draw comparisons between a free and natural style of gardening, and the
artificial methods carried out with mathematical precision in his time,
to the distinct advantage of the former system, that geometric
gardening, coupled with the excessive use of Topiary work, had made
English gardens dreadfully monotonous. Essays were fashionable in the
early years of the eighteenth century, and, remembering that their
publication was extended over a considerable period, it must be presumed
that they were freely read and discussed, and thus exerted a very
considerable influence upon public opinion, just as a well thought out
and carefully written leading article does in our own time. We may take
it, then, that the gardeners of his time were considerably impressed by
Addison’s quiet denunciation of the existing style, and no doubt a
revolution had already commenced in the minds, if not in the gardens, of
the wealthy, when, a little more than a year later, Pope published in
the _Guardian_ (Tuesday, September 29, 1713), his famous essay on
“Verdant Sculpture.”
Not so subtle in his irony nor so engaging in his literary style as
Addison, Pope was however the more forcibly satirical, maliciously
spiteful, and elfishly humorous. His keen wit seized upon the proper
psychological moment for following up Addison’s comparatively mild
exposure with an attack that did as much as, or more than, anything else
to bring about that rapid decline of Topiarian art that quickly
followed. Pope had evidently the genius of a great soldier, who delivers
his fiercest attack when the enemy is wavering.
As Pope’s essay is not by any means well known, neither is it especially
easy of access, I need not apologise for quoting freely from it. Pope,
however, believed with Dryden that satire was—
“The boldest way, if not the best,
To tell men freely of their foulest faults,
To laugh at their vain deeds and vainer thoughts,”
and in the course of his essay he allowed his sarcastic mockery to find
expression here and there in a manner common enough in his time but
which would be likely to offend the ears of modern polite folk,
consequently I have in a few instances forestalled the editorial
blue-pencil.
“I lately,” writes Pope, “took a particular friend of mine to my house
in the country, not without some apprehension that it could afford
little entertainment to a man of his polite taste, particularly in
architecture and gardening, who had so long been conversant with all
that is beautiful and great in either. But it was a pleasant surprise to
me, to hear him often declare, he had found in my little retirement that
beauty which he always thought wanting in most of the celebrated seats,
or, if you will, villas, of the nation. This he described to me in those
verses, with which Martial begins one of his epigrams:
“‘Our friend Faustinus’ country seat I’ve seen:
No myrtles, placed in rows, and idly green,
No widow’d plantain, nor clipp’d box-tree, there
The useless soil unprofitably share;
But simple nature’s hand, with nobler grace,
Diffuses artless beauties o’er the place.’
“There is certainly something in the amiable simplicity of unadorned
nature, that spreads over the mind a more noble sort of tranquillity,
and a loftier sensation of pleasure, than can be raised from the nicer
scenes of art.”
After a reference to Homer’s account of the Garden of Alcinous, and Sir
William Temple’s remarks upon it, Pope proceeds: “How contrary to this
simplicity is the modern practice of gardening! We seem to make it our
study to recede from Nature, not only in the various tonsure of greens
into the most regular and formal shapes, but even in monstrous attempts
beyond the reach of the art itself. We run into sculpture, and are yet
better pleased to have our trees in the most awkward figures of men and
animals, than in the most regular of their own.
[Illustration:
CROWN GARDEN, MUNTHAM COURT, SUSSEX
]
“‘Here interwoven branches form a wall,
And from the living fence green turrets rise;
There ships of myrtle sail in seas of box;
A green encampment yonder meets the eye,
And loaded citrons bearing shields and spears.’
“I believe it is no wrong observation, that persons of genius, and those
who are most capable of Art, are always most fond of Nature: as such are
chiefly sensible, that all art consists in the imitation and study of
nature. On the contrary, people of the common level of understanding are
principally delighted with the little niceties and fantastical
operations of Art, and constantly think that finest which is the least
natural. A citizen is no sooner proprietor of a couple of yews, but he
entertains thoughts of erecting them into giants, like those of the
Guildhall. I know an eminent cook, who beautified his country seat with
a coronation dinner in greens; where you see the champion flourishing on
horseback at one end of the table, and the queen in perpetual youth at
the other.”
