One of the primary essentials for the kitchen-garden is the formation of really good walks. Constant traffic, the passage to and fro of water-carts and wheelbarrows, would soon cut up a half-made pathway and render it almost useless. Nothing can be nicer than broad flags, both for appearance and utility, but unless stone happens to be plentiful in the neighbourhood, the expense of these would be considerable. Tar walks, though entirely objectionable in the flower garden, are sometimes tolerated here, and are both durable and fairly satisfactory. A good gravel path lasts a long time if kept constantly in repair, but the main considerations are good gravel and plenty of it. Kitchen-garden paths should always be of fair width, though in a small place every available inch of ground must be pressed into service for cropping purposes. A wide walk possesses many advantages—it enables barrows and carts to pass without the necessity of one or other being taken back, and generally facilitates those operations which are in a sense peculiar to the vegetable department.
Next to the pathway on the inner side, a smaller border for herbaceous plants may be made. From these plants the chief supplies of cut flowers for the house would be obtained, as it is often undesirable to denude the garden borders for the purpose. A four-foot border would be sufficient, and when filled with gay perennials would prove a charming and useful feature of the design. Behind this border a suitable opportunity occurs for a row of espalier fruit-trees, and these might be continued round each division of the garden, with suitable breaks at intervals for obtaining access to the ground behind them. The smaller the garden, the more suitable would be the espalier method of training, as it occupies the minimum of space, allows the fruit to ripen freely, and gives opportunity for those cultural details which are with difficulty performed on standard or bush trees. The usual style of fence is one formed of iron uprights and strained wires, but this is not so picturesque as a combination of wood and wire. If in addition to wooden posts, a top rail is added, the effect of the whole when covered with branches in full blossom is beautiful in the extreme. In suitable situations, notably short pathways leading from one part of the kitchen-garden to another, the espalier fences may be brought almost to the edge of the walk, and the two joined by a succession of iron arches with strained wires from one to the other. Long bowers of fruit-trees may thus be made, and having regard to the economy of space thus effected, and the high quality crops which may be obtained by this means, the practice is worthy of further extension.
A good water supply, either in or near the kitchen-garden, is very necessary. It is advisable also that some provision exist for exposing water intended for garden plants to the air for some time before use. A pump with an open cistern attached is good, if not altogether picturesque, but a circular tank, such as may be found in many old gardens, combines both principles. A good position for a sunk tank would be at the junction of four paths, which if the garden is laid out on the rectangular system advised, would be the exact centre, thereby giving convenient access from all points. A stone coping would give the necessary finish to the tank and at the same time prevent anyone falling in. By the by, it would be well if designers would sometimes devote more attention towards rendering fountains, lily ponds, and other such introductions, safe. I remember once looking over some fine gardens in company with other visitors, when an incident of this kind occurred. A lady, carried away by the beauty of the surroundings, entirely failed to notice a small lily tank placed at the angle of a pathway. The consequences were disastrous, but I hardly know which of the two suffered the more—the lady, as she surveyed the bedraggled remains of a Paris frock, or the owner, at the loss of a specially choice Nymphæa. Such is the enthusiasm of the lily specialist, that I rather incline towards the latter!
Adjoining the kitchen-garden and communicating easily with it, there should be a sufficiently large enclosure to contain the frame ground, hot beds, compost and manure heaps. It is a great advantage to have these outside the walls of the garden itself, as a certain amount of untidiness is inseparable from such quarters. An entrance from the stable yard, large enough to admit a horse and cart, will be needed, as naturally much of the manure will be brought here for hot beds, preparation of compost heaps, etc. A small reserve ground would also fittingly adjoin, where plants for bedding and other purposes could be grown until needed.
In gardens of considerable extent, a well built toolhouse would prove an inestimable benefit. If built in two stories, the upper portion might be used as a fruit room, though I certainly prefer underground structures for the purpose; whilst the lower would accommodate lawn mowers, garden implements, and other impedimenta. As only places of considerable extent will require buildings of this description, it is unnecessary to do more than make passing reference to them; however, those whom it may concern should devote some attention to the matter, as it is surprising to note the number of large gardens which are miserably provided with suitable structures.
