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Cornell Universit

The art of landscape architecture, its de

By Samuel Parsons, Jr.

Landscape Gardening

Art of Landscape Architecture

<, by the Owner, on
the Estate of John Staples, Esq., Newburgh N.

Che rt of
Landscape Architecture

Its Development and its Application to
Modern Landscape Gardening

Samuel Parsons

Fellow of the American Society of Landscape Architects
Author of «« Landscape Gardening,’’ etc.

With 48 Iltustrations

G. P. Putnam’s Sons

New York and London

The ‘knickerbocker Press
1915

The ‘Rnickerbocker Press, Hew Work

SAMUEL PARSONS, 1844-1923

PREFACE

HERE have been several authoritative books
written entitled Observations or Hints on Mod-
ern Gardening or else the Theory and Practice

of Landscape Gardening. In later times, however, it
has been felt that a title of wider scope was needed than
“landscape gardening,’”’ which seems to limit the sub-
ject in the minds of many to the treatment of a flower
garden or an exhibition of brilliant colour in a parterre
of bedding plants.

An architect, taken from the Greek, means master
builder. He is one who designs and frames any com-
plex structure; one who arranges elementary material
on a comprehensive plan.

Plato made ‘‘the causes of things to be matter, ideas,
and an efficient architect.’’ Although the term archi-
tect has come to mean almost exclusively master
builders in wood, stone, iron, etc., the term landscape
architect is equally appropriate. A landscape artist,
who creates scenery from trees and flowers and earth
and rock and water, arranges elementary materials on
a comprehensive plan. He has his standards of work-
manship like the architect, and these standards are

subtle and difficult to establish and explain, because
v

vi Preface

they are dependent for their value on the growth of
living things. Such artistic work is also dependent
for value on the general consensus of opinion delivered
by well recognized authorities. The work is done in-
stinctively; criticism and rules may be deduced from
the work afterwards, but good artistic design and crafts-
manship are instinctive. Kant, in discussing esthetic
judgment, said, “‘judgments of taste are not susceptible
of proof, but they may be evoked when an opportunity
for immediate perception occurs. Their general valid-
ity is exemplary, 7.e., it is gained by means of examples,
not rules.” Investigating the production of the beauti-
ful in art, the same writer says “‘that the production
like the estimation is carried on without the guidance of
abstract rules, and yet in such wise that that which is
produced is the object of general recognition and may
serve as a model,” and Schopenhauer even goes so far
as to say that ‘‘the fine arts do not advance beyond
intention and hence give fragments, and examples, but
no rule or totality.”

Therefore, it will be conceded that the art of land-
scape architecture is not subject to the application of
hard and fast rules as a science would be. The study
of nature assisted by the best examples is the proper
field for the art of landscape architecture. Models
are based on approval by persons of recognized fitness
for rendering judgment. One can no more indicate the
rules that govern the development of the work of the
landscape architect than he can explain how a Titian
was painted. The result is evident, and ideas and

Preface Vii

suggestions are evoked, helpful to the artist, not only
because he recognizes excellences himself, but because
he is stimulated by the approval of respectable author-
ities and taught (if he has it in him) to do something
of similar value transfused by the peculiar genius of his
own mind and spirit.

In order to work out landscape designs properly some
knowledge of good practice is necessary. Hints and
suggestions point the way and lighten the labour of
traversing it. The hints and suggestions of this book
refer to both theory and practice and give as much
information as the space will allow. The student
should seek to dwell on the various features of land-
scape interest in gardens and parks or estates, a few of
which are here considered and illustrated. Especially
worthy of consideration are the features of small es-
tates. They show less evidence of the academic in-
fluences which naturally make the large places hardly
available as practical examples for general use.

It is rather remarkable that one of the oldest of the
arts, landscape gardening, has had comparatively small
attention given to the exposition of examples, and the
ideas they evoke. In fact, among all the writers on
this subject, scarcely half a dozen have attacked this
particular phase of it; Whately, Repton, Prince Ptck-
ler, A. J. Downing, and Edouard André have shown in
their writings that they have grasped the subject in a
large and competent way. The difficulty of late years
seems to have been that horticulture has developed so
rapidly that in the desire to display novel and beautiful

vi Preface

they are dependent for their value on the growth of
living things. Such artistic work is also dependent
for value on the general consensus of opinion delivered
by well recognized authorities. The work is done in-
stinctively; criticism and rules may be deduced from
the work afterwards, but good artistic design and crafts-
manship are instinctive. Kant, in discussing zsthetic
judgment, said, ‘‘judgments of taste are not susceptible
of proof, but they may be evoked when an opportunity
for immediate perception occurs. Their general valid-
ity is exemplary, 7.e., it is gained by means of examples,
not rules.” Investigating the production of the beauti-
ful in art, the same writer says ‘‘that the production
like the estimation is carried on without the guidance of
abstract rules, and yet in such wise that that which is
produced is the object of general recognition and may
serve as a model,’’ and Schopenhauer even goes so far
as to say that “the fine arts do not advance beyond
intention and hence give fragments, and examples, but
no rule or totality.”

Pvretace vii

In order to work out landscape designs properly some
knowledge of good practice is necessary. Hints and
suggestions point the way and lighten the labour of
traversing it. The hints and suggestions of this book
refer to both theory and practice and give as much
information as the space will allow. The student
should seek to dwell on the various features of land-
scape interest in gardens and parks or estates, a few of
which are here considered and illustrated. Especially
worthy of consideration are the features of small es-
tates. They show less evidence of the acadetnic in-
fluences which naturally make the large places hardly
available as practical examples for general use.

It is rather remarkable that one of the oldest of the
arts, landscape gardening, has had comparatively small
attention given to the exposition of examples, and the
ideas they evoke. In fact, among all the writers on
this subject, scarcely half a dozen have attacked this
particular phase of it; Whately, Repton, Prince Piick-
ler, A. J. Downing, and Edouard André have shown in
their writings that they have grasped the subject in a
large and competent way. The difficulty of late years
seems to have been that horticulture has developed so
rapidly that in the desire to display novel and beautiful

viii Pretace

plants, the real essence of landscape gardening has been
allowed to escape like a lost fragrance. If there are
quantities of beautiful foliage and flowers available it
has been thought only necessary to have what is called
“good taste’? to be able to arrange them on a lawn.
The idea seems seldom to have been considered that
models in the form of scenes on large and small estates
should be studied in the light of the best. literature
on the subject before attempting to do landscape
work.

Further proof of the ignorance of the general public of
the essence of landscape gardening is shown by the lack
of interest in the writings of the greatest of landscape
gardeners, Whately, Repton, and Prince Pickler.
The latter has not even been translated into English;
Whately has been read in no new edition for more than
one hundred years, and Repton, after almost an equal
length of time, has been published by Houghton & Mif-
flin in an edition by John Nolen, a well-known land-
scape architect in Boston, Massachusetts, who has
written an illuminating introduction of Repton’s work,
including his sketches and hints and his theory and
practice of landscape gardening. The writings of
Olmsted & Vaux, the designers of Central Park, New
York City, whose pronouncements on the subject of
landscape gardening are of the highest value, have
never been collected from their reports, letters, and
addresses. William A. Stiles, editor of the Garden and
Forest Magazine, 1888-1898, where he frequently dis-
cusses with comprehension, and great literary skill,

Preface ix

the fundamental principles of landscape gardening, is
almost unknown to the public.

It will be found that the contents of some of the
chapters deal with landscape gardening in ways that
will be liable to give a slight shock to those who have
the ordinary conception of the art. For example, the
treatment of grading, of planting, of roads and paths,
rocks, islands, water, the poetry of parks, the proper
function of gardens may seem to go somewhat far in
taking what might be termed novel views of the sub-
ject, in giving ‘‘a touch more than the maximum.” It is
for that reason, chiefly, that many quotations are used in
order to prove that the ideas presented have the support
of competent authorities both ancient and modern; and
the reference to models of standard excellence in many
periods and countries has a similar purpose in view.

My own contribution to the present work has been
largely limited to the collection of these citations and
references made in the text and footnotes, and such
definition and explanation of ideas presented as will
tend to simplify their proper understanding. I have
endeavoured to show that landscape gardening has been
and is the result of an evolution and growth of an impor-
tant art, based on the deepest instincts of human nature.

Above most other arts, landscape architecture is
based on nature, and my own particular function in this
book I conceive to be to point out how and why the art
should be practised on natural lines, and something of
the degree to which this course, in spite of much seeming
divergence, is supported by well-recognized authorities.

x Pretace

It has been, moreover, my object to show that the
evolution of growing things, the development of dis-
tinct types of effect, although greatly varied, can be, and
should be, made to bear the stamp alike of definite
though perhaps instinctive ideas throughout the vari-
ous kinds of landscape gardening, whether it. be a park,
an estate, a village garden, or a window box. It should
make a fine picture no matter how small or how large.

The growth or evolution of landscape gardening has
been more than a mere series of individual experiences,
for ‘experience is extended and enriched by, we have to
remember, not merely and primarily knowledge. We
begin by trying and end by knowing. Practice is the
parent of theory and realization the surest verification.”
Moreover, ‘‘evolution, strictly taken, presupposes a
fundamental unity in which all that is eventually evolved
or disclosed was involved or contained from the first.
The whole is more than the sum of the parts, that is the
character of evolution. A unity that is not more than
its constituent elements is no real unity at all. Experi-
ence furnishes instances of this at every turn. The
timbre of a musical note is more than the sum of its
constituent tones: a melody, more than the sum of its
separate notes”; again: ‘‘if the whole be a tree, it may
be true that one fails to see the trunk because of the
branches, and yet it is from the trunk that all these
spring.”’*

It is for this reason that the past of landscape garden-
ing is so fruitful of valuable suggestions for the present.

* Realm of Ends, Prof. James Ward, pp. 100, 101, 104.

Pretace xi

The past is not only valuable as a lesson with which
to correct and enrich present-day practice, but because
it will help to develop, or release perhaps, germs of
thought, which will eventually correct and enrich all
we learn in the future.

My own experience has had considerable scope in
the way of working out landscape gardening problems
on parks and estates with Mr. Calvert Vaux, and by
myself, not only in Central Park, New York, but in dif-
ferent estates and parks of America. I have naturally
studied many examples both at home and abroad.
Nevertheless, I have cited few examples of my own work
and have taken the liberty of devoting the greater part
of the book to extracts from writings of unquestioned
authority in support of my ideas, hoping thereby to
more firmly establish the art of landscape architecture
in the dignified position it already occupies in the
brotherhood of artistic professions.

It has been also recognized throughout the book that
the object sought is the exposition of landscape-gar-
dening doctrine and different methods of laying out
grounds. The chapter at the end of the book is only
intended to give practical suggestions in regard to the
use of a certain number of choice groups of plants.

My endeavour has been to make my ideas clear, and -
this is one reason I have used so many and lengthy
quotations, expecting that by the use of the phrases of
masters of the language as well as of the art of land-
scape architecture I might attain a better degree of
success. Master of the art of eloquent and lucid lan-

xii Preface

guage I donot claim to be, but I feel that, as a landscape
architect, in advocating important landscape-garden-
ing principles and ideas I have a message to deliver
and therefore propose to convey it to the best of my
ability, hoping that I may be able to impart a reason-
able portion of my meaning to the reader.

My thanks are due to Mr. August F. Jaccaci, Mr.
William B. Van Ingen, and Dr. Fred Hovey Allen for
the trouble they have taken to assist me by means of
criticisms and valuable suggestions. Mr. W. W. Cook
was the first to encourage me to undertake the work of
writing this book and he has made many suggestions,
the value of which I realize and appreciate. The
compilation of authorities by Albert Forbes Sieveking
has also afforded me assistance. As far as possible
without unduly overloading the text I have endeav-
oured to give credit to the authorities from whom I
have quoted. I wish to express my appreciation of the
courtesy and kindness which I have received from the
officials of the New York Public Library and from those
of the Library of Columbia University. I cannot close
without again referring to the inspiration of the late
Calvert Vaux, the influence of whose ideas on land-
scape architecture has been and always will be for me
a potent stimulus to seek to do only good work in
the practice of my profession and to arrive at sound
solutions of the various problems of the art.

S. P.

New York, January, 1915.

CONTENTS

PREFACE. : : . : , : . iit
I.—INTRODUCTION . ‘ ; : : ‘ I
II.—Tue LayInG out oF A PARK oR ESTATE. 40
III.—SizE AND EXTENT OF AN ESTATE , s. GF
IV.—ENCLOSURES . , : é i - QI
V.—LocaTION oF BUILDINGS . ; ; - 102
VI.—Grass SPACES. : . , ; . 120
VII.—Roaps AND PATHS . ‘ 3 é . 132
VITI.—WatTeR . : . : ‘ ‘ . 143
IX.—IsLanDs . ; : ; ; : . 163
X.—Rocks . : . : , : . 170
XI.—GRADING AND SHAPING GROUNDS. . 184
XII.—PLANTATIONS . . : : : - 200
XITI.—MAINTENANCE . : : : ‘ - 226

XIV.—GARDENS : : “ ‘ i . 238

xili

xiv Contents

XV.—PUBLIC PARKS.
XVI.—CHOICE TREES AND SHRUBS
BIBLIOGRAPHY

INDEX ‘1 : F 7 :

PAGE

264
305
337
343

ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE
THE TREATMENT OF THE NATURAL WOOD-LAWN
AND THE BROOK, BY THE OWNER, ON THE
EsTtaTE OF JoHN STAPLES, Eso., NEWBURGH,
N.Y... : ; : : . Frontispiece

A JAPANESE GARDEN. . 10

From a Photograph by Underwood & eee ee
duced by Permission.)

Mount VERNON, THE HOME oF GEORGE WASHING-
TON : : ae ; P : . 58

Reproduced by Permission of Doubleday, Page & Co.
From a Photograph by Arthur G. Eldredge.

Bosca, OR GROVE, ON A PLACE NEAR ELMSFORD, N. Y. 58
Photograph by William J. Wilson.

THE LAWN IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE, IN THE PARK OF
MUSKAU, AS ORIGINALLY LaID OUT ‘ : , 60
Taken from an Old Print.

THE SAME LAWN IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE, IN THE
ParK oF Muskau AS REDESIGNED BY PRINCE
PUCKLER . : : ‘ ‘ ‘ : 60

Redrawn from an Old Print.

A VIEW OF THE RESIDENCE AND THE DRIVE AT
SKYLANDS—A CouNnTRY ESTATEIN NEW JERSEY . 70
From a Photograph ‘by William J. Wilson.
KV

xvi Tlustrations

PAGE

STRATHFIELD SAYE, THE ESTATE OF THE DUKE OF

WELLINGTON, ENGLAND. : : . - 72
From a Photograph by Brown Bros. (Reproduced by Per-
mission.)
A Country HoME NEAR ELmsrForp, N. Y. ; . 74

From a Photograph by William J. Wilson.

A DISTANT VISTA IN THE PARK OF PRINCE PUCKLER
VON MUSKAU, SILESIA, GERMANY ; 80
From a Photograph by Thomas W. Sears, pietiens: R. L

THE GATES OF THE HIGHLANDS OF THE HUDSON
RIVER FROM WEsT Point, N. Y. F ; - 90
From a Photograph by William Hale Kirk.

GOETHE’S COTTAGE AT WEIMAR : : - 98
Redrawn from an Old Print.

A HoNEYSUCKLE HEDGE GROWING ON WIRE MESH
AND [RON Posts 3 : ‘ . : - 98

A GARDENER’S COTTAGE ATSKYLANDS - . 102
From a Photograph by William J. Wilson.

WINDSOR CASTLE, ENGLAND . : ‘ ‘ . 102
From an Old Print.

THE OPEN LAWN NEAR THE OBELISK AND THE EAST
DRIVE, NEAR THE ART MusEuM, CENTRAL PARK,
New York City : : ° . 120

From a Photograph by William Hale Kirke,

A DIAGRAM SHOWING THE PLANTING SCHEME FOR
TREES AND SHRUBS . : : : : - 134
From Piackler’s Atlas, 1834.

A DitaGRAM SHOWING DIFFERENT ARRANGEMENT OF
PATHS ; . : ; x 4p “BG
From Puckler’s es ris:

Mlustrations

A WINDING RoAD IN THE TROSACHS
From a Photograph.

A STRAIGHT DRIVE ON THE EAST SIDE OF THE RESER-
VOIR BETWEEN 86TH AND 94TH STREETS, CENTRAL
Park, New York City

LovER’s LANE, A WINDING WALK PARALLEL WITH
THE SOUTH SIDE OF THE SOUTH RESERVOIR,
CENTRAL PARK, NEw York CITY

From a Photograph by William Hale Kirk.

AN ARTIFICIAL LAKE ATSKYLANDS . :
From a Photograph by William J. Wilson.

ON THE SHORE OF THE HARLEM MERE, CENTRAL
Park, NEw York CIty

From a Photograph by William Hale Kirk.

A VIEW OF THE RIVER AS ARRANGED AND IMPROVED
BY PRINCE PUCKLER VON MUSKAU, IN HIS PARK
AT MuSKAU, SILESIA, GERMANY

Redrawn from an Old Print.

THE BOUNDARY FENCE IN THE PARK OF PRINCE
PUCcKLER VON MuskKAu : ° é .
Redrawn from an Old Print.

AN ARTIFICIAL LAKE BORDERED BY RHODODENDRONS,
IRISES, AND OTHER WATER PLANTS AT Hot LEa,
THE EsTATE OF PROFESSOR CHARLES A. SARGENT,
BROOKLINE, Mass. . : A 3

From Photograph by Thomas E. Marr & Son. (Repro-
duced by Permission.)

Tue CASTLE AND THE MOAT, AND A VIEW OF THE
PARK, ON THE ESTATE OF PRINCE PUCKLER VON
Muskavu . : : P : 8 : 3

From a Photograph by Thomas W. Sears.

Xvii
PAGE
140

142

144

146

148

152

158

160

XVili Tlustrations

A CASTLE, LAKE, AND Moat ON THE ESTATE OF
PriIncE PUCKLER VON MusSKAU
From a Photograph by Thomas W. Sears, Beata R. L

THe NaturaL History MuszEuM IN MANHATTAN
SQUARE, AND IN CONNECTION WITH IT A POOL AND
BRIDGE IN CENTRAL Park, NEw York City

ParK TREATMENT OF WATER IN THE NEIGHBOUR-
HOOD OF DURHAM CATHEDRAL, ENGLAND
From a Photograph by F. Hovey Allen.

A GRANITE WALL MADE OF LARGE BLOCKS OF STONE
WITH INTERSTICES FILLED WITH EARTH AND ROCK
PLaNtTs. ON THE ESTATE oF W. W. Cook Esa.
Port CHESTER, N.Y . : ;

From a Photograph by William Hale Kirk.

THE Rustic BRIDGE ADJOINING THE CAVE IN THE
RAMBLE, CENTRAL PARK, New York City .
From a Photograph by William Hale Kirk.

THE RoucH STONE BRIDGE, OVER AN ARM OF THE
PoND IN CENTRAL PARK, NEAR 59TH STREET AND
5TH AVENUE, NEw York CITY

From a Photograph by William Hale Kirk.

A BRIDGE At LEATHERTON, DARTMOOR, ENGLAND

From a Photograph Taken from Garden and Forest. (By
Permission.)

A RouGu STONE BRIDGE IN THE PARK ON THE ESTATE
OF PRINCE PUCKLER VON MusKau .
From a Photograph by Thomas W. Sears, eee R. I.

THE WATERFALL NEAR THE Locu, CENTRAL PARK,
NEw York CIty ‘ 3 é .

THE WATERFALL SOUTH OF, AND NEAR, THE BOULDER
BRIDGE, CENTRAL Park, NEw York CITY

PAGE

160

162

164

174

180

182

184

186

Mlustrations

A View oF THE NortH MEapow, witH A NoTE-
WORTHY VISTA ON EITHER SIDE OF A SMALL GROUP
OF TREES, CENTRAL PARK, NEw YorxK CIty .

From a Photograph by William Hale Kirk.

A VIEW OF THE Lawn oF J. G. AGAR Eso., PREMIUM
Point, NEw RocHELLE, N. Y.

A DiaGRAM SHOWING ARRANGEMENT OF TREES AND
SHRUBS : ;
From Puckler’s Atlas, 1834.

DIAGRAMS SHOWING ARRANGEMENTS OF RIVERS,
LAKES, AND ISLANDS .
From Pickler’s Atlas, 1834.

DIAGRAMS SHOWING ARRANGEMENT OF TREES AND
SHRUBS 3 :
From Pickler’s Atlas, 1834.

A DIAGRAM SHOWING DIFFERENT ARRANGEMENTS OF
ISLANDS ‘ ?
From Piickler’s Atlas, 1834.

A DIAGRAM SHOWING ARRANGEMENT OF SHRUBS AND
HERBACEOUS PLANTS
From Piickler’s Atlas, 1834.

THE UMPIRE ROCK AND THE BALL GrouNnD, LOWER
END oF CENTRAL PARK, NEAR 59TH STREET AND 8TH
AVENUE, NEw YorK City

From a Photograph by William Hale Kirk.

A PICTURESQUE VIEW IN THE RAMBLE, CENTRAL
Park, New York City . : : F :
From a Photograph by William Hale Kirk.

THE ARRANGEMENT OF THE BEDS OF FOLIAGE PLANTS
suCH AS CANNAS, COLEUSES, AND GERANIUMS

xix

PAGE

202

204

206

232

234

XX Tlustrations

AROUND THE ARSENAL, CENTRAL Park, NEw YORK
City

From a Been by vo Charles ‘Scribner’ 's Sink (Re-
produced by Permission.)

ANOTHER VIEW OF THE ARRANGEMENT OF THE BEDS
OF FOLIAGE PLANTS

From a Photograph by Messrs. Charles Saban Sead
(Reproduced by Permission.)

THE BoBoLt GARDENS, FLORENCE, WITH A VIEW OF
THE CITY ‘ :

From a Photograph Used by ee of William E. Bliz-
Zard, L. A.

THE VILLA D’EstTE, TIVOLI, WITH THE CASINO AT
THE LEFT, JUST OUT OF SIGHT

From a Photograph Used by Permission of William E, Bliz-
Zard, L. A.

THE FoRMAL GARDEN ON THE ESTATE OF R. BEALE,
Esqg:, NEwWBURGH, N.Y : . é .

AN OLD-FASHIONED GARDEN BELONGING TO Mrs.
BENEDICT, UNION COLLEGE, SCHENECTADY, N. VY
From a Photograph.

THE Bow BRIDGE OVER THE LAKE IN CENTRAL Park,
NEw York CIty
From a Photograph by William Hale Kirk.

THE BOULDER BRIDGE NEAR THE HARLEM MERE,
NortH END oF CENTRAL Park, New York City.
From a Photograph by William Hale Kirk.

THE PLAN OF PARK TREATMENT OF THE TERRITORY
SITUATED BETWEEN THE CAPITOL GROUNDS AND THE
WASHINGTON MONUMENT AND PENNSYLVANIA AND
DELAWARE AVENUES, WASHINGTON, D.C.

From the Author’s Design.

PAGE

240

250

254

256

262

292

294

302

Tlustrations xxi

PAGE

BrrcH Woops ON THE EsTATE OF ELON H. Hooker,
EsqQ., GREENWICH, CONN. r ‘i F . 312

From a Photograph by Miss Frances Benjamin Johnston—
Mrs. Mattie Edwards Hewitt. (Reproduced by Permis-
sion.)

A PICTURESQUE EFFECT OF THE NATIVE DoGwoop,
(CORNUS FLORIDA) ON THE ESTATE OF R. W. DE-
FOREST, EsQ., CoLD SPRING, LONG ISLAND . - 314

From a Photograph by Miss Frances Benjamin Johnston—
Mrs. Mattie Edwards Hewitt. (Reproduced by Per-
mission.)

The
Art of Landscape Architecture

I
INTRODUCTION

as AVING studied carefully the works and the
method of working of the Creator, the de-

signer of a landscape can bring into successful

play the great forces of nature, and, subordinating
his own personality, can secure for his work an
undying vitality, which can only follow from such a
direct reliance on the resources of the Infinite. In
every difficult work the key-note of success lies, of
course, in the idea of thorough subordination; but it
must be an intelligent penetrative subordination, an
industrious, ardently artistic, and sleeplessly active
ministry that is constantly seeking for an opportunity
to do some little thing to help forward the great result
on which nature is lavishing its powers of creation.”*

* Concerning Lawn Planting, Calvert Vaux.
I

2 Landscape Architecture

“All man’s activity rests upon a given natural
order; his work can only succeed when it strikes out
in the direction prescribed by nature; it becomes
empty and artificial if it tries to sever its connexions
or to act in opposition to nature.’’?

“Let man turn where he will, undertake no matter
what, he will ever come back again to that path that
nature has mapped out for him.”

When Goethe wrote the above words he doubtless
knew Prince Piickler’s great work on landscape garden-
ing based upon his treatment of his estate at Muskau,
for he has left on record a most appreciative estimate of
Prince Ptickler’s ability and genius.

As he paced the garden walks with the Prince whose
life had been devoted to landscape-gardening art, the
recollection of these words he had penned would have
seemed doubly true to him. Something also like the
quotation, ‘Time is not able to bring forth new truths,
but only an unfolding of a timeless truth,” may well
have been remarked by either of these two men, when
the Prince told his companion his experience in travel-
ling in many countries. How he had found the best in
England, and yet perhaps quite as good here and there,
elsewhere, and how everywhere he found the nearer he
kept to nature the nearer he was to the true ideal of
landscape art. We can imagine his relating how he
revelled in an old rose garden of Damascus full of

tRudolph Eucken’s Problem of Human Life.

Introduction 3

grace and charm and thus described in Eéthen by
Kinglake:

“Wild as the highest woodland of a deserted
home in England is the sumptuous Garden of Da-
mascus. Forest trees tall and stately enough, if
you could see their lofty crests, yet lead a bustling
life of it below, with their branches struggling against
strong numbers of bushes and wilful shrubs. The
shade upon the earth is black as night. High, high
above your head, and on every side down to the
ground, the thicket is hemmed in and choked up by
the interlacing boughs that droop with the weight of
roses, and load the slow air with their damask breath.
The rose trees which I saw were all of the kind we
call damask—they grow to an immense height and
size. There are no other flowers. Here and there
are patches of ground made clear from the cover and
these are either carelessly planted with some common
and useful vegetable, or left free to the wayward ways
of nature, and bear rank weeds moist looking and cool
to your eyes, and refreshing the sense with their
earthy and bitter fragrance. There is a lane opened
through the thicket, so broad in some places that you
can pass along side by side—in some so narrow (the
shrubs are for ever encroaching) that you ought, if
you can, to go on the first, and hold back the bough
of the rose tree. And through this wilderness there
tumbles a loud rushing stream, which is halted at last
in the lowest corner of the garden and then tossed up

4 Landscape Arcbitecture

in a fountain by the side of a simple alcove. This
isall. Never for an instant will the people of Damas-
cus attempt to separate the idea of bliss from these
wild gardens and rushing waters.”

At the same time Prince Pickler would probably
remark on the trim artificiality and formalism of Ver-
sailles, and of even the Bois de Boulogne, which many
years afterwards Napoleon III asked him to treat
professionally. i

Forget it if we will, and despise it as we may, in
spite of our seeking after the striking and unusual, there
is in the minds of most of us an instinctive love of the
natural and simple. Often as we go about our duties
and pleasures, there are bits of simple natural scenery
which, if we think a moment, we will find most agree-
able. These sensations are not necessarily the result
of special knowledge. We like these scenes because
the mind is constituted to like them. Doubtless, more-
over, this appreciation of such scenes has always been
consciously or unconsciously felt by intelligent beings
whether they are wild or cultivated, provided they are
not merely imitative, that is provided they are de-
veloped on natural lines.

“An imitation of nature, however successful,”
says Calvert Vaux, “is not art; and the purpose
to imitate nature, or to produce an effect which shall
seem to be natural, and therefore interesting, is
not sufficient for success in the art of lawn planting,
which depends on a happy combination of many

Introduction 5

circumstances that nature, unassisted, is not likely
to bring about.” j

It is also time that we in these modern days learn that
we have not been the first to develop a genuine and
sound instinct in landscape gardening. The Chinese
had it highly developed in their own peculiar style
2600 B.C., and of the Japanese the same may be said,
although their ideas are different and not so old, and in
a way not so original, having been derived from China
and then transfused with the characteristic Japanese
genius. They have that quality that persistently re-
minds one in a remote and miniature way of the best
park designs of all countries.

The Hanging Gardens of Nebuchadnezzar are an-
other instance of this ancient love of nature. They
have been identified by explorers and found to be of
such great size, as shown by their foundations, that
they might readily support a replica of the natural hill
or mountain which the monarch is said to have had
fashioned at the whim of a homesick favourite who he
had brought from Iran. Also in the garden at Damas-
cus to-day we find a type of landscape gardening full of
natural grace and charm built on good artistic lines of
their kind, and which, in accordance with the unchange-
able habit of the East, doubtless differs little from that
of the Garden of Eden.

The primitive ideas of the savage also have a certain
element of natural charm and evince fundamental con-
ceptions of a sort of landscape gardening. John La

6 Dandscape Zrchitecture

Farge, than whom no one had a keener instinct for good
art, noted this during his visit to the Fiji Islands.

All through the Egyptian, Greek, and Roman times,
however, an iron-bound, rigid theory of design seems
to have dominated landscape gardening. Nero and
Pliny could and did locate their villas in romantic
spots, but the villas themselves were designed with
grounds about them artificial and stiff, though there
were in some instances trees and shrubs and lawns at
a little distance so arranged as to be not entirely devoid
of the charm of free nature.

“Moreover Nero turned the ruins of his country to
his private advantage and built a house the orna-
ments of which were not miracles of gems and gold,
now used in vulgar luxuries, but lawns and lakes,
and after the manner of a desert, here groves and
there open spaces and prospects; the masters and
centurions being Severus and Celer, whose genius
and boldness could attempt by Art what Nature had
denied and deceive with princely force. . . .

“His Golden House, in a park stretching from the
Palatine to the heights of the Esquiline, was on
a scale of more than oriental magnificence. At
last the master of the world was properly lodged.
With colonnades three miles long, with its lakes
and pastures and sylvan glades, it needed only a
second Nero in Otho to dream of adding to its
splendour.” *

t Tacitus, Ann., C. 31.

Mntroduction 7

“My villa is so advantageously situated that it
commands a full view of all the country round, yet
you approach it by so insensible a rise that you find
yourself upon an eminence without perceiving you
ascended.’’?

Quoting from a letter of Apollinaris translated by
Sir Henry Wotton the following words are used:

“First I must note a certain contrariety between
building and gardening for as Fabrics should be
regular so Gardens should be irregular, or at least
cast in a very wild regularity. To exemplify my
conceit I have seen a garden in a manner, perhaps,
incomparable. The first access was by a walk like a
Terrace from whence might be taken a general view
of the whole plot below; but rather in a delightful
confusion than with any plain distinction of the
pieces. From this the beholder descending many
steps was afterwards conveyed again by several
mountings and valings to various entertainments of
his sent and sight, which I shall not need to describe
for that were poetical, let me note this, that everyone
of these diversities was as if he had been magically
transported into a new garden.”

Down through the middle ages the classical or Roman
spirit of formality dominates everything that can be
possibly termed landscape gardening until the arrival of
its late Renaissance in the seventeenth century.

* Pliny the Younger,

8 Landscape Architecture

It is a strange fact that about this time (1690) the
Jesuit Father Attiret, with his companion missionaries
working in China, began writing home about the won-
derful gardens in that country, where the imitation of
nature seemed to be the dominating factor of their
design. The Jesuit Father wrote about the end of the
seventeenth century. Sir William Chambers, quot-
ing him in 1777, says that in one of the Imperial Gar-
dens near Pekin, was an imitation of the great city of
Pekin, and thus describes their landscape gardening:

“The Chinese Gardeners very seldom finish any of
their walks en cul de Sac, carefully avoiding all
unpleasant disappointments. In straight roads of
smaller dimension the Chinese very artfully imitate
the irregular workings of nature, for although the
general direction be a straight line, yet they carefully
avoid all appearance of stiffness or formality by plant-
ing some of the trees out of the common line; by
inclining some of them out of the upright, or by
employing different species of plants and placing
them at irregular distances, with their borders
sometimes bare, and at other times covered with
honeysuckle and sweet briar, or surrounded with
underwood.”

Then, just as the same idea often comes to several
people independently and without the knowledge of
the other, this natural style of landscape gardening, the
true art as now fully recognized, suddenly flowered.

Tutroduction 9

At the same time Koempfer the Dutch botanist and
traveller thus wrote home about Japanese gardens:

“A Japanese Garden must be at least 30 feet
square and consist of the following essential parts.

“tst: The ground is partly covered with roundish
stones—the large being laid in the middle as a path
to walk on without injuring the gravel, the whole in
a seeming but ingenious confusion.

“and: Some few flower bearing plants planted
confusedly though not without some certain rules.
Amidst the plants stands sometimes a Saguer as
they call it, a strange outlandish tree, sometimes
a dwarf tree or two.

“23rd: A small rock or hill in the corner of the
garden made in imitation of nature curiously adorned
with birds and insects cast in brass and placed
between the stones, sometimes the model of a temple
stands upon it, built, as for the sake of the prospect
they generally are, on a remarkable eminence on the
borders of a precipice. Often a small rivulet runs
down the stones with an agreeable noise, the whole in
due proportion and as nearly as possible resembling
nature.

“ath: A small bush or wood on the side of the
hill for which the gardeners choose such trees as
will grow close to one another and plant and cut
them according to their largeness, nature and the
colour of their flowers and leaves, so as to make the
whole very accurately imitate a natural wood or forest.

