House and Garden 
self. The wood 
abounds in temples, 
ruins, towers, obe¬ 
lisks and hermitages. 
A fortified castle on 
one hill frowns down 
upon the valley, it 
is castle, however, 
only on one side ; on 
the other the defence¬ 
less walls of a con- 
tadino’s house appear. 
In one most lovely 
glade we come across 
a monk ; he has ap¬ 
parently just left his 
chapel, half hidden in 
the ilexes ; his hands 
are joined, his eyes 
turned devotionallv 
upwards to a tall 
wooden cross. At 
some distance he 
would be almost real¬ 
istic but for a cruel 
blow that has deprived him of his nose and 
some chips in the stucco ot his venerable 
knees. 
We have outgrown the taste for incidents 
in our gardens and grounds. The return to 
Nature which Rousseau preached came with 
too sudden a rush upon an artificial world. 
Coute qui coute everything had to be natural ; 
then Nature left to herself was found unsat¬ 
isfying. She had to be assisted, but always 
in the most natural way. Formal gardens 
paths, were discarded as artificial, and winding 
grottoes, ruins and rustic bridges over me¬ 
andering streams, all equally artificial, became 
the fashion. The Cavaliere Priore was a 
late disciple of this school, but an ardent 
one, as anyone who has strolled through the 
woods of Villa Danti will bear witness. 
Luckily for those who have outgrown his 
taste, Nature has done so much to make 
those woods beautiful 
that she seems to 
laugh at these efforts 
to interfere with her. 
For instance, from a 
little plaster temple, 
in itself quite graceful 
in design, a glorious 
view of the hills of 
Vallombrosa, purple 
as with the bloom of 
a purple grape, is 
before you. The lit¬ 
tle temple becomes 
so insignificant a de¬ 
tail in such grandeur 
that whether it be 
there or not matters 
little ; your eyes in¬ 
stinctively turn else¬ 
where. The long 
ilex wood down which 
trickles the stream 
which carries water 
to the garden foun¬ 
tains, is a place to rest and dream in. There is 
no undergrowth, but the trees are planted close 
enough to prevent the eye from penetrating 
far along the winding path. Only the sun¬ 
light, here and there, pierces through the 
dark leaves and throws a dappled pattern of 
light and shade on the moss and fern that 
grow along the stream. The Cavaliere Pri¬ 
ore has, wisely, done but little to improve 
this spot. A quite inoffensive little bit of 
gray ruin, not more than three feet high, just 
serves the purpose of making his presence 
felt, and spoils nothing. 
It is perhaps ungrateful to speak thus of 
one who certainly loved, and in his way felt, 
the beauty of these glorious woods ; but the 
villa is so fine in its simplicity, the cypress 
avenues so grand and severe, that one won¬ 
ders he should not have caught more of their 
spirit, and left what was so very well, alone. 
A RUINED TEMPLE IN THE WOOD 
301 
