_Hollyhocks and Violets_
Hard by the Lover's walk, in an old-time bed, a blue Flower-de-luce,
some roots of white and purple Phlox, a bunch or two of "Leaf-for-ever,"
and another of scented yellow Lilies, had long stoutly held their own.
Here, every spring-time, the Lady caused to be planted her Dahlia
bulbs--by no means the choicest of their kind, but taking amicably to
the situation, and every autumn generously contributing their scarlet,
lavender, and purple bloom to the color scheme of the big bowpots that
adorned the side table in the "Mansion House" hall.
Four years ago, late in July, to deaden the pain of a new bereavement, I
prepared this bed for the reception of a few dozen Hollyhock plants. It
was the place suggested for this use by him who had left me, and with
many tender thoughts of the beloved one I undertook the carrying out of
his wishes. Removing to other quarters the old inhabitants of the bed
"The Man with the Hoe" dug deep and spared not for manure. This done, on
a cloudy day we set the young plants. It seemed a risky undertaking to
transplant at midsummer, but, covered for a time from the sun and
faithfully watered, they all adjusted themselves to their new home, and
have, ever since, thriven to my heart's content. The bed is long and of
moderate width. The plants were set in two rows, about one foot apart,
and in the space between the outer rows we put, here and there, smaller
plants. In late autumn they all had a covering of litter and boughs, and
were made snug for their winter nap. As the situation is high and
exposed to "all the airts the wind may blow," it was not without
misgivings that I waited for the spring uncovering and the after
development. In due time the hardy darlings showed their pretty green
shoots, and before midsummer they stood up in budded rows, ready to be
staked, and about the thirteenth of July the bed burst into splendid
bloom. My color scheme called for but two colors, pink and white, and
wonderful it was to see the shading of the roseate flowers, varying, as
it did, from wine color to such faint pink as lives between the dainty
lips of a sea shell.
On some stalks (more than eight feet high) the flowers came double as a
cabbage rose; on others they were half double, and the out-and-out
single ones had the sheen of satin and the transparency of gauze, and
all were more or less creamy or lemon-hued at the center.
I think it must be from the old association of Hollyhocks with village
Fourth of July celebrations that the flower has to my mind a distinctly
festal appearance. Standing at the end of my bed and looking down the
rows of pink and white is to me like watching a holiday procession. Not
a commonplace ordinary one, keeping step to the music of a brass band,
with doughty policemen hustling the hoodlums in its rear, but one of
chaste and joyous maidens gowned gayly in pink and white, such as may of
old have been led by "Jephthah's daughter," what time she "went forth
with timbrel and dances" to meet her rash, exultant father fresh from
his victory over Israel's uncircumcised foes. Yes, the Hollyhock, though
lacking the delicacy of the Lily and the fragrance of the Rose, is a
flower "most fair to see." The yellows and purples are both beautiful,
but for massing give me the reds, pinks, and whites.
Sow in the seed bed each spring and thus have new plants to supply
places made vacant in the show bed, and to bestow on neighbors who are
starting rows of this fine hardy perennial.
Hollyhock--O E holihoc--"holy mallow"--"blessed mallow"--is probably so
named because brought from the Holy Land.
* * * * *
No garden is complete without its Violet bed. Ours was started eight
years ago. We selected for it a spot "half in shade and half in shine,"
with a southern frontage, sheltered from the north by tall shrubs.
Two packets of choice Russian Violet seed were then sown in friable
soil, well sifted, and made rich with a bottom layer of old cow manure.
The bed had been laid out, prepared, and sown by the dear hands of one
whose gardening is now "all done."
After all his care the seed never germinated, and early in the following
autumn the bed was set with well-grown double Russian Violet plants
bought of the florist. For a year or two these plants throve finely,
blossomed abundantly, and increased fourfold. The third year the flowers
degenerated in size and beauty, and though still, at May-time, the bloom
punctually puts in an appearance, the Russians are, on the whole, far
less satisfactory than the single English Violets brought from the
Cambridge garden and growing in the end of the same bed. These flower
most generously and come into bloom about ten days earlier than the
Russians.
The Violet has an obliging way of sowing its own seed, projecting them
from its capsule with dynamic force. My English darlings have a lavish
habit of scattering themselves about the lawn, in that fashion, and
filling in the bare places in the bed. The Russians choose rather to be
propagated from runners. Friends I have who grow year after year big
velvety Russian Violets. Would that I had the skill to do likewise, but
to me heaven denies the power of bringing these beauties to perfection.
Yet (such as they are) I hold my Violets dear, and without them spring
would scarce be spring.
In all the old floral usages of the English the Violet holds a place
next to the Rose. It was used at weddings, and had its place in other
and sadder religious ceremonials.
With the Troubadours it was an emblem of constancy. Their prize of a
golden Violet to the best versifier of the flower's graces and beauties
proves in how much esteem they held this April blossom.
* * * * *
The Pansy, one of the _Violas_, was much celebrated by the elder English
poets, who gave it the charming name of "Heartsease."
Pansies may be easily grown from seed. As they are less troubled by cold
than most flowers--being half hardy--the seedlings may be treated as
biennials. Transplant them from seed bed in September, and in November
cover well with old manure, then add piled leaves and evergreen boughs,
and the minute spring opens uncover.
The young plants should not be allowed to flower in the autumn. Pick off
the buds as they appear and they will be likely to give you bloom all
summer long. I confess to an impatience that prompts to the buying of
many baskets of Pansies in May, and thus securing flowers on the spot,
besides selecting my favorite colors. These plants will not achieve much
after their first season, but will grow "beautifully less" in size, and
finally become like Lady's Delights, those pretty plebeian Violas that
accept any soil, or situation, and show their cheery little faces among
the cabbages, and even in the skimpy soil of the gravel walks.
"There's Pansy, that's for thought," says Perdita, in "Winter's Tale."
Pansy--French _pensee_, fancy or thought, from _penser_, to think.
Heartsease--ease of heart--tranquillity of mind--is the poet's name of
the flower. Of the common names one may choose between "Johnny Jump-up"
and the more elegant Lady's Delight.
The Violet, though but a tiny unassuming flower, is (both in verse and
prose) often classed with the regal Rose. Both are delightful in
perfume, and in that respect equally popular.
Having small knowledge of rose-growing I do not presume to hold forth on
"Rose Culture." Books on that subject are many and excellent, and I
should but say with "Denis," the "Minister's double," when his turn
came to make a speech at the committee meeting: "So much has been said,
and so well said, that I will not further pursue the subject."
Nevertheless, my next chapter shall be devoted to this "Queen-flower."