10 Landscape Architecture

“sth: A cistern or pond as mentioned above, with
alive fish kept in it and surrounded with proper
plants, that is such as love the watery soil, and
would lose their beauty and greenness if planted on
dry ground. It is a particular profession to lay out
these gardens and keep them so curiously and nicely
as they ought to be. Nor doth it require less skill
and ingenuity to contrive and fit out the rocks and
hills above mentioned.”

Milton a little earlier wrote a description of the
Garden of Eden in Paradise Lost, which distinctly
breathed the modern spirit of art, and was so graphic
that Walter Bagehot asserts that “‘youcould draw a map
of the description.”

Of Eden, where delicious Paradise,
Now nearer, crowns with her enclosure green,
As with a rural mound, the champain head
Of a steep wilderness, whose hairy sides
With thicket overgown, grotesque and wild,
Access denied; and overhead up grew
Impenetrable height of lofty shade,
Cedar, and Pine, and Fir, and branching palm,
A sylvan scene, and, as the ranks ascend
Shade above shade, a woody theatre
Of stateliest view. Yet higher than their tops
The verdurous wall of Paradise upsprung.

In this pleasant soil
His far more pleasant garden God ordained.

Flowers worthy of Paradise which not nice Art

A Japanese Garden.
From a Photograph by Underwood & Underwood. (Reproduced by Permission.)

Introduction 11

In beds and curious knots, but Nature boon
Poured forth profuse on hill and dale and plain.

A happy rural seat of various view:
Groves whose rich trees wept odorous gums and balm.

Betwixt them lawns, or level downs, and flocks
Grazing the tender herb.

Another side, umbrageous grots and caves

Of cool recess, o’er which the mantling vine
Lays forth her purpling grape, and gently creeps

Luxuriant; meanwhile murmuring waters fall
Down the slope hills dispersed, or in a lake,

That to the fringed bank with myrtle crowned
Her crystal mirror holds, unite their streams.*

By the middle of the eighteenth century the flower
of this Renaissance of natural landscape gardening was
in full bloom. Thomas Whately, who died in 1772,

writes thus:

“The English in such a situation attempt to humour
nature; the French in such a situation attempt to
hide her.”

And Abbé Delille about the same time taught as
sound ideas of the art as could be found in the most
modern books on the subject:

“Rapin has sung Gardens of the regular style,
and the monotony attached to the great regularity
has passed from the subject to the poem. The
t Paradise Lost, Book IV.

12 Landscape Architecture

imagination naturally a friend to liberty here walks
painfully in the involved design of the parterre, anon
expires at the end of a long straight alley. Every-
where it regrets the slightly disordered beauty and
the piquant irregularity of Nature. Finally he has
only treated the mechanical part of the art of Gar-
dening; he has entirely forgotten the most essential
part, which seeks in our sensations, in our feeling,
the source of the pleasures which country scenes
and the beauties of nature perfected by art occasion.
In a word his gardens are those of the architect; the
others are those of the philosopher, the painter, the
poet.”

Horace Walpole declared that Mr. Pope undoubtedly
contributed to form Kent’s taste, and wrote as follows:

“At that moment appeared Kent; painter enough
to taste the charms of landscape, bold and opinion-
ative enough to dare and dictate, and born with
a genius to strike out a great system from the twi-
light of imperfect essays. He leaped the fence and
saw that all nature wasa garden. He felt a delicious
contrast of hill and valley changing imperceptibly
into each other, tasted the beauty of the gentle
swell and concave scoop, and remarks how loose
groves crowned an easy eminence with happy orna-
ment, and while they called in the distant view
between their graceful stems, removed and extended
the perspective by delusive comparison. Thus the
pencil of his imagination bestowed all the arts of

Introduction 13

the landscape on the scenes he handled. The great
principles on which he worked were perspective, and
light and shade. Groups of trees broke too uniform
or too extensive a lawn; evergreens and woods were
opposed to the glare of the champaign, and where
the view was less fortunate, or so much exposed as to
be beheld at once, he blotted out some of the thick
shades to divide it into variety, or to make the richest
scene more enchanting by reserving it to a further
advance of the spectator’s step. Thus selecting
favourite objects, and veiling deformities by screens
of plantations, sometimes allowing the crudest waste
to add its foil to the richest theatre, he realized the
compositions of the greatest masters in painting.
Where objects were wanting to animate his horizon,
his taste as an architect would bestow immediate
termination. His buildings, his seats, and his temple
were more the work of his pencil than his com-
passes.”

These landscape-gardening authorities in the eight-
eenth century had an influence which was more potent
than that of any similar authority at the present time.
Naturally there were fewer places in a smaller popu-
lation, but comparatively speaking, people apparently
took more interest in their country places then, than
they do now, chiefly perhaps because they spent a
far greater portion of their time in the country, and had
fewer subjects of interest elsewhere and less facilities
afforded them for travelling and living in other parts

14 Landscape Architecture

of the globe. It was moreover a great literary age, and
writers and poets like Pope, Walpole, Shenstone, Gray,
Cowper, and Addison all wrote enthusiastically and
understandingly on landscape gardening. For instance
take the following examples from Shenstone’s Essay on
Landscape Gardening:

“Ground should be considered with a view to its
original character whether it be the grand, the
savage, etc.”

“The eye should follow down upon the water.”

“No straight lines.”

“Vistas should look natural, a kind of balance in
nature.”

“Art should never be allowed to set a foot in
the province of nature, otherwise than clandestinely
and by night.”

“Hedges appearing as such are universally bad.
They discover art in nature’s province.”

“Art indeed is often requisite to collect and
epitomize the beauties of nature, but should never
be suffered to put her mark on them.”

“In gardening it is no small matter to enforce
either grandeur or beauty by surprise,—for instance,
by abrupt transition from their contraries,—but to
lay stress on surprise only, for example on the surprise
occasioned by a ha-ha (or ditch), without including
any nobler purpose is a symptom of bad taste and a
violent fondness for mere concetto.”

Another authority writes that Shenstone allowed the

Introduction 15

charms of the villa to overpower those of the furze
and rock both in his grounds and in his poems, and re-
marks that one may smile at the following lines:

“But oh! the transport most allied to song
In some fair villa’s peaceful bound
To catch soft hints from Nature’s tongue
And bid Arcadia bloom around.”

Alexander Pope says:
“Consult the Genius of the place in all.”

Delille writes:

“Avant tout, connissez votre site et de lieu Adorez
le génie et consultez le Dieu.”’

Joseph Addison in The Tatler, No. 218, speaks thus:

“Writers who have given us an account of China
tell us the inhabitants of that country laugh at the
plantations of our Europeans, which are laid out
by the rule and line; because they say any one may
place trees in equal rows and uniform figures. They
choose rather to show a genius in works of this nature,
and therefore always conceal the art by which they
direct themselves. They have a word, it seems, in
their language by which they express the particular
beauty of a plantation that thus strikes the imagin-
ation at first sight without discovering what it is
that has so agreeable an effect.”

Montesquieu in his Essay on Taste has this to say:

“Tt is then the pleasure which an object gives

16 Landscape Architecture

to us which carries us on to another; it is for this
reason that the soul is always seeking new things and
is never at rest. Thus you will always be able to
please the soul, whenever you show it many things,
or more than it hoped to see.

“Tn this way may be explained the reason why we
take pleasure in seeing a perfectly regular garden,
and yet are pleased to see a wild and rural spot; the
same cause produces these effects.

“As we like to see a large number of objects, we
would wish to extend our view, to be in several
places, traverse greater space; in short our soul
escapes from bounds, and wishes, so to speak, to
widen the sphere of its presence; and derives great
pleasure from a distant view. But how to effect this?
In town our view is confused by houses, in the
country by a thousand obstacles; we can scarcely
see three or four trees. Art comes to our assistance
and discovers to us nature which hides itself;
we love art and we love it better than nature, that is
nature concealed from our eyes; but when we find
beautiful situations, when our unfettered view can
see in the distance meadows, streams, hills, and these
dispositions are, so to speak, expressly created, it is
enchanted otherwise than when it sees the gardens of
Le Notre; because nature does not copy itself, whereas
art always bears its own likeness. That is why in
painting we prefer a landscape to the plan of the most
beautiful garden in the world, it is because painting
only chooses nature where it is beautiful, where the

Introduction 17

sight can extend to a distance and to its full scope,
where it is varied, where it can be viewed with
pleasure.”

Most of the prominent men of the day were pro-
foundly and intelligently interested in landscape garden-
ing. Even the monarch of the literary world, at that
time, Doctor Samuel Johnson, although a purely city
man, hating the country, was obliged to pay attention
to landscape gardening and give it a whimsical and
grudging criticism and approval.

France in a less degree, in the midst of the show
and display of its decadent civilization doing most of its
landscape gardening after the style of Le Notre, still
gave this Renaissance of landscape gardening a pro-
minent place in its life. Rousseau, the most profound
literary influence of the century, made the spirit of
the natural style the dominant note in his philosophy,
and actually inspired the Marquis Girardon to create
through the skill of M. Morel the great estate of Er-
menouville, a well-known example of the modern
development of the art.

Arthur Young, writing at the time, thus describes
this place:

“You reach Ermenouvelle through another part of
the Prince of Condé’s forest which joins the orna-
mented grounds of the Marquis Girardon.

““We were first shown that which is so famous
for the small Isle of Poplars, in which reposes all
that was mortal of that extraordinary and inimitable

18 Landscape Architecture

writer. He was afterwards moved to the Pantheon.
This scene is as well imagined and well executed as
could be wished. The water is between forty and
fifty acres; hills rise from it on both sides, and it is
sufficiently closed in at both ends by a tall wood
to render it sequestered. The remains of departed
genius stamp a melancholy idea, from which de-
coration would depart too much, and accordingly
there is little. We viewed the scene in a still even-
ing. The declining sun threw a lengthened shade on
the lake and silence seemed to repose on its unruffled
bosom; as some poet says, I forget who.

“The other lake is larger; it fills the bottom of
the vale, around which are some rough, rocky, wild,
and barren sand hills; either broken or spread with
heath; in some places wooded, and in others scattered
thinly with junipers. The character of the scene is
that of wild undecorated nature, in which the hand
of art was meant to be concealed as much as was con-
sistent with ease of access. The last scene is that of
a river, which is made to wind through a lawn, reced-
ing from the house, and broken by wood: the ground
is not fortunate; it is too dead a flat, and nowhere
viewed to much advantage.”

About the same time we find a part of the Versailles
gardens taking on the new form under the name of
Petit Trianon. Of this work Arthur Young writes:

“To Trianon to view the Queen’s Jardin Anglais.
I had a letter from Mons. Richard which procured

Introduction 19

admittance. It contains about I00 acres disposed
in the taste of what we read of in books of Chinese
Gardening whence it is supposed the English style
was taken. There is more of Sir William Chambers
here than of Mr. Brown, more effort than nature
—and more expense than taste. It is not easy to
conceive anything that art can introduce in a garden
that is not here; woods, rocks, lawns, lakes, rivers,
islands, grottoes, walks, temples, and even villages.
There are parts of the design very pretty, and well
executed. The only fault is too much crowding;
which has led to another, that of cutting the lawn by
too many gravel walks, an error to be seen in almost
every garden I have met with in France.”

Abbé Delille did his share in advancing the new ideas
which had already been advocated by Pére Huet and
Dufresny in the middle of the seventeenth century
before Addison or any of the English critics wrote on
the subject.

In his Huetiana (1722) Pierre Daniel Huet, Bishop
of Avranches, writes:

“Although natural beauties are preferable to
artistic ones, that is not the taste of this century.
Nothing pleases that is not costly. A fountain
issuing in great cascades from the foot of a rock
tumbling over a golden sand, the clearest and freshest
water in the world will not please the people at court
as much as a jet of foetid and muddy water drawn at
enormous cost from a frog marsh. A factitious

BDandscape Architecture

parterre composed of earth brought together accord-
ing to the plan of Monsieur Le Notre, having for its
whole decoration but a few rows of box which never
distinguish the seasons by change of colour, sur-
rounded by vast sanded alleys, very compact and
very bare; such a parterre forms the delight of polite
society. It leaves to small cits and peasants this
rustic lawn, this rural turf. It requires palisades
erected with the line, and at the point of the shears.
The green shades of those tufted birches and of those
great oaks which were found at the birth of time are
in bad taste and worthy of the grossness of our fathers.
Is not to think thus to prefer a painted face to the
natural colour of a beautiful countenance?

‘Paint on one side a fashionable garden and on
the other one of those beautiful landscapes in which
nature spreads her riches undisguised; one will
present a very tedious object, the other will charm
you by its delight. You will be tired of one at first
glance, you will never weary of looking at the other,
such is the force of nature to make itself beloved in
spite of the pilferings and deceits of art.

“‘T have no more approval of the gardens in fashion
than for iron screens (Clairvoies).”’

Of Charles Dufresny, 1648-1724, natural son of Henry

IV and a gardener’s daughter, soi-disant rival of Le
Notre, creator of the gardens of Mignaux near Poissy

and of the Abbé Pajot near Vincennes, a writer says:

“The first indications of the Jesuits of Chinese

Introduction 2i

gardens (1690) had struck his ardent and para-
doxical imagination. He loved to work upon an
unequal and irregular ground (Alphana). He
wanted obstacles to overcome, if there were none.
He raised a mountain on a plain. His style had
something of the modern English manner, but his
projects were rarely carried into execution. Gabriel
Thouin asserts (Plans raisonnée) that the first ex-
ample of modern landscape gardening was given
by Dufresny in the Fauborg St. Antoine. Du-
fresny was a man of ‘ideas,’ one of which Montes-
quieu adopted in his Lettres de Paysannes.”’

If Louis XIV had not thought the plans Dufresny
made for Versailles too expensive we might have had
something very different in spirit from that of Le
Notre’s final development.

In Germany about the middle of the eighteenth
century we find Hirschfeld who exhibits a knowledge
of the natural style and quotes predecessors who have
the same feelings. It is wonderful how quickly a new
and striking phase of art will all at once bud and come
into full flower. The germ of the idea may be almost
silently developing at a much earlier date as in the case
of Milton and Pére Huet, but the actual flower of
modern landscape gardening appears only in its full
beauty and perfection of artistic development in the
middle of the eighteenth century in the works of
Kent, Brown, and Humphrey Repton and soon after-
ward of Prince Pickler von Muskau.

22 Pandscape Architecture

Andrew Jackson Downing writes in 1844, in his
work on landscape gardening:

“Brown seems to have been a mannerist with so
little true sympathy with nature as to be the jest of
every succeeding generation—great and fashionable
as the fortune he amassed and the long list of royal
and noble places which he remodelled sufficiently
prove him to have been in his day. ‘Capability
Brown,’ as he was nicknamed, saw in every new
place great capabilities, but unfortunately his own
mind seems to have furnished but one model—a
round lake, a smooth bare lawn, a clump of trees, and
a boundary belt—which he expanded with few varia-
tions, to suit the compass of an estate of a thousand
acres, or a cottage with a few roods.”

Loudon says:

“The places he altered are beyond all reckoning.
Improvement was the fashion of the time, and there
was scarcely a country gentleman who did not, on
some occasion or other, consult the gardening idol
of the day. Mason the poet praises this artist and
Horace Walpole apologizes for not praising him.”

Here are some wise and sensible remarks found in
the writings of Humphrey Repton, about 1797:

“Tf it should appear that, instead of displaying
new doctrines or furnishing novel ideas, this volume
serves rather by a new method to elucidate old

Introduction 25

established principles, and to confirm long received
opinions, I can only plead in my excuse that true
taste, in every art, consists more in adapting tried
expedients to peculiar circumstances than in that
inordinate thirst after novelty, the characteristic of
uncultivated minds, which from the facility of in-
venting wild theories, without experience, are apt
to suppose that taste is displayed by novelty, genius
by innovation, and that every change must neces-
sarily tend to improvement.”

There may have been less perfection and variety of
finish in the use of trees and shrubs and flowers, and of
other details of the garden and lawn, but the actual art
work, the design, is hardly finer to-day than in the days
of Repton and Prince Pickler. It might be well to note
here that it is a mistake to think that a superior know-
ledge of plants gives a paramount advantage to the
landscape gardener. His main strength should pri-
marily lie in the exercise of the actual art, in the ability
to design a park or country place on principles funda-
mental and long recognized; this is where the highest
genius of landscape gardening should find scope.

Repton died in 1818, and in England he has had no
successor who has conquered such a comparatively wide
area of practice and such universal acceptance as an
authority. J.C. Loudon and Wm. Robinson have each
contributed in their own way much to the adoption of
sound views in landscape gardening. The same state-
ment applies to Andrew J. Downing, and to F. L. Olm-

24 Landscape Architecture

sted and Calvert Vaux to whom America owes Central
Park in New York, the finest example of park-making
in the world. The French are great gardeners, and of
landscape gardening principles and lore Edouard
André is a worthy and competent exponent, but
although the French generally make their parks nowa-
days in what is called the English style, which is really
only what is recognized as good landscape gardening
the world over, yet in spite of all, they sometimes allow
themselves to instinctively recall Le Notre and Ver-
sailles in their designs of parks and estates.
Victor Hugo writes in Odes and Ballads:

“Thought is a fruitful and virgin soil, whose
products must insist on growing in freedom, and,
so to speak, by chance, without arrangement, with-
out being drilled into knots in one of Le Notre’s classi-
cal gardens, or the flowers of language in a treatise
on rhetoric. Let it not, however, be supposed that
this freedom must beget disorder; quite the reverse.
Let us expand our idea. Compare for an instant a
royal garden of Versailles, well levelled, well kept,
well swept, well raked, well gravelled, quite full of
little cascades, little basins, little groves, bronze
tritons in ceremonious dalliance with oceans pumped
up at great cost from the Seine, marble fauns woo-
ing dryads allegorically imprisoned in multitudes of
conical yews, cylindrical laurels, spherical orange
trees, elliptical myrtles, and other trees whose natural
form, too trivial no doubt, has been gracefully cor-

‘Introduction 25

rected by the gardener’s shears; compare this garden,
so extolled, with a primitive forest of the New World
with its giant trees, its tall grasses, its deep vegetation,
its thousand buds of a thousand hues, its broad
avenues, where light and shadow play only upon
the verdure, its wild harmonies, its great rivers
which drift along islands of flowers, its stupendous
waterfalls, over which hover rainbows. We will
not say, Where is the magnificence? Where is the
grandeur? Where is the beauty? But simply,
Where is the order? Where is the disorder?

“In one, fountains, imprisoned, or diverted from
their course, gush from petrified Gods, only. to stag-
nate: trees are transplanted from their native soil, torn
away from their climate and forced to submit to the
grotesque caprices of the shears and line: in a word
natural order everywhere contradicted, inverted,
upset, destroyed. In the other on the contrary,
all obeys an unchangeable law, in all a God seems to
dwell. Drops of water follow their course and form
rivers, which will form seas: seeds choose their soil
and produce a forest. The very bramble is beautiful
there. Again we ask, where is the order? Choose
then between the masterpiece of gardening and the
work of nature; between what is conventionally beau-
tiful, and what is beautiful without rule; between an
artificial literature and an original poesy.”’

There is much truth in these words as well as ex-
travagance. Victor Hugo is thinking too much of

26 Landscape Architecture

the primitive forest, which should not be altogether
the model as will be shown hereafter. Many of the
French and Italian designs even at the present time
strike a formal, artificial note in their most natural-
looking conceptions. They make their curves so true
and neat; there is too much artifice, and not enough
suggestion or mystery, and mystery should form a part
of nearly all landscape gardening in order to secure the
highest kind of pleasure. The Germans and English
and some other nations do excellent landscape garden-
ing, but it is doubtful whether the present age is quite
keeping up to the old standard of the art. Love of
perfection in detail of tree and shrub and flowers has
led many to forget or overlook fundamental principles
as practised by the great masters of the profession.
Certainly there is no landscape gardening of the present
day that surpasses in fundamentals, if it equals, that
done by Prince Ludwig Heinrich Herman Pickler on his
estate of Muskau in southern Germany nearly a hundred
yearsago. Insupport of this statement Iam sure I may
be allowed to quote the authority of a landscape archi-
tect, the late Chas. Eliot, than whom there has been in
modern times no better writer anywhere on the principles
of landscape gardening if we perhaps except A. J. Down-
ing and the distinguished artists Frederick Law Olmsted
and Calvert Vaux, creators of Central Park, New York.
Mr. Eliot writes that Prince Pickler undertook:

“Nothing less than the transformation of the al-
most ugly valley of the Niesse into a vale of beauty

Introduction 27

and delight; and the fact that he proposed to ac-
complish this transformation not by extending
architectural works throughout the valley, not by
constructing mighty terraces, mile-long avenues, or
great formal water basins, such as he had seen in
Italy, at Versailles, and at Wilhelmshohe—but by
quietly inducing nature to transform herself. He
would not force upon his native landscape any
foreign type of beauty; on the contrary, his aim was
the transfiguration, the idealization of such beauty as
was indigenous. He was intent upon evolving
from out of the confused natural situation a com-
position in which all that was fundamentally
characteristic of the scenery, the history and in-
dustry of his estate should be harmoniously and
beautifully united.

“One circumstance greatly favoured the happy
accomplishment of his design—namely, the very
fact that he had to do with a valley and not
with a plain or plateau. The irregularly rising
land skirting the river-levels supplied a frame
for his picture: the considerable stream, flowing
through the midst of the level, with here and there
a sweep toward the enclosing hills, became the all-
connecting and controlling element in his landscape.
Well he knew that what artists call ‘breadth’
and ‘unity of effect’ was fully assured if only he
abstained from inserting impertinent structures or
other objects in the midst of this hill bounded
intervale.”

28 DLandscape Architecture

The river scenes of Muskau were changed with great
effect by diverting an arm of the main line to another
course leading a long distance around by the castle,
enlarging the moat (see illustration), and so flowing
on through several pools to the end of the artificial water
far above where it again takes the main and original
direction as shown in the illustration. To-day it all
looks, not only natural, but as if it had never been
otherwise.

Another plea for the natural style will be found in
Olmsted and Vaux’s Annual Report to the Prospect
Park Commissioners, January, 1871:

“As the park has come more in use, new habits
and customs and with them new tastes have been
developed. There is already many times as much
pleasure driving as there was five years ago, and not
a few persons are more attracted to the park by what
is to be seen on the road, than by any conscious
enjoyment of inanimate nature to be seen from it,
consequently a new class of comment on the design
is now sometimes heard: unfavourable comparisons
are made between the park [Prospect Park] and cer-
tain foreign pleasure grounds, both for the lack of
opportunity for enjoying the sight of a large gay
assemblage, and its entire want of stateliness and
artistic grandeur. In these comparisons and in the
demands which they suggest there are important
considerations which are generally overlooked.

“In southern Europe where the ground is parched,

DIntroduction 29

and turf and delicate low foliage wither unless
carefully and laboriously watered and tended; where
also, in most cases, rambling in the country or beyond
the outskirts of towns is not only toilsome but
dangerous; where ladies seldom go out-of-doors until
after sunset and then closely veiled, and where the
people look for amusement almost exclusively to
social excitements, public pleasure grounds have
usually been important chiefly as places of rendevous
and general congregation. Their plans have been
characterized by formal and stately plantations and
much architectural and floral decoration. Where
anything like landscape effects have been attempted
to be added to these, it has generally been not as a
temptation to exercise, but simply as a picture, usu-
ally of a romantic and often of a distinctly theatrical
character. The primary and avowed object of such
grounds is to supply people with accommodation for
coming together to see one another, not merely as
personal acquaintances, but as an assemblage.

“‘The style of laying out grounds adapted to this
purpose has, till recently at least, prevailed, not only
in Italy, Spain, and Portugal, but throughout France,
and where French influence has been strong the woods
and lawns of both public and private parks and chases
are nearly always traversed by straight avenues,
with well defined circular carrefours, often empha-
sized by architectural objects at their points of
junction, as may be seen at the Bois de Boulogne.
While, however, the custom of outdoor assemblage

30 Landscape Architecture

and of the promenade for recreation has even become
far more important, a tendency to a different style
in the preparation of pleasure grounds has been
growing wherever the climate admits of its being
adapted with success. The changes made in the plan
of the Bois de Boulogne under the late Empire
(partly under the advisement of Prince Pickler),
those also in the Bois de Vincennes, the Parc Mon-
ceau, and other grounds in France, and the plan of
the new park at Brussels, all show progress in this
direction, though the liking for detached scenic
effects which might be suitable for framing, or for
the background of a ballet, still influences most
landscape work.

“Tt is to be observed, too, that on the completion of
the Avenue de l’Impératrice as an approach to the
Bois de Boulogne, and of the narrow informal drive
around the lake with its various landscape effects,
that the part of this system of pleasure grounds
which is laid out in the natural style was immediately
adopted as the daylight promenade ground of Paris
in preference to the much wider, more accessible, more
stately, and in every way more convenient and mag-
nificent avenue of the Champs Elysées.

“Tt will be thus seen that the grander and more
splendid style of public pleasure grounds, while it is
peculiarly adapted to display a great body of well
dressed people and of equipages to advantage, and is
most fitting for processions, pomps, and ceremonies,
while also it seems admirably to extend and soften

Introduction 31

architectural perspectives and to echo and supple-
ment architectural grandeur, is not preferred where
there are moderate advantages for the adoption
of a natural style, even for the purposes of a prom-
enade. The reason may be that where carriages are
used in the frequent passing over of long spaces of
bare surface which they make necessary, formal
arrangements and confined scenes become very tire-
some. In passing along a curving road, its borders
planted irregularly, the play of light and shade and
the succession of objects more or less distinct which
are disclosed and obscured in succession is never
wholly without interest, while an agreeable open
landscape is always refreshing in contrast to the
habitual confinement of the city.” .

It is evident therefore that in entering on the con-
sideration of the principles and practice of landscape
gardening it is well to keep in mind that we are, if we
are doing good work, not undertaking new artistic
endeavour, but following lines literally as old as the
hills. Practical everyday studies of nature are what
are needed. All the references made confirm this view.
Authorities are often indeed illuminating and have
great value; not only to inform the student, but to
stimulate to further study in the right direction, and to
suggest where to find new material for study. Books of
any kind, however, can be no more than helps in the
right direction, for practical experience and the study
of nature in park and garden and diversified woodland

32 Landscape Architecture

and meadow and water should be considered of first
importance, and good examples of such work continu-
ally sought. Turner and Claude found it of the great-
est value for their painting to make thousands of
sketches of trees and other natural objects; how much
more should the student of landscape gardening find
advantage in studying the appearance and habits of
trees and shrubs and their best arrangement when
composed in a park picture, and this picture or design
should be when worked out idealized and transfused
with genuine feeling for nature after the same fashion
as the work of Claude. It is above all necessary to
learn how nature treats her trees and shrubs, her hill-
sides and meadows, and her features of island and
water. If one gives oneself to the study of examples
of these effects in nature it will become fascinating,
and the freshness of conceptions of endless combinations
which continually meet the eye will lead one to be ever
seeking to solve new problems and learning to study
new lessons of a similar kind in landscape gardening.
Excellent, however, and all-important as this con-
tinual reference to nature is in landscape-gardening
studies, it is quite as important to learn all about the
habits of plants, the quality and treatment of soil, and,
above all, how to fit the new into the old. On nearly
every place there are some agreeable natural features
that deserve preservation and the best effect should
not be injured by any new elements that may be
introduced. It is easy to see that this is the case, but it
is a difficult proposition to manage to introduce the new

Mntroduction 33

arrangement without in some way destroying the fine
quality of the old, natural beauty.

The success of the problem of the proper disposition
and location of gardens and decorations adjoining the
house or other buildings largely depends on the success-
ful blending of the natural forms, whether old or new,
with the strictly architectural conceptions. This is
probably one of the most difficult undertakings in the
whole province of the art of landscape gardening.
There are many details which need to be studied in
order to enable a student to solve landscape gardening
problems, but this perhaps is the most difficult one.

Thomas Whately says:

“These mischiefs, however, were occasioned, not
by the use but the perversion of art; it excluded
instead of improving upon nature, and thereby de-
stroyed the very end it was called in to promote.
So strange an abuse probably arose from an idea
of some necessary correspondence between the man-
sion, and the scene it immediately commanded; the
forms therefore of both were determined by the
same rules; and terraces, canals, and avenues were
but so many variations of the plan of the building.
The regularity thus established spread afterwards to
more distant quarters; there indeed the absurdity was
acknowledged, as soon as a more natural disposition
appeared, but a prejudice in favour of art, as it is
called, just about the house still remains. If, by the
term, regularity is intended the principle is equally

DBandscape Architecture

applicable to the vicinity of any other building; and
every temple in the garden ought to have its concomi-
tant formal slopes and plantations, or the conformity
may be reversed, and we may reasonably contend
that the building ought to be irregular, in order to be
consistent with the scene it belongs to. The truth is
that both propositions are erroneous, architecture re-
quires symmetry; the objects of nature freedom; and
the properties of the one cannot with justice be trans-
ferred to the other. But if by the term no more is
meant than merely design the dispute is at an end;
choice, arrangement, composition, improvement, and
preservation are so many symptoms of art, which
may occasionally appear in several parts of a garden,
but ought to be displayed without reserve near the
house; nothing there should be neglected; it is a scene
of the most cultivated nature; it ought to be en-
riched; it ought to be adorned; and design may be
avowed in the plan, and expense in the execution.
Even irregularity is not excluded; so capital a struc-
ture may extend its influence beyond its walls, but
its power should be exercised only over its immediate
appendages; the flat form upon which the house
stands is generally continued to a certain breadth
from every side; and whether it be pavement or
gravel may undoubtedly coincide with the shape of
the building. The road which leads up to the door
may go off from it in an equal angle, so that the two
sides shall exactly correspond: and certain orna-
ments, though detached, are rather within the pro-

Mntroduction 35

vince of the architecture than of gardening: works
of sculpture are not like buildings, objects familiar in
scenes of cultivated nature; but vases, statues, and
termini are usual appendages to a considerable ed-
ifice; as such they may attend the mansion, and
trespass a little upon the garden, provided they are
not carried so far in it as to lose their connection with
the structure. The flat form and the road are also
appurtenances to the house; all these may therefore
be adapted to its form, and the environs will thereby
acquire a degree of regularity; but to give it to the
objects of nature, only on account of their proximity
to others which are calculated to receive it, is, at
best, a refinement.”

Price thought the principles of Claude should be
followed as a guide. Lord Windham, in a letter to
Humphrey Repton, asks very pertinently:

“Does the pleasure we receive from the view of
parks and gardens result from their affording sub-
jects that would appear to advantage in a picture?”
and answers, ‘‘That places are not to be laid out with
a view to their appearance in a picture, but to the
use and enjoyment of them in real life.”

This is true in the sense that the aims of the designs
of the painter and the landscape gardener cannot be
said to be identical nor that the position of a tree well
placed on the lawn would necessarily be suited to the
design of the painted picture. It should be enough to

36 Landscape Architecture

say, however, that the purposes of the designs of both
painter and landscape gardener are analogous, they
travel on similar and more or less parallel lines, and
both should look reverently to nature as their sole
mistress.

Loudon justly observes that:

“The recognition of art is a first principle in
landscape gardening, as in all other arts, and those
of its professors have erred who supposed that the
object of this art is merely to produce a facsimile of
nature that could not be distinguished from a wild
scene.”

Mr. F. L. Olmsted recognized the justice of this
when he wrote in the Spoils of the Park:

“What artist so noble as he, who with far-reach-
ing conception of beauty and designing power,
sketches the outlines, writes the colours, and directs
the shadows of a picture so great that nature shall be
employed on it for generations, before the work he
has arranged for her shall realize his intentions.”

There has appeared a species of ‘‘natural” landscape
gardening in the nineteenth century that is, to say the
least, slightly specious and meretricious in its effect,
and there is today even more than a suspicion of a
tendency to yield to this desire to make the art of land-
scape gardening fine and exquisite rather than simple
and natural.

Introduction 37

M. Edouard André, who has been called the ‘‘most
judicious and successful exponent of landscape garden-
ing in France”’ by a high authority, writes thus:

“Under the false pretext that lawns, waters, trees,
and flowers are always pleasant, they have substi-
tuted for the old geometrical garden a still more arti-
ficial style. The former at least avowed its aim to
show the hand of man and to master nature. The
latter borrows the elements of nature, and under the
pretence of imitating it, makes it play a ridiculous
—I was going to say an effeminate—part. It is not
—we say it emphatically—it is not this that consti-
tutes landscape art. If art seeks means of action in
nature, it is in order to turn them to account in a
simple and noble way.”’

Mr. Olmsted in his Spoils of the Park further says:

“In Paris this kind of ‘natural’ gardening re-
ceived a great impetus in the days of Napoleon
III because of the striking and spectacular effects
it quickly produced by the profuse use of certain
novel, exotic, and sickly forms of vegetation.”’

Unfortunately this style of landscape gardening per-
sists more than it should down to the present day in
Paris, and elsewhere in France, and for that matter
in all the principal capitals of Europe.

In view of the great body of doctrine set forth in the
following pages it will be evident that there should be

38 Landscape Architecture

more recognition of actual principles, more display of
good artistic sense in the use of landscape gardening
materials. A great deal of the writing on landscape
gardening is not much more than a description of
the virtues and vices of certain trees and shrubs and
flowers, their beauties and their drawbacks. Some at-
tention should be given naturally to the practical side
of the subject, but only enough to make plainer the
application of the fundamental ideas. There is un-
doubtedly a separation required—were it but tempo-
tary—between what may be called fundamental ideas
and what is mere detail. At present in landscape
gardening as usually practised, good ideas based on
sound precedents are words almost without meaning to
most people. A complete, all-comprehending system
is of course impossible at present and doubtless always
will be. Yet, if real effort of thought could be concen-
trated on cardinal issues and less padding of conven-
tional and traditional details were foisted in, much
might be done to make research into landscape-garden-
ing lore more fruitful.

