Star of Bethlehem in Grass.
CHAPTER III.
EXAMPLE FROM HARDY BULBS AND TUBERS IN GRASS.
We will now turn from the Forget–me–not order to a very different type of vegetation—hardy bulbs and other plants dying down after flowering early in the year, like the Winter Aconite and the Blood–root (Sanguinaria). How many of us really enjoy the beauty which a judicious use of a profusion of hardy Spring–flowering Bulbs affords? How many get beyond the miserable conventionalities of the flower–garden, with its edgings and patchings, and taking up, and drying, and mere playing with our beautiful Spring Bulbs? How many enjoy the exquisite beauty afforded by flowers of this class, established naturally, without troubling us for attention at any time? The subject of decorating with Spring–flowering Bulbs is merely in its infancy; at present we merely place a few of the showiest of them in geometrical lines. The little we do leads to such a very poor result, that numbers of people, alive to the real charms of a garden too, scarcely notice Spring Bulbs at all, regarding them as things which require endless trouble, as interfering with the “bedding–out;” and in fact, as not worth the pains they occasion. This is likely to be the case so long as the most effective and satisfactory of all modes of arranging them is unused; that way is the placing of them in wild and semi–wild parts of country seats, and in the rougher parts of a garden, no matter where it may be situated or how it may be arranged. This way will yield more real interest and beauty than any other.
Look, for instance, at the wide and bare belts of grass that wind in and around the shrubberies in nearly every country place; frequently, they never display a particle of plant–beauty, and are merely places to be roughly mown now and then. But if planted here and there with the Snowdrop, the blue Anemone, the Crocus, Scillas, and Winter Aconite, they would in spring surpass in attractiveness the gayest of spring gardens. Cushioned among the grass, these would have a more congenial medium in which to unfold than is offered by the beaten sticky earth of a border; in the grass of spring, their natural bed, they would look far better than ever they do when arranged on the bare earth of a garden. Once carefully planted, they—while an annual source of the greatest interest—occasion no trouble whatever.ill16
The association of exotic and British wild flowers in the Wild Garden.—The Bell–flowered Scilla, naturalised with our own Wood Hyacinth.
Their leaves die down so early in spring that they would scarcely interfere with the mowing of the grass, if that were desired, but I should not attempt to mow the grass in such places till the season of vernal beauty had quite passed by. Surely it is enough to have a portion of lawn as smooth as a carpet at all times, without sending the mower to shave the “long and pleasant grass” of the other parts of the grounds. It would indeed be worth while to leave many parts of the grass unmown for the sake of growing many beautiful plants in it. If in some spot where a wide fringe of grass spreads out in the bay of a shrubbery or plantation, and upon this carpet of rising and unshaven verdure there be dotted, in addition to the few pretty natural flowers that happened to take possession of it, the blue Apennine Anemone, the Snowdrop, the Snowflake, Crocuses in variety, Scillas, Grape–Hyacinths, earlier and smaller Narcissi, the Wood Anemone, and any other pretty Spring flowers that were suitable to the soil and position, we should have a glimpse of the vernal beauty of temperate and northern climes, every flower relieved by grass blades and green leaves, the whole devoid of any trace of man, or his exceeding weakness for tracing wall–paper patterns, where everything should be varied, indefinite, and changeful. In such a garden it would be evident that the artist had caught the true meaning of nature in her disposition of vegetation, without sacrificing one jot of anything of value in the garden, but, on the contrary, adding the highest beauty to spots devoid of the slightest interest. In connection with this matter I may as well say here that mowing the grass once a fortnight in pleasure grounds, as now practised, is a great and costly mistake. We want shaven carpets of grass here and there, but what cruel nonsense both to men and grass it is to shave as many foolish men shave their faces! There are indeed places where they boast of mowing forty acres! Who would not rather see the waving grass with countless flowers than a close shaven surface without a blossom? Imagine the labour wasted in this ridiculous labour of cutting the heads off flowers and grass. Let the grass grow till fit to cut for hay, and we may enjoy in it a world of lovely flowers that will blossom and perfect their growth before the grass has to be mown; more than one person who has carried out the ideas expressed in this book has waving lawns of feathery grass where he used to shave the grass every ten days; a prairie of flowers where a daisy was not allowed to peep; and some addition to his hay crop as he allows the grass to grow till it is fit for that purpose.
It is not only to places in which shrubberies, and plantations, and belts of grass in the rougher parts of the pleasure–ground, and shady moss–bordered wood–walks occur that these remarks apply. The suburban garden, with its single fringe of planting, may show like beauty, to some extent. It may have the Solomon’s Seal arching forth from a shady recess, behind tufts of the sweet–scented Narcissus, while in every case there may be wild fringes of strong and hardy flowers in the spring sun, and they cannot be cut off by harsh winds as when exposed in the open garden. What has already been stated is, I hope, sufficient to show to everybody the kind of place that may be used for their culture. Wild and semi–wild places, rough banks in or near the pleasure–ground or flower–garden, such spots as perhaps at present contain nothing but weeds, or any naturally rough or unused spot about a garden—such are the places for them. Even where all the lawn must be mown the Snowdrop may be enjoyed in early spring, for its leaves die down, or at all events ripen sufficiently before there is any occasion to mow the grass.
