510 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER ANi) COUNTRY GENTLEMAN, August 25, 1851). 
that those who would have this mulching must send to the heap 
■—not to any person or office whatever. Coal and other barges 
leaving Kingston could take return loads of it cheap enough, as 
the mills are within one mile of the wharfs. 
Your mode of propagation is one of the best of all we know. 
With care you may move your Myrtle now.] 
MARLY-LE-ROY. 
BY JEAN 13ERN0UILLET, NEAR ItALEIGH, N. C. 
Revolving in my mind how I could offer my mite towards 
the building up of the Gardener's Monthly , I bethought me 
that I know a good deal about the royal haunts round Paris, 
having served as a gardener there many years ago in the Royal 
Gardens. Such a topic might interest part of the general public 
of the Monthly , and, in particular, the “ landscapers.” 
Marly is the result of a whim of the yrand monarque, 
Louis XLY. That sovereigu, who considered himself the centre 
of the civilised world, and who, indeed, not only ruled France, 
but also ruled the rulers of England, of Spain, of Italy, who 
kept the Netherlands in check, and overawed Protestant Ger¬ 
many,—that sovereign, like many weaker mortals, considered 
himself entitled to some play. Sometimes his recreations took 
a high character, for instance, furthering and regenerating 
literature and the arts; sometimes his flight was low, in imita¬ 
tion of Ovid's gods. He had built that vast and splendid pile, 
Versailles, which, after so many succeeding works of a similar 
character all over the world, is still the pride of France and the 
admiration of critics. But from very satiety of splendour, 
feasts, and revels, he began to get tired, threw himself into the 
opposite extreme, praised the life of a hermit; and so, one fine 
morning, without letting the court know, he leaves Versailles, 
takes with him but a few men of taste, and roams about with 
the eye of a landscape gardener. As they ride along they 
criticise, and at Lucienne, near Bougival, Cavois points out a 1 
spot worthy of a royal residence. 
“ It is too fine,” says Louis, “ and it would ruin me. Besides, 
that is not what I want. I want a mere nothing,—a cottage,— 
a hermitage where I might retire and shed tears, when I should 
feel inclined that way.” 
Cavois, a true enthusiast, breaks forth in a new praise. 
“ Well," says the King, “if it is so fine, take it yourself. I 
give you the ground.” 
And Cavois really built, some time after, a charming little 
chateau on this spot. I have been in it, and I recollect having 
been shown, in the great hall, an old clock which Cavois put 
there, and which the servant, with no small pride, called “ la 
Cavoiso.” 
The party rides on, over turnpikes, by-roads, through lanes j 
where 'even royal horses cannot get along, and the king and 
courtiers must needs get out and stump it. Here they get into 
a small narrow valley, steep hills round, hardly accessible on 
account of swampy bottom, and no view. On the steep slopes 
of the hills, terrace-like, stand the miserable huts of the village 
Marly. 
That pleases the king’s faucy. “Here," thinks Louis, “I 
surely cannot ruin myself. Here I may build and play the 
hermit in good style.” 
Cavois ventures to remonstrate: “Your Majesty cannot 
possibly build here except at the east end. This valley is 
narrow, deep, steep,—a swamp into which all the gutters and 
cesspools of the villagers above must empty,—a morass full of 
toads, frogs, and snakes,—and, moreover, it is hard of access." 
“ That’s the best of it. Nobody to bother mo here. No room 
for the grand court, no luxurious improvements,—and I’ll come 
on horseback here,” 
Hardouin Mansard approves of the king’s idea. An artist 
like Hardouin delights in difficulties, and he is the royal artist. 
Right on the spot he takes the commission to buy the ground j 
and to set to work. A few days after he submits to Louis his 
plan. There was to be the main building, a pavilion, a flower ' 
garden, and a shrubbery. A little later this was not quite sutti I 
cient,—a supplementary building was required; another lapse | 
of a few months, and a second pavilion must be erected. In ! 
this wise, one improvement came after the other, until they had ; 
to cut space out of the hillside. A little bit of a view was also 
gained by considerably widening the mouth of the valley. 
About a twelvemonth or so after the last and final improve¬ 
ment, Cavois, the noble courtier, one morning admitted into the 
royal presence, finds the King bent over a map. After a while 
the King looked up. 