This at least should be always kept in mind, that
the art of landscape gardening has been an evolution of
ideas originated and developed down through the ages
by the unfolding of the genius and the practical experi-
ence of skilled and cultured men.

No man is entirely original, indeed it was said by
John La Farge that if an idea were an original one it
would be safe to say it would not bea good one. Land-
scape gardening like everything else has its roots in the

Introduction 39

past, and the best art of this kind, or for that matter of
any kind, is made up of the ideas obtained from many
sources, both natural and historical. In The Philosophy
of the Practical by Benedetto Croce are the following
words:

“He is a true poet (landscape architect) who feels
himself at once bound to his predecessors and free,
conservative and revolutionary, like Homer, Dante,
and Shakespeare, who receive into themselves cen-
turies of history, of thought and poetry and add to
those centuries something that is the present and
will be the future: chargés du passé, gros de l’avenir.”’

And this growth is ever moving on, not without set-
backs, at what seems to be slow and irregular advance,
but in the long future we can confidently believe there
will be always a day of better things. There are
periods of seeming deadness in the development of
landscaping as of other things, but there need be no
despondency for

“there is never real regression in history (or in land-
scape gardening), but only contradictions that follow
upon solutions given and prepare new ones.

7B. Croce,

IT
THE LAYING OUT OF A PARK OR ESTATE

se AYING out grounds, as it is called, may be

considered as a liberal art, in some sort, like

poetry or painting; and its object like that
of the liberal arts is, or ought to be, to move the
affections under the control of good sense; that is
those of the best and wisest; but speaking with more
precision, it is to assist nature in moving the affections,
and surely, as I have said, the affections of those
who have the deepest perception of the beauty of
nature; who have the most valuable feelings, that
is the most permanent, and most independent, the
most ennobling, connected with nature and human
life. No liberal art aims merely at the gratification
of an individual or a class: the painter or poet is
degraded in proportion as he does so; the true ser-
vants of the arts pay homage to the human kind as
impersonated in unwarped, enlightened minds. If
this be so when we are merely putting together words
or colours, how much more ought the feeling to pre-
vail when we are in the midst of the realities of things;

of the beauty and harmony, of the joys and happiness
40

The Laying Out of a Park or Estate 41

of living creatures; of men and children, of birds and
beasts, of hills and streams, and trees and flowers; with
the changes of night and day, evening and morning,
summer and winter; and all their unwearied actions
and energies, as benign in the spirit that animatesthem,
as beautiful and grand in the form and clothing which
is given to them for the delight of our senses,”’*

All parks and even the smallest ornamental ground
should indicate at once the presence of a controlling
scheme of design. It is not a question of size; there
should be everywhere, no matter what the size, entire
artistic unity.

A. J. Downing, in his work on landscape gardening,
says:

“Unity or the production of the whole is a leading
principle of the highest importance in every art of
taste or design, without which no satisfactory result
can be realized. This arises from the fact that the
mind can only attend with pleasure and satisfaction
to one object or one composite sensation at the same
time. If two distinct objects or classes of objects
present themselves at once to us, we can only attend
satisfactorily to one, by withdrawing our atten-
tion for the time from the other. Hence, the neces-
sity of a reference to this leading principle of unity.”
Thomas Whately, in Observations on Modern Garden-
ing, writes:

t William Wordsworth, letter to Sir G. Beaumont, 1805.

Landscape Architecture

“In landscape gardening violations of unity are
often to be met with, and they are always indicative
of the absence of correct taste in art. Looking upon
a landscape from the windows of a villa residence,
we sometimes see a considerable portion of the view
embraced by the eye laid out in natural groups of
trees and shrubs, and upon one side, or, perhaps, in
the middle of the same scene, a formal avenue lead-
ing directly up to the house. Such a view can never
appear a satisfactory whole, because we experience a
confusion of sensations in contemplating it. There
is an evident incongruity in bringing two modes of
arranging plantations, so totally different, under the
eye at one moment, which distracts, rather than
pleases the mind. In this example, the avenue,
taken by itself, may be a beautiful object, and the
groups and connected masses may, in themselves,
be elegant, yet if the two portions are seen together,
they will not form a whole, because they cannot
make a composite idea. For the same reason, there
is something unpleasing in the introduction of fruit
trees among elegant ornamental trees on a lawn, or
even in assembling together, in the same beds, flower-
ing plants, and culinary vegetables—one class of
vegetation suggesting the useful, and homely, alone
to the mind, and the other, avowedly, only the
ornamental.

“Tn the arrangement of a large extent of surface,
where a great many objects are necessarily presented
to the eye at once, the principle of unity will suggest

The Laying Out of a Park or Estate 43

that there should be some grand or leading features
to which the others should be merely subordinate.
Thus, in grouping trees, there should be some large
and striking masses to which the others appear to
belong, however distant, instead of scattered groups,
all of the same size. Even in arranging walks, a
whole will more readily be recognized, if there are
one or two, of large size, with which the others appear
connected as branches, than if all are equal in breadth,
and present the same appearance to the eye in
passing.”

The difficulty with many landscape designs, whether
the result of caprice, or of too strict adherence to the
canons of a school, is that the plan selected is not
really intelligent.

In the words of an acute and able writer, Harald
Hoffding:

‘Gradually man learns to substitute methods for
systems and to ask how and how much in place of
why. Instead of constructing the world according
to the caprice of his imagination, he learns to discern
the interconnection which actually obtains from it,
and when in this way he gradually arrives at finding
one great unity running through all things his ima-
gination will regain in a more secure form all that
it has lost when its daring pictures were crowded
out by critical investigations.”

It becomes a question, once the general plan is made,

44 DLandscape Architecture

of establishing unity of details, of eliminating obtrusive,
discordant, or redundant elements, of changing existing
conditions by planting, grading, and otherwise estab-
lishing harmonious relations between the old parts
and new parts of the place, for it is quite as important
to carefully retain the valuable old part as to add new
effects however charming. There is a superior quality
peculiar to an old tree or the old and natural swell of
the ground that should have the most careful atten-
tion, often to the extent of leaving it entirely alone and
doing new work elsewhere where there is less to harm.
It is one of the most difficult problems of landscape
gardening to manage this combination of the old with
the new in accordance with a good general plan so that
you can feel yourself in the presence of genuine nature.
The result we should seek to avoid is a gathering together
in woodland masses trees and shrubs incongruous with
their surroundings and therefore unnaturalin appearance,
and altogether unfitted to the general artistic scheme.

To lay out a park or garden properly it should be
studied on the ground and the peculiarities of the place

carefully estimated and recorded so as to give due re-

gard to comfort and convenience as well as artistic
possibilities. The idiosyncrasies and even the less
peculiar likings of the owner should also be considered
and constant effort put forth to make a home that is a
realization of his taste and requirements.

“How is it possible that any persons can make a
good design for any garden whose situation they

The Laying Out of a Park or Estate 45

never saw. ‘To draw a beautiful regular draught is
not to the purpose, for although it makes a hand-
some figure on the paper, yet it has quite a different
effect when executed on the ground.”

There should be also full realization of the fact that
the work of laying out a park or estate, large or small,
should always be considered more or less experimental.

Plans of ornamental grounds have much less value
than plans of architectural structures because changes
are more likely to be necessary with live trees and
shrubs than with wood and iron and stone. No land-
scape work is likely to be well done unless it has been
changed from time to time. The study of the place

should be continuous and kept up long after the initial
work is finished. Sometimes a radical mistake is dis-
covered when the landscape gardening is well advanced,
but none the less should the mistake be remedied at
the time, because the remedy is often difficult and
expensive to apply and therefore likely to be left
unapplied in after years.

“The building of a place should be begun and
carried out with consistency throughout; it is there-
fore necessary to have it thoroughly thought out
from the first, and guided along all the way through
by one controlling mind, a mind that should make
use of the thoughts of many others, welding them
into an organic whole so that the stamp of indi-

t Battey Langley.

46 Landscape Architecture

viduality and unity be never lost. But let me not
be misunderstood; a general plan should govern the
whole, there must be no room for random work;
in every detail the guiding creating brain must be
recognized, and it is essential that the scheme should
originate from the special circumstances of the artist,
from the experience and conditions of his life or the
former history of his family, limited by the locality
with which he has to deal; but I do not counsel that
the whole exact plan should be worked out in detail
at first and doggedly maintained totheend. I would,
to a large extent, recommend just the opposite, for
even if the main scheme comprehends many features
which may be considered from the start, in working
it out the artist must continually follow the inspira-
tion of his imagination. From time to time, the
painter will alter his picture (which, after all, is
much less complicated than the picture the landscape
gardener has to create), here and there making a
part more true to the general effect or to nature, here
improving a tone, there giving more accent, more
power to a line. Why should the landscape gar-
dener who works in such refractory, changeable,
and often impossible-to-estimate material, and who,
moreover, has to unite many different pictures in
one, succeed in hitting the mark at the first attempt
infallibly? Much will be discovered as he goes on
studying, observing, both within and without the
confines of the place, the light effects on his raw
material (for light is one of his chief assets), estab-

The Laying Out of a Park or Estate 47

lishing cause and effect, and thereby finding new ways
of working out in detail his early motives, or giving
them up altogether if other notions for the treatment
of parts strike him as being better.

To see, remaining undisturbed, some particular
feature which has proved a failure, is pitiable. The
reason the blemish is left is because it has cost so
much time, so much money, and because a change
would add to the expense, costing as much again or
even more. Constant discipline is indispensable in
the proper exercise of any art, and when means are
not sufficient to treat every part of a park as it should
be treated, what money there is had better be devoted
towards the improvement of the old established
features than to the making of new ones. The
postponing of alterations which are recognized as
advisable is a dangerous proceeding, also, because
existing faults easily lead to the wrong treatment of
new features.

“Tt has been truly said that ‘Artistic production
is a matter of conscience,’ hence a person with an
artistic conscience cannot remain content with parts
that have been recognized as not up to the standard,
or failures. Following the example of nature, which
starts and completes her humblest work with the
same assiduous care she bestows upon her most
sublime creations, one would rather make any
sacrifice than leave the blemish one has become
aware of, even if in itself it is but a subordinate
matter.

48 Landscape Architecture

“Although in my work at Muskau I never de-
parted a moment from the main idea which I shall
have occasion later to describe, yet I confess that
many portions have not only been retouched, but
that they have been entirely changed, often once,
sometimes thrice and four times even. It would
be a great error to suppose that confusion results
from repeated alterations undertaken with intelli-
gence, for sound reasons and not from. caprice.
Rather than that they should be undertaken from
pure caprice it would certainly be best to never have
alterations for improvement. In general the dictum
novum prematur in annum holds good. One must
never rest with correcting and refining until the
best possible results have been attained; a principle
never to be relinquished and of which often time

alone proves to be the great teacher.

In addition to the study of the possibilities of the
place for use and beauty, in order to secure good results,
it is necessary to equip oneself with the data required.
A map of the contours or Jay of the land is important,

not perhaps so much for the landscape gardener, who
must make up his mind by a study of the actual land,
but for the purpose of giving some idea to the client
of how his grounds will look and for estimating the
probable cost of constructing them. It is hardly
possible however to estimate what the exact cost of
such work will be. It is so much the result of a due

* Hints on Landscape Gardening, Prince Pickler.

The Daying Out of a Park or Estate 49

exercise of taste and artistic skill that its cost cannot
be foreseen any more than that of a painting. Experi-
ments can hardly be avoided, and experiments cost
money.

The initial trouble met by anyone proposing to lay
out a place is the difficulty of foreseeing how his ideas
will look in the future. Experience in the behaviour
of different soils and plants in different situations and
a natural genius can alone enable one to form a picture
in the mind of how a piece of landscape gardening will
look ten or twenty years hence. One tree will grow
more rapidly in this place than in that one, and in
many places unforeseen results will necessarily occur,
but something of the real nature of these trees should
be realized beforehand, so as to be able to see the
picture somewhat in the way it will look years hence.

“One can see from this how unwise it is to invite
a strange artist for some days or weeks or even months
with the view of making a plan in which every road
and every plantation, the commanding features and
all the details, are exactly fixed. And worse still
to send such a person merely a survey of the place
so that he may proceed at once with a plan, when he
has no feeling of the character of the region, no
knowledge of the localities, of the effects of hill and
dale, of high or low trees’ in the immediate fore-
ground or in the distance, for him to draw on sub-
missive paper his lines, which no doubt may look

very pretty and good there, but which realized into
4

50 Landscape Architecture

facts are bound to achieve at best an inappropri-
ate and unsatisfactory design. Who so intends to
build up a landscape must do so out of the actual
materials from which that particular landscape is to
be created, and he must be familiar with them in
every particular. Both in plan and execution he
works quite otherwise than the painter on his can-
vas; he deals with realities. The beauty of a bit
of real nature, which rendered by the art of the
‘painter can only be partly hinted at, cannot on a
plan be given at all; I am inclined to believe, on the
contrary that except in a very flat region where no
views are possible and little can be achieved anyhow,
a plan which is agreeable to look at with lines pleas-
ing to the eye cannot truly stand for beauty in nature.
My experience is that in order to achieve fine results
in landscape gardening one is often obliged to select
lines which have no charm on a plan drawn on

paper.’’?
In order to approach properly the consideration of
the laying out of any place it is well to go farther than
the contour map and secure photographs of features
that are characteristic of its scenery, and that may be
memoranda to be used in forming a mental picture of
what the final scheme should be. This picture will be
at first vague, but after considerable study of the
existing landscape, dreaming over it ‘f you choose,
looking at it from every angle, measuring the contour

t Hints on Landscape Gardening, Prince Pickler.

The Laying Out of a Park or Estate 51

map, and comparing photographs, there will gradually
dawn on the mind some idea of what the whole design
when completed should look like, how the various parts
should develop individually and grow into a unified
whole. This is the vital part of the work, the part
that involves concentrated thought more than any
other. It may reveal itself quickly or take a longer
time and come only after continued study of the place
itself as well as various models, for such a picture
should be made to realize a decided and carefully
thought-out clear conception such as would satisfy
any one as areal artistic creation, and not a vague
phantasm or a hodge-podge.

Yet it should be remembered that, though the art
faculty exists in some degree in all men, in its creative
degree it is the privilege of comparatively few. The
process of creation has been thus described: ‘‘ Reflection
and voluntary adaptation intervenes in a moment of
inspiration, and inspiration supervenes on afterthought
andremembrance. ‘And asI mused the fire kindled.’”’

The order in which a scheme of laying out should
be studied is: First: The necessary limitations, roads,
and spaces intended for buildings of different sorts.
Second: Views to be revealed or kept open by cutting
out existing woods or arranging planting so as to lead
the eye to pleasant prospects. Third: The shutting
out of disagreeable objects by planting trees and shrubs
and leading roads and paths as far as possible away from
them, and then a definite picture controlled by these
limitations.

52 Landscape Architecture

“The perfection in landscape gardening consists
in the four following requisites: First it must display
the natural beauties and hide the natural defects of
every situation. Secondly: it should give the appear-
ance of extent and freedom, by carefully disguising
or hiding the boundary. Thirdly: it must studiously
conceal every interference of art, however expensive,
by which the scenery is improved, making the whole
appear the production of nature only; and fourthly,
all objects of mere convenience or comfort, if in-
capable of being made ornamental, or of becoming
proper parts of the general scenery, must be removed
or concealed.”’ *

Another principle that needs emphasis in laying out
places is the general plan of bordering plantations
around the entire boundaries with walks and roads
running in and out through the trees and shrubbery,
leaving great open spaces of greensward with only
here and there an isolated tree or small group of shrubs
set near the main mass. The value of these open

spaces of greensward from a strictly artistic standpoint

cannot be overestimated. It is a helpful idea to recog-

nize that the lawns of a place have frequently a shore
line, as it were, like that of most lakes, with promon-
tories and bays, thus making the grass space really
the eye of the landscape. Catullus says in addressing
his own lake in the country:

* Humphry Repton, The Art of Landscape Gardening.

The Laying Out of a Park or Estate 53

“Dear Sirio that art the very eye of islands and
peninsulas that lie deeply embossed in calm inland
lakes!”

The example I have in mind, a painting of Menand,
shows how a picture of a lake of this kind among wooded
hills should be constructed. The artist evidently knew
and loved his type. Moreover, this picture forms an
excellent example of how the presence of water of a
certain sort may make with most charming effect the
very eye of the landscape.

Writers on landscape gardening in the eighteenth
century dwell much on the value of the sensations
produced by various kinds of landscape gardening.

“Gardening besides the emotions of beauty by
means of regularity, order, proportion, colour, and
utility, can raise emotions of grandeur, of sweetness,
of gaiety, melancholy, wildness, and even of surprise
or wonder. In gardening as well as in architecture,
simplicity ought to be the governing taste. Profuse
ornament hath no better effect than to confuse the
eye and to prevent the object from making an im-
pression as one entire whole. A third idea of a
garden approaching perfection is of objects assem-
bled together in order to produce not only an emotion
of beauty essential to gardens of every kind, but also
some other particular emotion, grandeur, for example,
gaiety, or any other of those above mentioned.’’*

Henry Home, Lord Kames.

54 Landscape Architecture

This idea has its value doubtless, but it can be easily
overworked. Truly, a special scene may suggest such
feelings in the beginning, and help from the landscape
gardener may readily increase their strength, and it
should be the aim of the designer or artist to recognize
this quality of a place, and to encourage in various ways
the feelings it naturally produces. But such a note
cannot be forced and may even come to make the effect
absurd. Imagination may add much to the pleasure of
a piece of landscape gardening, but too much in a
more or less vague way may easily be attempted, pro-
ducing unsatisfactory results.

The condition of the mind at the time of experi-
encing the effects of the scene counts largely, and the
effect produced by the environment is not always simple
melancholy, gaiety, or awe. It has a larger compass
and may take the form indicated by the following
beautiful quotation from Maine de Biran:

“T have experienced this evening in a solitary
walk taken during the finest weather, some instan-
taneous flashes of that ineffable enjoyment, which I
have tasted at other times and at such a season of
that pure pleasure that seems to snatch us away
from all that is of earth, to give us a foretaste
of heaven. The verdure had a new freshness and
took beauty from the last ray of the sinking sun,
all things were instinct with a soft splendour, the
trees waved tenderly their majestic crests, the air
was full of balm, and the nightingales inter-

The Dayving Out of a Park or Estate 55

changed sighs of love, which yielded to accents
of pleasure and joy.

“T walked gently in an alley of young plane trees
which I planted a few years since. Above all the
vague incomplete impressions and images which were
born of the presence of the objects and my moods,
hovered this feeling of the infinite which bears us
onward sometimes towards a world superior to phe-
nomena, towards this world of realities which links
itself to God, as the first and only reality. It
seems in this condition when all sensations with-
out and within are calm and happy, as if there
were a peculiar sense appropriate to heavenly things,
which, wrapped up in the actual fashion of our
existence, is destined perhaps to develop itself one
day when the soul shall have quitted its mortal
husk.”

It was men of a similar type, in this respect, to Maine
de Biran who earlier, back in the seventeenth century,
felt the impulse of a rising desire for free landscape
gardening, and developed an instinct for the enjoyment
in nature of something higher than melancholy or
terror or gaiety or what is understood ordinarily as
feeling. There were men even in those days who like
Fénelon, the spiritual ancestor and acknowledged
master of de Biran, would write in flat Versailles
what is said to be the first ode of praise of distant
mountain tops; who like Racine world murmur in
the alleys of the park:

56 Landscape Architecture

Quand elle est en liberté,
La Nature est inimitable.

Fénelon loved a “‘beau désert” and in his Dialogues
des Morts appears the following: “‘La Nature a ici je
ne sais quoi de brut qui plait et qui fait réver agré-
ablement.” Fénelon also says: ‘‘On aime d’autant
plus purement alors qu’on aime sans sentir comme on
croit avec plus de mérite lorsqu’on croit sans voir.”
This state is not essentially different from that intel-
lectual love of God which Spinoza declares to be beyond
emotion.

It may be thought that impressive effects can be
developed by making combinations of colour of the
foliage of trees and shrubs. But this leads to disap-
pointment because all such colours vary from year to
year according to the atmospheric and soil conditions,
fertility, heat, cold, etc. Prince Ptckler has this to
say in his Hints on Landscape Gardening:

“How far one may plant with the deliberate
intention of attaining artistic light and shade and
colour contrast, I will not venture to state. The
matter has great difficulties, and in my experience
these attempts if I went too far into detail have
seldom succeeded very well, and on the other hand,
plantations mixed quite recklessly often unfolded
the most unexpected charms; nay, they earned me
many compliments for my art wherein I was as
innocent as many a physician who has effected a

The Laying Out of a Park or Estate 57

great cure without knowing how. I do not lay much
stress on any instructions in this matter as I have
always taken an easy middle course. It must also be
remembered that the foliage of trees will often assume
an entirely different and unexpected shade when
transplanted to a different soil and this cannot
always be regulated in a large plot. It may happen
that a dark coloured maple intended for shading
grows a very light foliage. It is quite obvious,
however, that one should avoid too variegated a
mixture of leaves, too frequent alternations of dark
and light green foliage, but here also where it would
be hard to lay down good, sharp rules in detail, the
taste of the owner must be the best guide.

Colour effects of a reasonably exact and foreseen
character can be obtained during the summer with
bedding plants such as coleuses and geraniums.

Finally it is important for the designer of landscape
work to keep his mind free from fads, and from the
tendency to place undue weight on some special part of
the place, for the garden is just as important as the
shrubbery, trees, and grass spaces, and equal in value
in their own ways are the roads and paths, and walls

and water pools, or lakes or streams.

“Everything has its own perfection, be it higher
or lower in the scale of things, and the perfection of
one is not the perfection of another. Things ani-
mate, inanimate, visible or invisible, all are good in

58 Landscape Architecture

-their kind, and have a best of themselves, which is
an object of pursuit. Why do you take such pains
-with your garden or your park? You see to your
walks, and turf, and shrubberies, to your trees and
drives, not as if you meant to make an orchard of
one, or corn or pasture land of the other, but because
there is a special beauty in all that is goodly in wood,
water, plain, and slope, brought all together by art

into one shape, and grouped into one whole.

Another important illustration of laying out parks
and estates is the world-famed Windsor Castle. The
broad plateau on which it stands dominates the entire
surrounding country and yet it rests easily, and its
great size preserves its dignity in the midst of noble
scenery extended in all directions. Prince Ptckler
von Muskau visited England about 1826, and preserved
the records of his visit in letters to his wife, from
which the following extracts are made:

“The grandeur and magnificence of the castle
are truly worthy of the King of England. Situated
on a hill above the town, while it presents a noble
object from every side, its position gives it an immense
advantage. Its historic interest, its high antiquity,
and its astonishing vastness and extent unite to
render it single in the world. . . . As to your opin-
ion about parks I must remark that the extent of
them, especially when properly rounded, can never

* John Henry Newman,

Mount Vernon, the Home of George Washington.

Reproduced by Permission of Doubleday, Page & Co.
From a Photograph by Arthur G. Eldredge.

Bosca, or Grove, on a Place near Elmsford, N. Y.
Photograph by William J. Wilson.

The Laying Out of a Park or Estate 59

be great enough. Windsor park is the only one
which has fully satisfied me as a whole and the reason
for that is its enormous size. It realizes all I would
have :—a pleasant tract of country within the bounds
of which you can live and do what you like without
privation or constraint; hunt, fish, ride, drive with-
out ever feeling cramped; in which you never see a
point except just at the entrance gates, at which
you remark, Here is the boundary; and to which
all the beauties of the surrounding country to the
remotest distance have been rendered tributary by
a cultivated taste. In other respects you are right;
one must not throw away good and bad together;
and it is better to conceal many defects and limita-
tions of the ground by skilfully planned paths and
plantations, than to make disproportionate sacrifices
to them.”

Almost next in importance to Windsor Castle, al-
though not to be mentioned in connexion with it for
size and magnificence, is Mt. Vernon, the home of
George Washington. Its fame is world-wide, but its
value as an example of how to lay out an estate has
received little attention. It is really an excellent model
for landscape gardeners. Here will be found qualities
such as simplicity, breadth, good proportion in the
various features, and the dignity which all such places
should possess. On one side of the house, a broad
lawn slopes down to the banks of the Potomac with
not a tree or shrub to disturb the surface. On the

60 Landscape Architecture

borders of the lawn large shade trees frame the pic-
ture. Approaching from the other and less interesting
side you are led to the house by well-balanced winding
drives which are screened by trees and shrubs. Back
of the trees and shrubs are large vegetable and flower
gardens, very properly shut out from view. It is a
good example of what an estate of a cultivated country
gentleman should be, and is a place which reflects a
character which any man, though ever so rich, should
wish to have presented to the world as his own.

Germany, the home of landscaping in its fully de-
veloped form, presents the estate of Prince Pickler
and the Park of Babelsberg near Potsdam, as well as
other parks in the empire, as good examples of the art
and its proper practice. The illustration of the park
at Muskau affords a view of a size and extent that is a
fine example of the best landscape gardening, and the
plans of the front lawn of the castle as it originally
appeared before Prince Piickler’s alterations are, as
it now appears, illuminating as to the possibilities of
skilful rearrangement.

But while we dwell with admiration on the great land-
scape architecture of the world at Windsor Park, Eng-
land, and Central Park, New York, we should not forget
the small places, the nooks and corners where the houses
stand on a quarter of an acre, one acre, or five or ten
acres. There are myriads of such places which need
study of an intelligent sort, where the grounds have
laid themselves out in accidental fashion, and where
any ideas of design are difficult to discover. It should

The Lawn in Front of the Castle in the Park of Muskau as Originally Laid Out.
Taken from Old Print.

The Same Lawn in Front of the Castle, in the Park of Muskau, as redesigned by
Prince Pickler.

Redrawn from an Old Print.

The Laying Out of a Park or Estate 61

always be remembered that nearly every idea concern-
ing the composition of landscape put forth in this book
applies equally to a small as to a large place, in one
country as in another, even in one age as well as another,
and in all future chapters it will be found that this
recognition of the universality of fundamental ideas
will continue to be emphasized. However, as example
is always more impressive than precept, it may be well
to give two or three sketches to explain and to illustrate
this comprehensive idea. In this way, the subject may
be made clearer.

Newburgh is a considerable town on the Hudson
about sixty miles from New York. It is an old town
and has had for a hundred years a reputation for the
beauty of its homes standing in full view of some of the
finest scenes of the Hudson. The father of landscape
gardening in America, A. J. Downing, lived seventy
years ago at Newburgh, where his home still exists.
To his influence may be attributed some of the land-
scape-gardening excellence visible in different parts of
the city and in its immediate neighbourhood. While
it is hardly at the present time what one would call a
smart place where the estates are like those on some
parts of Long Island, or at Newport, or in the regions
where fashion draws the very rich, Newburgh is a
dignified and fine place. The art shown in its estates
would be recognized anywhere as that of people who
knew how to appreciate and care for fine specimens of
old shade trees, pools of water, and vistas across the
lawns and through the foliage. It is not surprising

62 Landscape Urchitecture

therefore that one is able to discover in such a region
small places that fulfil the requirements of a high type
of landscape art.

Mr. John Staples a few years ago bought an estate
in Newburgh where he had lived asa boy. It is strange
how people, when they come to prosper a little, instinc-
tively seek abiding places in the region where they
lived when they were children, or even in the houses
where they were born. Mr. Staples found on the place
at Newburgh, which he bought, everything that should
dignify an estate and render it worthy of admiration,
undulating lawns, fine shade trees, and a house beauti-
fully draped with vines. The estate is not pretentious;
it is simply fine in a h‘ghly satisfactory way.

But Mr. Staples loves the woods and everything
connected with the woods, and consequently sought
the wooded territory that formed a considerable part
of his domain. He liked to wander through this little
wilderness and watch all sorts of wild effects and ani-
mated things, and to study what he could do with
them. A born woodsman, there were few objects of
interest his eyes missed. It was delightful to be out
in the woods and contrive things. Mr. Staples, though
a man of few words, liked to say that a man, a dog, and
a brook belonged together. So year by year, he played
with his brook which was at first hidden in a ravine
where spring freshets destroyed it. First he tapped
it and used its water, and made a pool; then, after
preparing a small lawn for it with shrubs and trees
where lately a rubbish heap existed, he led it along

The Laying Out of a Park or Estate 63

the hillside bordering the open space, and finally think-
ing the brook did not look altogether happy, he brought
it over alongside the wood road and took it by a cir-
cuitous route to the waterfall and so down into the
pool. He also built a bungalow, or a tea house, or a
Picnic house, whichever you may choose to call it,
which had in its simple rustic way the comforts of a
home. This bungalow stands on the banks of the
brook just above the falls on the edge of a charming
spot where several trees appear in a group, and a small
footbridge spans the stream and leads to the building.
The scene is entirely American; just such a scene would
hardly appear anywhere but on the Hudson. There
is nothing whatever alien about it. The picture has
been composed by Mr. Staples for the purpose of mak-
ing what may be termed a little home in the woods to
be occupied a longer or shorter time as his fancy may
lead him. The curious part of the design of the pic-
ture is that somehow it is Japanese in effect. It may
be said that the Japanese lantern and little arched
wooden bridge have a distinctly Japanese quality,
but that alone would not account for the suggestion
of Japanese scenery. You might set these accessories
in a landscape on other lawns and they would not
create a Japanese effect. The fact is that Mr. Staples,
whether consciously or not, has worked out his little
picture on right artistic and natural lines, that would
make good art in the landscape gardening of any part
of the world. The Japanese, true artists as they are,
work out their landscape schemes on entirely natural

64 Landscape Architecture

lines, although we, who as a rule fail to understand
their peculiar highly symbolized garden theories, and
know little of the scenery of Japan, may not at first
see it. Here is a proof of the truth of what has been
said, a proof that is based on fact. A Japanese artist
of high standing in his own country visits an artist in
America who has been his guest in Japan. Together
they go to Central Park, New York, and the Japanese
looks around and remarks, ‘‘ How like this is to scenes
in Japan.’”’ This seems at first thought a little absurd,
as gardens in Japan are so different from those of
other countries.

The idea, however, to be enforced is that landscape
gardening in any country will, if it is good art, be in-
spired by certain fundamental ideas, which whether
they have an American air, or a Japanese air, are
recognized by all nations as having a universal or
world-wide kinship. Curious is it not? But notice
how the Japanese butler who made the photograph of
Mr. Staples’s little home in-the woods has recognized
and caught this Japanese spirit, and limited his picture
to the exact scope that would make it Japanese, and
yet distinctively American. Note how American the
grove of trees is, and how happily, from the American
standpoint, the building is located, and yet very likely
the Japanese thought of home when he took the photo-
graph. The perspective of the picture is excellent
and you wonder what is beyond, which always adds
charm to a landscape. There is a universal quality
pertaining to such landscape work that any man, if

The Laying Out of a Park or Estate 65

he expresses his real feelings, prefers to distinctively
English, French, or Italian gardening. The mistake
should not be made of thinking Mr. Staples is not well
informed in the art of making landscape scenery, and
that he does things in any haphazard fashion. He is
really highly informed in the secrets of his art. An
intelligent eye must realize that he knows how to
manage the scenery along the shores and banks of the
brook, knows how and where to set his trees and shrubs
and flowers, where to make his pools, and where to
locate a building and give it a proper background. It
takes study and a special gift to do such work. Mr.
Staples, doubtless, would say that he did not claim to
be a landscape gardener or a horticulturist, but never-
theless he knows good landscape art when he sees it,
and he has seen it, you may depend upon it. There
can be no question that his skill has been “‘aided and
disciplined by frequent reference to and companion-
ship with finely suggestive artistic precedents and
examples.”? It is interesting to note how entirely
sympathetic two artists may be, and how they may
work with entirely different motives, and yet the skill
of both show equal evidences of frequent ‘‘references
to and companionship with finely suggestive artistic
precedents and examples.” This is shown by the
illustration where Mr. Beale, a distinguished artist,
and an intimate and most appreciative friend of Mr.
Staples, has made a formal garden on just as good lines
of its kind as those of the little woodside cottage just

tGino C. Speranza.
5

66 Landscape Architecture

described. Mr. Beale has travelled and seen the best
examples of landscape art in different countries. Yet,
on his quaint old country place on the Hudson, with its
great shadowing trees, small lakes, and open lawns and
fine distant vistas, he has seen that the conventional
Italian garden would look entirely out of place. Con-
sequently what does he do? He simply attaches to the
verandah a platform of gravel and a balustrade and
steps where the same character of architecture is used.
Thus his garden becomes actually a part of the house.
The architecture of the house is simple and plain, but
excellently suited to the grounds; and in the same spirit
Mr. Beale has kept his flowers on a low key of colour
and made all the main part of the garden a broad carpet
of greensward with a fountain in the centre. Along
the walk that outlines the greensward and borders the
walls are massed the flowers. The rough stone walls
are completely covered with vines and the background
of trees and house and a considerable lawn space
visible beyond, completes the picture. It is, moreover,
a sunken garden because the shape of the ground in
the original valley suggested it. If the ground had
been on a level with the house, a sunken garden would
have been entirely out of place. The point that needs
making emphatic is the simple, broad design with its
fitness to the house and characteristic quality of the place.
How strange and interesting it is to note the kinship
and universality of certain ideas of landscape art latent,
not only in the present but in the past, as expressed
by written documents and examples of various kinds.

The Laying Out of a Park or Estate 67

In Newburgh a garden is made by a distinguished
artist which fits the house and the landscape, and yet
sends the roots of its art down into the past through
Italian, Roman, Greek, and Persian until it reaches the
garden of Eden itself. In another place in Newburgh
one finds a bit of woodland scenery which is so managed
as to suggest a Japanese garden and at the same
time an American home, and which is also in a way
akin to the Chinese garden, parent of the Japanese
type.

