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.
[Illustration: TERRACE CLIMBERS]
Garden paths nearly always cause monotony when too much of their length
is seen at once. This must not be considered as in any way deprecatory
to the straight walk, than which often nothing is more satisfactory.
If the path is straight, there should be compensating influences in
the way of well grown plants or shrubs along its sides to attract our
attention. Where these are impossible, the walk should be made to bend
slightly, occupying the curve with a group of flowering shrubs, or some
other suitable screen to hide its continuation from view. The garden
paths should most certainly follow the varied levels of the ground, and
nothing can be worse than to attempt to fill up the hollows and shave
off the gentle elevations in order to produce a dead level. This is
the very way to engender the monotony, which we are trying to dispel.
A wild mountain path, or the track through some woodland glade, never
lacks variety, simply because the feet that made it followed the line
of easiest gradient. In nine cases out of ten, the ugly walk is the
result of direct transgression of this simple rule, and all that is
needed to effect an improvement is the reversion of the ground to its
old level.
The variety obtainable by the judicious employment of living trees and
plants is so infinite, that there is no excuse for neglecting their
friendly aid when planning the several parts of the garden. A certain
spirit of conservatism seems to prevail among modern gardeners, and of
the thousands of beautiful subjects which exist for our benefit, not a
tithe of the number are pressed into service. Take, for example, that
large and beautiful family, the Flowering Shrubs, how very imperfectly
is their value realised in the majority of cases! Dull, gloomy
evergreens are used almost exclusively in the orthodox small garden,
and never a thought is given to the host of fine deciduous trees, many
of which are supremely lovely. The nurseryman has learnt by experience
the few stereotyped evergreens which are most in demand, and he stocks
these, and these only, so that the casual purchaser is led to believe
that the list of trees and shrubs suitable for English gardens is very
limited. For screening off unsightly corners evergreens are of the
highest value, but on the margins of lawns, and for lending interest
to mixed plantations, the designer would do well to introduce the
flowering shrubs, of which a list is given later in the book.
Anything approaching eccentricity is to be avoided in the designing
of gardens, as is also any scheme which partakes of the nature of a
sham. We all know with what eagerness the Bank-holiday crowd approaches
counterfeit ruins, trees which squirt water from their branches, or
figures of men and animals cut out of living box and yew, but such
follies are beneath the consideration of the true garden lover. After
all, the pleasure grounds are primarily intended for the owner and
his family, and nothing becomes more stupid and pointless on closer
acquaintance than these inane pranks, of which there are hundreds
of examples throughout the country. For the same reason, the making
of surprises, as the sudden revealing of unsuspected features in
the garden scene must always be considered as evidences of debased
taste, the prostituting of a beautiful art, for the sake of securing
a momentary exclamation of astonishment on the part of an ignorant
visitor. A certain amount of mystery is sometimes justifiable, and
there should always be afforded ample inducement for closer inspection
of Nature’s beauties, but when it is evident that the designer’s sole
idea in creating a certain feature was to occasion surprise, as apart
from genuine pleasure, then it becomes necessary to condemn such
artifices in unmeasured terms. The hidden ways of Nature should be
sufficient mystery for the most exacting without lowering our gardens
to the level of vulgar peepshows, by the introduction of mazes and
freaks of tree sculpture.
The attempting of too much in a small space is another fault to be
guarded against, though where the designer is not allowed his own way,
this is often a matter of difficulty. So many people when seeking the
assistance of the professional, impose upon him the necessity of giving
them “a bit of everything” in the way of design. They must have a rose
garden, a corner devoted to rock plants, a few square feet for carpet
bedding, a place for water and bog plants, a pergola, and much beside,
all without reference to the suitability or otherwise of the place for
such introductions. The idea that a garden will never lack interest
because it resembles a patchwork quilt in the number of its divisions,
is surely erroneous; the pleasure thus obtained is but momentary, and
soon ceases to become other than wearisome. We look for perfection in
detail, but we must also consider the garden as a whole, and seek to
make its various parts subservient to one another, the several units of
one well-balanced plan. Undue regularity must also be accounted a sign
of weakness,—
“Grove nods at grove, each alley at its brother,
And half the garden but reflects the other;”—
Proper balance is of course desirable, but the arrangement
of beds in well-matched pairs, or the setting of vases at each corner
of a lawn, is as unnecessary as it is opposed to all natural laws.
The faculty for seeing in the mind’s eye, the general characteristics
of the garden as it will appear when laid and planted, is a gift for
which, if possessed, the designer may be truly grateful. It enables
any weak spots which may exist in the plan to be corrected before it is
too late. Of course no one can determine the exact effect which time
will produce, and it is well we cannot, for perhaps the greatest charm
of garden design is its delightful elusiveness, the uncertainty which
exists as to the manner in which flower and tree will disport itself.
But unless we attempt to see further than the mere outlines of the
plan, we are trusting to chance to secure for us the results we most
desire. Especially are we liable to err in the matter of colour effect,
a consideration which is outside the scope of the black and white plan.
Unrelieved stretches of turf become monotonous unless afforded the foil
of suitable foliage; broad masses of bright hued flowers demand the
sober relief of grey stonework or silvery leaved trees and plants. A
certain spot is often dull and unsatisfying, simply because it lacks
this element of colour; a group of flowering shrubs with bright hued
blossoms or even a stone vase filled with climbers may dispel all idea
of monotony. In the securing of suitable contrasts, work may be raised
above the merely mediocre, to a level of high artistic merit. Easy
transition of form and colour is no doubt the safest course to pursue,
but a certain boldness of touch may in certain instances prove highly
advantageous. The shrubbery, often a tame and featureless affair,
may be rendered attractive by the sharply contrasting effects of
adjacent groups of deciduous trees, and the dark, glistening foliage of
evergreens. It is quite possible to carry the practice of rounding and
softening the corners beyond reasonable limits, and we sigh for some
prominent feature to rivet our attention, if only for the moment.