You complain bitterly of your house not having an extensive view from it. You see nothing but trees, you say, in whichever direction you look; and you detest trees, because their foliage is monotonous, and so thick that you cannot see two hundred yards before you. This last is the real point of complaint.
Forest scenery is extremely beautiful in itself, and principally from the great variety it presents in the same objects. A fine tree, even when bare of leaves in winter, is beautiful, from the delicate tracery presented by its branches, which look like the masts and rigging of a large ship, intricate, yet without confusion. In snow, trees assume a new character; the weight sustained by the branches makes them droop, and a thousand graceful and elegant forms take the place of what was before a stern and rigid outline. In hoarfrost trees glisten with a thousand gems, reflecting the rays of light in so many different colours, that they remind one of the description of Aladdin's magic garden. In spring they present vivid ideas of youth and fertility, and all nature appears awakening into new and vigorous life; the buds swell, their coverings burst, and the young leaves display their tender and delicate green; at first only half-unfolding their beautiful forms, and reminding one of a young and timid girl half-wishing and half-fearing to make her first appearance in the busy world. Trees now begin to assume each a new and decided character of its own. The leaves of no two trees are alike: those of the beech are of clear dark green, and so thin that they are almost transparent, and yet they are deeply marked with a strongly indented feather-like set of veins. The bark of the beech is clear and smooth, as though nature had intended it for the use to which it has so often been applied by lovers—to carve on it a fair one's name. The leaves of the elm are of a thick coarse texture, rugged and distorted, wrinkled, and of a dingy green; and the bark of the tree is cut into a thousand furrows. The leaves of the ash are light and pendulous, and cut into numerous leaflets; those of the oak are deeply indented, and generally grow in tufts. The palmate, drooping leaves of the horsechestnut contrast with the long, slender, and nearly erect leaves of the white willow; and those of the black poplar, which present a smooth outline, with those of the sweet chestnut, which are remarkable for their finely indented edges. In short, the leaves of every tree have beauties peculiar to themselves, in form as well as in colour. In autumn these colours become more decided; the lime trees take a yellowish tint, and the oak a reddish brown; the liquidambar becomes of a rich purplish crimson, and the maples and American oaks show a thousand varied dyes.
Yes, my dear Annie, I repeat, the fault is not in the trees, for they are beautiful; you dislike them only because they are so crowded that you cannot see their beauties. I allow it is a very difficult task to know how to proceed in a case like yours. Cutting down indiscriminately will never do; the trees must be thinned, not only with a view to make openings through the wood, but with care as to themselves. I think the first point will be, to find out the handsomest trees among those in the plantations near the house, in order to see which you would have left. Some will have been drawn up so much, and will have been forced into such awkward forms by their present crowded state, that they would be hideous if the trees that now surround them were removed. Others want room, but have grown so that they may easily be trained into a better form when space is given to them. One great point to be attended to is, to break the present formal outline; but, in doing so, it is scarcely possible to avoid destroying some trees that your husband might wish to spare, from local associations. I hope, however, he will allow a sufficient space to be cleared, not only to make your flower-garden, but to allow the plants in it to grow without being overshadowed by trees.
When the flower-garden is formed it will be necessary to have a shrubbery, so that the transition may not be too abrupt from the high state of culture in a flower-garden, to the wild nature of the forest trees. This shrubbery, indeed, will afford the only means of harmonising a newly laid out garden with the general scenery of the park, as it will contain, first, dwarf flowering shrubs next the garden; then shrubs of a larger growth, such as the laurustinus and arbutus; and, lastly, flowering trees, from the different kinds of Cratæ'gus to those of loftier growth, such as Pyrus spectábilis, Sophòra japónica, and the tulip tree, which last equals in height some of the loftiest forest trees in the park.
When a sufficient space for the flower-garden and the adjoining shrubbery has been cleared, and the most interesting trees marked, the next point is to ascertain what distant prospects will be admitted by cutting an opening through the wood, before it is finally decided in what direction the intended openings shall be made; as, for instance, if the view of a church or castle would be admitted by cutting an opening in a particular direction, that direction should be chosen in preference to any other, and a vista made in that line, even though an opening in another line would be preferable on other accounts. Should such an object be discovered, you must take care not to obscure it when planting your shrubbery; and should the object you wish to catch a view of be very distant, and not distinctly marked, the eye may be guided to it by planting some whitish-leaved low tree, such as Elæágnus angustifòlia, in the shrubbery, backed by dark-leaved shrubs, such as alaternus and phillyrea; and again, at a greater distance, planting an abele tree or white poplar in the same direction, where it will be backed by dark masses of Scotch pines or other similar trees. Before you make an opening, you must also ascertain whether any disagreeable objects will be exposed by your so doing; and, before cutting down even a single tree, you must consider what effect its removal will produce upon the trees around it. You have often told me of the exquisite taste your husband possesses, and his fondness for fine paintings: he must, therefore, be admirably qualified for improving the scenery round his house himself. Landscape-gardening is, in fact, but landscape-painting on the largest scale, and with the noblest materials; the same taste is required in both.
As the plantations near the house have been suffered to become so completely overgrown, I have no doubt those in the park are in a similar state, and that the park itself will require considerable improvement. The same general observations with regard to thinning out plantations will apply in every case; but in the park I think you will find it advisable, whenever an opportunity occurs, to take advantage of any natural feature to introduce what landscape-gardeners call a scene; as, for instance, should your park contain a rocky glen, advantage may be taken of it by planting it with different kinds of pines and firs, to form an imitation of alpine scenery, as was done, in a very striking manner, by the late Mr. Beckford at Fonthill. Another part of the grounds might be planted in imitation of American scenery, with magnolias, American oaks, and maples, and tulip trees, as was done by the late Duke of Marlborough at White Knights. A pond, in a secluded part of the grounds might have a degree of interest given to it by planting its banks with alders and willows. A variety of similar scenes will no doubt suggest themselves to you, which do not occur to me, from my ignorance of the peculiar features of the place.
I suppose neither deer nor cattle are allowed to graze in your park, as you speak of several of the trees sweeping the grass with their foliage. Cows are particularly destructive to the beauty of park scenery, as they are very fond of tearing off the lower branches of the trees, and thus producing the hard line which looks as though the branches had been shaved off about five feet from the ground, and which is called by landscape-gardeners and painters the browsing line.
It is disagreeable to have even deer come close to the windows, and they are not only fond of the young shoots of trees, but they would be decidedly injurious to your flower-garden and the clumps of ornamental shrubs in the pleasure-ground. Should your husband have any deer, it will be necessary to have some fence or line of demarcation between the park and the pleasure-ground; and it is always considered a proof of skill in the landscape-gardener to conceal such a fence as skilfully as possible. When an iron fence is used it is generally extremely slight, and painted green, so as to be almost invisible; and when this fence is used, it is sometimes concealed by a plantation of trees thrown together indiscriminately, as in fig. 13., or planted artistically in groups. In other cases a sunk wall, forming a kind of ditch, is used, which is concealed by plantations; or iron hurdles are stuck in, and the line is varied occasionally. Any of these plans may be adopted in the front of your house, to protect your garden if necessary.
Fig. 13. Park Fence.