Furthermore, one remembers Marco Polo, who on his
return from a twenty-four years’ sojourn in Northern
China (Cathay) gave his friend Rusticien de Pise his
notes and much oral information, thus enabling him to
write an account of his travels. An English chronicler,
Purchas, wrote some account of Marco Polo’s travels,
taken doubtless from this book, and one day Coleridge,
the poet, fell asleep after reading as follows: ‘‘ Here the
Khan Kub'a commanded a palace to be built and stately
gardens thereto, and thus ten miles of fertile ground
were enclosed with a wall.’’ During his nap Coleridge
had a dream and on awakening wrote down these
lines:

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan

A stately pleasure dome decree

Where Alph the sacred river ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea,

So twice five miles of fertile ground

With walls and towers were girded round:

68 Landscape Architecture

And here were gardens bright and sinuous rills
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree,
And here were forests ancient as the hills
Unfolding sunny spots of greenery.

Evidently the poet, under the untrammelled inspira-
tion of his imagination, dreamed something much
nearer the best type of gardens and lawns than the
lines of the old chronicler would indicate. This is
easy to understand: Coleridge was an Englishman of
the nineteenth century, and was doubtless more or less
familiar with the modern schools of landscape garden-
ing. The strangest part is that it seems that Oderic
of Pordenone, a Venetian and a Franciscan friar, went
to Cathay in the fourteenth century, many years after
Marco Polo, and in his account of his travels verified
the truth of the narrative about the fountains and
gardens of the Xanadu of Marco Polo, and also related
how the Chinese architects built these wonders of the
age in accordance with instructions of the Great Khan
Kabula, who had dreamed a p’cture of how they should
be designed. Doubtless his dream was based on a
knowledge of the landscape gardening of his day, just
as Coleridge was unconsciously influenced by his re-
collections of the parks of England. This comparative
identity of ideas becomes more evident when we read
in Marco Polo’s narrative how the Khan built in one
part of his park a mount, a hundred paces across the
top and a mile in circuit at the base. This hill he had
covered with large evergreen trees moved from a dis-
tance with the assistance of elephants, hence the name

The Laying Out of a Park or Estate 69

Green Mount. The earth required to make this mount,
when excavated, left a place for a small lake which
was supplied by a running stream. Thus we have all
the necessary elements of a landscape picture such as
we find not only to-day, but also in the pictures of the
gardens around Pekin made long before the Christian
era. Travellers state that this artificial hill can be
seen to-day bearing the original name King-Khan,
meaning Green Mountain.

These studies of two or three places at Newburgh
lead to the further consideration of the value of sim-
plicity and characteristic art in developing homes. The
ambition to make a showy place that indicates the
possession of wealth, and the ability to have what most
people cannot hope to obtain, or by going to great
expense to secure some feature in its highest develop-
ment because it has come to be the fashion, may not
always be desirable. In visiting the show places in
America, England, and on the continent, much as one
may be impressed, the feeling that finally gains the
upper hand is often not unlike that of Sydney Smith
in the following quotation:

“T went for the first time in my life some years
ago to stay at a very grand and beautiful place in
the country where the grounds are laid out with
consummate taste. For the first three or four days
I was perfectly enchanted; it seemed something so
much better than nature that I really began to wish
the earth had been laid out according to the latest

70 Dandscape Architecture

principles of improvement and the whole face of
nature were a little more the appearance of a park.
In three days’ time I was tired to death; a thistle,
a nettle,.a heap of dead bushes, anything that wore
the appearance of accident and want of intention,
was quite a relief. I used to escape from the made
grounds and’ walk upon an adjacent goose common
where the cart ruts, gravel pits, bumps, irregulari-
ties, coarse ungentlemanlike grass, and all the vari-
eties produced by neglect, were a thousand times
more gratifying than the monotony of beauties the
result of design and crowding with a luxuriance and
abundance utterly unknown to nature.”

Although there is no question that many grand
estates have their place and serve a good purpose, yet
the best taste will often suggest something quite differ-
ent, as may be seen in Central Park, New York, and
the great park at Muskau, Germany. As much beauty
and display as belong to an intelligently designed park
is of course admissible, but it does not therefore neces-
sarily place it in the highest rank of artistic endeavour.
In these days of rapid accumulation of great wealth
the tendency is to develop wonderful plant effects
rather than. beautiful, finely modulated landscape
studies. Nor can it be said that landscape gardening
designs are generally nowadays inferior to those of
fifty or a hundred years ago such as the creations made
by the designers of Central Park, New York, and Park
Muskau, and certain English estates; but the display

‘uos|iM ‘f WeiptM Aq ydessojzoyd & Wool
*Aasiaf MON ut oyeysq ATZUNOD e—SpurfAYS Je dA] oY} pu DUApIseY oy} Jo MOA V

The Laying Out of a Park or Estate 71

of wealth on the modern estate has seemingly drawn
much of our attention from the better work like that
of the instances just cited. There has been, however,
a gradual evolution of the best ideas of landscape
gardening,—and the work of fifty years ago is better
in some places than it was fifty years before that time;
and some of our work is still better to-day than ever.
While it may be true, as Leibnitz says, that nature
never makes leaps, it must nevertheless be conceded
that at the present time, when we are more highly in-
structed than ever before, we do not seem to be able to
advance as rapidly and as persistently as we should, and
have not yet attained to the high standards which have
been so commonly professed. Perhaps we are too aca-
demic, too bound down by precedent, not always of the
best and simplest sort. Our work of this kind is not al-
ways worthy of our traditions. It may be indeed a period
of slack water, but it is nevertheless sure that there is
good work being done, the value of which will be evi-
dent as time goeson. ‘‘To an even greater extent, the
present assimilates the past, and can no longer remain
subject to the changing wishes and caprices of to-day;
the past is taking on a new meaning for us and we are
finding that amid all that was peculiar to their own
age, there was some element in them that transcended
time and could be transmitted to all times.” Surely
we could not so link the landscape gardening of to-day
with that of former ages, if there were not “‘the same
eternal order operating there and here, an order in
which all that is deepest in human nature has its root,”

72 Landscape Architecture

The trouble is, that the designers of our country places
are oppressed, perhaps unconsciously, at the present day
by a false kind of erudition and their work too often
lacks personality. ‘‘All art speedily declines so soon as
it ceases to be continuously re-created, so the present
must in the last resort shape its own life. Its relation
to the past is not something fixed and given; it has
always to be ascertained anew. The present will always
mould its conception and judgment of the nature of
the past by its own conviction of the value of the work
it is doing.”” Thus speaking from the point of view of
a landscape architect, the past is by no means a finished
story. It is always open to the present to discover,
to stir up something new init. “Even the past is still
in the making.”

In order to realize what has been given to the land-
scape architecture of the present day to enable it to
reach a higher plane of development than ever before,
let us survey the present condition of the art. We will
find that we have a broader basis for its practice, more
vigour of movement, an exhaustless profusion of con-
structions and examples for our consideration; in ad-
dition we are securing a clearer insight and a more
balanced judgment; finally we are gaining an incen-
tive to follow up for ourselves the clue that has been
transmitted to us, a call to co-operate actively in the
great undertaking of creating landscape-gardening work
of high character.

Nobody can deny that in the modern renaissance
of landscape gardening and its evolution and adapta-

(‘uoisstwiag Aq paonpoiday) ‘sorg uMorg Aq ydeiz0joyg & WoO1g
“‘purpsug ‘uojurpjap\ Jo ong oy} fo oyvisq oy} ‘aAeg ppeyyzeys

The Laying Out of a Park or Estate 73

tion to new conditions of life, there has come a growing
and hopeful tendency towards individual development,
to the bestowal of a definite personality to work of
this character. By the small owner as well as the
prosperous man of affairs, or of elegant leisure, there
is an increasing effort to carry out his own ideas on his
own place. The emphasis of personality has come in
spite of all to be a deep note of the landscape gardening

of the present day. Whatever we have of it is a hope-

ful sign, although it also has its drawbacks.

So wide has been the interest in horticulture, so great
has been the development of trees and shrubs and flow-
ers, that the value of the basic ideas that should always
be kept in view in the practice of the art has been
partially left in abeyance or lost sight of. Some sacri-
fice doubtless is needed. Those who are interested in
landscape must forgo somewhat of their regard for

extraordinary floral and arboreal effects, and return to
the study of the ideas that lie at the foundation of the
art. ‘‘No one can advance without surrender, no one
can gain without losses, no one can reach great goals
without giving up many things in themselves desirable.”’
An extraordinary horticultural effect may be in itself
desirable, yet it may be positively unsuited to the
landscape scheme adopted. There is a rivalry of the
horticultural and the strictly landscape gardening
effects which no one making an estate can escape, for
in order to achieve success in one typical line another
possible line may have to be sacrificed. Moreover,
the landscape architect has to employ his weapons on

74 Dandscape Architecture

the side of truth and nature, and these very weapons,
sharpened by intelligence and experience, have to be
continually rediscovered and refashioned to fit the
facts and ideas the present stage of the development
of the art has found and verified. Not only is there
less pure imitation but there is a better realization of
the truth of the words of Nicholas de Cusa written
more than four hundred years ago: ‘There is nothing
in the universe that does not enjoy a certain singularity
which is to be found in no other thing.’’ But there is
more to be done than to impress one’s own personality
on a place. That alone will not suffice. ‘‘The more
experience advances the more there is of adaptation
of environment as well as adaptation to environment.”
An estate should have due attention paid to the reten-
tion as far as possible of any essential charm it may
possess, but the owner should, at the same time, feel
entire liberty to impress his or her personality on the
place to any degree that will not destroy that supreme
quality, ‘‘the genius of the place.” A natural scene
may be beautiful in itself, without change, but change,
if it be personal and human in its origin, increases the
charm of the place for most people, tenfold. What
would Wordsworth’s descriptions of nature be without
the human note?

The following reference to an actual place in the
country will perhaps give a better illustration of what
I mean. A little cottage in the hills, it is about five
miles back of the Hudson and ten or twelve miles from
the northern border of New York City. It occupies

‘uos[IM “f weypta 4q ydesis0jz0yg & WoIg
‘AN ‘piojswyq reou ouroy AryuNOD V

The Laying Out of a Park or Estate 75

only a nook of three quarters of an acre, high enough
to dominate a fine view to the north, and entirely
secluded on a steep narrow back road embowered with
many trees. The region is an inhabited one, but except
for a house here and there, it might be in the Adiron-
dacks. There are hundreds of similar places within
fifty miles of New York City, only most people do not
look for them. The dwelling itself is a small farmhouse
of a quaint, yet familiar, and commonplace character.
The purchaser of the place really left the house almost
alone. A simple wing and a stoop were added, also
closets, cupboards, and some changes of partitions.
The exterior was little changed, except for a coat of
paint. Even plumbing was left out, and yet the owner
and her friends and relatives often spend considerable
periods of time in this little nook. The place has a
wonderful charm for its owner, who has lived much
abroad, especially in Italy. Her respect, however, for
the thoroughly American quality of the place, its sim-
plicity and quaint natural beauty is great, and no
foreign fashion is allowed to mar its inherent, native
charm; just a plain old-fashioned house near the road,
of no special style at all, not even Colonial. On the
steep sidehill from where the house stands a narrow
path wanders about in somewhat uncertain fashion,
just to suit itself and the flower garden of roses and
old-fashioned perennials with some of the herbs in a
bed by themselves that one sees so often in Italy.
The path winds down to a deep hollow where a cool
spring reposes in the shadow of many trees. Passing

76 Landscape Architecture

through this woods the path leads to a small knoll
crowned by a little group of forest trees, oaks, and sas-
safras. ‘This is called the Bosca of the place where in
Italian fashion the family gather to meals in pleasant
weather. The homely vegetables and on the house the
Virginia creepers and grape vines keep the spirit of the
place unfalteringly American. No Italian gardens and
pergolasmar the essentially American beauty of thescene.
Just the little grove, the Bosca, with its rude table and
benches and quaint oven in the open made of a few stones,
and the herb garden, scarcely anything else Italian, and
yet you feel that the owner loves Italy, and remembers
Italy, but yet loves America still more with its brave
simplicity and its absolutely natural charm.

This makes only one more instance of the supreme
value of the application of good landscape-gardening
ideas to ‘‘the genius of the place’”’ in all countries and
times, provided the personality of the owner and his other
idiosyncrasies receive due consideration. In this way,
one may achieve, at lesser or greater expense, a home the
result of many aspirations born of diverse experiences.
One may have an English or American or French home
bearing evidence of the effects of a strong personality, and
yet it may have a touch, by,no means overpowering, of
a more alien, and possibly more desirable style, whether
it be Italian, or Japanese, or clearly semi-tropical in effect.
The landscape gardening thus becomes basic and uni-
versal in its essential quality, and is at the same time
full of personality and human feeling.

Til
SIZE AND EXTENT OF AN ESTATE

T should appear from what has been already said
that a beautiful piece of landscape gardening may
be of many sizes from the village yard to the

estate of thousands of acres.

Many considerations, however, need weighing in
each case, although the general laws of arrangement
hold true throughout. These laws consist in the estab-
lishment of certain types of treatment, each a unit,
all varied continually, lapping over, contrasting with
and contradicting each other; built on the lines of nature
yet really not nature, but nevertheless faithful to her
spirit. The treatment of these various large or small
country places and village lawns is chiefly, therefore,
a question of relations between different parts.

Therefore there should be a proper rhythm in these
relations, a spacing, a notation that naturally applies to
all kinds of design whether it be music, poetry, painting,
architecture, or landscape gardening. The true spirit
of design lies in the balance and poise of the parts,
their variation, whether rapid or slow, tense and violent,

or suave and tranquil.
7

78 Landscape Architecture

In the village yard the sense of cosiness, the having
something of one’s own seems desirable, and enclosure
is therefore needed on all sides, and the same with
equal force applies to the country place. How much
finer would the village yards be if this idea were put
in practice, a bit of grass, bordering shrubbery, and
such trees as the space will allow, and, instead of a
straight path through the centre, one passing along
half concealed through the foliage, with, at the feet of
the bushes, flowers of all kinds, iris, etc.

Then again there may be a little square or green in
the quadrangle of a group of cottages: this place does
not need shrubs, only trees; its charm lies in its open
greensward and trees. Prince Ptckler mentions an
instance in England:

“Not far from the parks is an interesting estab-
lishment called ‘The Cottages.’ The proprietor,
Mr. Harford, has endeavoured to realize the beau
ideal of a village. A beautiful green space in the
midst of a wood is surrounded by a winding road;
on it are built nine cottages all of different forms and
materials, stone, brick, wood, and roofed with thatch,
tiles, and slate; each surrounded with different trees,
and enwreathed with various sorts of clematis, rose,
honeysuckle, and vine. The dwellings, which are
perfectly detached though they form a whole, have
separate gardens, and a common fountain which
stands in the centre of the green, overshadowed by
old trees. The gardens, divided by neat hedges, form

Size and Extent of an Estate 79

a pretty garland of flowers and herbs round the
whole village. What crowns the whole is, that the
inhabitants are all poor families, whom the generous
proprietor allows to live in the houses rent free. No
more delightful or well chosen spot could be found
as a refuge for misfortune: its perfect seclusion and
snugness breathe only peace and forgetfulness of the
world.”’

On the other hand, when we turn to larger places,
twenty acres or many thousands of acres, the same prin-
ciples apply to the architectural and thenatural features,
to the high and low, and broad and narrow masses,
related and contrasted ina hundred ways. The house,
the barns and stables, vegetable gardens, are all given
due attention on their practical side, for use as well as
for beauty,—nothing forced, nothing seemingly meant
for display, dignified, noble, grand if you will, but never
a sense of strain, although full of nuances, full of deli-
cate elusive beauties. One great picture, or a series
of attractive small lawns and glades, now various, now
contradictory, and now contrasting.

Here are two not altogether imaginary instances.
One is a charming villa with beautiful outlooks in
various directions over Florence and the Arno. The
setting is formal, rightly, and highly decorative, for it
is a part of the Boboli Gardens. Fountains, beauti-
ful trees, everything choice and charming. But it is
chiefly as a foreground to many views that we value
it. One sits and feasts the eyes and mind on the lovely

80 Dandscape Architecture

distant scenes and their many associations, and yet
one remains in a resting place, a circumscribed area.
In another place we find the location of a house and
its tributary buildings made in a dense woods where
the forest has been cut away to gain the necessary room.
Here again the basic law of design applies, but how
differently? The open space is made large enough for
the buildings, gardens, and lawns with their enclosing
plantations. Around these open spaces, however, along
the border of the woods are found plantations of more
trees and shrubs, running in and out of the forest,
contrasting, contradicting, and yet harmonizing the
new with the old, a fringe that straggles, blends, and
loses itself, dies away so that the natural scene may
still triumph and live; boundary lines that evidently
exist but hardly appear. Such work needs artistic
training and real knowledge of plants, and quite as great
is the ability to open paths properly to beautiful glades
and fine groups of trees, or perhaps to a pool or brook or
some picturesque mass of rock. The roads through such
regions should lead in devious ways, never straight, but
on revealing lines that would inspire the imagination to
wonder what will be next slipping around the corner.
Doubtless, most persons have seen a straight vista cut
through woods, to allow some statue or building to ap-
pear at the end of it. Read what Richard Jeffries says
about this in his chapter on ‘‘An English Deer Park’’:

“Wide straight roads—you can call them nothing
else—were cut through the finest woods so that on

A Distant Vista in the Park of Prince Pickler von Muskau, Silesia, Germany.
From a Photograph by Thomas W. Sears, Providence, R. I.

Size and Extent of an Estate 81

looking from a certain window or standing at a cer-
tain spot in the grounds you might see a church tower
at the end of the cutting. In some parks there are
half a dozen such horrors shown to you as a great
curiosity; some have a monument or pillar at the
end. These hideous disfigurements of beautiful
scenery should be wiped out in our day. The stiff
straight cutting could soon be filled up by planting
and after a time the woods would resume their
natural condition. Many common highway roads
are really delightful, winding through trees and hedge-
rows with glimpses of hills and distant villages.
But these planned straight vistas, radiating from a
central spot as if done by ruler and pen, at once
destroy the pleasant illusion of primeval forest.
You may be dreaming under the oaks of the chase of
Rosalind: the moment you enter such a vista all
becomes commonplace.”

The object of these two examples is to show how
extent and space in landscape of all sizes, especially
the largest, can constitute many diverse and individual
problems and yet how they should be unified into one
scheme of landscape design. It should be all simple
and yet almost infinite in its contrasts and harmonies.
Prince Pickler speaks in Hints on Landscape Gardening

about ‘‘frozen music’’ thus:

“Even so one might compare the higher garden

art with music, and at least as fitly as architecture
6

Dandscape Arcbitecture

has been called frozen music, call garden art grow-
ing music. It too has its symphonies, adagios, and
allegros, which stir the senses with vague and power-
ful emotions. Further, as Nature offers her features
to the landscape gardener for use and choice, so does
she offer to music her fundamental tones, beautiful
like the human voice, the song of birds, the thunder
of the tempest, the roaring of the hurricane, the
bodeful wailing of branches—ugly sounds like howl-
ing, bellowing, clattering, and squeaking, yet the
instruments bring all these out and work according
to circumstances, ear splitting in the hands of the
incompetent, entrancing when arranged by the artist
in an orderly whole. The genial nature painter
(landscape architect) does the same. He studies
the manifold material given him by nature, and works
the scattered parts by his art into a beautiful whole
whose melody flatters the senses, but only unfolds
its highest powers and yields the greatest enjoyment
when harmony has breathed true soul into the work.”

This is not altogether sentiment. If you do not

cut out your woods in this way, a way born of much
study and a good sense of harmony and trained skill,
you will simply get the effects against which Jeffries
rails, and Puckler exclaims.

Every one of the lawns with great outlooks, or only

village street scenes, should have the same application

contradiction and contrast breaking into each other

and finally producing the harmony of a unified scheme,

Size and Extent of an Estate 83

a design which has rhythm and flow. The important
thing is to keep the mind fixed on the broad outlines,
the articulation of any place, even the smallest, its
bones and sinews, and not allow oneself to be diverted
to producing more or less petty effects where a large
one should be accomplished, setting out some rare or
curious tree or shrub where it does not belong, just
because you have a whim to set it there. The improper:
use of rocks, water, and paths and roads creates a strain
and an incongruity that is not the contradiction and
contrast that makes for harmony within the scheme
of the landscape design. The artistic effect sought
should be just as refined and rare and delicate as that of
a Constable landscape.

Perhaps the ordinary man, the man of the street,
may believe he cannot achieve the desired result.
Perhaps hecannot. The longer he works at it, however,
the more beauties he will discover he can bring into
being, and the more he tries the more he will want to
try, for it all becomes more and more fascinating as he
brings out more beauty of tree and shrub and flower.
Many a man has been astonished at what he can ac-
complish in landscape making. The trouble is that
few think of doing such work on artistic lines. They
simply set out plants and grade grounds with what they
consider good taste. This artistic work they think
belongs to the landscape architect, and doubtless it
does, but no man will ever inspire or even assist the
designer in his work, unless he follows and sustains
him intelligently with an appreciation of his effort

84 Landscape Architecture

that can only come from actual love of the work and
a certain knowledge possessed by himself. Landscape
gardening means, therefore, much more than hiring a
gardener to grade and plant the lawn, or a consulta-
tion with the tree agent about trees and shrubs to be
bought, and it means much more than the preparation
of plans of location of buildings, roads, and plantations
by some celebrated expert; it should really mean an
unceasing struggle for years to attain results the
accomplishment of which, with the help of men, of
nature in field and forest, and of books, will prove an
unceasing delight. Prince Ptickler worked at it for
half a century, on his estates at Moskau and elsewhere,
and never ceased to enjoy it and to acquire fresh ideas.
Read what he says about the extent and size of a park
and it will be evident at once that he found on artistic
lines inspiration for the most elevated conceptions
wrought out in a duly ordered scheme.
Prince Pickler says:

“In order that the landscape gardener should
achieve a great effect, it is not necessary that a park
should be large. An extended estate is often so
bungled, so belittled by incompetent treatment, that,
lacking in unity, it appears quite small. I may here
remark, by the way, that I think Michael Angelo
totally wrong when he said about the Pantheon, ‘Ye
marvel at it on the earth, I will set it in the heavens.’
He meant thereby to achieve a more imposing effect,
and as he said, so he did. He gave the dome of

Size and Extent of an Estate 85

St. Peter’s the same size as the Pantheon, but
how unfortunate is the result! Looming up in
the air above the enormous masses of the building,
St. Peter’s Dome appears in proportion small and
insignificant, whilst the dome of the old Pantheon,
placed on the right base, appears after centuries
as sublime as the arch of the firmament.

““Poised on the summit of Mont Blanc the Pyra-
mids would hardly appear as large as sentry boxes,
and Mont Blanc itself, seen from the distant plains,
looks like a little snow hill. Large and small are,
therefore, relative terms. It is not from the thing
itself we judge, but from its appearance in given
surroundings, and it is here that landscape archi-
tecture has the widest of fields. For instance, trees
a hundred feet high, which in the middle distance
hardly rise above the horizon, will at a short distance
tower above it, hence, with intelligent management,
with due appreciation of the value the foreground
has to distance, it is possible to give character and
expression to the landscape and secure an effect of
grandeur and extent.

“T cannot help remarking here that if I have al-
ways held up as a model the general appearance of
English parks, which testify to a universally diffused
taste for park culture and embellishment, I still be-
lieve that in given ways England might have done
much better. It seems to me that with much beauty
most English parks have one blemish which makes
them rather tedious and monotonous on long ac-

Landscape Architecture

quaintance. I have in mind neither their pleasure
grounds, nor their gardens, which are full of variety,
but their parks. For instance, in regard to the de-
liberate treatment of these parks as features laid out
on a diminutive scale, the effect seems to be altogether
inadequate when compared to the grandeur and
magnificence of the open country round them. In-
deed, in my opinion, the outside country not infre-
quently resembles far more a region ennobled by art
in variety than the parks.

“‘T have previously stated the proposition that size
is not an absolutely necessary element in the making
of a park, yet where it is possible, I think it very
desirable, in order that a greater variety of parts
be gained, a quality which will always present the
supreme charm of novelty. Laid out with equal
intelligence I should always prefer the more exten-
sive to the smaller park, even if the latter should be
more favoured by nature. In Prussia, where land
has so much less value than in other countries, such
large estates are easily obtainable, and I advise
every one of my countrymen to strive for large places.
It is certain that, considered as a little world sufficient
unto itself, a park where one cannot ride or drive for
an hour at least without going over the same roads,
and which does not comprise many more walks,
very soon tires one, if confined to it alone. But
where a rich picturesque nature has already idealized
the region around and has made it, as it were, into a
great work of art, as in the case of many parts of

Size and Extent of an Estate 87

Switzerland, Italy, South Germany, or Silesia, then
I am, on the whole, of the opinion that projects of
parks are hors d’euvre. It would be like a little
landscape in the corner of a magnificent Claude
Lorrain. There one’s work should be confined to the
laying out of good roads so that the enjoyment of
such rare scenery be made easier, while here and
there taking down some isolated trees in order to open
views which are hidden by nature, always indifferent
to the display of her beauties.

“‘Near the house, however, one should seek for
the charm of a garden of modest proportions, which,
whenever possible, wouldcontrast with nature around.
In such a garden one should have in view not so much
the variety of a landscape, but comfort and charm,
safety and elegance. The garden art of the Romans,
which through the study of the classical writers,
and especially through the description which Pliny
gives of his villa, again came into practice in the
fifteenth century in Italy, and was later altered into
the so-called French gardens, into colder, less com-
fortable forms, deserves particular consideration on
this very point. This rich and sumptuous art,
which may be called an extension of the art of archi-
tecture from the house into the garden, or, as the
English might say, the approach of the landscape
to the very doors of the house, may be most suitably
applied to this purpose. Imagine, for instance,
among the precipices and waterfalls, the dark pine
woods, and blue glaciers of mountainous Switzerland,

Landscape Architecture

a classical, antique building, a palace from the Strada
Balbi, sumptuous in its decorative flourishes, sur-
rounded with high terraces, rich multi-coloured
parterres of flowers, studded with marble statues
and alive with the movement of waters; what a
contrast would this be to the tremendous naked
grandeur of the setting of mountains? A few steps
aside in the woods, and palace and gardens would
have vanished from view, as by a magic wand, to
make room again for the undisturbed loneliness and
majestic wilderness of nature. Farther on, perhaps,
a bend in the road would open up an unexpected
vista, where, in the distance, the work of art like a
realized fairy dream would show through the dark
firs, glowing in the light of the setting sun, or rising
up over the mysterious darkness of the valley in a
mass where, here and there, the tiny sparkles of
lighted candles would glow. Would not such a pic-
ture be wonderful, and owe its chief beauty largely
to contrast? When nature offers her material, the
scheme must be different; then the park, an oasis in
a broad, flat space, must first create its own environ-
ment. Although the same laws are everywhere the
foundation of beauty, they have to be interpreted
and expressed in various ways. In such a case,
where no impression by great contrasts can be
achieved, one must carefully seek to create a pleasant
and gentle, general harmony, bringing into view
large elements, such as the distant views which may
be secured, into correspondence with the character

Size and “Extent of an Estate 89

given to the park. In such a problem the size of
the domain becomes a chief consideration. In the
former example it is only necessary to embellish a
single spot to make all surrounding nature serve one’s
own purpose. Here, the treatment should extend
to the whole region. Examples which lie between
these two schemes will require modifications of both
propositions and be tastefully treated according to
the respective localities. In all these cases the
principles I have laid down are basic ones.”

Finally, careful consideration should be given to
the dimensions of an estate or park with regard to the
limitations that the topography, the hills and wood-
land and water naturally impose on the purchaser. It
is easy for a person of means to add field unto field,
but the question is, does he secure thereby an estate
or park that naturally fits into a well-considered land-
scape scheme?

If this cannot be done, it would be wise to abandon
the scheme altogether and go elsewhere, or else accept
the limitations of the smaller place.

Nothing is more important than the establishing in
the beginning the proper boundaries to a place. Time
and study and the best advice are well employed in
securing this end.

The illustration of a view from West Point, New
York, called the Gates of the Highlands, is given to
show to what extent the eye can reach and feel that it
contains within its domain a definite landscape picture.

90 Landscape Architecture

The advantage of studying such a scene is that you
have before you a perfectly good model for landscape-
gardening work designed to any scale even the small-
est. It is simply a grand example of the way nature,
in her best mood, designs her scenery. The view also
illustrates how by replacing the water of the river by
grass you could obtain the meadow effect, with trees
and shrubs jutting out into the sea of green, and thus
create the pastoral scene which as well as the water
effect may prove to be the eye of the landscape.

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IV
ENCLOSURES

HE question of fences is not altogether one of
landscape art, for protection of this kind be-
comes a necessity: in most countries; however, it

has its advantages from the artistic standpoint; outside
of and beyond all the practical advantages of an en-
closure its landscape effect has value. It individualizes
a place, it sets a boundary, it marks the confines of
a home or a possession, if it does nothing more. It
indicates that the frame of the picture is here, and the
enclosure warns one and all that here they must stop,
and go no farther except as the proprietor may allow
them the freedom of his domain for picnics, cross-cut
paths, and various other privileges. Landscape art
should seek to plant out and shut out in great part the
boundary walls or fences and allow only occasional
glimpses to prove that they exist and are performing
their proper function.

There is a tendency at the present time to favour
the open lawn scheme where a dozen houses or more
show no boundary line between them except the sur-

veyor’s monuments. These places are generally com-
gI

92 Landscape Architecture

paratively small, and throwing them all together into
one lawn is thought to make a better display of what-
ever beauty they may possess, or that may be added
to them by planting trees and shrubs and flowers.
But it will be found on studying the situation in the
light of the laws of landscape design that a number of
these buildings, included together and owned by per-
sons of diverse interests and tastes, will not lend them-
selves successfully to one landscape scheme. The
variety of human interests create contrasts and con-
tradictions that will not come into harmony with each
other on account of the ‘personal equation,” the
difference of make-up of the owners. Theoretically it
is a beautiful idea and seems practicable, but to obtain
a really artistic effect in this way, no, it is not likely
to be done. People may fancy they have lawns with
many houses and owners, in one great enclosure, that is
satisfactory, but the probability is that they do not
know a well-designed lawn when they see it, and think
they have something which they have not.

The intimate way of treating the small home will
really commend itself to everyone who is not led away by
the influence of a caprice or fashion. It gives the surest
way of securing the most comfort and pleasure for the
dweller under his own vine and fig tree. With wire fence
covered with vines entirely, or a rough wall of stone,
quarry stone, uncut, with the interstices devoid of ce-
ment and filled with rich earth and rock plants, stone-
crop, prickly pear, and other rock plants, the home be-
comes one’s very own. Flowers cluster around the base

Enclosures 93

of the wall, or honeysuckle fence, and shrubs partially
screen it, and the lawn within becomes a park in mini-
ature, its design obedient to park laws. Everything
would naturally be in proportion, trees and shrubs of
moderate and even dwarf growth finding place on the
smallest lawn. There is likely on the small place to
be danger of overcrowding, for there should be a
breadth of grass plot or lawn sufficient to make the
place look larger rather than smaller than it really is.
The sense of comparative breadth can always be main-
tained in the smallest place.

It should hardly need repeating that a boundary
enclosure of this kind should have along its borders
shrubs and trees so arranged as to not only carry out
the general law of design, but to reveal at intervals
brief glimpses over the boundary to pleasing objects
beyond.

A fence is generally an unattractive part of the
landscape. It is artificial, no matter how it is designed,
whether of iron, wood, or stone. Wire fastened to
iron posts makes a cheap fence that will last at least
twenty years in many cases, but it is ugly. Cover it
with honeysuckles and it is beautiful. There can be
little objection to any fence, if covered with vines or
other vegetation, especially if trees and shrubs lend
the support of their protecting and screening foliage.
The fence then becomes quite as attractive as any
other part of the place, especially as it need not shut out,
and indeed never should entirely shut out, important
views of spaces exterior and beyond.

94 Landscape Architecture

A small place especially if. enclosed as it should be
ought to have nothing spectacular about it, no showy
plants, trees or shrubs or flowers, set out solely for
display. If there is a proper place for them in the
landscape scheme, use them, but not otherwise. No
grottoes, no rock work unless rocks crop out of the soil,
no pergolas unless an arbour is wanted for a grape
vine, and then it only finds a proper place in the general
scheme provided it is perfectly simple. All more or
less theatrical arrangements only make the enclosure
seem more confined and unnatural.

In the case of the large place there may be a series
of lawns unenclosed, groups of buildings, mansion re-
gion, farm region, woodland of vast extent; then the
boundary lines disappear except where openings are
made to disclose far-distant scenery and then the en-
closures count little in the scheme. Perhaps it may be
a territory like Central Park where the city needs to
be shut out altogether because there is nothing beyond
to tempt the eye. On the other hand, on a place like
Muskau, Germany, Prince Ptickler would naturally
seek to retain many of his distant views because they
were as important to him as those near his house. In
so large a place (thousands of acres) the enclosures
would hardly mean much except when one went near
them.