The Turk’s Cap Lily, naturalised in the grass by wood–walk.
But the prettiest results are only attainable where the grass need not be mown till nearly the time the meadows are mown. Then we may have gardens of Narcissi, such as men never dared to dream about a dozen years ago; such as no one ever thought possible in a garden. In grass not mown at all we may even enjoy many of the Lilies, and all the lovelier and more stately bulbous flowers of the meadows and mountain lawns of Europe, Asia, and America.
On a stretch of good grass which need not be mown, and on fairly good soil in any part of our country, beauty may be enjoyed such as has hitherto only gladdened the heart of the rare wanderer on the high mountain lawns and copses, in May when the earth children laugh in multitudes on their mother’s breast.
All planting in the grass should be in natural groups or prettily fringed colonies, growing to and fro as they like after planting. Lessons in this grouping are to be had in woods, copses, heaths, and meadows, by those who look about them as they go. At first many will find it difficult to get out of formal masses, but that may be got over by studying natural groupings of wild flowers. Once established, the plants soon begin to group themselves in a way that leaves nothing to desire.
Crocuses in turf, in grove of Summer leafing trees.
Group of Globe flowers (Trollius) in marshy place: type of the nobler Northern flowers little cultivated in gardens.
CHAPTER IV.
EXAMPLE FROM THE GLOBE FLOWER ORDER.
Let us next see what may be done with the Buttercup order of plants. It embraces many things widely diverse in aspect from these burnished ornaments of northern meadows and mountains. The first thing I should take from it to embellish the wild wood is the sweet–scented Virgin’s Bower (Clematis flammula), a native of the south of Europe, but as hardy and free in all parts of Britain as the common Hawthorn. And as the Hawthorn sweetens the breath of early summer, so will this add fragrance to the autumnal months. It is never to be seen half so beautiful as when crawling over some tree or decayed stump; and if its profuse masses of white bloom do not attract, its fragrance is sure to do so. An open glade in a wood, or open spaces on banks near a wood or shrubbery, would be charming for it, while in the garden or pleasure–ground it may be used as a creeper over old stumps, trellising, or the like. Clematis campaniflora, with flowers like a campanula, and of a pale purplish hue, and the beautiful white Clematis montana grandiflora, a native of Nepaul, are almost equally beautiful, and many others of the family are worthy of a place, rambling over old trees, bushes, hedgerows, or tangling over banks. These single wild species of Clematis are more graceful than the large Hybrids now common; they are very hardy and free. In mild and seashore districts a beautiful kind, common in Algeria, and in the islands on and the shores of the Mediterranean (Clematis cirrhosa), will be found most valuable—being nearly evergreen, and flowering very early in spring—even in winter in the South of England.ill22
The Mountain Clematis (C. montana).
Next in this order we come to the Wind Flowers, or Anemones, and here we must pause to select, for more beautiful flowers do not adorn this world of flowers. Have we a bit of rich grass not mown? If so, the beautiful downy white and yellow Anemones of the Alps (A. alpina and A. sulphurea) may be grown there. Any sunny bushy bank or southern slope which we wish to embellish with vernal beauty? Then select Anemone blanda, a small but lovely blue kind; place it in open bare spots to begin with, as it is very dwarf, and it will at Christmas, and from that time onward through the spring, open its large flowers of the deepest sky blue. The common garden Anemone (A. Coronaria) will not be fastidious, but had better be placed in open bare sandy places; and the splendid Anemone fulgens will prove most attractive, as it glows with fiery scarlet. Of other Anemones, hardy, free, and beautiful enough to be made wild in our shrubberies, pleasure–grounds, and wilds, the Japan Anemone (A. japonica) and its white varieties, A. trifolia and A. sylvestris, are the best of the exotic species. The Japan Anemones grow so strongly that they will take care of themselves even among stiff brushwood, brambles, etc.; and they are beautifully fitted for scattering along the low, half–wild margins of shrubberies and groups. The interesting little A. trifolia is not unlike our own wood Anemone, and will grow in similar places.ill23
The White Japan Anemone in the Wild Garden.
Few plants are more lovely in the wild garden than the White Japan Anemone. The idea of the wild garden first arose in the writer’s mind as a home for a numerous class of coarse–growing plants, to which people begrudge room in their borders, such as the Golden Rods, Michaelmas Daisies, Compass plants, and a host of others, which are beautiful for a season only, or perhaps too rampant for what are called choice borders and beds. This Anemone is one of the most beautiful of garden flowers, and one which is as well suited for the wild garden as the kinds alluded to. It grows well in any good soil in copse or shrubbery, and increases rapidly. Partial shade seems to suit it; and in any case the effect of the large white flowers is, if anything, more beautiful in half–shady places. The flowers, too, are more lasting here than where they are fully exposed.