“For the benefit of all my loving countrymen of this curious taste, I
shall here publish a catalogue of greens to be disposed of by an eminent
town gardener, who has lately applied to me upon this head. He
represents, that for the advancement of a polite sort of ornament in the
villas and gardens adjacent to this great city, and in order to
distinguish those places from the mere barbarous countries of gross
Nature, the world stands much in need of a virtuoso gardener who has a
turn to sculpture, and is thereby capable of improving upon the ancients
of his profession in the imagery of evergreens. My correspondent is
arrived to such perfection, that he cuts family-pieces of men, women, or
children. Any ladies that please may have their own effigies in myrtle,
or their husband’s in horn-beam. He is a puritan wag, and never fails
when he shows his garden, to repeat that passage in the Psalms, “Thy
wife shall be as a fruitful vine, and thy children as olive-branches
round thy table.” I shall proceed to his catalogue, as he sent it for my
recommendation.
“Adam and Eve in yew; Adam a little shattered by the fall of the tree of
knowledge in the great storm: Eve and the serpent very flourishing.”
“The tower of Babel, not yet finished.”
“St George in box; his arm scarce long enough, but will be in condition
to stick the dragon by next April.”
“A green dragon of the same, with a tail of ground-ivy for the present.
_N.B._ These two not to be sold separately.”
“Edward the Black Prince in cypress.”
“A laurestine bear in blossom, with a juniper hunter in berries.”
“A pair of giants, stunted, to be sold cheap.”
“A Queen Elizabeth in phylyrea, a little inclining to the green
sickness, but of full growth.”
“A topping Ben Jonson in laurel.”
“Divers eminent modern poets in bays, somewhat blighted, to be disposed
of, a pennyworth.”
“A quickset hog, shot up into a porcupine, by its being forgot a week in
rainy weather.”
“A lavender pig, with sage growing in his belly.”
“Noah’s ark in holly, standing on the mount; the ribs a little damaged
for want of water.”
[Illustration:
QUEEN ELIZABETH’S CROWN AND JUG, ELVASTON CASTLE
]
Such was the crusade against Topiary; in its train came swift
destruction. Bridgeman and Kent were the landscape gardeners who,
influenced by the writings of their time and desirous of instituting a
new order of things, brought about the great change in garden design.
They not only cleared away the sculptured trees but destroyed splendid,
close hedges as well, throwing open to all eyes, and to all the winds,
gardens that had hitherto been delightfully enclosed and secluded. Of
Bridgeman there is very little information forthcoming, but Loudon tells
us “He banished verdant sculpture and introduced morsels of a forest
appearance in the gardens at Richmond.” Kent was a versatile
Yorkshireman, who was successively painter, architect and landscape
gardener; Claremont, Esher, laid out about 1725–1735, was one of his
designs. He was the friend of Lord Burlington and, even more than
Bridgeman, he carried into effect the ideas of Pope. The great successor
to Kent was Brown, who was head gardener at Stowe till 1750, and
subsequently, after being employed by the Duke of Grafton, he was head
gardener at Hampton Court and Windsor. At this time he became very much
in request as a landscape gardener, and so continued well on towards the
end of the eighteenth century. His sympathy with Topiary may be gathered
from the remark made by Sir Wm. Chambers in 1772, that “unless the mania
were not checked, in a few years longer there would not be found three
trees in a line from Land’s End to the Tweed.” In the course of about
fifty years, from 1740 to 1790, the gardens of England, with a few
exceptions, were completely altered, and the style that had been in
vogue for full one hundred and fifty years was almost wholly
obliterated. Later designers added many improvements, and a more
graceful style succeeded that of Kent and Brown, but Topiary as a part
of garden design was practically non-existent for about a hundred years.
Then commenced the modern revival of the Art.
REVIVAL OF THE ART
“There is a tendency to restore some of the screens which formed so
characteristic a feature of the Dutch style, with a view to obtain a
greater degree of privacy, and more shelter for both visitors and
plants. With this restoration of sheltering hedges and verdant belts
has evidently come a desire for examples of Topiary art, and already
there are several modern gardens where they are to be found firmly
established.”—_George Gordon, V.M.H._
“Topiary Work fell into disrepute in the nineteenth century, owing
to the persistence with which the more natural styles of gardening
came to the front, but even now this phase of ‘gardening’ exercises
a considerable fascination upon a large section of the public;
witness the interest excited of late years by the exhibits of
trimmed trees which have appeared at the London shows.”—_Walter P.