“T have often heard the opinion expressed that
nothing is more contrary to the way of nature—
which is, after all, what landscape gardening seeks

Enclosures 95

to conform itself to—than the enclosures of a park,
but I think otherwise, and quite approve of the
English fashion of having every park enclosed with
great care, but this enclosure should be varied and
in large’ part it should not be felt inside the park.
At bottom this question of enclosure is rather a
matter of expediency than of esthetics, and yet as
an element of beauty I do not condemn it. Are
not such beautiful uncultivated spots marked off
as it were by distinct boundaries, and does not such
a division often increase their charm? For example,
a valley shut in by a dense forest or impassable rocks,
an island surrounded by running water, give the
feeling of home, of entire possession, of security
against intrusion or disturbance, allowing us to
enjoy all the more comfortably the beauty of the
surroundings. And, therefore, in a park the pre-
sence of a protecting wall or fence should be wel-
comed as a highly desirable element, necessary for
the peace and security of our enjoyment in excluding
the unwelcome intruder, but which should be so
contrived as to permit us to go out from the park into
the surrounding country. Hence the sight of an
enclosure can only be obnoxious to those who hold
so exaggerated a notion of freedom that, hating
everything that bears the name of barrier, they
would wish to overturn even imaginary barriers!
In England, as I have said before, not only every
park, but on account of the precious cattle, every
section of it, every coppice and every exposed young

96 Landscape Architecture

tree is surrounded with a fence, and although this
disturbs the general effect by being carried to excess,
I have frequently found that here and there a fence
is very picturesque, especially where the character
of the landscape changes, the fence in this case pre-
paring the mind for new impressions and affording
an easy transition to new scenes.

“So for security’s sake let our parks have an en-
closure high and strong, assuming that this is pos-
sible—for to be sure, just as French cookery books
very wisely begin their receipts with ‘Ayez une
carpe, ayez un perdreau,’ etc., I preface my advice
with the proviso that, locality being favourable and
means at hand, the park should be enclosed. But
inasmuch as the heavier and bigger the wall, the
worse, aS a rule, is its appearance, and bearing in
mind also that it is a great mistake to limit the field
of fancy by too familiar a view of its limits, a close
and broad plantation should hide the greater part
of it. If such a barrier is made by a wooden fence
it should never be seen, but supplied with interesting
points at intervals, and a deep ha-ha, or ditch, along-
side, while all the abruptness of the hollow thus made
can be avoided by covering it with varied plantations.
The paths should only approach this ha-ha or ditch
when, for instance, by means of a small bridge, one
wishes to sally forth through an opening into the
surrounding country. The manner of screening the
bridge and the boundaries should be as varied as
possible. In one place the foliage should run two

Enclosures 97

or three hundred paces along the boundaries, showing
a high plantation of trees: in other places again it
should be made up of narrower and lower groups of
trees so that over and beyond one can catch glimpses
of the outside country. In other places, these far-
distant views should be visible above coppices and
under isolated trees, standing from among but high
above the shrubbery. If a wall surrounds the park
this can, at intervals, be allowed freely to emerge,
broken only by scattering bushes and trees, and will
look best in a ruined or unkempt state, covered with
ivy and Virginia creeper, or let the foliage be merged
into a building, a gallery, etc. Under such condi-
tions the wall will never be a disturbing influence,
but an improvement.

“Along this plantation on the boundary, some-
times broad, sometimes narrow, but hardly ever
more than 3 riithen (48 feet), should run irregularly
a grass road 24 feet wide. On the side towards the
interior of the park begins the mixed plantation for
forming a screen for the general view. Here decid-
uous-leaved trees predominate and in summer hide
the too monotonous evergreen foliage which should
be left conspicuous only where it is desirable. It is
surprising how such an arrangement enlivens a park
even in melancholy winters, and how the lawn or
grass path even amid snow and ice, where everything
else is bare, makes the most charming walk. The
evergreen foreground which covers the boundaries

both winter and summer and borders the grass path
7

Dandscape Architecture

gives colour to the whole region, and supplies a want
greatly sought after in winter days, although a well
grouped and designed park should, even without
colour, during all seasons of the year, satisfy our
sense of beauty, especially in winter when all ordinary
decoration is absent, making an interesting picture
by the harmony of its masses of trees, lawns, water,
its pleasant lines of paths and banks. That the
border plantation of pines and other evergreen trees
should be planted so as to appear a natural growth
is obvious, and in the chapter on Plantations examples
will be given in detail. Meanwhile the sketch in Plate
I. will make my views clearer. At a the green path
from the park is practically hidden, at b it appears
only as a cutting which loses itself in the shrubbery.

“Along the boundary wall of many English parks,
where was carried out in old times the work of Brown
and his followers, there runs a path between an almost
regular band of foliage planted with shrubs and trees,
so that the wall is often conspicuous between the
tree trunks.

“My reader must not confound my plan with
this English plan, as the green path I advocate is a
part of the lawn, and has no definite distinction from
the lawn, but simply melts into it. The English
idea originated in the infancy of landscape gardening,
when parks of such size were first laid out, and it was
a matter of vanity to make them appear as large as
possible; but the means defeated the end, since they
ostentatiously pointed out what they should have

eee
ss ae ci

\ Lau

Goethe’s Cottage at Weimar.

Redrawn from an Old Print.

A Honeysuckle Hedge Growing on Wire Mesh and Iron Posts.

Enclosures 99

artistically concealed. Apart from this enclosure,
which is necessary for protection, it is obvious that
every interesting feature of the distant landscape
should be included in the park, all outer rays con-
centrating into this focus. Distant views of great
extent lying way beyond the actual grounds give an
appearance of measureless extent. When such op-
portunities are skilfully utilized they greatly surpass
the reality. They must, however, be so managed
that one should never become aware of the intervening
park boundaries. Moreover such special features
should never be seen twice in the same way. For in-
stance: many partial glimpses may be given of a dis-
tant hill, but only once should the hill be revealed in its
entirety. Thesame applies to the town or city. Such
effective planning, affording glimpses which tempt
one’s imagination and excite the pleasure of anticipa-
tion, and compositions in which each part is interde-
pendent, are far more difficult to achieve than full
revelations. When people stumble on a remarkably
beautiful view and, after lingering long, remark,
‘What a pity that great tree stands in the foreground,
how much more grand the view would be if it were ab-
sent’—they would be much astonished if one did them
the service to hew away the condemned tree. They
would have a stretch of country before them, but no
more picture—for a garden in the great style is really
a picture gallery and pictures demand a frame.”’*

The appearance of a fence made of picturesque-

«Prince Pickler, Hints on Landscape Gardening.

100 Landscape Architecture

looking stones or a vine-covered iron wire has real value
as a landscape feature in itself. The use of the vines
and the stone, or the wire, are however chiefly a means
of making known the existence of a boundary line.
Consequently the blending of boundary plantations,
trees and shrubs and vines, should be so complete as
to largely confine itself to the suggestion of the presence
of a limit to the place. There would naturally be
views here and there, out and beyond, except on oc-
casions when discordant elements need shutting out.
The ‘‘hedge” sensation should be eliminated, and the
border plantation made after the type which in the
case of trees and shrubs and flowers is intended to ap-
ply to the composition of every part of the place. The
illustration showing a boundary fence on the estate of
Muskau is intended to explain how the trees and shrubs
should be massed along the boundaries. The fence is
made of wood and on that account is not altogether
to be commended. Otherwise, the irregularity of the
height of the pickets gives it an attractive appearance.
Carrying out the same idea, the base, outside of the
fence bordering the sidewalk, should be planted with
flowers, irises, the larger sedums, saxifrage, anemones,
phlox, and goldenrod, with here and there one shrub or
three;—groups of shrubs planted in odd numbers al-
ways compose better. The sidewalk, in a sense,
belongs to the public and therefore it would be unwise
to leave shrubs to be injured on the curb line; other-
wise the planting of shrub groups among the shade
trees that border the road would be desirable, because

Enclosures 101

even here it is well to follow out consistently the
typical scheme of planting that pertains to the land-
scape of the entire place. At least we can go far
towards retaining a natural effect by planting trees
on the curb at unequal distances—35 feet—qo feet—
45 feet and even 50 feet or 60 feet apart. The kinds of
shade trees used can also be made to vary the effect,
not by changing the species continually, but by planting
a dozen or more of one sort together. If the road
winds, it is a good idea to plant one kind from one turn
to the next as far as the eye can see. The beauty of
this system of irregular planting, especially in the case
of shrubs and flowers, is that any damage done by the
public does not produce such defacing effects as would
occur in a symmetrically formed group, or in a hedge.

It is a fact, however, that a carefully worked out
group, an evidently foreordained design would be
more likely to survive unscathed than carelessly made
plantations, the composition of which is characterized,
to use a homely phrase, by neither rhyme nor reason.
Thoughtless and uninstructed persons are apt to think
that whenever they see a plantation along a fence that
looks as if it had sprung up there naturally, it must be
evident that the arrangement can never have been the
result of a carefully studied design.

This concealment of intention is truly what ought to
be instinctively practised if the design is good. But in
attempting to do such work it should be remembered
that every plant counts in the scheme and that not one
plant can be safely planted in any haphazard fashion.

Vv
LOCATION OF BUILDINGS

N several ways the spot where buildings are located

| should be controlling. They occupy the key to
the situation. Here most of the time the human
beings live, the men, women, and children, and their
physical needs and comforts should be satisfied and
their mental and spiritual desires, for here man abides
and finds his home, and if he wanders he returns here,
and wants in this spot especially the very best that life
can give him. Consequently, the house must have the
chief part of his attention, and therefore too much care
cannot be given to the choice of the site. This is the
way Humphry Repton expresses the same idea:
“However various opinions may be on the choice of
a situation for a house, yet there appear to be certain
principles on which such choice ought to be founded;
and these may be deduced from the following consider-
ations: First: The natural character of the surround-
ing country. Secondly: The style, character, and size
of the house. Thirdly: The aspects of exposure, both
with regard to the sun and the prevalent winds of the

country. Fourthly: The shape of the ground near
102

A Gardener's Cottage at Skylands—A Country Estate in New Jersey.
From a Photograph by William J. Wilson.

Windsor Castle, England.
From an Old Print.

Location of Butldings 103

the house. Fifthly: The views from the several apart-
ments; and Sixthly: The numerous objects of comfort—
such as a dry soil, a supply of good water, proper space
for offices, with various other conveniences essential to
a mansion in the country, and which in a town may
sometimes be dispensed with, or at least very differently
disposed.”

Architects’ advice is not sufficient, landscape archi-
tects should be called in to study the shape of the
ground and to select the place where the lawns and
shrubbery will make the surroundings of the house
most convenient and comfortable and secure the best
landscape effect. The engineer should also advise as
to the drainage and the chemist as to the character of
the soil with a view to its fertilization and also as to the
quality of the drinking water. It seems a great deal of
trouble to take to locate a house, but the wise man
decides on all these things beforehand and saves him-
self a great deal of trouble in the end.

The architect naturally looks to the many questions
of comfort and beauty that the landscape architect
is not necessarily called on to discuss, such as the way
the sun comes in at the windows and from what quarter
the cold winds blow. The modelling of the land how-
ever is the landscape architect’s special province, and
every pound of soil that comes from the cellar, and
such other soil as has to be taken from elsewhere, should
be under the control of the landscape architect and his
assistants. To them exclusively should be delegated
this work, for only in this way can an artistic result

104. Landscape Architecture

be accomplished satisfactorily on the most important
part of the grounds. On the other hand, the architect
should be consulted by the landscape architect concern-
ing the kind of vines that should be grown on the
house. Again we find the contrasting and over-
lapping of contradictory elements in the use of plants
of various kinds that are needed over and in the ver-
andas and porticoes to produce harmony between the
house and the adjacent landscape, a sort of interlocking
of horticultural and architectural features which can
be made to produce charming combinations.

As an illustration of the importance of this way of
treating the site, read the account of Tintern Abbey
given by Prince Pickler in his Tour of England:

“It would be difficult to imagine a more favour-
able situation or a more sublime ruin. The en-
trance to it seems as if contrived by the hand of
some skilful scene painter to produce the most
striking effect. The church, which is large, is still
almost perfect, the roof alone and a few of the pillars
are wanting. The ruins have received just that
degree of care which is consistent with the full
preservation of their character; all unpicturesque
rubbish which could obstruct the view is removed,
without any attempt at repair and embellishment.
A beautiful smooth turf covers the ground, and
luxuriant creeping plants grow amid the stones.
The fallen ornaments are laid in picturesque confu-
sion, a perfect avenue of thick ivy stems climbing up

Location of Butldings 105

the pillars and forming a roof overhead. The better
to secure the ruin, a new gate of antique workman-
ship with iron ornaments is put up. When this is
suddenly opened, the effect is most striking and
surprising. You suddenly look down the avenue of
ivy-clad pillars, and see their grand perspective lines
closed at a distance of three hundred feet by a mag-
nificent window eighty feet high and thirty broad;
through the intricate tracery you see a wooded
mountain from whose side project abrupt masses
of rock. Overhead the wind plays in the garlands
of ivy, and the clouds pass swiftly across the deep
blue sky. When you reach the centre of the church,
whence you look to the four extremities of the cross,
you see the two transept windows nearby as large
and as beautiful as the principal one; through each
you command a picture entirely different, but each
in the wild and sublime style which harmonizes so
perfectly with the building. Immediately around
the ruin is a luxuriant orchard. In spring how
exquisite must be the effect of these grey venerable
walls rising out of that sea of fragrance and beauty.
A Vandal Lord and Lord Lieutenant of the country
conceived the pious design of restoring the church.
Happily Heaven took him to itself before he had time
to execute it.”

Everything that has been here said about the loca-
tion of buildings applies equally to other buildings on
any place; the interlocking of vines and other plants

106 Landscape Architecture

with the buildings can nearly always be made to
accomplish beautiful results.

If the estate be comparatively small the house and
the outbuildings should be segregated, grouped to-
gether and planted with trees and shrubs, so as to se-
clude them from the general landscape. In the case of
some fine view it may be wise to leave an outlook from
the house into the distance. On the other hand, the
trees and shrubs always help the house where they
partially screen its entire mass from view, only afford-
ing glimpses of the roofs through the foliage. This
does not mean that the trees and shrubs should be
allowed to smother the house, for there should be open
space, lawns and formal gardens, near the house, and
outbuildings, but only that as you approach it from
certain directions the roofs should emerge from a mass
of foliage.

One of the most difficult problems to be settled is the
height of the first floors of the principal living rooms
above the surrounding lawn. This is always a ques-
tion that requires careful consideration both by archi-
tect and landscape architect. An open level space is
generally desirable for the site of a house unless it is
designed in a special manner on two or more levels,
and in any case it should not be set on a pinnacle or
peak of ground.

“All natural shapes of ground must necessarily
fall under one of these descriptions, viz., convex,
coneave, plane, or inclined plane. I will suppose

Location of Buildings 107

it granted that, except in very romantic situations,
all the rooms on the principal floor ought to range
on the same level, and that there must be a platform,
or certain space of ground, with a gentle descent from
the house every way. If the ground be naturally
convex, or what is generally called a knoll, the size
of the house must be adapted to the size of the
knoll: thus a small building only one hundred feet in
front may be placed upon such a hillock, with a
sufficient platform around it; but if a building three
hundred feet long should be required it is evident
that the crown of the hill must be taken off, and then
the shape of the ground becomes very different from
its original form: for although the small house would
have a sufficient platform, the large one will some-
times be on the brink of a very steep bank; and this
difficulty would be increased by raising the ground to
set the large house on the same level with the smaller
one. It therefore follows that if the house must
stand on a natural hillock, the building should not be
larger than its situation will admit; and where such
hillocks do not exist in places proper for a house in
every other respect, it is sometimes possible for art
to supply what nature seems to have denied. But
it is not possible in all cases; a circumstance which
proves the absurdity of those architects who design
and plan a house, without any previous knowledge of
the situation or shape of the ground on which it is to
be built.”

Humphry Repton, Art of Landscape Gardening, chap. iii., p. 28.

108 Dandscape Architecture

Too great stress cannot be laid on the advisability of
securing directly about the house the highest degree of
horticultural finish. Here should be found the most
perfect turf (a difficult problem), the richest flower
garden, the choicest and rarest evergreens and shade
trees;—these represent in a way and for the lawn
statuesque beauty better than statues themselves,
which indeed have no place there. Richard Payne
Knight wrote sensibly on this subject of landscape gar-
dening around the house at the end of the eighteenth
century. He was a trustee of the British Museum and
a noted Greek scholar, and united with Sir Uvedale
Price in reacting against the extremes and exaggerations
of the landscape school of Brown and Repton. He
speaks thus of the house and its immediate surround-
ings:

“For this reason we require immediately adjoin-
ing the buildings of opulence and luxury that every-
thing should assume its character; and not only be,
but appear to be dressed and cultivated. In such
places neat gravel walks, mown turf, and flowering
plants and shrubs trained and distributed Die art are
perfectly in character.

“In the decoration of grounds adjoining a house,
much should depend on the character of the house
itself; if it be neat and regular, neatness and regularity
should accompany it; but if it be rugged and pictur-
esque and situated amid scenery of the same character,
art should approach it with more caution: for though

Location of Buildings 109

it be in itself an avowed work of art, yet the influ-
ence of time, with the accompaniments of trees and
creepers, may have given it a character of nature
which ought to be as little disturbed as is consistent
with comfort: for after all the character of nature is
more pleasing than anything that can be given by art.
At all events, the character of dress and artificial
neatness ought never to be suffered to encroach
upon the park or the forest; where it is contrary to
propriety as it is to beauty, and where its intro-
duction by our modern landscape gardeners affords
one of the most memorable instances of any recorded
in the history of fashions of the extravagant absurd-
ity with which an insensate passion for novelty may
infect a whole nation.”

The problem of how to plant around buildings should
be solved by considering the house or stable as distinct
and yet related, each one to be treated individually and
collectively, especially with due regard to the general
effect. The more the outbuildings are screened from
the house the better, but there may be a like graduated
treatment adopted as was shown in the case of the pas-
sage of the pleasure ground to the garden. The land-
scape treatment of the territory of the outbuildings
and vegetable gardens needs as careful study as any
other part of the estate in order to make a harmonious
general effect.

Prince Piickler writes thus in Hints on Landscape
Gardening:

IIo Landscape Arcbitecture

“Buildings should never stand freely exposed,
lest they appear as spots, unconnected with the
nature surrounding them. Concealment enhances
beauty, and here something should always be left
to the imagination. The eye frequently finds
more pleasure in a single chimney in the distance,
with its spiral of grey smoke curling upward against
a background of trees, than in a bare palace exposed
to view on all sides, which nature has not yet lov-
ingly approached and embraced. It is highly im-
portant that buildings should always take on the
character of the landscape in which they figure. A
contrast may also occasionally fit in with the char-
acter of the whole, but it must always harmonize,
as I have pointed out in the example in the last
section: the sublimity of wild nature and magnificent
art. A pretty villa would not be a fitting contrast,
while an imposing ruin would present an analogy but
no contrast. Many of our German architects regard
this too little. Buildings in a city for instance must
be different from buildingsin a park. In theonecase
they are complete in themselves; but in the other they
are only a component part of the whole and are de-
pendent on it for picturesque effect, which they in turn
are also called upon to produce; hence their effect in
the landscape must be carefully studied.”

In other words, there should be conformity to the
character of the landscape in the design of the buildings.
The landscape architect and architect need to study

Location of Buildings III

this problem in the utmost sympathy. It is not only
the character of the buildings but the selection of the
site, as before pointed out, that demands their co-oper-
ation in the interests of their client.

Here again in Hints on Landscape Gardening, chap-
ter iv., Prince Piickler’s words of advice are pertinent
as illustrating one side of the question:

“In general, a certain irregularity is preferable
in buildings in a park, as being more in conformity
with nature and more picturesque. A temple de-
voted to a cult, a theatre, a museum devoted to art,
doubtless demand symmetry and a more severe
style, but the mansion or villa gain by greater
irregularity, in comfort as well as picturesqueness.
This same principle appears in the designs of the
ancient villas and country houses, as we may gather
from the ruins. The most noteworthy example is
perhaps the villa of Hadrian near Tivoli. Traces
of this principle are also found in the Italy of the
Renaissance, in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries.
Buildings half hidden by others, large and small
windows on the same face of the building, side doors,
projecting and receding corners, occasionally a high
bare wall with a richly ornamented cornice, roofs
jutting out and balconies unsymmetrically placed,
in short, everywhere a great but by no means unhar-
monious irregularity, which pleases the fancy because
the reason for every departure from regularity is
evident or may be surmised.”

112 Landscape Architecture

In the same chapter there are some remarks on the
selection of a site that are worth studying:

“The site of a building must also be carefully con-
sidered. For instance, a feudal castle in the midst of
a level field of grain, as we find at Machern near
Leipzig, appears somewhat comical. And so is the
Egyptian pyramid which is to be found there in the
idyllic surroundings of a gay birch wood. As well
imagine a straw thatched hut surrounded by a
French parterre. All these are undesirable contrasts
that destroy the harmony. For example, pointed
Gothic buildings would make an unfavourable
impression if set among spruces and Lombardy
poplars, while amongst oaks, beeches, and pines they
would be quite in place. On the other hand, spruces
and poplars harmonize with the horizontal lines of
an oriental villa.

“The importance of harmonious beauty has for
its corollary that the purpose of a building must be
evident in its style. A Gothic house, for instance,
which is nothing else, and has no other significance,
being built just for the sake of having something
Gothic on the grounds, produces a feeling of dis-
satisfaction. It is a hors d’euvre, uncomfortable as
a dwelling, and as a decoration unrelated to its sur-
roundings; but if we see on a distant hill the spires
of a chapel rising above the ancient trees, and we are
told that this is the burial place of the family, or a
temple actually used for worship, then we feel satis-

Location of Butldings 113

fied, because we find utility combined with fitting
beauty.

“The same effect of dissatisfaction is produced by an
immense palace set on a small estate, which is sur-
rounded by the huts of poverty, or a vast park with
an insignificant cottage in the centre.

“Buildings then must stand in appropriate relation
to their surroundings and always have a positive
purpose. Hence one should be very careful in the
matter of temples, which in ancient times had a
quite different, popular religious significance, and
also with meaningless monuments, if they are to
leave a deeply moving and not a trivial impression.
The trite, incoherent manner in which in these days
Mythology is taken up, makes it desirable to abandon
it entirely, and similarly to refrain from the rule of
inscriptions which are intended in certain localities
to arouse certain sentiments.

“The most important building in the estate or park
is naturally the dwelling house. It should be suited
not only to the surroundings, but also to the posi-
tion, the means, and even to the calling of the owner.
The roomy castle and its battlements and towers are
perhaps unsuitable to the merchant, but quite becom-
ing to the noble aristocrat, the fame of whose family
has been handed down for centuries, and whose
forefathers really needed them, to enclose their abode
in strongholds. The elder Repton (Amenity Repton
so named) went so far as to hide entirely with trees

the fine view of the city of Bristol, in order that the
8

114 Landscape Arcbitecture

owner of a certain villa, a merchant who had retired
from business, should not be unpleasantly reminded
of his past cares and worries by beholding the city
where he had spent his laborious days. This is
thoroughly English, as well as the endeavour of many
egotists there to hide from view everything that
belongs to their place, no matter how picturesque
it is. Without going so far, I will say here that the
view from the dwelling house should ‘harmonize as
much as possible with the individual taste of
the owner, since the eye always rests on it, and
hence the view of the house should be secondary to
the view from the house, while the reverse might
hold good for most of the other buildings of the
park.”

Here evidently the author thinks the architect and
landscape architect should work together. It might be
well to add his remarks on the retention of old houses,
which even in America have pertinence.

“Where there are genuine old castles (or manor
houses) which have been in the possession of the
family for a long time (not new buildings in imita-
tion of an old style) I am of the opinion that their
ancient character should be preserved when they are
enlarged or made more comfortable, even if a much
finer building might be erected on the spot. The
memory of a bygone time, the majesty of years,
also count for something, and it is a real misfortune

Location of Buildings 115

that our pasteboard age has destroyed so many
of these relics.

“The English have not yet been guilty of this folly,
and nowhere else are family possessions more re-
ligiously and more proudly preserved. We also find
there many estates of mere bourgeois families which
for more than six centuries have passed from father
to son, and with so little change in general that,
for instance, in Malahide in Ireland, the family
seat of the Talbots, even the woodwork and the
furniture of entire apartments date back to those
early years. And who can behold the splendours
of majestic Warwick Castle, with its colossal tower
a thousand years old, or the royal seat of the Duke
of Northumberland, without feeling penetrated with
romantic awe, and without delighting in the match-
less beauty of these grand piles?”

An extract from Prince Pickler’s Tour of England
gives a wonderful idea of Warwick Castle from the
landscape critic’s point of view:

“It was an enchanted palace decked in the most
charming garb of poetry, and surrounded by all
the majesty of history, the sight of which still fills
me with delighted astonishment.’’ Again he writes:
“Going on, you lose sight of the castle for a while,
and soon find yourself before a high embattled wall,
built of large blocks of stone, covered by Time with
moss and creeping plants. Lofty iron gates slowly

116 Landscape Architecture

unfold to admit you in a deep hollow way blasted
in the rock, the stone walls of which are tapestried
with the most luxuriant vegetation. The carriage
rolls with a dull heavy sound along the smooth
rock, which old oaks darkly overshadow. Suddenly
at a turn of the way, the castle starts from the wood
into broad daylight, resting on a soft grassy slope;
and the large arch of the entrance dwindles to the
size of an insignificant doorway between the two
enormous towers, at the foot of which you stand.”

“Let your fancy conjure up a space about twice
the size of the Coliseum at Rome, and let it transport
you into a forest of romantic luxuriance. You now
overlook the large court surrounded by mossy trees
and majestic buildings, which, though of every va-
riety of form, combine to create one sublime and
connected whole, whose lines, now shooting upwards,
now falling off into the blue air, with the contin-
ually changing beauty of the green earth beneath,
produce, not symmetry indeed, but that higher har-
mony elsewhere proper to nature’s own works
alone.”

And describing the scene more fully he writes in the
same letter:

“The first glance at your feet falls on a broad
simple carpet of turf, around which a softly winding
gravel path leads to the entrance and exit of the
gigantic edifice. Looking backwards, your eye

Location of Buildings 117

rests on the two black towers of which the oldest,
called Guy’s Tower, rears its head aloft in solitary
threatening majesty high above all the surrounding
foliage as if cast in one mass of solid iron; the other,
built by Beauchamp, is half hidden by a pine and
a chestnut, the noble growth of centuries. Broad-
leaved ivy vines climb along the walls, here twining
around the tower, there shooting up to its very
summit. On your left lies the inhabited part of the
castle, and the chapel, ornamented with many lofty
windows of various size and form, while the opposite
side of the vast quadrangle, almost entirely without
windows, presents only a mighty mass of embattled
stone, broken by a few larches of colossal height and
huge arbutuses which have grown to a surprising
size in the shelter they have so long enjoyed. But
the sublimest spectacle yet awaits you, when you
raise your eyes straight before you. This fourth
side, which has sunk into a low, bushy basin forming
the court, and with which the buildings also descend
for a considerable space, rises again in the form of a
steep conical hill, along the sides of which climb the
rugged walls of the castle. This hill and the keep
which surrounds it are thickly overgrown at the top
with underwood, which only creeps round the foot of
the towers and walls. Behind, however, rise gigan-
tic, venerable trees, towering above all the rock-like
structure. Their bare stems seem to float in upper
air; while at the very summit of the building rises a
daring bridge, set, as it were, on either side within

118 Bandscape Architecture

trees; and as the clouds drift across the blue sky, the
broadest and most brilliant masses of light break
magically from under the towering arch and the dark
coronet of trees. . . . You must imagine the river at a
great depth below the castle plain, and not visible
from the point I have been describing. The first
sight of it you catch is from the castle windows,
together with the noble park, whose lines of wood
blend on every side with the horizon. You ascend
from the court to the dwelling rooms by only a few
steps, first through a passage, and thence into a hall,
on each side of which extend the entertaining rooms
in an unbroken line of three hundred and forty feet.
Although almost ‘de plein pied’ with the court,
these rooms are more than fifty feet above the Avon,
which flows on the other side. From eight to four-
teen feet of thickness of wall forms, in each window
recess, a complete closet, with the most beautiful
varied view over the river, wildly foaming below,
and farther on flowing through the park in soft wind-
ings till lost in the dim distance.”

Note how the location of this castle fits in, adapts
itself to the surrounding scenery and dominates and
seems to own it all. It also shows how important the
site of the building and how the most careful study
should be given to its placing.

It may be truly said that the landscape can be just
as well fitted to the building by a proper display of
landscape-gardening ability as the building fitted to the

Location of Buildings 119

landscape by the architect. Each one is needed to help
the other; for in actual experience it is often found
that a change of fifty feet will greatly improve the ap-
pearance of the house as well as that of the landscape
as seen from the house.

In order to further realize the significance of what
has been said in this chapter on the important subject
of the location of buildings one instinctively remembers
Haddon Hall. Take it altogether, Haddon Hall has
come to be recognized by many of the best judges as
the finest, although by no means the largest or most
expensive, country seat in England. Most people in-
stinctively prefer it to Versailles or the Italian villas,
but it may be said that isa matter of taste, though good
taste should naturally have a basis on acknowledged
precedents of good art. In this respect Haddon has a
great advantage in its setting. This all will concede
is most admirable. It rests pleasantly on the gentle
slope of a sidehill. On one side is a simple and broad
terrace backed by the most wonderful beeches, which,
standing in just the position they occupy, enhance the
beauty and dignity of the house tenfold. Passing down
the steps of the terrace one sees wide simple stretches
of soft pastoral English landscape which is certainly
the most beautiful in the world. The trees and grass
spaces seem to love each other and the house rests
quietly in the midst of them like a rare jewel.

GRASS SPACES

a \ , ] HAT the gold backgrounds of the old masters,
which set out the sweet, lovable faces of
madonnas and saints in so ideal a manner,

are to religious pictures, green luxuriant grass spaces
are toa landscape. They are, as it were, the canvas
of nature painting, the playground where the sun
disports an element of brightness which sets out the
whole landscape.’’*

By grass spaces, something more is meant than is
usually understood by the term lawn. All the little
corners and nooks of greensward are included, the
glades edged with flowers and planted with trees and
shrubs, the grass walks in the gardens and along the
boundaries of plantations, the rides through woodland
ways where saddle horse and carriage may find pleasant
passage. These grass spaces are the choice spots of
the place. It is there that the clouds play with their
lights and ‘shadows and the showers make diamond
and silver nettings. No building that can be avoided,

1 Hints on Landscape Gardening, Prince Pickler.
120

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“AWD YOK MON ‘iv [esyuaD ‘umeasnyy Jy oy} Ivou ‘oad ysv_ oy} pue YsToqO oy} deou umvyqy uodg oy

Grass Spaces 121

or that can be placed elsewhere, should usurp any part
of this stretch of green. If the ancients worshipped
trees and groves, surely, in the landscape scheme, it
should be considered desecration, a treading on holy
ground, to unnecessarily destroy greensward that
flourishes in a favoured and fitting spot.

The illustration is taken from Central Park and its
value lies in its open character. The eye revels. in
the rich green turf, passes with pleasure over the hill
into the unknown with few trees, some of them just
peering over the hill and thus disclosing a considerable
declivity on the other side. To make these grass spaces
illustrations of excellence the art of the skilful gardener
needs employment for grading, and the principles of
this art will be considered later. But for the benefit
of those who may wish some general instructions con-
cerning the establishment of a lawn it should be said
that high culture is as necessary for grass space as for
any other kind of vegetation natural to this climate.
It is the fine pulverizing of the first two or three inches
of the soil intended for a lawn that counts most. Deep
ploughing or trenching and drainage are indispensable,
but the aim should be to treat the cultivation of the
top surface of the lawn very much as an onion patch.

Next comes the establishment of the proper mechani-
cal condition and the fertility of the soil, possibly the
most important of all in the attainment of final success.
It is not necessary in a book of this character to indicate
in detail peculiarities of soil, but only to point out that
grass spaces need for their most perfect development

122 Landscape Architecture

nitrogenous fertilizers from natural sources, organic
products like humus, stable or cow or sheep manure,
as distinguished from superphosphates of lime, potash,
and bone meal: these latter fertilizers are best suited
to orchards, and for vegetables that grow quickly in
one season. There is a valuable quality peculiar to
stable manure of the right kind in its full strength that
exactly suits the lawn, but the difficulty is to get such
manure. It is either burned (fire-fanged) from neglect
to turn it over and stir it up at the proper time, or it is
mixed with poisonous disinfectants or sawdust or a
superabundant amount of straw. So much for manure
secured in the city. In the country no one wants to
sell manure, especially the farmer who has use for all
he can make. Consequently it is a good idea to make
a storage place for all kinds of organic matter as well
as ordinary manure and treat it with water and stir
it and turn it over and drain it into a vat and thus
develop and preserve its strength for future use. If
stable manure is not available a good substitute for it
is decomposed muck dried and pulverized and
aérated.

As nature is apt to accomplish such work better and
cheaper than man, it is a good idea to use a top dressing
of muck soil taken from fields that have been used for
trucking vegetables. This material when dried should
contain about 80 per cent. humus with at least 314 per
cent. ammonia. The ash or remainder should be
mainly silica and lime and a minimum of .35 per cent.

Grass Spaces 123

phosphoric acid and .40 per cent. potash. This, of
course, may vary somewhat and still make a good top
dressing.

Sandy ground as well as worn out ground is also
greatly benefited by the application of a clay loam
taken from good grass land or where crops have already
thriven. The clay content of such loam should vary
from 25 to 50 per cent., of the whole. This treatment
may be said to be indispensable, in a way more so than
manuring, to get the best results. Moreover, it should
always be kept in mind that the problem is continually
varying according to the nature of the special spot of
land under consideration.

The use of clay, sand, lime, and stable manure or
humus may seem to involve considerable expense.
But their value for the establishment of a good lawn is
great. If the foundations of a lawn are not well es-
tablished by drainage and by cultivation and by enrich-
ing with a top dressing of clay soil or sand or manure,
it will be comparatively useless to sow grass seed.
These underlying principles of treatment of the soil
need application first to give value to the skill displayed
afterwards in carrying out such work.