As for the Apennine Anemone (the white as well as the blue variety), it is one of the loveliest spring flowers of any clime, and should be in every garden, in the borders, and scattered thinly here and there in woods and shrubberies, so that it may become “naturalised.” It is scarcely a British flower, being a native of the south of Europe; but having strayed into our wilds and plantations occasionally, it is now included in most books on British plants. The yellow A. ranunculoides, a doubtful native, found in one or two spots, but not really British, is well worth growing, thriving well on the chalk, and being very beautiful.
The large Hepatica angulosa will grow almost as freely as Celandine among shrubs and in half–shady spots, and we all know how readily the old kinds grow on all garden soils of ordinary quality. There are about ten or twelve varieties of the common Hepatica (Anemone Hepatica) grown in British nurseries and gardens, and all the colours of the species should be represented in every collection of spring flowers.
Anemones in the Riviera. Thrive equally well in any open soil here, only flowering later.
There are many of the Ranunculi, not natives of Britain, which would grow as freely as our native kinds. Many will doubtless remember with pleasure the pretty button–like white flowers of the Fair Maids of France (Ranunculus aconitifolius fl. pl.), a frequent ornament of the old mixed border. This, and the wild form from which it comes—a frequent plant in alpine meadows—may also be enjoyed in our wild garden. Quite distinct from all these, and of chastest beauty when well grown, is R. amplexicaulis, with flowers of pure white, and simple leaves of a dark glaucous green and flowing graceful outline; a hardy and charming plant on almost any soil. This is one of the elegant exotic forms of a family well represented in the golden type in our meadows, and therefore it is welcome as giving us a strange form. Such a plant deserves that pains be taken to establish it in good soil, in spots where a rank vegetation may not weaken or destroy it.
Of the Globe Flowers (Trollius), there are various kinds apart from our own, all rich in colour, fragrant, and hardy in a remarkable degree. These are among the noblest wild–garden plants—quite hardy, free of growth in the heaviest of soil and wettest of climates, affording a lovely type of early summer flower–life, and one distinct from any usually seen in our fields or gardens; for these handsome Globe flowers are among the many flowers that for years have found no place in the garden proper. They are lovely in groups or colonies, in cold grassy places, where many other plants would perish.ill26
The Green Hellebore in the Wild Garden.
The Winter Aconite (Eranthis hyemalis) should be naturalised in every country seat in Britain—it is as easy to do so as to introduce the thistle. It may be placed quite under the branches of deciduous trees, will come up and flower when the trees are naked, will have its foliage developed before the leaves come on the trees, and be afterwards hidden from sight. Thus masses of this earliest flower may be grown without the slightest sacrifice of space, and only be noticed when bearing a bloom on every little stem. That fine old little plant, the Christmas Rose (Helleborus niger), likes partial shade better than full exposure, and should be used abundantly, giving it rather snug and warm positions, so that its flowers may be encouraged to open well and fully. Any other kinds might also be used. Recently many kinds of Helleborus have been added to our gardens, not all of them so conspicuous at first sight as the Christmas Rose, yet they are of remarkable beauty of foliage and habit as well as of blossom, and they flower in the spring. These, too, show the advantage of the wild garden as regards cultivation. They will thrive much better in any bushy places, or copses, or in mutually sheltering groups on warm banks and slopes, even in hedge banks, old quarries, or rough mounds, than in the ordinary garden border. Of the difference in the effect in the two cases it is needless to speak.
Some of the Monkshoods are very handsome, but all of them virulent poisons; and, bearing in mind what fatal accidents have arisen from their use, they are better not used at all in the garden proper. Amongst tall and vigorous herbaceous plants few are more suitable for wild and semi–wild places. They are hardy and robust enough to grow anywhere in shady or half–shady spots; and their tall spikes, loaded with blue flowers, are very beautiful. An illustration in the chapter on the plants suited for the wild garden shows the common Aconite in a Somersetshire valley in company with the Butterbur and the Hemlock. In such a place its beauty is very striking. The larger rich blue kinds, and the blue and white one, are very showy grown in deep soils, in which they attain a great height. When out of flower, like many other stately Perennials, they were often stiff and ugly in the old borders and beds. In the wild garden their stately beauty will be more remarkable than ever under the green leaves in copses and by streams. And when flower–time is gone, their stems, no longer tied into bundles or cut in by the knife, will group finely with other vigorous herbaceous vegetation.
