the large compartments was divided
into a complication of "knots," by which was meant beds arranged in
quaint patterns, formed by rule and compass with mathematical precision,
and so numerous that it was a necessary part of the system that the
whole square should be fully occupied by them. Lawn there was none; the
whole area was nothing but the beds and the paths that divided them.
There was Grass in other parts of the pleasure grounds, and apparently
well kept, for Lord Bacon has given his opinion that "nothing is more
pleasant to the eye than green Grass kept finely shorn," but it was
apparently to be found only in the orchard, the bowling-green, or the
"wilderness;" in the flower-garden proper it had no place. The "knots"
were generally raised above the surface of the paths, the earth being
kept in its place by borders of lead, or tiles, or wood, or even bones;
but sometimes the beds and paths were on the same level, and then there
were the same edgings that we now use, as Thrift, Box, Ivy, flints, &c.
The paths were made of gravel, sand, spar, &c., and sometimes with
coloured earths: but against this Lord Bacon made a vigorous protest:
"As to the making of knots or figures with divers coloured earths, that
they may lie under the windows of the house on that side on which the
garden stands they be but toys; you may see as good sights many times in
tarts."

The old gardening books are full of designs for these knots; indeed, no
gardening book of the date seems to have been considered complete if it
did not give the "latest designs," and they seem to have much tried the
wit and ingenuity of the gardeners, as they must have also sorely tried
their patience to keep them in order; and I doubt not that the
efficiency of an Elizabethan gardener was as much tested by his skill
and experience in "knot-work," as the efficiency of a modern gardener is
tested by his skill in "bedding-out," which is the lineal descendant of
"knot-work." In one most essential point, however, the two systems very
much differed. In "bedding-out" the whole force of the system is spent
in producing masses of colours, the individual flowers being of no
importance, except so far as each flower contributes its little share of
colour to the general mass; and it is for this reason that so many of us
dislike the system, not only because of its monotony, but more
especially because it has a tendency "to teach us to think too little
about the plants individua