“The ingredients in the soil may be divided into
two classes: Ist, the purely mineral matters; 2d, the
organic ingredients constituting the humus.

“There is a vast difference in the fertility of a
sandy and a garden soil. Sandy soil may contain

124 Landscape Architecture

all the necessary mineral matters, but it lacks the
something needed for plant growth which the garden
soil contains. This something is called humus, an
element rather difficult to define and still more diffi-
cult to describe in chemical terms. It is abundant
in fertile soil, but scarce or wanting in barren soil.
Though its chemical value is too complex to be
stated or even known, its origin is easy to understand.

““Humus is the remains of life of previous genera-
tions. When plants die, their roots, together with
their leaves, branches, and fruits, inevitably become
incorporated into the soil. Animals, too, leave upon
the ground a quantity of excrement and other dis-
charges; and plants likewise probably discharge
excretions into the soil, When animals die their
bodies, also, may become mixed with the earth.
Thus practically all kinds of organic matter from
animals and plants are being mixed continually with
mineral ingredients in the surface layers of the soil.
The micro-organisms in the soil feed upon these
dead materials, causing an extensive series of de-
compositions and recombinations. To this mass of
complex organic bodies undergoing decomposition
in the soil has been given the name humus. It will
be evident from this explanation of its origin that
humus cannot have a definite composition, and that
it will hardly be alike in any two soils. It will be
composed of different materials to start with, and
there will be a variety of different stages of decom-
position. We cannot hope to find any definite com-

Grass Spaces 125

position of humus, but we can study the kinds of
decompositions and recombinations that are going
on in it and that result in making it a suitable food
for plants. In this study we must ever keep in mind
the fact that dead bodies of animals and plants are
not in condition to serve another generation of
plants as food. We cannot feed plants upon eggs,
or urine, or starches, or sugars. Though containing
carbon and nitrogen in abundance, these elements
are locked up in them out of the reach of the green
plants, and before they can be utilized again they
must be freed from their combinations and brought
into simpler forms. This is accomplished by the
micro-organisms (bacteria) in the soil. Our study
of these changes may best be centred around the two
chemical elements, carbon and nitrogen.

“Farming without the aid of bacteria would be
an impossibility, for the soil would yield no crops.’’?

Concerning the value of humus as a fertilizer many
authorities may be quoted besides those in the footnote. ?

See Agricultural Bacteriology, H. W. Conn, Prof. Biology in
Wesleyan University, Connecticut, U. S., 2d edition, p. 39.

2 Peat, Its Uses as Fertilizer and Fuel, S. W. Johnson, p. 90, ed. 1859,
Also Soil, etc., by Dr. E. W. Hilgard, Professor of Agriculture in the
University of California and Director of the California Agricultural
Experiment Station, ed. 1907, chapter v., pp., 72, 73, 74; chapter viii.,
chapter ix. Also in Peat and Muck, etc., by Saml. W. Johnson, Pro-
fessor of Agricultural Chemistry, Yale College, U. S., edition 1859, pp.
67, 80, 81, 82; p. 107, Ans. 14; p. 109, Ans. 14; p. 113, Ams. 14; p-
121, Ans. 14; p. 145, Ans. 13; Remarks, 147, Ans. 13; Remarks, 149.
Ans. 13. Also Soils, etc., S.W. Fletcher, Professor of Horticulture,
Michigan Agricultural College, chapter iii., pp. 60, 61, 62; chapter xiii.

126 Landscape Architecture

It makes really no difference whether the clay loam
and humus or stable manure are mixed first and then
applied or whether the two soils are applied separately ;
only for grass spaces they should not be mixed too deeply
with the native soil, simply raked or harrowed two or
three inches deep.

Virgin soil of high quality has always been the stand-
ard of fertility for almost any culture. The fact that
virgin soil of high quality is rare and difficult to secure
in most places will explain why this mixture of stable
manure or humus and clay loam, the nearest approxi-
mation to virgin soil to be obtained, is recommended
for top dressing on sandy soils. With heavy clay soils
naturally the clay loam should be left out and possibly
sand substituted.

Cultivation, that is aeration, is necessary for soils
in order not only to remove acidity but to give activity
to the fertilizing agents present. It is also wise to
use lime to correct this same acidity and add a valuable
element to the soil. An application of lime should be
made about once in six or seven years. The applica-
tion should not be greater than a ton to the acre, ordi-

chapter xii., pp. 323, 324, 327, 328, ed. 1908. Also, Soils, etc., Harry
Snyder, pp. 113-114, 3d ed., 1908. Also Correspondence between Pro-
fessor E. W. Hilgard and Samuel Parsons, Landscape Architect, of New
York City, August, 1908. Also letter in 1914 to Professor Hilgard from
S. Parsons, stating that the fertile soil treated with humus referred to
in their correspondence of August, 1908, and applied at that time to
a tract of land in Central Park on the west side of the Ramble and
east side of the West Drive near 79th Street, Transverse Road, and the
Swedish school house has accomplished and exhibits excellent results
at the present time.

Grass Spaces 127

narily not more than 600 to 1000 pounds. Toa certain
degree the acidity present should control the amount
used. The acidity is easy to test by means of litmus
paper and there is no great difficulty in getting humus
or dried muck, for there are cultivated patches of such
land in the neighbourhood of most large cities.

Probably the most economical and best method of
establishing the conditions most favourable for a lawn
is the use of green crops. By spreading sufficient
manure to make a green crop in case the soil is not rich
enough for the purpose, a growth of legumes, like red
clover, cow peas, vetches, and soy beans, can be readily
secured. When this crop has grown, just before it
reaches maturity, it should be turned under with a
ploughorspade. In this way the legumes will be enabled
in the process of decay to add to the soil a larger amount
of organic matter than would the non-legumes like rye,
etc., as the legumes gather much of their nitrogen from
the air through the agency of bacteria contained in
their roots. This process will naturally cause a delay
of a year or two but will eventually produce a superior
lawn at the minimum expense.

The appearance of the grass spaces depends naturally
on the character of the seed used. The general practice
of the trade in grass seed is to use a considerable vari-
ety of kinds on the theory that in that way the exigen-
cies of cold and drought and wet weather will be met
more successfully, and that the turf will grow thicker
and the roots be closer set. On the other hand, some
prefer only three or four vigorous kinds—Kentucky or

128 Landscape Arcbitecture

Canadian Blue Grass (Poa pratensis), red top (Agrostis
vulgaris), and brown Creeping Bent Grass (Agrostis
canina). To this it is generally thought best to add
white clover, which thrives on poor soil and in dry
weather better than the other grasses named. It
should be said, however, that a grass sod without a
mixture of white clover is considered by many, and
with good reason, likely to make a more attractive
lawn. Some go so far as to recommend the use of one
grass only and that the strongest growing kind of a
permanent nature like the Kentucky or Canadian
Blue Grass, the Canadian to be preferred for sandy soil
and comparatively northern regions. It may be said,
truly, that no matter how many kinds of grass seed
are planted, the Blue Grass is likely sooner or later to
almost entirely usurp the place of the others.

The use of the short-lived grasses like timothy,
rye grass, and red clover, although well suited to go
with and succeed for a few years a grain crop, is not
suitable for a permanent lawn.

When the grass seed has been sown and properly
rolled, it helps the young recently germinated seed to
go safely through the winter to sow some grain (rye
in autumn and oats in spring) to make what is called

a cover crop.
It is interesting to note how much the treatment of

lawns nearly one hundred years ago resembles that in
vogue at present and especially how much even in those
days properly prepared muck, or humus, and clay loam
as a top dressing was valued.

Grass Spaces 129

“For the construction of lawns I can recommend
the following rules, which the experience of several
years in my neighbourhood has confirmed:

“*(1) Whether in a meadow or for a park or pleasure
ground it is of no avail to sow only one kind of grass
seed. With only one kind of grass, perennial or not,
it is not possible to secure a close grass texture.

“‘(2) For the first two, namely meadows and park,
I consider the richest mixture to be the best, but
with this proviso, that the particular kind of grass
which experience has found to be the most suitable
to the special soil should dominate, to the extent
of a third to a half of the mixture. In wet ground
the greater part timothy; for heavy soil, rye grass;
for loam, yellow clover and French rye grass; for
light soil, honey or velvet grass (Holcus lanatus);
for high ground, white clover, etc.

“*(3) If the plot that is to be sown is dry, it is
advisable to trench it twelve to eighteen inches first,
whatever the soil may be, but the top soil must be
spread over the surface again if the soil below is
inferior, and a sandy soil must of course be improved
by muck (humus), compost, or field soil.

“Tf the expense of digging trenches is too costly.
then one must plough to at least the usual depth,
and in most cases still deeper with a subsoil plough.
The field so prepared should be sown (here from the
middle of August to the middle of September) in
rather moist weather and very thickly, and the seed

at once well rolled in. On heavy soil it is best to
9

130 Landscape Architecture

wait fora dry day. By the end of October the most
beautiful green will already cover the new meadows.
The next year they should be mown quite early, in
order to obtain an even growth, but the seed should
be allowed to ripen and fall to the ground, thus secur-
ing a greater density of turf for the following year.
Nothing more is now necessary but to roll it well
every year after each mowing, and every three or
four years, as may be required, to fertilize it plenti-
fully with a compost of field soil and muck, or with
the manure from the place from which it can be
easiest secured. In this manner on light rye soil,
and to the surprise of many landowners, I have pro-
duced the most luxurious meadow, which, instead
of giving out in ten years as was prophesied, steadily
improved, and from a pecuniary point of view has
proved quite a good investment, as in four years the
capital spent on it has been repaid.’’?

One important feature of the grass spaces of the
estate or park that should be carefully looked after is
the degree to which it is mown or cut. Like the twigs
or ends of the branches of trees and shrubs the charm
of the blades of grass lies in their growing tips. They
lend grace and life to the surface of grassy spaces. By
skilful use of the scythe or the proper adjustment of
the mowing-machine this object can be to a certain
degree obtained, and it is a good idea to allow the grass
in secluded nooks, especially on estates where there is

t Hints on Landscape Gardening, Prince Piickler, chapter vi.

Grass Spaces 131

no public to intrude, to grow at will, flower and seed,
and then be cut down. In most places this would not
ibe advisable, but a happy medium may be contrived,
and the grass saved from looking shaven and shorn.
The people who use lawns often fail to gain a sufficient
realization of the need of care in their development.
They would not think of walking over flowers or
beautiful dwarf foliage plants used in bedding. Just
as much in their own way do the blades of grass need to
be cultivated and preserved. The limitations of the
use of the mowing-machine should be strictly main-
tained during abnormally wet or dry weather, hot or
cold weather, or during certain stages of growth.
There is a colour and shade and actual grace peculiar
to a lawn thus maintained that is of the highest impor-
tance in landscape gardening. The use of sheep on
lawns has its advantages, and certainly the grass will
do well under the effects of such pasturing, and gain a
more natural- appearance, and give a more pastoral
effect.

VII
ROADS AND PATHS

o OR what is the good of a park that presents the
F same recurring picture from a few points of
view, a park where I am never led, as by an
invisible hand, to the most beautiful spots, seeing
and comprehending the picture in its entirety and
at my ease? This is the purpose of roads and paths,
and while they should not be unnecessarily multi-
plied, too many are better than too few. Roads and
paths are the dumb conductors of the visitor and
should serve in themselves to guide him easily to-
wards every spot which could afford enjoyment.
Roads and paths, therefore, should not be too con-
spicuous but should be carefully laid out andconcealed
by plantations. I mean too conspicuous in the
English sense where a property of a thousand acres
has only one or two main roads or paths, yet the
opposite system of our imitation English gardens,
where often two or three adjacent paths all show the
same points of view and lead to the same spot, is
also very objectionable.

“Tt follows from what I have said elsewhere that
132

Roads and Paths 133

the roads and paths should not run in continual
curves like a serpent wound round a stick but should
rather make such bends as serve a definite purpose
easily and effectively, following as far as possible
the natural contours of the ground. Certain zsthe-
tic rules dictate these bends in themselves and hence
in places obstacles must be set up where they do not
naturally occur in order to make the graceful line
appear natural. For instance, two curves close
together in the same road or path seen at the same
time do not look well. If this cannot be entirely
avoided then a sharp turn should be relieved by a
larger, more rounded turn and the former should
seem justified by trees or plantations on the inner
side, or by elevations where the road or path is
apparently more easily led around than over them.
“See Plate V., a, b, c, and d. If there is no ob-
stacle the road should be allowed to run straight or
only slightly curved, no matter what the distance.
Wherever an obstacle appears it is better to make a
short turn close to it than a long gradual turn for the
sake of the so-called curve of beauty. The sharp
turns are by far the most picturesque, especially if
the road disappears with such a turn in the depth of
a forest. Nor should a road running parallel with
another be visible from it unless there is a distinct
division of hill and valley between or a dip in the
ground, for without this natural division two adja-
cent paths leading in the same direction appear super-
fluous, especially when they are on the same level,

134 Landscape Architecture

for the mind must recognize the fitness of the details
before the eye will be satisfied by the entire picture.

“In a landscape of wide sweep, the form given to
the grass plots especially by the enclosing roads
must be carefully considered. One may entirely
spoil an extensive territory by a short piece of road
badly arranged. I call to mind one example which
first attracted my attention to this point. There is
a hill in my park which extends out conspicuously
in a wide stretch of meadow, thereby apparently
dividing it into two equal parts. The river flows
along this entire stretch of country and a road fol-
lows its course. See ground plan, e. Observe par-
ticularly the line of the ridge indicated by the shading
in the plan, being the most conspicuous object in
the neighbourhood, as well as the two markedly
divided portions of the meadows which are over-
looked by a certain building on the height. Another
road leads to this building along the upper side and
for the sake of convenience I required a footpath
connecting the two roads which had to be at the
left side leading to the castle. I first laid it down as
in Plate V., e, where the ascent is easiest, this being
the line it would follow in accordance with ordinary
rules, yet I was never satisfied with it and although
I changed the line ten times, the path persisted in
spoiling the harmony of the view until it finally
occurred to me that since the hill once for all conspic-
uously divided the prospect in two almost symmetri-
cal portions, the path interrupting the stretch of

A Diagram Showing Different Arrangement of Paths.
From Pickler’s Atias, 1834.

Roads and Paths 135

meadow would have to follow the same direction so
as not to destroy the harmony, or, if I may say so,
the balance of the picture; for there is a certain kind
of undefined, hidden symmetry in which there is no
contradiction whatever, but which must be evident
in every expanded arrangement of this kind, in
order to produce a satisfactory effect. As soon as
I changed the line of the path in agreement with
this principle,—see «,—the matter was arranged satis-
factorily. It may take a practised eye to understand
this point on the plan, but the advantages gained
by the change may be perceived by any one on the
ground.

“Drives should be laid out so that chief points
of interest and the most noteworthy objects in the
entire park may be visited one after another without
passing the same object twice, at least not in the
same direction, on the round trip. This problem
is frequently a peculiar one to solve; I may say I
have given a good example in my park and it has
cost me almost as much labour as the building of
labyrinths may have cost our ancestors. The foot-
paths also must run into one another with this end
in view, affording many separate paths, apparently
undesigned, which should be connected together so
as to leave a wide latitude of choice. Where one
or several of the main roads or paths through the
park are intended to serve as an approach (as it is
called in English) to the castle or dwelling house,
it should be concealed for a time to make the road

136 Landscape Architecture

appear long and more extended; but once the desti-
nation has come into view it is not well to allow the
road to turn off any more unless there be a mountain
or lake or other palpable obstacle for which the road
must deviate.” *

In Hints on Landscape Gardening, Prince Pickler
also gives instructions relating to the construction of
paths and roads and it is surprising how much the
principles of the method recommended resemble those
in vogue at the present day. But the construction of
roads is an engineering problem and should be left to
the engineer just as the architecture should be under
the control of the architect.

A primary principle of road and path designing is to
approach the subject with an instinctive sense that all
roads and paths should be left out of the scheme as
much as the exigencies of landscape effect and conven-
ience will allow. In themselves they have no beauty,
rather otherwise, hence wherever grass walks, or rides,
or drives will suffice they are preferable on account of
their unobtrusiveness. For the same reason their width
should be minimized as much as the actual limitations
of the situation will permit. It is hardly possible to
give’advice on the question of width, or as to the em-
ployment of grass for walks and drives, it is so entirely
a question of wear and tear, of the number of vehicles,
horses, and human beings who will be likely to use them.

The question of the character of the gutters is an

t Hints on Landscape Gardening, Prince Pickler.

Roads and Paths 137

important one, because, as generally constructed of
stone, they are one of the least attractive features in
the lawn or park. The best form they can take is that
of grass or sod gutters which can be made almost im-
perceptible by keeping the centre of the drive or walk
high in relation to the surrounding lawn. In order to
insure success with these grass gutters, the drainage of
the road or walk needs skilful treatment. If good
drainage be secured and the centre of the walk or drive
kept high the sod gutter can be constructed so shallow
as to be hardly perceptible in the grass.

Another important suggestion in designing a road or
walk is to avoid leaving little triangles or islands of
grass or trees or shrubs, or all three, at the junctions of
their several courses. It seldom makes a desirable
effect, and is usually theyresult of a hasty or unintel-
ligent solution of the problem. An open space even
for a turn in front of the house is better suited to the
general effect than if the road is carried round a formal
oval of grass. Such a space moreover is certainly
better suited for turning all kinds of vehicles. The
road should also always pari passu enter the estate or
park at right angles. The scene opens out in better
shape, and one enters the place with equal ease, without
a sharp turn, from whatever direction one is coming.
The straight part should continue at least fifty feet
into the property before it curves at all.

It has been already shown that all reverse curves in
a road or path should be avoided, unless obstacles
exist like a tree or large stone or building to evidently

138 Landscape Architecture

require its deviation from its natural sweep, but a
further caution should be given to be careful not to
make the artifice of placing a rock to excuse a curve too
evident. The recourse to such obvious devices would
tend to make the road take on a formality and same-
ness which would very likely be much worse than the
most rigidly formal design of walks with straight lines
and circles. The latter would start out with a distinct
and entirely defensible purpose if it were located in
the right portion of the place. A badly related, in-
congruous design is possibly the worst kind of land-
scape gardening and yet it prevails largely because
the person who really controls the layout of the place
probably fails to appreciate the difficulties involved
and the necessity of basing the work on well conceived
and definite principles.

Because the road or path is not in itself beautiful
does not prevent the most attractive rural incidents
from clustering along the borders. Mr. Olmsted ex-
presses the same idea when he writes as follows in the
Mt. Royal Park Report:

“Taking then, as an illustration, a road (because it
is the most unavoidably conspicuous artificial thing
that you must have), you will have been compelled
at various points by the topography to so lay it
out, [that] though slightly curving, its course is open to
view and excessively prominent far ahead, dissect-
ing, distracting the landscape. Planting trees close
upon the road, they must either be trimmed too high

Roads and Paths 139

to serve as a screen to its course ahead, or their
limbs will in time obstruct passage upon the road.
Your resort then must be bushes of species chosen
with reference to the heights and breadth of foliage
they will ultimately develop, with a view to the range
of vision of observers in carriages. If there is a walk
following the road it should, in such cases, be so far
divided from it as to give room for the required bank
of low foliage between it and the wheelway.”’

Messrs. Olmsted and Vaux made a joint report to be
found in the Sixth Annual Brooklyn Park Reports (page
97), and they thus express their ideas on roads and
paths:

“To illustrate the practical application of these
views, we will take one of the many classes of ar-
rangements for the accommodation of the move-
ments of the public through a park, the drives or
carriageway, and consider what is required of it.
A drive must be so prepared that those using it
shall be called upon for the least possible judgment
as to the course to be pursued, the least possible
anxiety or exercise of skill in regard to collisions or
interruptions with reference to objects animate and
inanimate, and that they shall as far as possible
be free from the disturbance of noise and jar. To
secure those negative qualities, the course of the
road must be simple; abrupt turns must be avoided;
steep grades that would task the horses or suggest

140 DPandscape Architecture

that idea must not be encountered. The possibili-
ties of the road becoming miry must be securely
guarded against; its surface must also be smooth
and be composed of compact material. These being
the first and essential engineering considerations, it
is necessary, secondly, that they should be secured
in a manner which shall be compatible with the pre-
sentation of that which is agreeable to the eye in
the surrounding circumstances; that is to say, the
drive must either run through beautiful scenery
already existing, or to be formed, and for this pur-
pose it may be desirable at any point to deviate from
the line which an engineer would be bound to choose
as that which would best meet the first class of re-
quirements. It must also be remembered that
although the drive can hardly be expected in itself
to add to the beauty of the scenery, it must always
be more or less in view as part of it, and it should,
therefore, be artistically designed so as to interfere
as little as possible with the views and to present
at all points agreeable and harmonious lines to the
eye. Moreover, as it is desirable that at some point
in the course of a drive through every park there
should be an opportunity for those in carriages to
see others and be seen by others, some portion of the
ground which by development of natural suggestions
cannot be made readily attractive to the eye should be
chosen for the purpose. And here it will be proper
that the application of art to inanimate nature as in
architectural objects and by festive decorations of the

‘ydeiz0j0yg & Wolg

‘SYORSOLL oY} UL peoy SuIpUIAY V

Roads and Patbs 141

outlines of the drive itself should distinctly invite
attention and aid to produce a general suggestion
of sympathy with human gaiety and playfulness.”

The device is a good one of arranging roads and paths
so that they may make decided turns when they reach
some tree, or group of shrubs and trees, and thus find
an excuse for turning and securing that short curve
followed by a long curve which Prince Pickler so much
prefers to the exactly repeated reverse, ‘‘the line of
beauty” as it has been termed. This advice is doubt-
less excellent when the object exists around which to
turn, but some go farther and advise the placing of
trees and shrubs at points where turns would be de-
sirable; and this again is not bad advice, provided the
trees would be well placed if the road did not run there.

The ideal line for a road to approach the house is in
one single sweep, but the limitations of trees and shrubs,
convenience, and the opening out to view other scenes
which present themselves often prevent this. On the
same principle the road should approach the house on
the least attractive side, that of the outbuildings and
farming territory, leaving the secluded and most beau-
tiful outlook in front of the living-rooms of the house,
the dining-room, and library. All things being equal,
the drive should reach the house on the side where the
flower garden and vegetable garden are situated, and
give an undisturbed pastoral effect to the lawn on the
far side.

The illustration ‘‘The Trosachs” shows why a

142 Landscape Architecture

road winding away from the eye through park or wild
woodland gives so much pleasure. The eye loses the
drive around a graceful curve and as one moves along
bits of road and scenery keep opening ahead and one
wonders what is coming next. Change and surprise
form important elements of pleasure in landscape
gardening.

If conditions, however, force or strongly suggest the
use of a straight road, there is no rule of good taste
that should prevent its employment. The trees along
its borders should be of a character and size that will
give it dignity, but at the same time there should be
a diversity of the grading or topography of the lawn
nearby, and above all a pleasing variety of shrubs
between a number, though not necessarily all, of the
trees. To leave open spaces at intervals, provided the
views there are attractive, would be an advantage.

The illustration shown of the straightaway road on
the east of Central Park indicates how such an arrange-
ment can be made agreeable in cramped and uninterest-
ing conditions, and the same rule applies to paths or
walks. Curving paths are the most agreeable to the
eye, but if the dignity or exigencies of the place require
it, there is no reason why the straight ones should not
be used. It is well to remember that to make a straight
path among curved ones may seriously disturb the
harmony of the entire scene, but the straight path in
the illustration of Lovers’ Lane in Central Park shows
that the scene can be so diversified by planting as to pre-
vent the formality from marring the beauty of the scene.

“AULD PIO MON ‘YIe_ [VAUD ‘spoo1yg yjt6 puw yg wsayaq IoAIOsay oy} JO opis yseq Oy} UO oATIC] FYysTLsyS V

VIII
WATER

VEN if fresh and clear water (whether
stream or lake) is not so indispensable to
landscape as a rich vegetation, it greatly

increases its charm. Eye and ear are equally de-

lighted, for who does not hearken with delight to the
sweet murmur of the brook, the distant plashing of
the mill wheels, the prattling of the pearly spring—
who has not been enchanted in quiet hours by
the perfect calm of the slumbering lake in which the
giants of the forest are dreamily mirrored, or the
aspect of foaming waves, chased by the storm, where
the sea-gulls merrily rock? But it is very difficult
for the artist to conquer nature here, or to impose
on her what she herself has not created on the spot.

“Therefore, I would advise rather to leave undone
altogether a faulty imitation. A region without
water can yet present many beauties, but a stinking
swamp infects everyone; the first is only a negative
fault, the second a positive, and with the exception
of the owner himself nobody will take a cesspool of
this kind for a lake, or a stagnant ditch overgrown

143

144 Landscape Architecture

with duckweed for a stream. But if one can by
any means guide a running stream into the domain
of one’s own property, if the terrain gives any pro-
spect of it, one should do one’s utmost, and forego
neither expense nor pains to acquire such a great
advantage, for nothing offers such an endless variety
to the beholder as the element of water.

“But in order to give the water, artificially ob-
tained, whatever form it may take, a natural, un-
forced appearance, much trouble is necessary. In the
whole art of landscape gardening, perhaps nothing
is more difficult to accomplish.

“Several of the rules which I have given for laying
out the roads and for the outlines of the plantations
can be readily applied to the shape of the water
effects. As in the former case one can, according to
the requirements of the terrain and the obstacles
that occur, bring in sometimes long and sometimes
short, abrupt bends, making, for preference, rounded
corners rather than semicircles, sometimes even
quite sharp turns where the water is visibly diverted.
Both banks of a stream or brook should follow fairly
parallel lines, yet with various nuances, which must
be decided not according to one’s fancy, but by the
laws determined by its course. Two rules hold
good almost universally:

“1. The side towards which the stream turns
should have a lower shore than the opposite, because
the higher one diverts it.

“2, Where the current of the water suddenly be-

“HIM aeH wert, Aq ydesZo0y0ug & wo
ed [P1JUDD “TOAIOSAY YING oy} Jo oprg YING oy} YA poTesed YA SurpurA, v ‘ouvyq] s JoaorT

Water 145

comes swift and yet needs to be turned aside lest it
break bounds if left free, a sharp bend should be
constructed rather than a round one and a steeper
shore should signify the conflict. But never follow
what our gardeners call ‘noble lines.’ I suppose
the terrain to be the same in both cases. The old
practice would give the line of the stream as illus-
trated in a; the student of nature will try to make it
something like b.

“Frequently, larger and smaller promontories, as
well as deep bays, tend to give the scene a natural
appearance, and it is equally effective to vary the
height and form of the crown or upper part of the
shore. One must be careful to avoid high finish in
constructing the slope of the shore in such a way as
to betray the artificial work.

‘“‘An exception to this may be made in the case of
the pleasure ground, but here also it would be well
to strike a middle course between nature and culti-
vation. Seec for the stiff and d for the more natural
bare shore, e for the advantages of variety in the
shores on both sides. The plantation supplies what
is still lacking and completes the whole by the free
play of the overhanging branches. It would hardly
be possible to give an entirely natural appearance
to an artificial shore without a plantation.

“Tf one would like a larger, more lakelike expanse
of water, which is especially desirable in the view from
the mansion, one should so treat it, partly by means
of islands, partly by very deep bays, the limits of

146 Landscape Architecture

which are mostly concealed in shrubbery, that from
no one point the whole mass of water can be over-
looked, but that everywhere behind the thick shrub-
bery the water appears to flow onward; otherwise,
every piece of water will appear small, even though
it take an hour to walk round it. Open, grassy
shores, single high trees, woods and thickets should
vary the effect with broad spots where the sunlight
can have full entry in order not to deprive the water
of its transparency and brillancy by concealment.
A lake whose shores are entirely in shadow loses
much of its effectiveness, as the water reveals all its
magic only under the full rays of the sun where the
reflections from above appear to come from the bot-
tom in transparent silvery clearness. I have fre-
quently seen this very necessary rule quite ignored
by -unskilful gardeners. The projecting tongues of
land must for the greater part run into pointed, not
rounded, ends, for I cannot sufficiently dwell on the
fact that no line in picturesque landscape is more
unpropitious than that taken from the circle, espe-
cially in any great extent of space. A green shore
which ends quite in a point and is at its termination
almost in thesame line as the water, and beyond which
the water appears on the other side, makes quite a
charming variety, especially when a few high-stemmed
trees stand on it, and where one looks through under
the foliage. If any important object is in the neigh-
bourhood of a building, mountain, or conspicuous
tree, plenty of room should be given for its reflection

suos|tM “f wera Aq ydess0z0y4g & Woy
‘Aasiof MON UT oyeIsq AIyUNOD e—spur[AYS }e aye] [elOYyyy uy

Water 147

in the water, and attention drawn to the picture
shimmering in its depths by a path or bench placed
there for the purpose.

“The form f is by no means the worst which I have
seen carried out, nor will I say that g is the best for
execution; but the latter will assuredly make a more
picturesque effect, and from no point of view will the
end of the water be visible, which is one of the chief
considerations.”’*

The interesting part of the above dissertation is that
Prince Pickler carried out his principles and directions,
as they are here set forth, in an entirely successful
manner on his own estate at Muskau, where the results
can be seen to-day after the lapse of nearly a century.

Not long before the time of Prince Ptickler we find
Humphry Repton in The Art of Landscape Gardening
expressing the following sound views on the subject of
the use of water in the landscape:

“The general cause of a natural lake or expanse
of water is an obstruction to the current of the stream
by some ledge or stratum of rock which it cannot
penetrate, but as soon as the water has risen to the
surface of the rock, it tumbles over with great fury,
wearing itself a channel among the craggy fragments
and generally forming an ample basin at the foot.
Such is the scenery we must attempt at Thorsby.

“When under the guidance of Le Notre and his

t Hints on Landscape Gardening, Prince Puckler.

148 Landscape Arcbitecture

disciples the taste for nature in landscape gardening
was totally banished or concealed by the work of
art. Now in defining the shape of land or water,
we take nature for our model, and the highest per-
fection of landscape gardening is to imitate nature
so judiciously that the influence of art shall never be
detected.”

However satisfactory we may find the words of
Prince Ptickler and Humphry Repton on the subject
of the use of water in landscape gardening, the excellent
and extended study of Thomas Whately on similar
lines should not be overlooked. It conveys much
valuable advice:

“So various are the characters which water can
assume, that there is scarcely an idea in which it
may not concur, or an impression which it cannot
enforce: a deep, stagnated pool, dank and dark with
shades which it dimly reflects, befits the seat of
melancholy; even a river, if it be sunk between two
dismal banks and dull both in motion and colour, is
like a hollow eye which deadens the countenance;
and over a sluggard, silent stream creeping heavily
along all together, hangs a gloom, which no art can
dissipate nor even the sunshine disperse. A gently
murmuring rill, clear and shallow, just gurgling,
just dimpling, imposes silence, suits with solitude,
and leads to meditation: a brisker current which
wantons in little eddies over a bright sandy bottom,

“YY ae Wey Aq ydeisojoydg eB woig
“AUD YOR MON ‘Yreg [esjyuady

‘

ala WepTIeY ay} JO s10ys oy} uC

Wiater 149

or babbles among pebbles, spreads cheerfulness all
around; a greater rapidity and more agitation to a
certain degree are animating; but in excess, instead of
wakening, they alarm the senses: the roar and the rage
of a torrent, its force, its violence, its impetuosity, tend
to inspire terror; that terror which, whether as cause
or effect, is sonearly allied to sublimity.... But
it is not necessary that the whole scene be bounded:
if form be impressed on a considerable part, the eye
can, without disgust, permit a large reach to stretch
beyond its ken; it can even be pleased to observe a
tremulous motion in the horizon, which shows that
the water has not there attained its termination.
Still short of this, the extent may be kept in uncer-
tainty; a hill ora wood may conceal one of the extrem-
ities, and the country beyond it, in such a manner
as to leave room for the supposed continuation of so
large a body of water. Opportunities to choose
this shape are frequent, and it is the most perfect of
any: the scene is closed, but the extent of the lake
is undetermined: a complete form is exhibited to the
eye, while a boundless range is left open to the im-
agination. But mere form will only give content,
not delight; that depends upon the outline, which is
capable of exquisite beauty; and the bays and the
creeks and the promontories, which are ordinary
parts of that outline, together with the accidents of
islands, of inlets and of outlets to rivers, are in their
shapes and their combinations an inexhaustible fund
of variety. A straight line of considerable length

150 Landscape Architecture

may find a place in that variety, and it is sometimes
of singular use to prevent the semblance of a river
in a channel formed between islands and the shore.
But no figure perfectly regular ought ever to be
admitted; it always seems artificial, unless the size
absolutely forbids the supposition. A semicircular
bay, though the shape be beautiful, is not natural;
and any rectilinear figure is absolutely ugly; but if
one line be curved, another may sometimes be al-
most straight; the contrast is agreeable; and to
multiply the occasions of showing contrasts may
often be a reason for giving several directions to a
creek and more than two sides to a promontory.

“Bays, creeks, and promontories, though extremely
beautiful, should not, however, be very numerous,
for a shore broken into little points and hollows has
no certainty of outline, it is only ragged not diversi-
fied; and the distinctness and simplicity of the great
parts are hurt by the multiplicity of subdivisions:
but islands, though the channels between them be
narrow, do not so often derogate from greatness;
they intimate a space beyond them whose boundaries
do not appear; and remove to a distance the shore
which is seen in perspective between them. Such
partial interruptions of the sight suggest ideas of
extent to the imagination.