The Delphiniums, or tall Perennial Larkspurs, are amongst the most beautiful of all flowers. They embrace almost every shade of blue, from the rich dark tone of D. grandiflora to the charming cærulean tints of such as D. Belladonna; and being usually of a tall and strong type, will make way among long grasses and vigorous weeds, unlike many things for which we have to recommend an open space, or a wood with nothing but a carpet of moss under the trees.28
Tall Perennial Larkspurs, naturalised in Shrubbery (1878).
One of the prettiest effects which I have ever seen was a colony of tall Larkspurs. Portions of old roots of several species and varieties had been chopped off when a bed of these plants was dug in the autumn. For convenience sake the refuse had been thrown into the neighbouring shrubbery, far in among the shrubs and trees. Here they grew in half–open spaces, which were so far removed from the margin that they were not dug and were not seen. When I saw the Larkspurs in flower they were certainly the loveliest things that one could see. They were more beautiful than they are in borders or beds, not growing in such close stiff tufts, but mingling with and relieved by the trees above and the shrubs around. Little more need be said to any one who knows and cares about such plants, and has an opportunity of planting in such neglected places. This case points out that one might make wild gardens from the mere parings and thinnings of the beds and borders in autumn in any place where there is a collection of good hardy plants.
The engraving on the next page represents one of the most beautiful effects obtained in his wild garden by an acquaintance of mine who began when he knew very little of plants and their favoured haunts, and succeeded well in a not very favourable site. Herbaceous Pæonies were amongst those that succeeded best. The effect was very beautiful, either close at hand or seen at a considerable distance off. Herbaceous Pæonies are amongst the most free, vigorous, and hardy of perennial plants, and with them alone most novel and beautiful effects may be carried out in most places where there is room. Even in comparatively small gardens, a group or two outside the margin of a shrubbery would be desirable. The effect of the blooms amongst the long grass of the wild garden is finer than any they present in borders, and when out of flower they do not seem to be in the way, as they often are thought to be when in borders and beds. It is almost needless to speak here of the great variety of forms now obtainable amongst these herbaceous Pæonies, many of which are agreeably scented. The older forms were not remarkable in that respect, but rather the contrary. In addition to the splendour of colour for which Pæonies are long and well known, there are now many delicately–coloured and tinted varieties. The whole race is undeservedly neglected. People spend plenty of money on greenhouses which will never produce anything so handsome as a well–grown group of herbaceous Pæonies in the open garden; yet when they are grown they are often begrudged a few feet of good soil, though that is all they would require for years at a time. My friend’s Pæonies formed a group that could be seen from a distance; when I saw them they were surrounded by long and waving grass. I cannot give any idea of the fine effect.
Double Crimson Pæonies in grass.
The Clematis–like Atragene alpina is one of my favourite flowers—seldom seen now–a–days, or indeed at any time, out of a botanical garden, and till lately not often seen in one. It likes to trail over an old stump, or through a thin low bush, or over a rocky bank, and it is a perfectly hardy plant. Speaking of such plants as this, one would like to draw a sharp distinction between them and the various weedy and indistinct subjects which are now creeping into cultivation owing to the revival of interest in hardy plants. Many of these have some botanical interest, but they can be only useless in the garden. Our chief danger now is getting plants into cultivation which are neither very distinct nor very beautiful, while perhaps we neglect many of the really fine kinds. This Atragene is a precious plant for low bush and bank wild garden.
Among plants which one never sees, and which, indeed, one never ought to see, in a flower garden, are the Meadow Rues; and yet there is a quiet beauty and grace about these plants which entitle them to some consideration; and the flowers, too, of certain species, particularly the one here shown in the illustration on page 1, are of singular beauty. When it is considered that all the species will grow anywhere—in any hedgerow or lane or byeway, or among coarse grass, or in a copse, or under the shrubs, in places usually abandoned to common weeds, there is no reason why numbers of them should not be rescued from the oblivion of the botanic garden.
CHAPTER V.
PLANTS CHIEFLY FITTED FOR THE WILD GARDEN.
ill32
The Giant Scabious (8 feet high). (Cephalaria procera.)