Wright._
Notwithstanding the wonderful alteration and improvement that have taken
place in British gardens since Kent began to make a clearance of Topiary
work, several notable collections survived the general slaughter and
these are to-day among the most interesting of the varied forms of
gardening seen in the country. The gardens at Levens Hall and at
Elvaston Castle may be especially particularised in this connection, but
for the moment we will deal with the revival rather than the survival of
the art.
During the past twenty years the practice of including at least a few
specimens of clipped trees in any new garden of pretensions has been
steadily growing, and within the last ten years several Topiary gardens
of considerable extent have been laid out and planted. These are chiefly
in the large establishments of the wealthy patrons of horticulture, and
they are so situated that they are in harmony with formal surroundings,
or disposed where they form a distinct item of horticultural interest
and do not in any way mar the more natural beauties of adjacent
subjects.
[Illustration:
HENS, DUCKS, PEACOCKS, ETC., IN BOX AND YEW AT J. CHEAL AND SONS,
CRAWLEY
]
Precisely why there has been a revival of this old art I am not prepared
to say. It must suffice that there is such a revival, and a very
distinct one, as any one who visits gardens and exhibitions and
nurseries frequently will readily discover. At the leading London and
provincial exhibitions two old established firms of nurserymen have
frequently and extensively exhibited examples of Topiary; these are
Messrs Wm. Cutbush & Son, Highgate, N., and Messrs J. Cheal & Sons,
Crawley, Sussex; and it may be safely asserted that if there were no
taste or demand for clipped trees the respective proprietors would not
incur the necessarily heavy expense of displaying this particular line
of goods.
In the revival of Topiary in England no single person has taken a deeper
interest than Mr Herbert J. Cutbush, and though his interest is
confessedly a business one it is none the less worthy of mention. For
many years Mr H. J. Cutbush has frequently visited Holland and he has
travelled through and through the little country until he knows it,
horticulturally, far better than even many eminent Dutch nurserymen do.
He discovered that some of the best trained and best furnished specimens
of sculptured yew and box were to be found in the farmhouse gardens, in
small, almost unknown villages, far from the usual routes of tourists
and business-men, and this led to still further explorations. During the
first years of the revival Mr H. J. Cutbush crossed over to Holland
nearly every week end making himself acquainted with the farmers, and
with the few growers who regularly supplied the Dutch nursery trade. He
got to know where examples were being steadily developed, securing
options on these and purchasing all that were well advanced. As already
hinted, the Dutch “Boomkmeckers,” or nurserymen who cultivate clipped
trees as a special business, are by no means a numerous class, they
chiefly reside in the Boskoop district.
Churches of box and peacocks of yew are not imported without the
expenditure of a good deal of time and money, and obviously there is
some risk in removing large examples. One big tree that for sixty years
had been the chief ornament of a Dutch blacksmith’s garden was only
purchased after a whole day spent in persuasion and the consumption of
much Schiedam, and after the purchase was made another week was spent in
lifting and packing and removing the tree to the London steamer.
There is a great variety of form in the Dutch clipped trees, but spires
surmounted with birds seem to be among the most common and are as easy
to produce as most. For these, and for the peacocks and the spiral or
serpentine columns, yew is almost invariably used. Tables, with tops
either circular, oval or square, may be had in box or yew, and the leg
of the table may be plain or ornamented according to taste. The
arm-chairs in box have quite a comfortable and inviting appearance.
Sitting hens, geese, and ducks are common designs, and to protect the
verdant poultry one may obtain equally verdant dogs, with or without
kennels, but though the mastiff may be of quite ferocious mien he can be
warranted not to bite; moreover he will require very little in the way
of food and the noise he makes will disturb no one.
[Illustration:
YEW TREE WITH BIRD—ANOTHER FORM
]
Churches are quite common designs among topiarists, but it is
interesting to notice that seldom is there a doorway provided, and
obviously if there is no congregation there will be no collection taken.
