Nature and Art, November 1, 1866.] 
GARDENING IN CONNECTION WITH ARCHITECTURE. 
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Alton Towers, for instance, and as at the Pamphili 
Doria Palace, near Rome. Circular bastions, with 
fountains, statues, and flower vases on the balus- 
trade, give additional charms to this the first, and 
perhaps the only terrace in the grounds. Indeed, 
too many terraces are to be avoided ; and in the 
“ Theory and Practice of Gardening ” translated 
from the French (of Leblond), by S. J. James, 
1712, a work of great interest to the planners of 
gardens, it is observed that “ by means of levels or 
flats ( plein-pieds ), continued as long as the ground 
will permit, you should endeavour to avoid the 
defect of heaping “ ten'ass upon terrass.” Loudon, 
in his valuable “Encyclopaedia of Gardening,” justly 
remarks that this terrace serves to unite the house 
with the grounds, and should, whenever practicable, 
be introduced into the design of the building of 
which it forms almost a component part. For 
ourselves, we love a fine terrace, and whoso knows 
Haddon Hall, must know also its special charms. 
As regards the terrace-stairs, these may be wind- 
ing or angular rather than parallel with the 
terrace itself, with broad treads and pleasant 
landings at every seventh step or so. The most 
easy ascent of stairs we know of is that of the 
Vatican, which are barely 6 in. high, with a tread 
of 1 ft. 8 in. If possible, we would have also a 
tapis-vert terrace well sheltered on the north and 
east by trees. The green carpet may be planted 
with odorous herbs which give their scent out 
when pressed by the foot, as Bacon advises : the 
external fence of 'this terrace may be also a well- 
clipt, low hedge — for want of this, the fine terrace 
at Lowther Castle, Cumberland, looks unfinished, 
and is even dangerous for children : one terrace- 
walk also we would always have paved, as it is not 
so damp as gravel after rain. 
Adjoining both house and terrace, should be the 
greenhouse. “ Who loves a garden loves a green- 
house too,” sings Cowper, in his cliaraiing poem 
“ The Garden and we need hardly add that it 
should be so designed as to form a promenade in 
bad weather, and always be connected with the 
house itself, so that it may be reached under cover. 
This feature in a garden has now been brought 
nearly to perfection, and splendid examples will 
occur to us all in the South Kensington Gardens, 
and in the winter-garden at Sydenham. The 
plant-houses at Kew are unfortunately greatly 
overcrowded, but this is, probably, unavoidable. 
Returning again to the garden, we will now speak 
of the additional beauty it derives from the pre- 
sence of water — which is the very life and soul of 
pleasure-grounds. We agree heartily with Lord 
Bacon, that “ for fountains, they are a great beauty 
and refreshment, but pools mar all, and make the 
garden unwholesome and full of flies and frogs.” 
Great waterworks, such as those of Ver’sailles, 
Sydenham, Chatsworth, &c., are by no means neces- 
sary to perfection in forming a gar-den ; indeed, we 
consider such tours de force as only fitted for vulgar 
parade. The expense of making them is enormous, 
and the result, as regards beauty, nil ; whilst the 
pipes, if left protruding out of the water, like the 
ends of so many dirty sticks, as at Sydenham, injure 
the look of the whole fountain. If possible, all 
standing water, whether in the basins of fountains 
or in lakes, should be avoided. We have seen 
beautiful grounds, like those at Arundel Park, for 
instance, ruined by the nasty, green, slimy surface 
which will collect on standing pools or where the 
current is not kept pretty strong, and, even then, it 
requires to be carefully watched and cleared away. 
These lakes are nuisances, with their wretched 
little boats, and muddy-tasting fish. Avoid arti- 
ficial lakes and useless canals like those at Hampton 
Court, or, if you must have standing water, see that 
it is kept in such well-lined basins or reservoirs as 
shall admit of its being easily cleaned, and which 
will keep it clear as long as possible. “ Such a 
reservoir' which,” says Bacon, “ we may call a bath- 
ing-pool, admits of much curiosity and beauty, 
wherewith we will not trouble ourselves ; as that 
the bottom be finely paved and with images ; the 
sides likewise ; and, withal, embellished with 
coloured glass (mosaics), and such things of lustre ; 
encompassed also with fine rails of low statues.” 
Of this kind is the large oval reservoir, called the 
“ Isola bella,” in the Boboli Gardens at Florence, 
with its central j marble fountain of Neptune and 
water-nymphs, surrounded with low, sweet-smelling 
shrubs and flowers. Another example of the same 
class, with a central raised terrace, is to be seen in 
the public gardens at Nismes. As for fountains 
ornamented with glass mosaics, the only architect 
who ever carried out Bacon’s suggestion, so far as 
we know, is our excellent friend Professor Lewis, 
of the London University, whose beautiful fountain 
in the old Panopticon (now the Alhambra) is un- 
fortunately destroyed. The ornamental adjuncts of 
fountains should be always appropriate : one of the 
best and most fanciful of its kind is that by Tacca, 
in the Piazza Annunziata, Florence. Such works, 
however, are only for the gardens of the most 
wealthy; but, as a rule for these and for all, we 
would say, keep the water ever flowing. And one 
way in which it may be very prettily conducted, 
from a higher to a lower stage, is by means of 
goulettes, which James explains as “ small channels 
cut in stone or marble, laid sloping for the water 
to run in( which is now and then interrupted by 
little basins, cut in form of shells, which throw 
up small spouts of water we would, however, 
dispense with the jets, which appear unmeaning 
and trivial. Some of the most beautiful fountains 
in Italy, as, for example, that “ Della Rocca ” at 
Yiterbo, are on a raised platform ascended by steps 
which greatly add to the appearance of the design. 
The old system of waterworks is now, happily, 
quite gone out of fashion. At Chatsworth in the 
olden time, a multitude of little fountains suddenly 
spouted out over the incautious stranger who stood 
in admiration of the great cascade, and wetted 
him to the skin. This great cascade appears to 
have been of the same class as that at St. Cloud, 
which is built in stone terraces, each with its vases, 
and the whole body of water empties itself into a 
large oval beneath. This piece, designed by Le 