What first suggested the idea of the wild garden, and even the name to me, was the desire to provide a home for a great number of exotic plants that are unfitted for garden culture in the old sense. Many of these plants have great beauty when in flower, and perhaps at other seasons, but they are frequently so free and vigorous in growth that they overrun and destroy all their more delicate neighbours. Many, too, are so coarse that they are objectionable in choice borders, and after flowering they leave a blank or a mass of unsightly stems. These plants are unsightly in gardens, and the main cause of the neglect of hardy flowers; yet many are beautiful at certain stages. A tall Harebell, for example, stiffly tied up in a garden border, as has been the fashion where plants of this kind have been grown at all, is at best of times an unsightly object; but the same plant growing amongst the long grass in a thin wood is lovely. The Golden–rods and Michaelmas Daisies used to overrun the old mixed border, and were with it abolished. But even the poorest of these seen together in a New England wood in autumn form a picture. So also there are numerous exotic plants of which the individual flowers may not be so striking, but which, grown in groups and colonies, and seen at some little distance off, afford beautiful aspects of vegetation, and quite new so far as gardens are concerned. When I first wrote this book, not one of these plants was in cultivation outside botanic gardens. It was even considered by the best friends of hardy flowers a mistake to recommend one of them, for they knew that it was the predominance of these weedy vigorous subjects that made people give up hardy flowers for the sake of the glare of bedding plants; therefore, the wild garden in the case of these particular plants opens up to us a new world of infinite and strange beauty. In it every plant vigorous enough not to require the care of the cultivator or a choice place in the mixed border will find a home. Of such plants there are numbers in every northern and mountainous country, which travellers may gather and afterwards grow in their own gardens. The taller Achilleas, the stately Aconites, the seldom–seen Actæas, the huge and vigorous, but at certain seasons handsome, Althæas, Angelica with its fine foliage, the herbaceous kinds of Aralia from the American woods, also with fine foliage, the Wormwood family (Artemisia), the stronger kinds of American cotton–weed (Asclepias), certain of the vigorous species of Asparagus, Asters and their allies in great variety, the larger and more vigorous species of Astragalus, certain of the larger species of Betonica, pretty, and with delicate flowers, but hardly fit for the mixed border, various free and vigorous exotic Grasses, large and showy Bupthalmums, the handsome creeping Bindweeds, too free in a garden, the most vigorous Campanulas, exotic Thistles (Carduus) and their allies, the more remarkable kinds of Carex, numerous Centaureas, somewhat too coarse for the garden; and among other strong and hardy genera, the following are chiefly suitable for the wild garden:
| Crambe. | Galega. | Rhaponticum. |
| Digitalis. | Helenium. | Rheum. |
| Dipsacus. | Helianthus. | Rudbeckia. |
| Doronicum. | Heracleum. | Scolymus. |
| Echinacea. | Inula. | Senecio. |
| Echinops. | Kitaibelia. | Sida. |
| Elymus. | Lavatera. | Silphium. |
| Epilobium. | Ligularia. | Solidago. |
| Eryngium. | Ligusticum. | Sonchus. |
| Eupatorium. | Mulgedium. | Symphytum. |
| Euphorbia. | Onopordon. | Veratrum. |
| Ferula. | Phytolacca. | Verbascum. |
| Funkia. | Polygonum. | Vernonia. |
Giant Cow Parsnip. Type of Great Siberian herbaceous vegetation. For rough places only.
CHAPTER VI.
DITCHES AND NARROW SHADY LANES, COPSES, HEDGEROWS,
AND THICKETS.
ill36
Foliage of Dipsacus, on hedge–bank in spring.
Men usually seek sunny positions for their gardens, so that even those obliged to be contented with the north side of the hill would scarcely appreciate some of the above–named positions. What, the gloomy and weedy dyke as a garden! Yes, there are ditches, dry and wet, in every district, that may readily be made more beautiful than many a “modern flower–garden.” But what would grow in them? Many of the beautiful wood and shade–loving plants of our own and similar latitudes—things that love not the open sunny hill–sides or wide meadows, but take shelter in the stillness of deep woods or in dark valleys, are happy deep between riven rocks, and gaily occupy the little dark caves beneath the great boulders on many a horror–stricken mountain gorge, and which garland with inimitable grace the vast flanks of rock that guard the dark courses of the rivers on their paths through the hills. And as these dark walls, ruined by ceaseless pulse of the torrent, are beautiful exceedingly, how much more may we make all the shady dykes and narrow lanes that occur everywhere! For while the nymph–gardener of the ravine may depend for her novelties on the stray grains of seeds brought in the moss by the robin when building her nest, or on the mercy of the hurrying wave, we may place side by side the snowy white wood lily (Trillium grandiflorum), whose home is in the shades of the American woods, with the twin flower of Scotland and northern Europe, and find both thrive on the same spot in happy companionship. And so in innumerable instances. And not only may we be assured of numbers of the most beautiful plants of other countries thriving in deep ditches and in like positions, but also that not a few of them, like the white wood lily, will thrive much better in them than in any position in garden borders. This plant, when in perfection, has a flower as fair as any white lily, while it is seldom a foot high; but, in consequence of being a shade–loving and wood plant, it usually perishes in the ordinary garden bed or border, while in a shady dyke or any like position it will be found to thrive as well as in its native woods; and if in deep, free, sandy, or vegetable soil, to grow so as not to be surpassed in loveliness by anything seen in our stoves or greenhouses.