The churchyard is also provided for, inasmuch as verdant tombstones and
Latin crosses are grown in considerable numbers, and some of these would
be vast improvements upon many of the ugly head-stones and other
memorials of a more solid character that crowd our graveyards. Pyramids,
mop-heads, and blunt cones are among the commonest designs; they do not
call for the exercise of much ingenuity, but when these pyramidal trees
are cut into several regular and well graded tiers their cost increases
considerably. Another form of tree that naturally suggests itself to the
Dutch grower, who all his life is used to water and boats, is that of a
sailing ship, or barge; but these are not so easy to evolve from either
box or yew, and they call for a good deal of training in addition to the
cutting and clipping necessary to keep them shapely. Thin wires and a
few light bamboo rods usually complete the training outfit necessary,
but taking the whole range of topiarian design, training, in the sense
of tying out, is not much practised.
Compared with the designs enumerated in the catalogue that Pope’s fancy
created, the modern list of verdant sculptures is a very modest one.
True we may have Jugs and Beakers, Wreaths as well as Crosses, and Swans
as well as Peacocks, varying in price from three guineas to ten guineas
each, but the moderns do not attempt to pourtray Adam and Eve, nor do
they caricature the poets and statesmen of the age, in living box and
yew.
Prices are governed chiefly by the size and age (height and density),
and the design of the specimen. The yew tree being of slower growth than
the box is, size for size, the most expensive of the two, and well
furnished examples that have not exceeded marketable size vary in age
from twenty to sixty years. Even when designed in box the birds are
about ten or twelve years old, dogs twelve to fourteen years, and taller
designs from fifteen to eighteen years. Some of the finer examples found
in the country districts of Holland need to have their root system cut
around one year, so that they may be safely lifted, transported to this
country and transplanted in the following season.
It may very reasonably be asked, Where are to be seen the signs of this
modern revival of Topiary, apart from horticultural exhibitions? To that
I make answer by pointing to some establishments famous throughout the
land for their gardens. At Ascott, Mr Leopold de Rothschild has a
thoroughly well furnished and quite modern Topiary Garden, and those who
are disposed to severely criticize the modern revival of an old garden
art must bear in mind that Mr Rothschild’s gardens at Gunnersbury and
Ascott have been and are still being referred to as fine examples of the
most advanced and tasteful style of natural and adapted gardening.
Another example is to be found at Friar Park, Henley-on-Thames, the
residence of Mr Frank Crisp. This is a comparatively new garden but it
contains much that is beautiful and a very great deal that is
interesting, and its collection of clipped trees is not the least
interesting feature of an establishment that also contains one of the
best collections of alpine plants in the Southern Counties.
If these are not sufficient answer to the question, I hasten to add
Witley Court, Stourport, the residence of Lady Dudley; and Danesfield,
Marlow, the home of Mr R. W. Hudson. Besides these there are numerous
other gardens throughout the land where Topiary, as a modern
development, occupies no mean position, the extent of the collections of
clipped trees being determined chiefly by the space at disposal.
[Illustration:
CLIPPED YEWS AT A COTTAGE ENTRANCE
]
THE FORMATION OF A TOPIARY GARDEN
The Topiary, Dutch, or Formal Garden, as it is sometimes called, belongs
to a period long since gone by. It is uncertain who was the first person
to introduce the formal garden into England, and it is doubtful whether
this style of gardening had its origin in Holland or in France.
The present Gardens of Levens Hall were laid out between the years 1701
and 1704; but it is pretty certain that the art of Topiary gardening was
practised in England before the gardens at Levens were remodelled in
that style.
Before the year 1704, Monsieur Beaumont, who had been already employed
by King James II. to lay out the gardens of Hampton Court Palace, was
engaged by Colonel James Graham, at that time Treasurer to James II., to
introduce the art of Topiary work into his gardens at Levens, and it is
probable that these two places were the first in this country in which
the genuine art was practised. Beaumont, it may be mentioned, was a
pupil of the famous Le Notre.
The laying out of any garden in which clipped trees are intended to be
the principal feature, is open to a serious objection—the only
objection, as I think, that can reasonably be entertained against
Topiary work. I allude to the very great length of time it takes to
bring the Topiary Garden to perfection. It is certain that the
individual who takes both trouble and pains to lay out his garden can
never expect to see his work perfected; for, even in its natural state,
the yew is an extremely slow-growing tree, and when it is subjected to
continual clipping and pruning year after year, its growth is
considerably impeded.