“The inletsand outlets of rivers have similar effects;
fancy pursues the course of the stream far beyond
the view—no limits are fixed to its excursions. The
greatest composition of water is that which is in

Water I51

part a lake, and in part a river, which has all the
expanse of the one, and all the continuation of
the other, each being strongly characterized to the
very point of their junction: if that junction breaks
into the side of the lake, the direction of the river
should be oblique to the line it cuts—rectangular
bisections are in this, as in all instances, formal; but
when the conflux is at an angle, so that the bank of
the river coincides with one shore of the lake, they
should both continue for some way in the same direc-
tion; a deviation from that line immediately at the
outlet detaches the lake from the river.

“Though the windings of a river are proverbially
descriptive of its course, yet without being per-
petually wreathed, it may be natural; nor is the
character expressed only by its turnings. On the
contrary, if they are too frequent and sudden the cur-
rent is reduced into a number of separate pools, and
the idea of progress is obscured by the difficulty of
tracing it. Length is the strongest symptom of
continuation; long reaches are therefore characteristic
of a river, and they conduce much to its beauty;
each is a considerable piece of water and a variety of
beautiful forms may be given to their outlines, but
a straight one can very seldom be admitted; it has
the appearance of a cut canal, unless great breadth,
a bridge across it, and strong contrasts between the
objects on the banks disguise the formality. A very
small curvature obliterates every idea of art and
stagnation; and a greater is often mischievous; for

152 Landscape Architecture

an excess of deviation from a straight towards a
circular line shortens the view, weakens the idea of
continuation, and though not chargeable with stiff-
ness, yet approaches to regularity; whereas the line
of beauty keeps at a distance from every figure which.
a rule can determine or a compass describe.

““A considerable degree of roundness is, however,
often becoming, where the stream changes its direc-
tion, and if the turn be effected by a sharp point of
land on one side, there is the more occasion for cir-
cuity on the other. The river should also be widened
under that other bank; for it is the nature of water
thus driven out of its course to dash and encroach
upon the opposite shore; where this circumstance
has been attended to, the bend appears natural; and
the view ending in space gives scope to the imagina-
tion: the turn therefore ought generally to be larger
than a right angle; if it be less, it closes immediately,
and checks the idea of progress.

“Water is so universally and so deservedly ad-
mitted in a prospect, that the most obvious thought
in the management of it is to lay it as open as
possible, and purposely to conceal it would generally
seem a severe self-denial: yet so many beauties may
attend its passage through a wood, that larger por-
tions of it might be allowed to such retired scenes,
that are commonly spared from the view, and the
different parts in different styles would then be fine
contrasts to each other. If the water at Wotton
(the seat of Mr. Greville, in the vale of Aylesbury

« ” mi
A View of the River as Arranged and Improved by Prince Ptickler von Muskau,

in his Park at Muskau, Silesia, Germany.
Redrawn from an Old Print.

The Boundary Fence on the Park of Prince Pickler von Muskau, Silesia, Germany.

Redrawn from an Old Print.

Water 153

in Buckinghamshire) were all exposed, a walk of near
two miles along the banks would be of a tedious length
from the want of those changes of the scene, which
now supply through the whole extent a succession
of perpetual variety. That extent is so large as to
admit of a division into four principal parts, all of
them great in style and in dimensions; and differing
from each other both in character and situation.
The two first are the least; the one is a reach of a
river, about a third of a mile in length, and a com-
petent breadth, flowing through a lovely mead, open
in some places to views of beautiful hills in the coun-
try, and adorned in others with clumps of trees, so
large that their branches stretch quite across, and
form a high arch over the water. The next seems
to have been once a formal basin encompassed with
plantations; and the appendages on either side still
retain some traces of regularity; but the shape of the
water is free from them; the size is about fourteen
acres; and out of it issue two broad collateral streams,
winding towards a large river, which they are seen
to approach, and supposed to join. A real junction
is, however, impossible, from the difference of the
levels, but the terminations are so artfully concealed
that the deception is never suspected; and when
known is not easily explained. The river is the
third great division of the water; a lake into which
it falls is the fourth. These two do actually join;
but their characters are directly opposite; the scenes
they belong to are totally distinct; and the transition

154 Landscape Architecture

from one to the other is very gradual, for an island
near the conflux, dividing the breadth, and conceal-
ing the end of the lake, moderates for some way the
space, and permitting it to expand but by degrees,
raises an idea of greatness, from uncertainty accom-
panied with increase. The reality does not disap-
point the expectation; and the island which is the
point of view is itself equal to the scene; it is large
and high above the lake; the ground is irregularly
broken; thickets hang on the sides; and towards the
front is placed an Ionic portico which commands a
noble extent of water, not less than a mile in circum-
ference, bounded on one side with wood, and open on
the other to two sloping lawns, the least of a hund-
red acres, diversified with clumps, and bordered by
plantations; yet this lake when full in view and with
all the importance which space, form, and situation
can give, is not more interesting than the sequestered
river, which has been mentioned as the third great
division of the water. It is just within the verge of
a wood, three quarters of a mile long, everywhere
broad, and its course is such as to admit of infinite
variety, without any confusion. The banks are
clear of underwood; but a few thickets still remain;
on one side an impenetrable covert soon begins; the
interval is a beautiful grove of oaks, scattered over
a greensward of extraordinary verdure. Between
these trees and these thickets the river seems to
glide gently along, constantly winding, without one
short turn, or one extended reach, in the whole

Water 155

length of the way. The even temper in the stream
suits the scenes through which it passes; they are in
general of a very sober cast; not melancholy, but
grave; never exposed to a glare; never darkened with
gloom; nor by strong contrasts of light and shade
exhibiting the excess of either; undisturbed by an
excess of prospects without, or a multiplicity of
objects within, they retain at all times a mildness
of character which is still more forcibly felt when
the shadows grow faint as they lengthen; when a little
rustling of birds in the spray, the leaping of the fish,
and the fragrancy of the woodbine denote the ap-
proach of evening; while the setting sun shoots its
last gleams on a Tuscan portico, which is close to
the great basin, but which from a seat near this river
is seen at a distance, through all the obscurity of the
wood, glowing on the banks, and reflected on the
surface of the water.’

Here are good words about flowers on the waterside:

“One beautiful way in which flowers can be used,
especially those distinguished for the brightness and
clearness of their colouring, or for their tall stalks,
is to plant them in moss and among wild vegetation
along the edge of a brook or some other piece of
water. The reflections in the water and the play
of their movements thus doubled clothed with a new
charm this scene which is altogether natural.’’*

Throughout all these quotations, however, no one
t Hirschfeld’s Theorie der Garden Kunst, Leipzig, 1777.

156 Landscape Architecture

dwells on the importance of the margin, the lip of the
shore of a stream, or a lake, or a pool. Landscape
gardening can display no greater skill than the work
that can be done in varying the line which touches the
water with myriads of changes even in small ways so
that the eye is continually diverted. It is so that
nature works, and we will see it, if we observe with
seeing eyes. Here a secret cove with pond lilies and
water plants, there a point on which grows, with its
roots in the water, a fine tree, a scarlet maple or a wil-
low, or perhaps it is a rock all moss-grown. The grass—
not cement under any circumstances—on the edge of an
open lawn coming down to the water may sink its feet
directly in the pool or stream, where its green will be
reflected in the most charming manner. There is no
end to the effects; all kinds of drooping shrubs may
hang the ends of their curving branches in the water,
and trees and shrubs redouble their beauty by their re-
flected images. Rushes may gather along the banks, and
irises thrust themselves beyond the margin. Beaches
of sand and gravel should also find places where they
would naturally assume shape and remain quiescent
until some freshet comes along. It is the end, the
margin, the border, the tip of everything that counts
above all things in the landscape picture. The margin
of the shrub groups, the shore line we have termed it,
gives the lawn its true value in the scene: the tips of
the branches of the shrubs and trees mark their charac-
ter in most cases more than anything else, and make
much of their charm and beauty. It is for this reason,

Water 1$7

if for no other, that shearing of shrubs seems an unkind
proceeding.

In the same way, we should seek to touch and beau-
tify the very edge and margins of our water spaces on
nature’s lines, with all the devices of horticulture.
Such refinements of landscape gardening are after all
the supreme result to be sought, for it is these seemingly
minor things, these small touches, that make for per-
fection. Again the warning should be reiterated that
all sense of effort, all fussiness, should be avoided, and
simple and relatively large effects alone sought. Above
all, any attempt to exhibit variety of plant forms as
horticultural curiosities is specially objectionable.

Water used in the form of fountains should find no
place on an estate or park except in the midst of some
architectural development, among trees if possible,
in a portico, a court, a plaza or esplanade, or in some
stately garden in connexion with buildings. Water-
falls, cascades, rapids, that dash and resound and trickle
and murmur, and swing and sweep, and in so many
ways delight the eye and ear, are desirable above most
landscape-gardening effects; but the attempt to produce

- such effects had better be limited to places where water
“features already exist, and dash and trickle of their
own volition. A rock can be added here, and a plant
there, or a shrub and tree, and greatly increase the
attractions. Water, plants, rocks, and soil can un-
doubtedly be gathered together in distinctly natural
forms that will not insult the surrounding scenery by
their incongruities, but it will be a difficult undertaking

158 Landscape Architecture

and should not be attempted except after due consid-
eration and the full recognition that failure is quite
likely, and that the work may have to be done over
more than once. Landscape gardening affords more
temptations than most occupations to dream dreams
the practical realization of which will be found almost
if not quite impossible.

In order to form some idea of what the construction
of an ideal lake means the accompanying illustration
is given of Prof. C. S. Sargent’s artificial lake on his
estate of Holm Lea, Brookline, Boston, Mass.

“It was formed by excavating a piece of swamp
and damming a small stream which flowed through
it. In the distance toward the right the land lies
low by the water and gradually rises as it recedes.
Opposite us it forms little wooded promontories
with grassy stretches between. Where we stand it
is higher, and beyond the limits of the picture to the
left it forms a high steep bank rising to the lawn on
the farther side of which stands the house. The
base of these elevated banks and the promontories
opposite are planted with thick masses of rhododen-
drons, which flourish superbly in the moist peaty
soil, protected as they are from drying winds by the
trees and high ground. Near the low meadow a
long stretch of shore is occupied with thickets of
hardy azaleas. Beautiful at all seasons, the pond
is most beautiful in June when the rhododendrons
are ablaze with crimson and purple and white and

(‘uotsstullag Aq peonpoiday) ‘wog » sie ‘gq sewoYyy Aq ydesZ0}04g & Woy
“SSVI ‘OUTPyOoIg ‘yuesieg *W sepIeyO
TOSSOFOI JO 9}CISA OY} ‘VoT wloOY 4v sjuryg 19}evM\ 1ayIO pue ‘sostay ‘suospuapopoyy Aq pewleplog ayvy] [voyyly uy

Water 139

when the yellow of the azalea beds—discreetly sepa-
rated from the rhododendrons by a great clump of
low-growing willows—finds delicate continuation in
the buttercups that fringe the daisied meadows.
The lifted banks then afford particularly fortunate
points of view: for as we look down upon the rhodo-
dendrons, we see the opposite shore and the water
with its rich reflected colours as over the edge of a
splendid frame. No accent of artificiality disturbs
the eye despite the unwonted profusion of bloom and
variety of colour. All the plants are suited to the
place and in harmony with each other; and all the
contours of the shore are gently modulated and softly
connected with the water by luxuriant growths of
water plants. The witness of the eye alone would
persuade us that nature unassisted had achieved the
whole result. But beauty of so suave and perfect
a sort as this is never a natural product. Nature’s
beauty is wilder if only because it includes traces of
mutation and decay which here are carefully effaced.
Nature suggests the ideal beauty, and the artist
realizes it by faithfully working out her suggestions.”’*

The two views of castle and moat at Muskau are full
of suggestions. The ancient moat has been enlarged
in one case to a small lake with charming plantations
of trees and shrubs on its borders, and the other, with
the moat disappearing from the eye, appeals to the
imagination and takes the memory back to ancient days.

"Garden and Forest, vol.i., p. 8.

160 Landscape Architecture

The view which shows a pool in Central Park on the
west side near 77th Street might well be the moat of a
feudal castle like that of Muskau, but its background
which makes it so picturesque is simply the south-east
tower of the Natural History Museum. There is a
winding path that goes down to the water for the benefit
of horseback riders who may be passing on the bridle
path nearby.

The view of Durham Cathedral is somewhat familiar.
The reason for its introduction is to show how much
water adds to the value of the view of a noble
building.

The water-soaked margins of our ponds and lakes
furnish a home for many graceful, fine foliage and
flowering plants. Necessary variations of height
and impressiveness are made with the great Gunnera
and the lesser heights with irises or daffodils or the
little water-lily (Nymphea pygmea).

The question which we need to consider here is the
way they should be used on the shores of the pools and
streams of the landscape picture. We are again called
to study the homes where such plants live nearby, on,
or in the water, and to see where they appear to best
advantage. An eye keenly alive to such opportunities
for study will see many things along the banks of brooks
and lakes that are suggestive and worth imitating
in water planting. It will see first of all, especially
in confined areas, pools and arms of a lake or stream,
that there should be plenty of water surface left un-
covered by planting. The level space is the eye of the

The Castle and the Moat, and a View of the Park on the Estate of Prince Pickler
von Muskau, Silesia, Germany.
From a Photograph by Thomas W. Sears.

0 fle, Se"

A Castle, Lake, and Moat on the Estate of Prince Ptickler von Muskau.

From a Photograph by Thomas W. Sears, Providence, R. I.

Water 161

leafage of the park,—the unbroken grass space; in
the same way the open water is the eye of the water
picture. It gives breadth and composition to the
scene, allows play of sunlight and reflection of leaf and
flower in the water and brooding of shadows on its
surface. The principles of design are the same, if one
will only pause to consider; whether it be a woodland
grass patch in a recess, a stream, or a great park meadow
with shrubs and trees receding in bays or boldly thrust-
ing themselves forward in promontories with expanse
and freedom of level space around them. It is all a
matter of scale—the small and the large, breadth and
height, colour and scent, they all aspire, reach upward,
lift, feel their strength to conquer and then give way
and yield, until finally there is an interval of peace, of
rest, when the smooth space stretches out to bear on its
liquid or green bosom the sun’s rays and the drifting
shadows, to give to the open water a little quiet to
receive the sunset’s last glowing touches and to settle
down finally into the soft odorous gloom of evening.
Then there are the battles of the seasons, heat and cold,
freshet, and storm wind. Even the little waterside
flower has to fight for its life, but it, too, gains its
victory, and rest and happiness after all the dis-
aster. The beauty and the modesty of the river-
side flower is not to be gainsaid in the days of its
victory. No stately plants of the palace garden can
surpass it in loveliness. Can any denizen of the formal
garden surpass in charm the subject of these beautiful
lines:

162 Landscape Architecture

The woodland willow stands a lonely bush
Of nebulous gold,

There the Spring Goddess comes in faint attire
Of frightened fire.

The golden willows lift
Their boughs the sun to sift,
Their sprays they droop to screen
The sky with veil of green,
A floating cage of song
Where feathered lovers throng.*

The beauty and the dainty charm of plants, trees,
and shrubs and flowers on the waterside transcends
description. What a fascination there is in the water-
lilies, Nuphar, Nelumbium, and Nymphza—and it is
not easy to locate them rightly. It needs study and
it should not be undertaken lightly, although easy
enough if you know how to do it. Without much
study and observation success in managing these little
water plants is not easy to attain. The following lines
of Robert Bridges show a fine knowledge of the com-
mon water-lily of lakes and streams, a knowledge of a
kind that is often lacking in poets:

But in the purple pool there nothing grows,
Not the white water-lily spoked with gold,
Though best she loves the hollows, and well knows
‘On quiet streams her broad shields to unfold,
Yet should her roots but try within these deeps to lie,
Not her long-reaching stalk could ever hold her waxen
héad so high.*

t Robert Bridges, Poems, p. 307, 1912.

‘AULD YIOK MON ‘Ye yesyuoD ur
T JIM UoTJOUUOD ut pue ‘arenbg uv}eYyUR]L Ul WMasNyY ATOYSIP{ TeINJVN oy,

ISLANDS

and streams and lakes or ponds requires much

study of the spot where they are to be made,
and also the exercise of the memory to accumulate
examples for consideration, which, though not exactly
the same, will be helpful.

I recall for instance a wonderful afternoon, sailing
through the upper reaches of Lake George, New York
State. The day was showery and as the mists gathered
and dispersed and the sun now came out and now dis-
appeared, the illusions of light and shade were magical.
Islands of all sizes from a few rocks to cedar-clothed
hills loomed up on every side and then disappeared.
Ever changing, it was like some scene in fairyland,
unearthly, unreal—the mind seemed transported to a
space between lake and sky where the islands had a
realm of their own. There were thousands of them
and the study of how many of them were growing
from a few rocks into larger and larger masses of
trees, rocks, soil, and grass was most instructive, most
illuminating.

, ‘HE design and construction of islands in rivers

163

164 Landscape Architecture

“Islands scattered in a large lake or judiciously
arranged in the broad flowing river are of great
assistance and add much to the beauty of the whole
by their variety. Here, too, the example of nature
must be very fully studied. It is remarkable how
seldom this is the case and I can hardly remember
having seen anywhere an artificial island which did
not betray at first glance its forced, unnatural origin.
Thus I recently found, even in the small celebrated
royal gardens attached to Buckingham House, which
I have highly praised elsewhere, one which repre-
sented more the picture of a pudding in its sauce,
than an island built up by nature. It is true that
nature sometimes indulges in peculiar freaks, but
there is always je ne sais quoi, which cannot be at-
tained by mere imitation, therefore it becomes us
to follow her rules, not her exceptions.

“Generally, as I have said, artificial islands can be
recognized at the first glance. Their shape is either
oval or round, sloping down equally on all sides, (see
Plate VII., ¢,) and they are planted at random in
separate patches, see 7. Nature forms them quite
otherwise, seldom by building up, more frequently
by erosion. For how is an island originated? First,
either a piece of land has withstood the pressure of
the flood by its height and solidity, see a; or secondly,
it has been forcibly torn asunder, see b; or it may be an
eminence has been quietly surrounded by a stream
in its course; or finally accumulated soil, having
been borne along by the stream, remains after the

Park Treatment of Water in the Neighbourhood of Durham Cathedral, England.

From a Photograph by F. Hovey Allen.

Islands 165

flood has receded, as an island standing above low
water, see c.

“Where the water flowing swiftly into a basin
forms an island at the inlet, it will take about the
shape of d; following the outer banks, the swiftly
flowing stream by its strong pressure on both sides
will somewhat round the ends. But if the river
widens into a lake by gently filling a deep basin,
rather than rushing into it, then e may be assumed
as the natural shape, for here the river doesn’t round
off both sides, but forms in a slow current on the
right, a long spit on the left bank, beyond which
the quiet water, no longer in a powerful stream, pro-
ceeds and gently flows round the higher ground.
Very seldom, on the other hand, does a stream flow
into such a basin as is generally made out, after the
model of a bottle, see f.

“‘Let the surface and shelving of an island on the
same principle be constructed in accordance with
the probable effect of the terrain and the water which
washes it. The equal shelving on all sides and the
equality of height throughout is the commonest
mistake. I fell into this error at first; g is bad and
b is good.

“But even the best forms may be bettered by
plantations skilfully arranged covering the spots
that appear less satisfactory and giving more variety
to the surface without disturbing the harmony, con-
cerning which the right feeling certainly must again
decide; united taste and experience, recognizing the

166 Dandscape Architecture

proper course, knows what cannot be altogether
taught by correct rule. Islands planted down to the
water’s edge cannot be quite failures, be their shape
what it may, and if the spirit of the scene is to be fol-
lowed it may be the only alternative. I should never
recommend leaving the shores of the island entirely
unplanted, see 7 and k, even if it isa very good form,
since the bare outline of nature, if I may so express
it, is the most difficult of all to imitate. Finally
one must confess that with all our endeavours to
emulate nature, she yet retains in petto something
unattainable, and says to us poor human beings,
‘Thus far and no farther.’’’?

Prince Pickler in his Tour in England writes:

“Tt is necessary to study the forms of water for
the details, but the principal thing is never to suffer
an expanse of water to be completely overlooked or
seen in its whole extent. It should break on the
eye gradually, and if possible lose itself at several
points at the same time in order to give full play to
the fancy—the true art in all landscape gardening.”

The actual construction of an island should be done
on solid foundations of earth or stone and good drain-
age secured. A rock here and there on the shores, if
rocks already exist in the neighbourhood, will give a
natural appearance and diversify the effect. Little
miniature islands, outside of the main island, even a

t Prince Packler, Hints on Landscape Gardening.

Islands 167

few bits of stone with a little earth and a shrub or two,
or just a few bare rocks jutting out on the surface of
the water, tailing off as if they were small islands in the
train of a big one, are found in thousands of places in
the lakes of the country and are suggestive of this kind
of landscape gardening that should be undertaken.

The clothing of islands with trees and shrubs should
be in harmony with the growth of the shores nearby.
If young plants are selected almost any of the woodland
types can be used; elms, maples, alders, white willows,
birches can all be used, but the kinds similar to those
on the neighbouring shore should predominate. Where
the mainland is free from woods, it is a good idea to
throw across the water on the shore a mass of similar
island growths. The repeating of a note of foliage
in this manner is always effective and should be used
in various ways throughout the neighbourhood as well as
on the islands. All formalism in the planting should
be avoided and the trees and shrubs grouped in many
sizes, but for the sake of a considerable mass of colour,
masses of one sort should be used together. If a small
valley or cleft in the crest of an island occurs, it should
not be planted, except with low shrubs or undergrowth,
so as to emphasize the variety of surface and increase
the contrast or contradiction of parts which contributes
so much to the beauty and picturesqueness of the
landscape.

It takes almost a special gift to compass these natural
effects, but the above simple hints or suggestions will
place one on the right road. It sometimes almost

168 Landscape Architecture

makes one despair of trying to manage to create these
natural-looking features. There are bits of views that
have a beauty that cannot be imitated, and therefore
it is often better to let a fine view alone when we can,
because we can rarely improve it. Fortunate is any
one who already has a natural and beautiful island.
Best set out a water-lily or two or some other aquatic
flower, but leave the trees and shrubs of the island
untouched except a little cutting out of dead wood here
and there or lopping off a rampant branch.

A landscape gardener learns above most artists to
exercise restraint and humility. Nature is so much
better an artist than he can hope to be. Many a place
should never be planted at all except with vines and
low shrubs and a tree or two immediately adjoining
the house; nature herself having done the work so
supremely well.

It has been already noted that to make an island
after nature’s standard, or type, there may well be
more than one island, one in several and yet the whole
constituting an island scheme, a unified effect. The
most natural and beautiful island is one that is growing,
one that has other small islands around it, emerging
into sight, consisting, in some cases, of no more than a
rock or a few square feet of earth and one or more
small shrubs, an island very much like the larger one
was at an earlier stage of its existence. To build such
companion islands successfully, the controlling forces
of the environment must be carefully studied and taken
into account, the character of the current and the pre-

Islands 169

vailing winds, from whence the soil drifts, even the
source of the stones that may be conveyed by the ice.
These factors will all work effectively in the natural
development of an island, and in artificial construc-
tions we should continually recognize their value.

If an island is large enough to require a bridge to
connect it with the mainland, or to make the erection
of some kind of building advisable, the simplest forms
and material should be used, and generally it would
be better to use stone alone. ‘Rustic work” as re-
presented by the intricate arrangement of cedar, locust,
or sassafras branches twisted into the strange conven-
tional forms has become popular for bridges and
summer houses on islands and elsewhere, but good taste
should really bar it. It is neither defensible as archi-
tecture of a sort, nor suitable as material for use in
the landscape.

The outline of the shore of the island is a feature that
needs the most careful management to retain the in-
finitely varied contours and even indentations character-
istic of the method of treating such places followed by
nature. Nothing that nature does is accidental or
haphazard and therefore it is always important to
study her methods and see how and why she arrives
at certain results. Something of the play of these
natural forces is indicated in the diagrams and expla-
nations contained in the quotations from Prince Ptickler
contained in this chapter.

x
ROCKS

HE employment of rocks in landscape gardening
should be founded on study of the way similar
fragments have naturally disposed themselves

in the scenery of the territory where they are to be
employed.

To complete the natural beauty and proper effect
of rocks in the landscape, rock plants are required,
plants that thrive in shallow soil and in the crevices,
pockets, and nooks found in such places.

“They (the rocks) may also occasionally be con-
nected with a stretch of wall built of blasted field
stone as if for some purpose, like reconstructing a
bridge or supporting a steep bank, one had merely
taken advantage of the rocks which had naturally
accumulated and supplemented the rest with a wall
for the same purpose. This also gives the opportu-
nity to gather together plants which demand a rocky
soil, and which are often very ornamental, especially
near water where such rock work is most desirable
for a bulwark, dam, strong wall, etc., and in a large

park they are almost indispensable. A slight artistic
170

Rocks 171

touch which can be recommended is to set the stones
in a slanting direction as if they had been forced up
in that manner and to make one or more of the edges
stand out conspicuously, which gives the whole a
more picturesque and bold aspect.’’*

There are few things more beautiful in a park or
garden than an old wall treated with rock plants in an
intelligent manner.

“A grand old wall is a precious thing in a garden,
and many are the ways of treating it. If it is an
ancient wall of great thickness, built at a time when
neither was work shirked nor material stinted, even
if many of the joints are empty, the old stone or
brick stands firmly bonded, and, already two or three
hundred years of age, seems likely to endure well into
the future centuries. In such a wall wild plants will
already have made themselves at home, and we may
only have to put a little earth and a small plant into
some cavity, or earth and seed into a narrow open
joint, to be sure of a good reward. Often grasses
and weeds rooting in the hollow places can be raked
out and their spaces refilled with better things.
When wild things grow in walls they always dispose
themselves in good groups; such groups as without
their guidance it would have been difficult to devise

intentionally.

: Prince Puckler, Hints on Landscape Gardening.
2Gertrude Jekyl, Wall and Water Gardens.

172 Landscape Architecture

These walls, ancient or recently made, are valuable
in many places, bordering roads and lanes, supporting
steep banks, and making the main structures of bridges
and their approaches; but it should be understood that,
in order to have a rustic character, they should be made
of stone collected in the fields near where they are to
be used, or taken from a quarry where the rock shows a
cleavage or lamination, a colour and grain which suit
the character of the region where it is to be employed.
Next in importance to the character of the stone is the
size of the individual blocks used. These should be
taken as large as possible and should not show any
signs of the chisel, only a blow of the hammer here and
there, to break off corners so that a rough fitting can
be made. To this end, no chinking or thrusting little
pieces of stone into the joints should be allowed. All
these crevices or openings should be left exposed and
then, by devising lips or pockets of cement, soil can
be introduced and retained for growing plants. This
will in a year or two, when the plants have grown, give
an old weather-worn appearance to the wall, an ancient
moss-grown look, and at the same time a great charm
of leaf and flower. Any concrete that may be neces-
sary should be set in the core of the wall where it is
out of sight. There are few rock plants that will grow
in America, or even elsewhere, in these dry crevices,
and such plants are confined largely to the mossy-look-
ing sedums of dwarf habit, preferably the stonecrop
(Sedum acre). Besides these there are the wild cactus
or prickly pear (Opuntia vulgaris), the houseleeks

Rocks 173

(sempervivums), which do well in these difficult places.
Hardly any other kinds can be used for the purpose.

At the base of these walls ferns, iris, saxifrage, and
other medium-sized herbaceous plants that bloom at
different parts of the season may be grown, but the
kinds should be selected so that only the base of the
wall for a foot or two is covered, because the beauty
of the grain and colouring of the wall is quite as impor-
tant as the plant growth.

Judgment should be carefully exercised in the quan-
tity of climbing plants used,—roses, clematis, Virginia
creeper, euonymus, Japanese ivy, etc.,—because the
growth of these vines is so luxuriant that without
proper control they will soon cover the entire wall and
hide the beauty of the stone itself and its moss-covered
crevices and surface. The right way is to plant climb-
ing vines nearly always at the back of the wall, in which
case they will grow up to the top and then can be trained
longitudinally along the coping. Unless this training is
carefully followed up, the vines grow out in all directions
and, more or less, droop down and cover too much of
the beautiful surface of the front wall. The Euonymus
radicans is a small evergreen vine of great beauty and
has the advantage of growing in a moderate way in
front of the wall, fitting itself into some of the large
crevices which are difficult to cover with the sedums
and sempervivums, but even this vine needs consider-
able attention to prevent its spreading too much over
the picturesque wall surface.

The accompanying illustration shows the appearance

174 Landscape Zrcbitecture

of a wall two years old. This wall extends in front of
the estate of W. W. Cook, Esq., bordering King Street
about two miles from Port Chester, N. Y. The stone,
a heavy granite, is of striking beauty, having a warm
pink colour shading into browns and yellows. Much of
it is water worn and all of it was taken out of a quarry
on the shores of the Sound a few miles from New Haven.
The blocks vary in size from three feet to ten feet long
and three feet wide and weigh some of them nearly
a ton each. The coping has been carefully selected
from the quarry and hammered somewhat to give it
a comparatively uniform surface, but leaving the nat-
urally rounded and curving contours.

Such a wall should neither look like a ruin, nor on the
other hand like a neatly laid up structure made of small
flat stones, but every foot of it should be studied with
the object of harmonizing and contrasting the colour
and form of the stones, grouping them and combining
their colour in the most effective way. There are
beautiful kinds of granite which are well suited to this
purpose. Mica in stones should be avoided and only
rock selected that will weather attractively. It is a
good idea to consider that the function of rock plants
and vines is simply to frame beautiful panels of stone
in the wall. In that case it will be difficult to go far
wrong. To pile earth on top of the wall and in banks
against the sides and almost cover everything with
flowering plants is to miss the chief object of rock
gardening.

Mr. William Robinsori in the English Flower Garden

“IY oyeH wer
"ACN ‘409804 yOg “bs Soo "My “M Jo 93BISq OY} UG
‘STURT YOY puv YY YM poly SoorjssioyUu] YA 9uo0zg jo syoolg asre7T Jo opeyy [TEM aPUPID V

IM 4q Udessoqoug & Woy

Rocks 175

well expresses the way in which such work should be
done:

“No burrs, clinkers, vitrified matter, portions of
old arches and pillars, broken-nosed statues, etc.,
should ever be seen in a garden of alpine flowers.
Never let any part of the rock garden appear as if
it had been shot out of a cart. The rocks should all
have their bases buried in the ground, and the seams
should not be visible; wherever a vertical or oblique
seam occurs, it should be crammed with earth, and
the plants put in with the earth will quickly hide the

seam.

All suggestion of artificiality of any kind should be
carefully avoided in using rocks in landscape gardening.
The least appearance of the hand of man is more in-
jurious to the charm of the place than it is anywhere
else in the landscape scheme. To imitate, or better to
simulate the natural surface of a meadow by grading
is difficult and is a work of art, the management and
disposition of trees and shrubs is not easy, but to place
rock work so that the presence of the mason is not
dominating, nor the careless method of the teamster
in dumping his load of stone, is the most difficult of all.
This latter form of dumping down rock is by some
wrongly deemed natural and well designed, provided
the interstices be filled with plants.

Thomas Whately writes as follows on the same
subject:

t Enghsh Flower Garden, chapter xi., p. 144.

176 Landscape Architecture

“But too strong a force on the nature of the place
always fails; a winding path which appears to be
worn, not cut, has more effect than a highroad, all
artificial and level, which is too weak to overbear,
and yet contradicts the general idea; the objects
therefore to be introduced must be those which hold
a mean betwixt solitude and population; and the
inclination of that choice towards either extreme
should be directed by the degree of wildness which
prevails; for though that runs sometimes to an excess
which requires correction, at other times it wants
encouragement, and at all times it ought to be pre-
served; it is the predominant character of rocks,
which mixes with every other, and to which all the
appendages must be accommodated; and they may
be applied so as greatly to increase it: a licentious
irregularity of wood and of ground, and a fantastic
conduct of the streams, neither of which would be
tolerated in the midst of cultivation, become and
improve romantic spots; even buildings, partly by
their style, but still more by their position, in strange,
difficult, or dangerous situations, distinguish and
aggravate the native tendencies of the scene. In
the choice and application of these accompaniments
consists all our power over rocks; they are themselves
too vast and too stubborn to submit to our control;
but by the addition or removal of the appendages
which we can command, parts may be shown or
concealed, and the characters with their impressions
may be weakened or enforced: to adapt the accom-

Rocks 177

paniments accordingly is the utmost ambition of art
when rocks are the subject.

“Their most distinguished characters are dignity,
terror, and fancy: the expression of all is constantly
wild; and sometimes a rocky scene is only wild, with-
out pretension to any particular character.

“‘ Art may interpose to show these large parts to the
eye, and magnify them to the imagination, by taking
away thickets which stretch quite across the rocks,
so as to disguise their dimensions, or by filling with
wood the small intervals between them, and thus by
concealing the want, preserving the appearance of
continuation. When rocks retire from the eye down a
gradual declivity, we can, by raising the upper ground,
deepen the fall, lengthen the perspective, and give
both height and extent to those at a distance: this
effect may still be increased by covering the upper
ground with a thicket, which shall cease, or be lowered,
as it descends.

‘* A thicket on other occasions makes the rocks which
rise out of it seem larger than they are; if they stand
on the bank overspread with shrubs, their beginning
is at least uncertain, and the presumption is that
they start from the bottom.

“Rocks are seldom remarkable for the elegance of
their forms; they are too vast and too rude to pretend
to delicacy; but their shapes are often agreeable;
and we can affect those shapes to a certain degree, at
least we can cover many blemishes in them, by con-
ducting the growth of shrubbery and creeping plants

178 Landscape Architecture

about them. For all these purposes mere underwood
suffices, but for greater effects larger trees are requi-
site; they are worthy of the scene, and not only
improvements but accessions to its grandeur; we are
used to rank them among the noblest objects of
nature, and when we see they cannot aspire to the
midway of the heights around them, the rocks are
raised by comparison. A single tree is therefore
preferable to a clump; the size, though really less,
is more remarkable; and clumps are besides generally
exceptionable in a very wild spot from the suspicion
of art that attends them; but a wood is free from that
suspicion, and its own character of greatness com-
mends it to every scene of magnificence.”

