There can be nothing more distressing to the garden artist than the idea of making gardens to a stock plan. We are not dealing in wall-papers, ornamental tiles or mosaic work when we undertake the laying out of a garden; to this day there are many who think that the business, if business it may be called, can be conducted by post. Surely, they argue, the professional, if he knows anything at all, will have no difficulty in advising without the trouble and expense of a visit. Given the dimensions of a plot of ground, what can be easier than to make a plan on paper showing the positions to be occupied by lawns, shrubberies, flower beds and walks? Alas, this is how hundreds of gardens are made, and the same wretched designs are dumped about the country like so many copies of a popular picture. A quotation from the writings of Batty Langley will show that the man who relies on plans is depending for guidance on a sadly broken reed. He says:—“Now, as the Beauty of Gardens in general depends upon an elegant Disposition of all their Parts, which cannot be determined without a perfect Knowledge of its several Ascendings, Descendings, Views, etc., how is it possible that any Person can make a good Design for any Garden whose Situation they never saw? To draw a beautiful, regular Draught is not to the Purpose: for altho’ it makes a handsome Figure on the paper, yet it has quite a different Effect when executed on the ground.” Individuals must necessarily have their peculiarities, and it is right they should: we recognise the same qualities, perhaps some trick of light and shade, in a score of totally different subjects painted by a great artist. But there is no excuse for the designer who, having laid out one garden to his satisfaction, immediately proceeds to imitate his previous effort in a dozen different places. Because a terrace happens to look well in a hillside garden, there is no reason for supposing that its inclusion is desirable in one situated on the level. Yet how many tons of earth have been carted from one place to another, so that stupid embankments might be raised, and afterwards fortified with terraces—all this in places where there was not a hill for miles. Love of imitation has been the downfall of many an otherwise good designer, whose enthusiasm for the work of others has completely over-ruled his own common-sense. We are not even meant to imitate Nature, the best of teachers, but rather look to her for inspiration, adapting the lessons learnt in meadow and woodland to the altered conditions which highly cultivated ground imposes.
Nothing to my mind can be less helpful to the garden maker than the common practice which prevails of instituting competitions in the horticultural papers, with prizes for the best garden design sent in. As an encouragement in the art of draughtsmanship, or a stimulus to the beginner to use his ingenuity, this form of plan drawing may prove decidedly beneficial. But to imagine that the designs themselves are of the slightest practical use is, in the majority of cases, absurd. An attractive plan, mechanically adaptable to gardens of varying sizes, is the greatest temptation which can be set in the path of the unwary. It teaches men to grub about the earth with measuring rod and chain, levelling, filling up hollows, cutting down trees, so that no obstruction may be offered to the carrying out of the design in its entirety. Whereas all our thoughts should be for the natural appearance of the ground, its slopes and gradients, which harmonise perfectly with the face of the surrounding country. Existing features should in nearly all cases be retained, or simply modified to our purpose. Imagine the wantonness of cutting down a beautiful tree, because our plan says that a path ought to run where it now stands; or what possible excuse can there be for ruining a stretch of fine turf with beds cut in the form of circles, lozenges and triangles. The moral of all this is plain. Each garden must be treated, as regards its laying out, simply and solely on its own merits and possibilities. It matters not whether we are dealing with a humble quarter acre attached to the modern villa, or have in hand the broad surroundings of the country mansion. There is no rule-of-thumb method for either; each is worthy of just as much love and care as might be bestowed were it the only garden in the world. Sedding says, “A garden is man’s report of Earth at her best,” which, whatever else it may imply, surely suggests that our best work, and our noblest conceptions of the beautiful, must be pressed into service if we are to effect any real improvement. Set styles, and the whims and caprices of the individual, live but a short time; they are here to-day, but to-morrow their very name is forgotten. The next generation will probably eye with disfavour much of the garden work which is now regarded with so much satisfaction. But there can be no reproaches for the man who has worked honestly, endeavoured to penetrate the hidden ways of Nature, and trusted in his own common-sense and reason to point out the best course. The love of flowers and trees for their own sake, and not because it is fashionable, is the same in every age, and that form of garden design only is right which is founded first and foremost on the study of Nature and Nature’s laws.
CHAPTER II
GENERAL PRINCIPLES
Before bringing his attention to bear on special cases, the garden designer must have clearly in view the general principles which are the underlying features of all good work. In this way more real progress will be made, and far deeper insight obtained into the mysteries of garden planning and arrangement, than by the most devoted study of complicated plans, or the careful examination of the methods of any particular school, no matter how excellent its teaching. It is useless attempting to compass the most simple form of design if all the while we are ignorant of those elementary laws which are mainly the outcome of common-sense and good taste. The greatest danger to which the novice is subjected, that of being hopelessly confused by a multiplicity of styles, of which by the way we hear far too much, is considerably lessened if he will but bear in mind the few laws which tend to show that gardening is not a mere haphazard science, but one founded on a very sure and substantial base. It is the neglect of these simple observances that has caused men like Capability Brown to be ridiculed, when they might have received nothing but praise. No matter what style of garden arrangement is contemplated, or whether we are going to China or Holland for inspiration, our work is bound to prove unsatisfactory unless beneath the outer veneer which proclaims its origin there is observable a respect for Nature’s teaching, and a due regard for the dictates of artistic feeling and ordinary good taste.