Our wild flowers take possession of the stiff, formal, and shorn hedges that seam the land, often draping them with such inimitable grace that half the conservatories in the country, with their collections of small red pots and small mean plants are stiff and poor compared with a few yards’ length of their blossomy verdure. The Wild Roses, Purple Vetch, Honeysuckle, and the Virgin’s Bower, clamber above smaller, but not less pretty, wildlings, and throw a veil of graceful life over the mutilated shrubs, reminding us of the plant–life in the nest–like thickets of dwarf shrubs that one often meets on the high Alpine meadows. In these islets of bushes in a sea of grass one may gather flowers after they have been all browsed down on the turf. Next to the most interesting aspects of Alpine vegetation, there is perhaps nothing in the world of plant–life more lovely than the delicate tracery of low–climbing things wedded to the bushes in all northern and temperate regions of the earth. Perishing like the grass, they are happy and safe in the earth’s bosom in winter; in spring they come up as the buds swell, and soon after, finding the bushes once more enjoyable, rush over them as joyously as children from school over a meadow of cowslips. Over bush, over brake, on mountain or lowland copse, holding on with delicate but unyielding grasp, they engrave themselves on the mind as the central type of grace. In addition to climbing Pea–flowers, Convolvuluses, etc., of which the stems perish in winter, we have the great tribes of wild vines, noble in foliage and often in fruit, the numerous Honeysuckles, from coral red to pale yellow, all beautiful; and the Clematidæ, rich, varied, and lovely beyond description, from those of which each petal reminds one of the wing of some huge tropical butterfly, to those with small flowers borne in showers like drops from a fountain jet, and often sweet as Hawthorn blossoms.ill39
The large white Bindweed, type of nobler climbing plants, with annual stems. For copses, hedgerows, and shrubberies.
This climbing vegetation may be trained and tortured into forms in gardens, but never will its beauty be seen until we entrust it to the garlanding of shrub, and copse, or hedgerow, fringes of dwarf plantation, or groups of shrubs and trees. All to be done is to put in a few tufts of any desired kind, and leave them alone, adapting the kind to the position. The large, flesh–coloured Bindweed, for example, would be best in rough places, out of the pale of the pleasure–ground or garden, so that its roots would not spread where they could do harm, while a delicate Clematis might be placed beneath the choicest specimen Conifer, and allowed to paint its rich green with fair flowers. In nature we frequently see a Honeysuckle clambering up through an old Hawthorn tree, and then struggling with it as to which should produce the greatest profusion of blossoms—but in gardens not yet. Some may say that this cannot be done in gardens; but it can be done infinitely better in gardens than it has ever been done in nature; because, for gardens we can select plants from many countries. We can effect contrasts, in which nature is poor in any one place in consequence of the comparatively few plants that naturally inhabit one spot of ground. People seldom remember that “the art itself is nature;” and foolish old laws laid down by landscape–gardeners are yet fertile in perpetuating the notion that a garden is a “work of art, and therefore we must not attempt in it to imitate nature.”ill40
The Nootka Bramble; type of free–growing flowering shrub. For copses and woods.
Sometimes, where there are large and bare slopes, an excellent effect may be obtained by planting the stouter climbers, such as the Vines, Mountain Clematis, and Honeysuckles, in groups or masses on the grass, away from shrubs or low trees; while, when the banks are precipitous or the rocks crop forth, we may allow a curtain of climbers to fall over them.
Endless charming combinations may be made in this way in many spots near most country houses. The following genera are among the climbing and clinging hardy plants most suitable for garlanding copses, hedges, and thickets:—Everlasting Peas (many kinds), the hardy exotic Honeysuckles, Clematis (wild species mainly), the common Jasmine, the double Bramble, Vines (American and the common varieties), single Roses, the Virginian creepers (Ampelopsis), the large Bindweed (Calystegia dahurica), Aristolochia Sipho, and A. tomentosa, and several of the perennial Tropæolums, T. pentaphyllum, speciosum, and tuberosum. The hardy Smilax, too, are very handsome, and the Canadian Moonseed, only suitable for this kind of gardening.
Among the families of plants that are suitable for the various positions enumerated at the head of this chapter may be named—Acanthus, any variety, Viola, both the sweet varieties and some of the large scentless kinds, the Periwinkle, Speedwells, Globe Flowers, Trilliums, Plume Ferns (Struthiopteris), and many other kinds, the Lily of the Valley and its many varieties and allies, the Canadian Bloodwort, the Winter Greens (Pyrola), Solomon’s Seal, and allied exotic species, the May Apple, Orobus in variety, Narcissi, many, the Common Myrrh, the perennial Lupin, hardy common Lilies, the Snowflakes, all kinds of Everlasting Peas and allied plants, admirable for scrambling through low hedges and over bushes, Windflowers, the taller and stronger kinds in lanes and hedgerows, the various Christmas Roses which will repay for shelter, the European kinds of Gladiolus, such as segetum and Colvilli, the taller and more vigorous Cranes Bills (Geranium), the Snake’s Head (Fritillaria) in variety, Strawberries of any variety or species, the beautiful Plume–leaved Giant Fennel, Dog’s Tooth Violets in bare spots or spots bare in spring, the Winter Aconite, the Barren Worts, for peaty spots or leaf soil, the May Flower, for sandy poor soil under trees, the Dentaria, the coloured and showier forms of Primroses, Oxslips, Polyanthus, the hardy European Cyclamens in carefully chosen spots, Crocuses in places under branches and trees not bearing leaves in Spring, the yellow and pink Coronilla (C. montana and C. varia), the larger forms of Bindweed, many of the taller and finer Harebells, Starworts (Aster), for hedgerows, and among the taller plants the Italian Cuckoo Pint (Arum), and also the Dragons, for warm sandy soils, the Monkshoods which people fear in gardens and which do admirably in many positions; the different species of Onion, also unwelcome in gardens, some of which are very beautiful, as, for example, the White Provence kind and the old yellow garden Allium (Moly). With the above almost exclusively exotic things and our own wild flowers and ferns beautiful colonies may be made.
