more superficial kind-the artistic motive,-which required that Beatrice should be furnished with an historical record to qualify her for her destined place in the Commedia.' The Vita Nuova' and the 'Commedia' represent one train of thought, of which the chief summits may be verified in Inferno i. and ii.; Purgatorio xxx. ff.; Paradiso x. and xxx. and xxxiii. The 'Vita Nuova' contains, but hides under a realistic story of love, Dante's vacillations in regard to the chief question of the era in which he lived. As Virtue and Pleasure competed for the moral possession of Hercules, so Faith and Science disputed the intellectual allegiance of the pilgrim of the thirteenth century.

And this conclusion is quite unaffected by the question whether the love of Dante for Beatrice was real or fictitious. Our argument leaves room for every variety of opinion upon that subject; it is a subject wholly external to the spring and source of the 'Vita Nuova.' Whether she was or was not a real person; and if so, whether she was a woman whom he loved, or whether she was to him only some bright peculiar star; or thirdly, whether she did but furnish a name to him—in all cases alike, it appears that she was added for poetical imagery after the Commedia' had been outlined in the poet's mind.

In favour of the interpretation which we here submit to the reader, we may urge that it is better evidenced than any other, that it removes more difficulties than any other, and that it supplies a consistent plan and a continuous development from Incipit Vita Nova down to the last canto of the 'Paradiso.'

ART.

ART. III.—A History of Gardening in England. By the Hon. Alicia Amherst. London, 1895.

T

HERE has always appeared to us to be something almost pathetic in those words of Emerson, when, after spending whole weeks in gardening, he, as though flinging tools far from him, bursts out with-Nay, a brave scholar should shun it like gambling, and take refuge in cities and hotels from these pernicious enchantments!' He had felt what many another has felt from the earliest days of history; and while he struggles thus to rid himself of the temptations which have been eating away his time, he proclaims himself, all too surely, as a true lover of the garden, a slave to its fascinations despite all efforts after liberty.

The story is an old one. Bacon reminds us that God Almightie first planted a garden'; and if it was the duty of our first parents to dress that garden and to keep it,' so, assuredly, has the love of gardening, of flowers and of herbs, occupied a place in the hearts of men, as in their minds, from the beginning of the world. No class has escaped, and the spell has fallen at one time and another upon kings and prophets, philosophers and poets, upon men of every calling, creed, and occupation, while the sympathies of men of science and learning have been frequently enlisted side by side with those of labourers and artisans. To go back to the Bible story is to find this love of the garden in Deuteronomy as in Genesis, in the writings of Solomon as in the words of Isaiah: it makes itself evident in the works of Euripides, of Aristotle, of Theophrastus, of Quintilian, and it comes out again and again in the verse of Virgil and in many a glowing passage of Pliny. In the best days of the Roman Empire, and the garden of the Roman villa must have possessed many peculiar charms long before gardening was thought of in these islands, the science of horticulture was already widely practised; the love of flowers was common to men; and, were we able now to look into the gardens of the villas of those days, we should see terraces and statues and glistening marble fountains, gorgeous yet familiar flowers and tangled masses of creepers, and beautifully kept paths leading out of the bright sun, where the lilies grew tall and the palms waved, into the deep shade of the ilex, the laurel, and the olive. Pliny's garden may have been of this character; and also Virgil's at Naples or at his country-house at Nola, for he loved to have flowers about him. Horace was a townsman first, but he too delighted in his retreats in the valley of Ustica and at Tibur, and Ovid carried the love of the

beautiful

beautiful with him into his exile. It is the same all through; and whether we read of the, gardens of Alcinous or of the Hesperides, of those of Mæcenas or of the rose gardens of Midas, we hear always of their charms and their fascinations: while, if we require an instance of the spell which the practice of the art of gardening has ever exercised, we shall find one in that familiar story of the smile of pity on the countenance of Diocletian, when he looked up from the cabbages he had planted with his own hand, and remarked that he was no longer to be tempted to resume the purple now that he had once tasted real happiness.

Let us endeavour to see how, step by step, we have arrived at that universal love of flowers and of all to do with the garden that is so marked a feature of our own day.

The work which we have placed at the head of this article purports to be a history of gardening in England. The subject is a vast one, too vast indeed to be adequately treated in a single volume of any ordinary proportions. Nevertheless, a careful division of the subject into historical periods and a praiseworthy abstention from discursiveness have enabled Miss Amherst to produce a clear and very readable sketch of the history of gardening. She has brought to her task a knowledge of practical gardening, a fondness for old garden literature, a very evident love of her subject, and much of the indispensable faculty for taking pains. The result is a work of very great merit, which rises far above the handbook modestly suggested. Condensed it is, and of necessity so; but it will none the less be found of value and of interest to the practical gardener, to the lover of the garden, and to the student of history.