But, even after allowing for this objection, I think it is a style of
gardening that should be more encouraged, and, if possible, made more
popular than it is at the present time. I am fully aware that there are
many authorities in the gardening world who condemn the Formal Garden as
unnatural; but I am certain that there is a charm and a beauty of its
own in Topiary work not to be met with in the modern garden. No doubt it
would be a pity were every person’s tastes to be alike, and fortunately
opinions differ in gardening as in other matters.
We will suppose, however, that, notwithstanding the objections I have
named, some reader of mine has decided to make for himself a Dutch, or
Topiary Garden—for both styles are practically the same.
The choosing of a situation, if a choice can be had, is of primary
importance. A place should be selected where the trees to be planted can
obtain the fullest possible amount of sunlight. At the same time, it
should be completely sheltered from every wind that blows.
It must be remembered that although the yew is a tree which will grow
and flourish in almost any out-of-the-way corner when left alone in its
natural state, it is quite a different matter when each individual tree
in the garden is intended to be as fine and as perfect a specimen of
Topiary work as it is possible to make it; and, like everything else in
a Topiary garden, a tree should be trained as well as possible, or else
let alone altogether.
[Illustration:
CROSSES AND JUGS IN YEW
]
It is very easy to perceive the great difference between trees which
have been planted partly or wholly in the shade and those that have
always enjoyed a full measure of sunlight. There is a strong and
vigorous growth about the latter which is not to be found in those
planted in a shady spot. It may not always be practicable to plant each
tree in a garden where it will receive the full benefit of the sun; but
it is an object which should ever be kept in mind, and carried out as
far as possible.
The yew is a tree which repays good treatment, especially when year
after year it is subject to clipping and never suffered to grow in its
natural state.
The situation chosen for a Topiary Garden should be a hollow, or piece
of ground slightly sunk below the general level of the surrounding land.
If this should be impracticable, it would be advisable to make a terrace
on at least one side of the ground marked out for the garden, preferably
the north side, as a terrace on the north side cannot interfere with the
full benefit of the sun, or obscure it from the trees in any way. There
is no place whence Topiary work is seen to greater advantage than from a
terrace, or, indeed, from any elevated spot from which one can look down
on the garden. A terrace, in my opinion, has a double recommendation,
inasmuch as besides adding beauty to the garden it also affords good
shelter; and shelter is a necessary consideration. In fact it is of
almost as much importance to provide efficient shelter as it is to get
the greatest possible amount of sunlight, which I have always considered
to be absolutely indispensable to the welfare of the various species of
trees planted in a Topiary garden. Nothing is more injurious to the yew
tree than strong winds from whichever direction they may happen to blow,
and more especially are they hurtful if the garden be situated near the
sea. If such be the case, and the garden be not well sheltered, the salt
spray every now and then blown up even several miles inland, has a very
deleterious effect on the trees. I have seen old and splendid specimens
of the yew disfigured for several years from this cause alone; and the
older the tree the more damaging is the effect. Whatever the kind of
shelter provided, it should be planted, or erected, in such a way as not
to obscure the general view of the garden.
Espaliers, with fruit trees trained on them, were formerly used to a
great extent in Topiary gardens; but they are a kind of shelter little
to be recommended, as, though certainly not unsightly, and having the
advantage of being useful, they are somewhat out of place and scarcely
in keeping with other features of the garden.
Hardy flowering shrubs may always be planted. They make a very good
shelter, and are at the same time ornamental, while they have the
additional advantage of being useful for cutting purposes.
But in close proximity to the garden, there is nothing which affords
more effectual shelter or is more in harmony with its general character
than hedges of yew or horn-beam of about ten to twelve feet in height.
This, as a rule, is quite high enough to answer the purpose of shelter;
if allowed to grow higher, the strength and substance of a hedge is
almost certain to be sacrificed. This, of course, applies in a greater
degree to yew than to horn-beam.
Large timber trees, such as oak, lime, beech or sycamore, cannot very
well be planted within the garden, though they may easily be so in the
grounds, or even outside them. They should not be planted singly, but
either in large clumps or thick enough to form a wood which, in course
of time, may afford shelter to the whole garden.