The Yellow Allium (A. Moly) naturalised.
CHAPTER VII.
DRAPERY FOR TREES AND BUSHES.
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The numerous hardy climbers which we possess are very rarely seen to advantage, owing to their being stiffly trained against walls. Indeed, the greater number of hardy climbers have gone out of cultivation mainly for this reason. One of the happiest of all ways of using them is that of training them in a free manner over trees; in this way many beautiful effects may be secured. Established trees have usually exhausted the ground near their base, which may, however, afford nutriment to a hardy climbing shrub. In some low trees the graceful companion may garland their heads; in tall ones the stem only may at first be adorned. But some vigorous climbers could in time ascend the tallest trees, and there can be nothing more beautiful than a veil of such a one as Clematis montana suspended from the branch of a tall tree. A whole host of lovely plants may be seen to great advantage in this way, apart from the well–known and popular climbing plants. There are, for example, many species of Clematis which have never come into cultivation, but which are quite as beautiful as any climbers. The same may be said of the Honeysuckles, wild Vines, and various other families of which the names may be found in catalogues. Much of the northern tree and shrub world is garlanded with creepers, which may be grown in similar ways, as, for example, on banks and in hedgerows. The trees in our pleasure–grounds, however, have the first claim on our attention in planting garlands. There would seldom be need to fear injury to established trees.
Large White Clematis on Yew tree at Great Tew. (C. montana grandiflora.)
Some time ago I saw a Weeping Willow, on the margin of a lake, that had its trunk clothed with Virginian Creeper, and the effect in autumn, when the sun shone through the drooping branches of the Willow—whose leaves were just becoming tinged with gold—upon the crimson of the creeper–covered trunk was very fine. The Hop is a very effective plant for draping a thin specimen Arbor–vitæ, or Yew tree, but the shoots should be thinned out in spring, and not more than three or four allowed to climb up to the tree. When the leader emerges from the top of the bush, and throws its long, graceful wreaths of Hops over the dark green foliage, the contrast is most effective. The Wistaria, if planted before its support has become old, will combine with excellent effect with any single specimen of not too dense a habit.ill45a
The way the climbing plants of the world are crucified in gardens—winter effect (a faithful sketch).
A correspondent, who has added largely to the charms of a place in Suffolk by means of the wild garden, writes as follows:—
“Some time ago I discovered and had removed from the woods to the pleasure–grounds a robust round–headed Holly tree, which had been taken entire possession of by a wild Honeysuckle, which, originating at the root of the tree, had scrambled up through the branches to the top, and there, extending itself in all directions, had formed a large head and hung in festoons all round—a highly ornamental object indeed. The Holly had endured the subjection for many years, and still seemed to put forth sufficient shoots and leaves annually to ensure a steady support to its climbing companion. The birds also had discovered that the dense and tangled thicket created by the Honeysuckle was a suitable home for their young, for inside of it was a regular settlement of nests of various kinds; and, since the tree has been moved it has been taken complete possession of again by the bird tribe.” The Honeysuckle in question is an example of what might be done with such handsome and free growing climbers and scrambling Roses. What could be more effective, for instance, than a lofty tree–like mass of the purple and white Clematis mixed, or either of these alone, or, better still, a gigantic head of Roses? I throw out these hints for those who choose to act upon them. Draped trees, such as I have described, may soon be had. I do not know that a better tree than the Holly could be selected for a support. Where the trees are not in the place in which they are wanted, they should be moved about the end of August to the desired situation, and if some good rich soil—loam and decayed manure—is furnished to the roots at the same time, it will be in proper condition for climbers in spring. The latter should be planted pretty closely to the stem of the tree, and a start should be made with good vigorous plants, whether of Honeysuckle, Roses, or Clematis. The Roses and other things will want a little leading off at first till they get hold of their supporters, but afterwards no pruning or interference should be attempted.ill47
Climbing shrub (Celastrus), isolated on the grass; way of growing woody Climbers away from walls or other supports.
