shrubs 

 and Pines offer as much to interest an observant eye as at any 

 other season. 



Looking deeper than the immediate results, we may see how 

 the adoption of the system of careful permanent planting enables 

 us to secure what is the most important point in the whole art of 

 gardening— variety, and that of the noblest kind. We are told that 

 " change or variety is as much a necessity to the human heart in 

 buildings as in books ; that there is no merit, though there is some 

 occasional use, in monotony ; and that we must no more expect to 

 derive either pleasure or profit from an architecture whose orna- 

 ments are of one pattern and whose pillars are of one proportion 

 than we should out of a universe in which the clouds were all of 

 one shape and the trees all of one size." All this applies to public 

 gardens with even greater force. In them we need not be tied by 