The orchard is the glory of many of our old country gardens, providing scenes of beauty which not even the choicest artificial planning and arrangement can compass. The orchard beautiful is perfectly distinct from the orchard utilitarian, though owing to neglect and the consequent assertion of Nature’s ways, the former often takes the place of the latter. Shelter is perhaps the most important consideration where fruit-trees are concerned, and as in the orchard this will not be attained by walls, thick belts of evergreen and deciduous trees should be planted on the more exposed sides. Damsons make excellent shelter trees, and are both beautiful in flower and welcome in fruit. A well-drained, sunny position should always be chosen, and if the trees are to be grown on the plantation system, that is on arable land, there is no need for the site to be easily approached from the pleasure grounds. Except during the blossom season the utility orchard is not particularly beautiful, and there is little inducement for visitors to make it part of their round of inspection. However, it should always be so situated that the fruit may be safe from trespassers, who are often troublesome when the orchard is close to a main road.
The old grass land orchard, filled with picturesque standard trees, is capable of being made a wild garden of true beauty. In early spring we may have troops of golden daffodils and silvery narcissi, making vistas of colour among the lines of grey trunks. Ropes of purple and white clematis may festoon the trees, and some of the semi-wild roses, with their rich foliage and single flowers will fill the hedges and ramble over the banks. The cool swordlike foliage of Iris, with the stately spikes of flowers, the old-fashioned holly-hocks and spreading clumps of poppies, may all find a home in the chequered shade of the orchard. White Madonna lilies will fringe the pathway, and honeysuckle and sweetbriar would welcome us at the gate. But lest I be misunderstood—this orchard, lovely though it be and easy of attainment, is not for fruit; at least the crops will be small and blemished, and very different to those from the market grower’s plantation, where the idea of climbers twisting among the branches of the trees would be regarded as an act of vandalism. But to the lover of flowers, the setting of an old orchard is so precious, that some sacrifice is willingly made to enable the possession of this kind of wild garden.
CHAPTER VII
THE TREATMENT OF WATER
Happy indeed are they whose gardens contain a piece of water,—for water when properly treated is one of the first aids to beauty and completeness in design. It may be a stately lake, large enough to permit of boating in summer and skating in winter, or perhaps only a small artificially constructed tank, a home for lilies and choice aquatics. Water is Nature’s mirror, in which some of her choicest pictures are reflected; the ever-changing features of cloud and sky, the broken outline of hill and wood, and the nearer fringe of vegetation which rises softly from the bank. It is because water is so essentially a handmaiden of Nature, that we must exercise the greatest care and skill in our introduction of it, into scenes which are purely artificial in character. Water gardens and “water works” have nothing in common, though designers of the latter will unhesitatingly apply the former term to their wretched creations. What would the beautiful old gardens of Italy be without their fountains?—Torlania, Frascati, and the cypress terraces of D’Este, Tivoli, their charm is not to be equalled. But how can we reconcile to the true ideals of a garden, the monstrous outpourings of the great fountain and cascades at Chatsworth, the canals and fountains at Versailles and Caserta, and those very triumphs of ugliness the water squirts of the Crystal Palace? As well call Trafalgar Square a garden as apply the name to these freakish show places.
Water may occur naturally in the garden scene, as in the form of lakes, ponds, rivers and streams, or artificially by the introduction of fountains, cascades, and architectural objects, connected with a supply obtained from waterworks or pumped on the estate. In the former case, the designer usually resorts to means more or less artificial, whereby he may alter existing features to suit his plan or fall in with his ideas. Whilst it would be idle to assert that the pond or stream in its original form would prove best adapted for securing good effects in laid-out grounds, there can be no gainsaying the fact, that alteration and adaptation too often mar their natural beauty and give but little in return. The native brook winding its way among ragged banks, fringed with yellow flag and purple loosestrife, is charming when its surroundings consist of wood and brake and lush meadowland; it becomes a weedy ditch when shaven lawns and trim pathways have taken their place. The designer’s first thought when he approaches a site on which there is a stream or pond, must be to choose between two alternatives: either the water shall be left much as it is, and the garden planned in harmony with its unadorned simplicity, or the grounds be designed first, and the stream entirely altered in consequence. Needless to say, the latter step is by far the more expensive.