Mr. Hovey, in a letter from Boston, Mass., wrote as follows, on certain interesting aspects of tree drapery:— Some ten or fifteen years ago we had occasion to plant three or four rows of popular climbers in nursery rows, about 100 feet long; these consisted of the Virginian creeper, the Moonseed (Menispermum), Periploca græca, and Celastrus scandens; subsequently, it happened accidentally that four rows of rather large Tartarian (so–called) Arbor–vitæs were planted on one side, and about the same number of rows of Smoke trees, Philadelphus, and Cornus florida, on the other. For three or four years many of these climbers were taken up annually until rather too old to remove, and year by year the Arbor–vitæs and shrubs were thinned out until what were too large to safely transplant remained. But the land was not wanted then, and the few scattered trees and climbers grew on while cultivation was partially neglected, a large specimen being occasionally taken out until the climbers had fairly taken possession of the trees, and are now too beautiful to disturb. It forms the most unique specimen of tree drapery I have ever seen. Some of the Arbor–vitæs are entirely overrun with the Moonseed (Menispermum), whose large, slightly–scalloped leaves overlap one another from the ground to the top like slates on a roof. Over others, the gloomy leaves of the Periploca scramble, and also the Celastrus, and on still others the deep green leaves of the Ampelopsis completely festoon the tree; of some trees all four and other climbers have taken possession; and from among the tops of the Sumach the feathery tendrils of the Ampelopsis, and, just now, its deep blue berries hold full sway. And these are not all. The Apios tuberosa is indigenous, and springs up everywhere as soon as our land is neglected. This has also overrun several trees, and coils up and wreaths each outstretching branch with its little bunches of fragrant brownish coloured flowers. It is the Arbor–vitæs which give the peculiar beauty of this description of tree drapery. On the deciduous trees the new growth lengthens rapidly, and the branches soon get far apart; but with Arbor–vitæs, which always present a round compact head, the effect is entirely different; they are covered so densely that it is impossible, in some instances, to say what the tree is that supports the climbers. One Hemlock Spruce (Abies canadensis) has every branch loaded with the Apios and profuse with blossoms; but this one sees happen with other trees. The Smoke tree looks interesting just now, while its flowers are fresh, but soon they will fade, and the dry tops will be a disadvantage; but the Arbor–vitæ will remain clothed with the foliage, flowers, and berries too, of the Celastrus until the autumn frosts have shorn them of their beauty, and no falling leaves are scattered around. The Arbor–vitæ is the tree I would recommend when it is desirable to produce such effects as I have described. When such strong–growing climbers as Begonias and Wistarias take possession of a shrub they generally injure it; but the very slender stems of Menispermum and Apios die entirely to the ground after the first sharp frost, and the slender stems of the others do not appear to arrest the growth of the Arbor–vitæs, which are restored when the climbers are down, and, after full eight months’ rest, are again ready to aid in sustaining their more dependent companions. The Honeysuckle, the Clematis, and similar plants might, no doubt, be added to the list, and give more variety, as well as fragrance and beauty, but I have only detailed the effects of what has been done, leaving what might be effected for some future trial.ill48
A Liane in the North. Aristolochia and Deciduous Cypress.
But the noblest kind of climbers forming drapery for trees are not so often seen as some of the general favourites mentioned above. A neglected group are the wild Vines, plants of the highest beauty, and which, if allowed to spring through the tall trees, which they would quickly do, would soon charm by their bold grace. Some of them are fine in colour of foliage in autumn. With these might be associated, though not so fine in form, certain free–growing species of Ampelopsis, grown in some nurseries. The Wistaria is also well worth growing on trees, in districts where it flowers freely away from walls. In visiting the garden of MM. Van Eden, at Haarlem, I was surprised to see a Liane, in the shape of the well–known Aristolochia or Dutchman’s Pipe, which had clambered high into a fine old deciduous Cypress. Being much interested in this long–established companionship, I was able to procure, through the kindness of Messrs. Van Eden, photographs of the tree and its Liane, from which this illustration was engraved. When I saw it early in spring the leaves had not appeared on either the tree or its companion, and the effect of the old rope–like stems was very picturesque. The Aristolochia ascends to a height of 35 ft. 6 in. on the tree.
The tree was a superb specimen, and was not in the least injured by the growth of the climber. What a beautiful effect a graceful flowering climber would afford in a similar case! Imagine one of the white–flowered Clematis (which may be seen as many as over forty feet in height under suitable conditions) garlanding such a tree, or any tree, with wreaths of fragrant blossoms. Strange and lovely aspects of vegetation may be created in our pleasure–grounds by the judicious use of these climbers, varying according to the trees and their position, and also as to their being evergreen or summer–leafing. Even where one might fear to injure a valuable tree by a vigorous climber, trees may easily be found of little value, and much may be done even with the old or dead trees.