Editor's Introduction xxxix 



from what one would expect to find in this par- 

 ticular context : — 



Even so one might compare a higher garden art 

 with music and, at least as fitly as architecture has been 

 called " frozen music," to call garden art " growing 

 music." It, too, has its symphonies, adagios, and alle- 

 gros, which stir the senses with vague but powerful emo- 

 tions. Further, as Nature offers her features to the 

 landscape gardener for use and choice, so does she of- 

 fer to music her fundamental tones; beautiful like the 

 human voice, the song of birds, the thunder of the 

 tempest, the roaring of the hurricane, the bodeful wail- 

 ing of branches — ugly sounds like howling, bellowing, 

 clattering, and squeaking. Yet the instruments bring 

 all these out and work, according to circumstances, ear- 

 splitting sounds in the hands of the incompetent, en- 

 trancing when arranged by the artist in an orderly whole. 

 The genial Nature painter does the same. He studies 

 the manifold material given him by Nature and by his 

 art works the scattered parts into a beautiful whole, 

 whose melody flatters the senses, but unfolds its high- 

 est powers and yields the greatest enjoyment only when 

 harmony has breathed true soul into the work. 



Furthermore, it may be said, in addition to 

 these conclusions of Prince Piickler, that enter- 

 ing more deeply and widely into the heart of 

 Nature than either painting, music, or sculpture, 

 landscape architecture "is a union of many di- 

 verse elements, all constantly changing and act- 

 ing upon each other, such as we see in some fair 

 meadow, lit by sunshine after rain, wherein all 

 things, — from the chemical ingredients of the 

 grasses, and the lines of the flowers, to the con- 

 stituents of the stream that flows through it, to 