The first point to be aimed at in all good gardens, is to secure a reasonable amount of comfort and convenience for those for whom their pleasures are intended. Nor is there any defence which can be argued in favour of an opposite course. A garden is devised primarily for the edification and enjoyment of man, in the same way that good pictures, good buildings and other forms of artistic effort are intended. Mere utility is not sufficient, neither is mere beauty, it is a combination of the two which must be sought. In the designing of so-called artistic gardens many ridiculous schemes have been perpetrated, calculated in the end to disgust all right-thinking people, and convince others of the shallowness of certain forms of modern art. Of what use is it growing flowers and trees, if no facilities for close examination are afforded those who use the garden? Can a design which denies us conveniently arranged paths, and comfortable resting places from which to enjoy the best views, be considered in any way satisfactory? Depend upon it, the man who is for ever telling us that such and such an arrangement would be more convenient, but could not be tolerated on the score of art, possesses but very superficial ideas on the question. It was folly of this kind that prompted certain designers to make their paths twist and curve in all directions: Nature, they said, abhorred straight lines, so they compelled pedestrians to walk double the necessary distance to reach any particular object. Any plan must be regarded with suspicion, which when applied to the garden affords a pleasing prospect from the windows of the house, but presents no inducements for closer inspection. During both wet and dry weather it should be possible to visit certain parts of the garden; a paved walk is a great convenience if it can be afforded, and a cool shady pathway will be much appreciated during the hot days of summer. The fruit and vegetable garden should always be within easy access of the kitchen quarters; and though the tool and potting sheds ought not to be obtruded, they should be convenient of access and not approached by narrow, tortuous paths. On the plea that these and other necessary conveniences are unsightly they are often banished to remote out of the way corners, and as a consequence economy both of time and labour are out of the question. We do not hide our cherished works of art in cupboards or attics, but hang them in a good light where they can be viewed comfortably at all times. The same should be the case with our gardens, which deserve to be conveniently situated and readily accessible in all their parts.
Undue complexity is as a rule totally out of place in the garden, for the reason that it bewilders the visitor as to the aims and intentions of the designer. Such gardens give one the impression that they were designed piecemeal, each time with no thought for what had been attempted before. Simplicity does not necessarily mean formality, it is rather the expression of a set of ideas in a straightforward, common-sense manner. We cannot have simplicity when we fill our gardens with patchwork flower beds, destroying the beautiful surface of a lawn to make them; neither is tawdry furniture, ill-designed statues, fountains, sundials and seats, likely to impress the beholder with feelings other than those of ridicule or contempt for a display of vulgar opulence. Wherever we look there should be evidence of a desire for unity in the several parts, a sense of breadth and dignity which is the true test of a skilled workman. So many people persist in confusing this desire for simplicity with a wish for puritanical severity—straight walks, bare unbroken stretches of lawn, and buildings uncovered with creeper or shrub; it is nothing of the kind, and gardens in which there is the richest ornament, and the most lavish display of flowers, may yet remain perfectly simple as regards their planning and arrangement. At the same time monotony is of all things to be guarded against, more especially as it is inseparable from certain forms of design. The most beautiful scene on earth would soon pall were it continued with wearisome repetition over a considerable portion of the landscape. A grass walk bordered with stately yews is a charming feature where the situation demands it, but who can deny the weariness occasioned by endless rows of these solemn sentinels, when reproduced on every side. Herein lies the reason why the work of certain designers proves so unsatisfactory. It is possible to have too much even of a good thing, and the fact that a certain feature has proved suitable in one case, is no reason for supposing that it will be equally satisfactory in half a dozen others. When making a plan, it should be our object not to consider how much we may do without incurring the risk of monotony, but how we may best whet the appetite for more of a similar character.
It is to variety that we owe the greatest pleasures in our gardens, and yet there are many who would deny us even this. It is variety which makes the study of Nature the pleasure that it is. Who ever saw two woodland glades exactly the same, two mountain streams which presented identical features, or a glimpse of lush meadows and rich, purpling hills which was not different to any we ever saw before? Why not the same in our gardens? No two situations are exactly the same, one must possess features that the other lacks, or present possibilities incapable of fulfilment except in its own case. There is, indeed, no reason why we should conform to a stereotyped plan, except that imitation is usually considered less trouble than originality, in that the latter involves individual thought, and a necessary determination to see clearly to the root of things. But apart from the lack of variety displayed in the general planning of several gardens in the same or different localities, there is often a want of diversity in the various parts of a single garden. This is the opposite fault to that of undue complexity, and it is the more pleasant, because of its rarity, when we find that a happy mean has been chosen. Variety in garden design can be attempted in a number of ways, either in the alteration of ground levels, the formation of walks, or the grouping of trees and shrubs. The first named must always be a matter demanding extreme care and judgment, for the good reason that the natural levels are nearly always best. In the remodelling of existing gardens, it is often necessary to go to considerable labour and expense to bring the ground back to its original form. The craze for terracing which has led to the upheaval of banks and mounds in all sorts of impossible positions, has led to an appearance of extreme artificiality in many modern gardens. However, it is often possible to so alter levels that variety takes the place of monotony, and an added charm is given to certain situations.
Perhaps the safest way to proceed in this direction is to take advantage of some existing depression or elevation, which, probably too slight to relieve the prevailing flatness, may be deepened or heightened as the case may be. The natural grade should be taken as a guide, and emphasis given to points which admit of such treatment. The aspect of the surrounding country will exercise considerable influence in this direction. A garden containing many mounds, hillocks, and hollows will look absurd set in a nearly flat landscape, and in a hilly district, cultivated land wrought into an unbroken level will appear even more out of place. The fact that building operations has led to the excavation of a large bulk of earth, should not lead the designer to utilise it for promiscuous bank making. It is seldom that a close survey of the ground will not reveal points at which it is possible to secure variety, without altering the general contour to any appreciable extent.
TERRACE CLIMBERS