The author rightly remarks that the progress in gardening during the present century has been so rapid that to take even a cursory glance at it in all its branches would be a well-nigh endless task.' It is for this reason that we should have wished to see more, rather than less space devoted to the period. The advance in the science of horticulture, in botany, in hybridisation, and classification, have been so marked; the effects of self and cross fertilisation are so widely studied and understood; the willing aid and co-operation of men of science are so universally obtainable; collectors are so well equipped and the results of their self-imposed labours are so important; and the wealth of variety which awaits the enthusiasm of the gardener of every grade is now so remarkable, that the nineteenth century has long outshone all that has gone before. It is true that the sixteenth century gave us, among others, William Turner, Gerard, Parkinson, and Hugh Platt, and that

these

these were immediately followed by the Tradescants; a crowd of botanists, herbalists, and collectors added grace even to the days of Elizabeth, and left their mark upon the reigns of the first two Stewarts; soon after the dawn of the last century, too, Fairchild had already carried out the first successful experiments in cross-fertilisation in his garden at Hoxton, and Richard Bradley had made a study of the movements of sap; a little later, we find Kew acquiring fame under the skilful hand of William Aiton, while a general advance was being made in the practical branches of horticulture, and the books dealing with the garden were increasing in value and importance each year. But, although a steady building up had thus been going on, it was reserved for this century to produce Charles Darwin; and if we omit the names of those who have given their lives to the study of plant life and are still doing so, we may at least refer to the labours of such men as Sowerby, Loudon, John Lindley, William Hooker, and William Johnson. The advance has indeed been amazing, and the results have been of far-reaching importance; yet, while we may contemplate our own achievements with satisfaction, we must loyally honour those labourers who went before. The making of our gardens,-our very love of flowers, like our powers of appreciating them in all their beauty and significance,has not been the work of this century or of that; it has been the result of education, and the careful and patient labours of generations. Our gardens have progressed as the nation progressed; they grew gradually more beautiful, and received more attention and regard as security and prosperity increased in these islands; and they have now gained for themselves a very distinct place in our lives as in our affections. Bearing this in mind, and following for the most part the course taken in the volume before us, let us go back to the days when the pleasures of the garden were confined to few, and the wealth of flowers that is ours to-day was as yet unknown.

No records appear to be in existence showing that gardening was practised in this country previous to the Roman Conquest. In gardening, as we have said, the Romans were highly skilled, and there is no doubt that they brought with them many of the vegetables we still grow, as well as many of our fruits and flowers. They laid out their gardens here very much on the plan of those around Rome, and for a time, at least, the inhabitants of these islands reaped no inconsiderable advantage. But then there came a change. The fall of the Roman Empire was followed by invasion, war, bloodshed; the arts of peace came to be no longer practised; gardening died out almost altogether

in this country, and our Saxon ancestors had to content themselves for many a long day with those vegetables, fruits, and herbs that had been sufficiently long in the land to become acclimatised. They appear to have had some sort of cabbage, for White of Selborne mentions that they called the month of February'sprout-cale.' They also, possibly, had leeks, the beet, radish, onion, and a few other herbs and vegetables; their fruits included the cherry, which is indigenous, pear, mulberry, peach, and grape; and among their flowers were the rose, violet, poppy, and lily. We may, however, estimate how much was lost, from the fact that many species which had once been common had to be re-introduced in later times.

But long after Saxon days gardening continued to be little thought of, and it is not until we come to the eleventh and twelfth centuries that we meet with any garden records, and then only in connexion with the monasteries. The monks were

men of peace if not men of leisure, and the storms that swept the country left them unharmed. In the religious houses vegetables were an important item of diet, and no doubt the correspondence that was carried on with Italy enabled the members of the different fraternities in this country to discover what to grow with the best chance of success. Thus the monks became the only really skilled gardeners in the land, and in the 'wyrtyerd' or plantyard of the abbey or the priory were to be found vegetables, the herbs used as medicines, and the flowers for the decoration of the altars; while hard by, and also under the control of the gardenarius, was the ortyerd' or 'the cherryyerd' with the fruit. Few traces of these grounds now remain; but the site of the orchards granted to the priory of Llanthony by King John is familiar to us, as also are the former vineyards of the Abbots of Gloucester. The terraces where the vines grew on Vineyard Hill, as it is still called, are easily traceable, though these were somewhat disturbed in the days of the siege by an earthwork thrown up to command the ford at Over and the great trunk-roads leading from Wales.

Of the gardens themselves little or nothing is left to us, and we can only gather an indistinct picture of their appearance from the old rolls and accounts, or make measure of their boundaries from the line of some ancient wall, or hedge, or, maybe, fishpond. But while we thus owe much to the monks who remained at home in peace, we are also indebted to the warlike Orders that possessed gardens in many parts of England, and were no doubt careful to bring home additions to them when returning from their expeditions to the East. The Oriental plane at Ribston is said to have been planted

by