“Is that you, Cavois! You cdfne apropos. You recollect 
Marly. I was hunting yesterday, and alighted at Marly. It is 
abominable. 
“ All ! sire,” says Cavois, “ take back Lucienna. Neit td 
your giving it to me is the pleasure of taking it back of me. It 
ever «.?,a royal spot.” 
“ Par la Sainte Anne ! ’’ exclaims the King, “ but I want 
Marly. I have sent for Mansard already.” 
Mansard comes,—Mansard the great architect, to whom, by* 
the-bye, we owe that sort of attic called after him “Mansarde." 
And now, dear reader, if I had you on the ground you and 
my old maps and plans* I could show you the changes, the 
improvements and the disimprovements made in Marly. You 
would be astonished at the Wonders which a royal command 
of those times and the ingenuity Of artists could accomplish: 
But I must not go iuto details, and so I will briefly say that 
there was no end of alterations. They were dropped arid taken 
up again, as the mood (and possibly also the finances) of thi) 
King directed him. There rose buildings, statues, fountains, 
aqueducts; there rose ready-grown forests and parks. For, by 
the royal authority, whole regiments of labourers were enrolled 
and commanded in military style and discipline. They brought 
large trees by the thousands from Compeigne and further off. 
Three-fourths died; but what of that? they were as quickly 
replaced. At another time large tracts of natural forest were 
cut down, and as large sheets of water made instead, and the 
courtiers took the ladies a promenade on the lake, where, not 
long ago, the sky was hardly visible through the dense forest 
growth. Then, again, the same sheets of water were filled in 
again, and a forest planted, and planted so thickly that again 
you could not make out the sky in it. (I quote here St. Simon, 
who speaks from his own knowledge.) The same with walks, 
flower gardens, drives, parks, terraces, and game preserves. 
The kiDg acted the landscape gardener; but, instead of 
drawing with pencil and wiping out with India-rubber, he put 
down and wiped out the reality. Nor could he satisfy himself, 
so that this Marly-le-Roy or royal Marly, which was to be a 
mere pied a terre ,—a mere cottage—an humble hermitage for 
a kingly and repentant sinner, which was to cost next to 
nothing, in reality cost millions upon millions, as much, and 
more, perhaps, than glorious Versailles. Happy are we who 
live in the good new times. The race of arbitrary rulers has 
died out, but the race of artists still lives .—(American Gar¬ 
dener's Monthly .) 
NOTES PROM PARIS. 
THE NATIONAL FETE. 
To day (August 15th) it is the fete of St. Napoleon, the 
grandest of all the fetes here, and a day of proud rejoicing for 
Frenchmen everywhere. Yesterday the army of Italy, with the 
Emperor at its head, made a triumphal entry into the capital, 
covering the whole of the spacious Boulevards, and taking more 
than four hours to defile past a given point. Paris is now in a 
blaze of splendour; it is covered with flags, coloured lamps, and 
lanterns ; all the leading thoroughfares are studded with triumphal 
arches, columns, and statues, and all the people are happy and 
gay. Immense numbers of visitors from England, Belgium, 
Holland, Germany, and other countries, fill the hotels and cafes. 
But as everything relating to the camp, the crowd, and the cortege , 
will reach your readers by other channels, I shall only speak of 
such things as belong more properly to your columns, and which 
are not likely to be noticed elsewhere. First, then, 
THE FLOWER MARKETS 
have been in a state of the greatest activity for some days, and 
every nook and corner lias been turned into a stall for plants and 
bouquets. The dealers are at their wmrk night and day in order 
to keep up the supply. At every turn people may be seen carry¬ 
ing bouquets or plants in flower, neatly wrapped in paper. Now 
it is a cab chock fidl; then it is a van belonging to some of the 
grand flower-shops of the Boulevards, and the adjoining streets ; 
or it is only a porter with an ordinary load for some petit rentier. 
Many poor people who have but little to do at another time are 
sure to take to selling flowers at present, and as sure to turn 
them to good account. It is not only for the decoration of 
apartments, window's, and balconies at this festive season that 
the flower trade is so brisk, for thousands of bouquets, wreaths, 
and garlands were required for the army. All the eagles and 
trophies were decked with flowers; and those of the soldiers who 
