ART WHICH MENDS NATURE 



This chaotic, formative, initiatory 

 state of affairs could hardly be better illus- 

 trated than in the fact that the men most 

 deeply engaged in the art have not decided 

 what to call it. Some call it landscape 

 gardening, some call it landscape architect- 

 ure, and some weakly evade the issue by 

 talking of landscape art. Now, it is not 

 worth quarreling over these names, for 

 not one of them is quite satisfactory. His- 

 torically, the term landscape gardening 

 ought to be preferred, — but, theoretically 

 at least, the art is more closely allied to 

 architecture than to gardening. One can- 

 not avoid the rather mean suspicion, how- 

 ever, that the present fashion among the 

 professional brethren to call themselves 

 landscape architects is promoted by two 

 accidental causes, first, the feeling that 

 architecture sounds bigger than gardening 

 and can command a better fee; and, second, 

 the fact that the architectural style of 

 landscape work is the present vogue among 

 wealthy clients. However, we will let that 

 matter rest now. It is cited here only to 

 illustrate the unsettled state of our ideas. 



Landscape gardening is a fine art for 

 the same reason that painting or music is; 



87 



