22 THE BOOK OF TOPIARY 
of the employer almost to breaking point—it passed 
from reasonableness to absurdity. Then came a new 
order of things; perennials have been brought back 
and improved; hardy flowers are the fashion. 
When Topiary threatened to exclude all else from 
the garden there arose several apostles of freedom, 
and these conducted a crusade against the art. Among 
those whose writings are more or less regarded in these 
days mention may be made of three—Bacon, Addison, 
and Pope. 
The former early raised a protest, for in the times 
of Shakespeare and Queen Elizabeth, when Topiary 
was the prevailing taste if not the general fashion, he 
wrote, ‘‘I for my part do not like images cut in juniper 
or other garden stuff; they be for children.” It was 
Bacon also who said: ‘‘ As for the making of knots 
or figures that they may lie under the windows of the 
house on that side which the garden stands, they be 
but toys; you may see as good sights many times in 
tarts.” But, alas, Bacon was curiously inconsistent. 
He would away with Topiary, but he puts forward as 
the best type of a garden one that is square, enclosed 
in an arched hedge, ‘‘ with a turret over every arch, 
and a cage of birds in each turret, and over every space 
between the arches some other little figure with broad 
plates of round coloured glass, gilt, for the sun to play 
on.” ‘Those who so aptly quote Bacon when they pour 
out the vials of their wrath upon Topiary through the 
medium of the public press, may also be further 
reminded that Bacon would have in his ideal garden a 
fountain ‘‘embellished with coloured glass and such 
things of lustre.” 
But however much we may chuckle over the incon- 
sistencies of Bacon it must be remembered that the 
age in which he lived (1561-1626) was remarkable 
rather for ostentatious display than for good taste,— 