No chisel should be allowed to touch the stones except
to break off chunks. The stone or rock masses should
be laid lengthwise in the wall, not with the narrow
parts up and down, and naturally the larger pieces
should rest on the ground. Where the stones rest on
the ground, the point of junction of the stone and soil
should be at least two or three inches above the actual
rock base. There is a principle involved in the idea.
Concealment serves to suggest that the rocks have not
been brought to the spot, but have grown there, and
the soil gradually gathered about them. In this way
it looks, and should look, as if the position of these rocks
was the work of nature. Sometimes it is well to have
a few small rocks at the foot of the wall, as if nature
had dropped them there broad side down. It ought,

Rocks 179

however, to be a stony region where this is done.
Wherever no visible rocks exist, nothing but the upright
stone wall should be constructed, and above all, only
stone should be used the appearance of which has con-
siderable resemblance to those native to the region.
In most places there are some indications of native stone
cropping out of the surface of the ground. Should the
estate or park be located in a distinctly sandy territory
like some parts of New Jersey, there would certainly be
found somewhere within a few miles sandstone that
would suit the purpose. Stones loaded with mica
should be avoided as already noted, for time fails to
weather them satisfactorily; for the same reason pud-
ding-stone, conglomerate, lava-like material, slaty
stone, and anything of the nature of fine-grained
marble are unsatisfactory. Rough-grained stone is
required generally, whether granite, limestone, sand-
stone, or even a nondescript material which is difficult
to classify. The same instinct for simplicity and
rugged strength would suggest in connexion with such
stone walls that gates with their hinges and fastenings,
lamps, and braces of all kinds be made of the roughest
kind of hammered wrought iron, strong looking and
quaint and grotesque in design. Such rough-looking
metal may be cast so as to look like hammered wrought
iron, in which case its use may be admissible, although
strictly speaking it is hardly in good taste. It is
generally wise to design such features either yourself
or with the aid of some special artist. Hardly ever
can you get a design from books or samples that really

180 Dandscape Architecture

fits the scheme of treatment suitable for your wall.
The proportions of the wall are also a consideration of
great importance. Whether the wall should be three
feet high or four feet or a mere border of a few inches or
a foot, depends naturally on existing conditions, but
there should always be plenty of proportionate thick-
ness and something of a batter, that is a narrower top
than base, and always at intervals wide stones running
through the wall and tying the mass together. The
coping should be equally proportionate and lie com-
paratively level or sloping regularly down. Stepping
down with the coping at intervals should be avoided
if possible. It is not natural looking.

The construction of the cave and rough stone arch-
way in the Ramble in Central Park forms one of the best
examples of rock work to be found anywhere. Two
enormous masses of rock near each other, with recesses
forming a cave, were bridged over with large masses of
stones laid so as to make rough parapet walls and rough
stone side pieces, and then sloping off in two directions
are steep banks bordering the path and planted with
masses of rock and vines and shrubbery. The rocky
incident originally existed, but its essential nature was
seized and improved on right lines.

Many are the forms which rock work may assume,
besides a wall. There are steps, caves in hillsides,
bridges, and even houses, and very often there are rocks
to be discovered in the neighbourhood whose beauty
can be enhanced by locating other and smaller stones in
their neighbourhood and ornamenting the entire mass

The Rustic Bridge Adjoining the Cave in the Ramble,
Central Park, New York City.
From a Photograph by William Hale Kirk.

Rocks 181

with vines, sedums, etc. Moreover, wherever rock
crops out in the lawn, alongside a path, on a hillside or
on the level, there is an opportunity to add similar pieces
of rock half buried with the interstices between them
filled with earth and then with plants. To do this there
are chances in many parts of the country and the possi-
bilities of thus creating natural effects of the greatest
beauty are endless and scarcely realized at the present
time. The very selection of the stones with their
beautiful grain and contour invites study of the most
delightful sort. Think what could be done if the same
attention were given to this study as to the collecting
of curios or gems or to the use of stained glass. After
all there are few things finer than these marvellous
effects of nature that belong to the countryside and
which are generally overlooked as commonplace and
not specially interesting.

The bridge over the pond in Central Park indicates
the rustic effect without plants in the interstices of
the stones, and the Lombardy poplars and shrubbery
emphasize and screen the entrance of the footway.

Here is an example of a stone bridge of the type we
have been considering, which illustrates the idea of
simplicity and natural dignity and charm. To Garden
and Forest, vol. i., p. 52, we owe the illustration and
the following description:

“This very ancient bridge spans one of the small
streams on Dartmoor in the south-west of England.
Its construction is sufficiently explained by the

182 Landscape Architecture

picture—two land piers and one stream pier are
connected by long spanning stones which carry
parapets made up of large irregular blocks. It is
hardly necessary to point out thé degree to which
this bridge combines picturesque beauty with dura-
bility, or to explain the fitness of such bridges for
rural situations in our own country. In the immedi-
ate vicinity of a very dignified house so rude and
unarchitectural a bridge would perhaps be out of
place, and the same is true of those portions of an
urban park where formality rules or where archi-
tectural works of importance are in view. But in
the sequestered naturally treated portions of parks
a bridge of this sort would be entirely appropriate;
and carrying a road or footway near a country home
of modest character or in a village suburb it would
be a most charming feature. Naturally we have
no wish to suggest that this bridge be copied either
in its special form or in the size and disposition of its
stones, although in both these respects it would be an
excellent model. It is illustrated merely to show how
very simply a stone bridge may be built and how
incomparably better in effect it is than the ugly
constructions in iron or the rough assemblage of
planks with which in this country we are so familiar.
Weather-beaten boulders as old as those in this bridge
at Leatherton, and as appropriate for bridge building,
lie by every New England stream, and it would need
no high degree of skill to put them to service. But
we seem to have thought the bare straight lines of

“IY avy we

“AYO YOK MON fonuoay YS puv yoaryg yA6S awou rg [wsyuID ut puog oy Jo way ue ao ‘OSprg ouozg ysnoy oy,

M Aq ydesBojoyg be WOT

Rocks 183

iron more beautiful than the infinite variety of form
and surface and colour of our moss-grown stones. It
is full time we changed our minds.”

The bridge on the estate of Muskau as shown in the
illustration is attractive because it spans a brawling
stream and because it is simple and unassuming, but the
stones of which it is constructed are too small and the
entrance to the footway is bare of foliage.

Another fault to be found with this admirable method
of bridge building, is that there is little or no moss, or
sedums which would take the place of moss, to be seen.

There are other illustrations of the proper use of
rocks in landscape architecture which are shown in
some of the views of the chapters of this book. They
have been taken from sketches, made by A. F. Bellows
fifty years ago, of Central Park, New York, in the
early state of its development. It is not easy to find
examples of rock work anywhere equal to those in
Central Park. Unfortunately the study of these
examples does not seem to have commended itself to
many people, for there is little evidence to be seen on
country places of endeavour to excel in this branch
of landscape architecture.

GRADING AND SHAPING GROUNDS

(a3

N meadows as a rule, here and there, the
little ups and downs must be levelled, for
practical purposes as well as appearance:

but larger undulations of the terrain must by no
means be unnecessarily disturbed. But if never-
theless it is desirable for other reasons to re-
move and level any considerable height, and any
fine trees happen to be standing there which should
not be removed, then I advise leaving them
standing on single small hillocks, which gives the
meadow still more variety, for which reason I have
often deliberately planted in this way and with
good results.

“Although in general a certain undulation of the
terrain is advisable at times, an excellent effect is
brought about by making the bottoms of little
valleys, having steep surroundings, quite level. We
often find such formations in nature which charm us
by the contrast.’”’ *

It is remarkable to find these wise reflections recorded

* Prince Pickler, Hints on Landscape Gardening.
184

A Bridge at Leatherton, Dartmoor, England.

From a Photograph Taken from Garden and Forest. (By Permission.)

A Rough Stone Bridge in the Park on the Estate of Prince Pickler von Muskau.
From a Photograph by Thomas W. Sears, Providence, R. I.

Grading and Sbaping Grounds 185

nearly acentury ago. The feeling for nature is strongly
evident, and the whole tendency of the views expressed
is to confirm the fundamental ideas which I propose to
discuss for the grading and shaping the earth surface
for landscape gardening.

The problem, here as elsewhere, is to humour and
conquer nature and yet, to all appearance, still keep
her character intact. Before the planting of trees and
shrubs and flowers, before, usually, even the final
disposition of the paths and roads, comes this modu-
lation of the surface of the earth, for it really amounts
to this, for not only existing natural conditions should be
harmonized and overcome without losing the charac-
teristic topography of the place, but due regard should
be given also to the general appearance of the scenery
immediately outside of the place, and even miles away,
and thus the keynote of the scenery of the region be
kept continually in mind.

To do this work in the proper spirit, and in a really
skilful manner, is perhaps the most difficult undertak-
ing that the landscape gardener will have to master.
There are niceties in the details of shaping the ground,
the execution of which will not be easy of accomplish-
ment. An active movement of the surface will have
to be maintained that is not expressed by either of the
words rolling or levelling, and yet both have their
value in describing the process. The higher portions
are made, or become, lower, overcome by the reaction
of the next swell. Nothing is regular. There should
be conflict and contrast, and for a moment or longer,

186 Dandscape Architecture

harmony and restfulness. The lawn should be like
the waves of the sea or a lake beating on the shores of
varied coast lines of trees and shrubs, with the flowers
acting like the foam and spray, thrusting themselves
forward on much the same lines of contrast, conflict,
and yielding. The chief art, however, lies in keeping
the essential spirit of the scenery pervasive and recur-
rent at irregular intervals throughout.

It is hardly possible to convey any adequate idea of
how this grading is to be done under all circumstances,
conditions vary so continually, but there is a way of
doing this, depending on existing relations of things that
can only be attained by long training and much obser-
vation; and yet this is the very thing that is generally
left to the ordinary day labourer.

We have cited Prince Puckler’s wise suggestions on
grading, but going back quite half a century earlier we
read in the pages of Thomas Whately a really profound
and illuminating dissertation on the subject. Thomas
Whately is a well-known and highly respected authority
on landscape gardening both in his own day (1770) and
at the present time. The weight of his advice there-
fore will excuse the following extended quotation from
his principal work:

“A plain is not, however, interesting, and the
least deviation from the uniformity of its surface
changes its nature; as long as the flat remains, it
depends on the objects around for all its variety and
all its beauty, but convex and concave forms are

The Waterfall near the Lock, Central Park, New York City.

The Waterfall South of, and near, the Boulder Bridge,

Central Park, New York City.

Grading and Sbaping Grounds 187

generally pleasing; and the number of degrees and
combinations into which they may be cast is infinite,
those forms only in each which are perfectly regular
must be avoided; a semicircle can never be tolerable:
small portions of large circles blended together or
lines gently curved which are not parts of any circle,
a hollow sinking but little below the level; a swell
very much flattened at the top, are commonly the
most agreeable figures. In ground that lies beauti-
fully the concave will generally prevail; within the
same compass it shows more compass than a swell;
all the sides of the latter are not visible at the same
time, except in a few particular situations; but it is
only in a few particular situations that any part of a
hollow is concealed, earth seems to have been accumu-
lated to raise the one, and taken away to sink the
other. The concave, therefore, appears the lighter,
and for the most part it is the more elegant shape;
even the slope of a swell can hardly be brought down
unless broken now and then into hollows to take off
from the heaviness of the mass. In made ground
the connexion is, perhaps, the principal consideration.
A swell that wants it is but a heap, a hollow but a
hole; and both appear artificial The one seems
placed upon a surface to which it does not belong;
the other dug into it. Trees, too, without being con-
nected with those within, and seeming part of a
clump or a grove there will frequently obliterate every
trace of an interruption. By such or other means
the line may be, and should be hid or disguised; not

188 Landscape Zrchitecture

for the purpose of deception (when all is done we are
seldom deceived), but to preserve the continued
surface entire.

“Tf where no union is intended, a line of separation
is disagreeable, it must be disgusting when it breaks
the connexion between the several parts of the same
piece of ground. That connexion depends on the
junction of each part to those about, and on the relation
of every part to the whole. To complete the former,
such shapes should be contiguous as most readily
unite, and the actual division between should be
anxiously concealed. If a swell descends upon a
level; if a hollow sinks from it, the level is an absolute
termination and a little run marks it distinctly. To
cover that run, a short sweep at the foot of the swell,
a small rotundity at the entrance to the hollow, must
be interposed. In every instance when ground
changes its direction, there is a point where the
change is effected and that point should never appear.
Some other shapes, uniting easily with both extremes,
must be thrown in to conceal it. But there must be
no uniformity even in these connexions; if the same
sweep be carried all around the bottom of a swell, the
same rotundity all around the top of a hollow,
though the junction be perfect, yet the art by which
it is made is apparent, and art must never appear.
The manner of concealing the separation should itself
be disguised, and different degrees of cavity or rotund-
ity, different shapes and dimensions to the little
parts, thus dignified by degrees; and those parts

Grading and Sbaping Grounds 189

breaking in one place more, in another less, into
the principal forms that are to be united, produce
that variety with which all nature abounds, and
without which ground cannot be natural.

“The relation of all the parts to the whole when
clearly marked, facilitates their junction with each
other: for the common bond of union is then perceived,
before there has been time to examine the subordinate
connexions; and if these should be deficient in some
niceties, the defect is lost in the general impression.
But any part that is at variance with the rest, is not
barely a blemish in itself: it spreads disorder as far as
its influence extends; and the confusion is in pro-
portion as the other parts are more or less adapted,
to point out any particular direction, or to mark any
peculiar character in the ground.

“Tf in ground all descending one way, a piece is
twisted across another, the general fall is obstructed
by it, but if all the parts incline in the same direction,
it is hardly credible how small a declivity will seem to
be considerable. An appearance even of steepness
may be given to a very gentle descent, by raising
hillocks up on it which shall lean to the point, whither
all the rest are tending, for the eye measures from
the top of the highest to the bottom of the lowest
ground; and when the relation of the parts is well
preserved, such an effect from one is transfused over
the whole.

“But they should not, therefore, all lie exactly in
the same direction; some may seem to point to it

190 Landscape Architecture

directly, others to incline very much, others but little,
some partially, some entirely.

“Tf the direction be strongly marked’ on a few
principal parts, great liberties may be taken with the
others, provided none of them are turned the con-
trary way. The general idea must, however, be
preserved, clear even of a doubt. A hillock, which
only intercepts the sight, if it does not contribute to
the principal effect is, at the best, an unnecessary
excrescence, and even an interruption in the general
tendency, though it hide nothing, isa blemish. Ona
descent, any hollow, any fall, which has not an outlet
to lower ground, is a hole: the eye skips over it,
instead of being continued along it; it is a gap in the
composition.

“There may indeed be occasions when we should
rather wish to promote than to check the general
tendency. Ground may proceed too hastily towards
its point; and we have equal power to retard or
accelerate the fall. We can slacken the precipitancy
of a steep by breaking it into parts, some which shall
incline less, than the whole before inclined, to the
principal direction, and by turning them quite away,
we may even change the course of the descent.
These powers are of use in the larger scenes, where
the several great parts lie in several directions; and
if they are thereby too strongly contrasted, or led
to points too widely asunder, every art should be
exerted to bring them nearer together, to assimilate
and connect them. As scenes increase in extent,

Gradins and Sbaping Grounds 191

they become more impatient of control: they are not
only less manageable, but ought to be less restrained;
they require more variety and contrast. But still
the same principles are applicable to the least, and
to the greatest, tho’ not with equal severity: neither
ought to be rent to pieces; and though a small neglect,
which would distract the one, may not disturb the
other, yet a total disregard of all the principles of
union is alike productive of confusion in both.

“The style also of every part must be accommo-
dated to the character of the whole, for every piece
of ground is distinguished by certain properties: it
is either tame or bold, gentle or rude; continued or
broken; and if any varieties inconsistent with those
properties be obtruded, it has no other effect than to
weaken one idea without raising another. The in-
sipidity of a flat is not taken away by a few scat-
tered hillocks; a continuation of uneven ground can
alone give the idea of inequality. A large, deep,
abrupt break, along easy swells and falls, seems at
the best but a piece left unfinished, which ought to
have been softened, it is not more natural because
it is more rude; nature forms both one and the other
but seldom mixes them together. On the other hand,
a small, fine, polished form, in the midst of rough mis-
shapen ground, though more elegant than all about
it, is generally no better than a patch, itself disgraced,
and disfiguring the scene. A thousand instances
might be produced to show, that the prevailing idea
ought to pervade every part, so far at least indis-

192 Landscape Architecture

pensably as to exclude whatever distracts it; and as
much farther as possible to accommodate the char-
acter of the ground to that of the scene it belongs to.
On the same principle the proportion of the parts
may often be adjusted; for though their size must
be very much governed by the extent of the place; and
a feature, which would fill up a small spot, may be
lost in a large one; though there are forms of a par-
ticular cast which appear to advantage only within
certain dimensions and ought not, therefore, to be
applied, where they have not room enough, or where
they must occupy more space than becomes them;
yet independent of these considerations, a character
of greatness belongs to some scenes which is not
measured by their extent, but raised by other prop-
erties, sometimes only by the proportional largeness
of their parts. On the contrary, where elegance
characterizes the spot, the parts should not only be
small, but diversified with subordinate inequalities,
and little delicate touches everywhere scattered
about them. Striking effects, forcible impressions,
whatever seems to require effort, disturbs the en-
joyment of a scene intended to amuse and please.
In other instances similar considerations will de-
termine rather the number than the proportion of
the parts. A place may be distinguished by its
simplicity, which many divisions would destroy;
another spot, without any pretensions to elegance,
may be remarkable for an appearance of richness: a
multiplicity of objects will give that appearance, and

Grading and Shaping Grounds 193

a number of parts in the ground will contribute to the
profusion. A scene of gaiety is improved by the
same means; the objects and parts may differ in style,
but they must be numerous in both. Sameness is
dull; the purest simplicity can at the most render
a place composed of large parts placid; the sublimest
ideas only make it striking; it is always grave; to
enliven it, numbers are wanting.

‘But ground is seldom beautiful or natural without
variety or even without contrast, and the precau-
tions that have been given tend no further than to
prevent variety from degenerating into inconsist-
ency and contrast into contradiction. Within the
extreme nature supplies an inexhaustible fund; and
variety thus limited, so far from destroying improves
the general effect. Each distinguished part makes
a separate impression ; and all bearing the same stamp,
all concurring to the same end, every one is an
additional support to the prevailing idea: that is
multiplied; it is extended, it appears in different
shapes; it is shown in several lights; and the variety
illustrates the relation. But variety wants not this
recommendation: it is always desirable when it can
be properly introduced; and the accurate observer
will see in every form several circumstances by which
it is distinguished from every other. If the scene be
mild and quiet, he will place together those that do
not differ widely; he will gradually depart from the
similitude. In ruder scenes the succession will be less

regular, and the transition more sudden. The
13

194 Landscape Architecture

character of the place must determine the degree of
difference between forms which are contiguous.
Besides distinctions in the shapes of the ground,
differences in their situations and their dimensions
are sources of variety. The position will alter the
effect, though the figure be the same; and for par-
ticular effects, a change only in the distance may be
striking. If that be considerable, a succession of
similar shapes sometimes occasions a fine perspective;
but the diminution will be less marked, that is the
effect will be less sensible if the forms are not nearly
alike; we take more notice of one difference, when
there is no other. Sometimes a very disagreeable
result, produced by too close a resemblance of shapes,
may be remedied by an alteration in the size. If
a steep descends in a succession of abrupt falls,
nearly equal, they have an appearance of steps; and
are neither pleasing nor wild, but, if they are made
to differ in height and length, the objection is re-
moved: and at all times, a difference in the dimen-
sions will be found to have a greater effect, than in
speculation: we should be inclined to ascribe to it,
and will often disguise a similarity of figure. It also
contributes perhaps more than any other circum-
stance, to the perfection of those lines which the eye
traces along the parts of a piece of ground when it
glances over several together. No variety of form
compensates for the want of it. An undulating
line, composed of parts all elegant in themselves,
all judiciously contrasted and happily united, but

Grading and Sbaping Grounds 195

equal one to another, is far from the line of beauty.
A long straight line has no variety at all; and a little
deviation into a curve, if there be still a continued
conformity, is but a trifling amendment. Though
ground all falling the same way requires every
attention to its general tendency, yet the eye must
not dart down the whole length, immediately in one
direction, but should be insensibly conducted to-
wards the principal point with some circuity and
delay. The channels between hillocks ought never
to run in straight, nor even regularly curved lines;
but winding gently among them, and constantly
varying in form and in dimensions should gradually
find their way. The beauty of a large hill, especially
. when seen from below, is frequently impaired by
the even continuation of its brow. An attempt to
break it by little knolls is seldom successful, they
seem separate independent hillocks artificially put
on. The intended effect may indeed be produced by
a large knoll descending in some places lower than
in others, and rooted in several points in the hill.
The same end may be attained by carrying some
channel or hollow on the side upward till it cut the
continued line; or by bringing the brow forward in
one place, and throwing it back in another, or by
forming a secondary ridge a little way down the side,
and casting the ground above it into a different
though not opposite direction to the general descent.
Any of these expedients will at least draw the atten-
tion off from the defect; but, if the break were to

196 Landscape Architecture

divide the run into equal parts, another uniformity
‘would be added without removing the former; for
regularity always suggests a suspicion of artifice,
and artifice detected no longer deceives: our imagin-
ation would industriously join the broken parts and
the idea of the broken line would be restored.

‘“‘ Whatever break be chosen, the position of it must
be oblique to the line which is to be broken. A
rectangular division produces sameness; there is no
contrast between the forms it divides; but, if it be
oblique, while it diminishes the part on one side,
it enlarges that on the other. Parallel lines are liable
to the same objection as those at right angles: though
each by itself be the perfect line of beauty, yet, if they
correspond, they form a shape between them, whose
sides want contrast. On the same principle forms
will sometimes be introduced less for their intrinsic
than their occasional merit, in contrasting happily
with those about them: each sets off the other, and
together they are a more agreeable composition than
if they had been beautiful, but at the same time more
similar. One reason why tame scenes are seldom
interesting is, that, although they often admit of
many varieties, they allow of few, and those only
faint, contrasts. We may be pleased with the
number of the former, but we can be struck only by
the force of the latter. These ought to abound in the
larger and bolder scenes of a garden especially in such
as are formed by an assemblage of many distinct and
considerable parts thrown together; as when several

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‘AYIC YIOR MON ‘YIeg [vsjuag ‘seery, Jo dnoiy qeurg & Jo optg JOY uo vystA AYJIOMON & YA ‘Mopvopy YON oyy Fo AA V

Grading and Sbaping Grounds 197

rising grounds appear one beyond another, a fine swell
seen above a slanting swell which runs before it, has
a beautiful effect which a nearer effect would destroy:
and (except in particular instances) a close similarity
in lines which either cross, or face, or rise behind one
another, makes a poor, uniform, disagreeable com-
position. ’”’*

No better illustration of the truth of these remarks of
Thomas Whately can be found than the north meadows
in Central Park and the meadows of Prospect Park,
Brooklyn, N. Y. They are not only rolling but ridged
up in long mounds at places as if fences had been
removed from pasture fields and the headlands left
unlevelled. See illustration of north meadow, Central
Park. There is not a level spot on this meadow to all
appearance; and when one thinks of it, the meadow
or pastureland, the fundamental idea of a park, lawn,
or meadow is not level. A cricket, tennis, or bowl-
ing court is, but not a pasture field. Farms do not
produce level meadows, and sheep and cows do not
wander on such places. It is the swell and swing of the
surface coming now and then to a small ridge and then
dying away into space that is almost level; it is the rise
and fall, the becoming and dying away into the soft
effect of the almost level. The same idea or type of
treatment is evolved here as in the plantations and lines
of walks and roads and rock work and water and islands;
all start from the same idea. Let any one try, on the

2 Thomas Whately, Observations on Modern Gardening.

198 Landscape Architecture

other hand, to make a level meadow. He can with
difficulty make a level cricket bowling streak, or a level
tennis court—much less a large meadow a mile long like
the one in Prospect Park. The eye will deceive one,
and the place will never look level from every point of
view. It will seem convex or concave and, worst of
all, it will look as if an attempt had been made to
produce a level territory and had failed. The sense of
that kind of failure is always trying to any one who can
understand the end which is sought.

Many people’s sense of these niceties of landscape art
is so obtuse and imperfect that they will at ‘‘one fell
swoop” destroy these fine “‘nuances” of grading.
This has indeed been done in Central Park through
ignorant and, therefore, unintentional treatment of one
of the most beautiful meadows near 59th Street, a
meadow which has been spoken of as the most expen-
sive piece of work of the same size in the area of the
park; all spoiled by unintelligent grading. Of all under-
takings of the landscape gardener, grading is the last
to be left to the skill of the common day labourer. It
would be just as sensible a proceeding to set the quarry-
man who hews and blasts out the stone from the
hillside to carve a copy of some great statue. Yet the
landscape gardener at his best can never hope to create
work like nature when she is at her finest. He can only
work in what he believes to be the same style, but never
quite in the same style as she presents when she works
in her best mood. He can enter into her spirit, but
never quite reach her heart.

Grading and Sbaping Grounds 199

The illustration of Mr. Agar’s estate is introduced
to show how the shape of a lawn can be graded so as
to give the impression of no change of surface what-
ever, just a retention of the natural character of the
place by blending and moulding the contour lines of
the ground.

The centre of the lawn to the north has been greatly
depressed, and still further to the north it has been
raised considerably and trees and shrubs planted to
shut out an unattractive view.

XII
PLANTATIONS

cr HE first requirement of a landscape is the

vigorous growth of all plants. The finest

forms of mountains and lakes, all the bril-
liancy of the sun and sky, combined with the naked
rocks and bare lakes cannot replace the luxuriant
growth of various forms of trees, and the diversified
pleasing green and rich foliage and meadows. Fortu-
nate the man to whom his forbears have bequeathed
lofty woods, old oaks, beeches, and lindens, these
proud giants of our Northern clime, standing there
still untouched by the woodman’s murderous axe.
He should never regard them without veneration and
delight, he should cherish them as the apple of his
eye, for neither money nor power, neither a Croesus
nor an Alexander, can restore an oak a thousand
years old in its wonderful majesty after the poor
labourer has felled it. Terrible and swift is the
destructive power of man, but poor and weak is his
power of rebuilding. May an ancient tree be to you,
kind reader, who love nature, a holy thing. And

200

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julog wintwiig “bsg ‘iesy +g uyof Jo ume oy} Jo MarA Vy

‘

Plantations 201

yet, here also, the individual tree must be sacrificed,
if need be, to the general group.

“Tt may happen that a tree which, taken alone
is most beautiful, does really disturb the effectiveness
and harmony of the whole, and then it must be
sacrificed. Such occasions however are very rare,
and I unfortunately know from my own experience
that a slight alteration of my plans would often
be sufficient to spare a precious veteran whose ex-
ecution at first seemed unavoidable. At all events,
before applying the executioner’s axe, be sure to
deliberate not once but many times. It may be
that the importance which I give to this matter may
appear exaggerated, yet a true lover of nature will
understand me, and excuse the qualms of conscience
that half a dozen trees murdered without reason
continue to cause me. On the other hand, my only
consolation is that by boldly cutting down other
trees I have made such great improvements, that
the gain outbalances the loss. Besides, there is no
denying that more can be accomplished in one day
by the removal of a few big trees, than by planting
thousands of specimens in a hundred years, and that
the loss of a couple of these is not to be regretted if
their number is increased a hundred-fold to the eye
by making so many others visible which had pre-
viously been quite obscured. This is so certain,
that, although I have not been blessed with a surplus
of ancient trees in my park, yet I have succeeded
in apparently multiplying tenfold the number of

202 Dandscape Architecture

them left standing. These are visible now from
all points, by the removal of some eighty others.
One is often struck by the fact in such cases that
‘One cannot see the woods for the trees.’ The
great art in laying out a park consists in making use
of comparatively few objects in such a way that a
great variety of different pictures result, in which the
recurrent elements are not recognized, or at least

produce novel and surprising effects.

A tree: a live organism, a unit in the landscape
scheme of the park, country place, or garden; a unit
that may live six months or a hundred years, working
out its own peculiar nature and office in the service
of the general artistic life that should inform every
scheme of landscape gardening. It is a living, individ-
ual member of the whole conception, differing entirely
from the blocks of wood or stone in the architectural
design of a building. It is not only a life, but in-
numerable lives within its life to the very core of its
being. It is for this reason that atree or a flower may
readily take on, apparently something of the person-
ality of a human. being. The birch becomes the
dainty, delicate, airy, graceful lady of the woods, the
oak a monarch among his subjects.

Where is the line that can be taken to mark the
separation of the life of the plant from that of man and
define its essential difference? At what point of de-
velopment does personality come into being in the

1 Hints on Landscape Gardening, Prince Pickler.

Diagrams Showing Arrangements of Rivers, Lakes, and Islands.
From Pickler’s Atlas, 1834.

Plantations 203

plant and in the animal and for that matter in man?
Do they not break through boundary lines and over-
lap? Does-not something of a personality, a spirit or
soul, appear in the widely differing forms of all three
of them?

Aristotle says in explanation of this line of thought:

“Now all things in the universe are so somehow
ordered together, whatever swims in the sea, or
flies in the air, or grows on the earth, but not all in
like fashion; nothing exists apart and without some
kind of relation with the rest, for all things are or-
dered in relation with one end.”

Hegel writes as follows in Philosophy of Religion:

“it belongs to the very nature of unity that it should
thus break up into parts,”

and that each of these parts should have distinct
relations of its own, which become eventually one
complete scheme or whole, and with

“this individuality goes in each case the natural
impulse of self-preservation—what Spinoza calls
the conatus in suo esse perseverandi, the effort to”

maintain its own being; but why should not we say of
the tree as of man, only in different degree, that here

“the conatus in suo esse perseverandi swells into a
demand for happiness, for a perfect completion and
manifestation of its special being in which nothing
shall be left to be wished or hoped for?”

204 Landscape Architecture

“Tt has.taken a long process of evolution before
man could conceive the idea of a rational organic
order of the universe, in which each particular ele-
ment, though rejected as an end in itself, might be
reinstated as a necessary element of the whole, and
all with justice done to their special characteristics
might be united in’’?

an all-embracing scheme, whether it be a landscape or a
whole world. Further we may say that even in the
consciousness of an animal (and why not in that of
a plant?) there is such a universal unity that it would
be absurd to treat its different appetites as isolated or
standing in merely external relations to each other.
Each animal and plant we may believe

“feels itself in all it feels, and this gives an individual
unity to its life through all its changes,” “indeed
three fourths of our own actions are governed by
memory and most frequently we act like animals:
plants also act, and if they do not think, at least feel
(which is still thought), though more dimly than

animals.” *
As Goethe profoundly observes:

“the material world (animal or vegetable, animate
or inanimate) can only be truly realized as the living
garment of Deity.”

John Henry Newman was a poet and his instinct had

t Leibnitz.

A Diagram Showing Different Arrangements of Islands.

From Piackler’s Atlas, 1834.

Plantations 205

an element of truth in it when he wrote as follows
in his Apologia sua Vita:

“Again I ask what would be the thoughts of a
man who when examining a flower, or an herb, or a
pebble, or a ray of light, which he treats as something
so beneath him in the scale of existence, suddenly
discovered that he was in the presence of some
powerful being who was hidden behind the visible
things he was inspecting,—who though concealing
the wise hand, was giving them their beauty, grace,
and perfection, as being God’s instruments for the
purpose,—nay, whose robe and ornaments those
objects were, which he was so eager to analyse?”’

Following the idea of a plant possessing a distinct
personality, it will be found that it is not altogether
fanciful. Some trees and shrubs and flowers in the land-
scape have, in a way, a liking for each other, a kind of
kinship, that is not of the botanical sort, but simply
an apparent wish to grow side by side. A bush honey-
suckle naturally likes to live with a highbush cranberry
or an arrowwood bush (Viburnum dentatum); the lilac,
on the other hand, belongs by itself in the garden in
a more civilized sophisticated state of existence; the
beautiful hawthorns, both American and English,
belong by themselves in the wilder and more outlying
portions of the park or estate. So we might go on
with shrubs and trees of all kinds and find always that
there was one spot and one kind of companionship
where any particular tree or shrub looked especially

206 Dandscape Architecture

happy and behaved especially well. Considering plants
as live creatures, whose strange idiosyncrasies are often
seemingly almost past finding out except by the most
sympathetic and penetrative study, we should start
first to dispose certain of them in the landscape design
as if we were blocking in the outlines of a picture indicat-
ing the main and controlling features of the group or
place. To mark this distinctive character only a few
kinds of trees, shrubs, and flowers are really necessary,
the ones that assume such forms that the eye instinc-
tively singles them out in any group. It may be said,
with truth, that a park could be planted effectively
with twelve trees, twelve shrubs, and twelve herbaceous
plants. This means that if such kinds as an oak or
elm, a linden, a maple, a plane tree, a birch, a spruce, a
pine, a yew, an iris, a hollyhock, a phlox, a chrysanthe-
mum were chosen, it would be quite possible to make
a great place, perfectly designed in all essential ways.
Of course, it would not be the greatest effect possible,
because it would lack the fine, more recondite inter-
mediate gradations of colour and form that would come
in a less distinctive fashion from the employment of a
large variety of hardy ornamental plants. It is not
only necessary to punctuate, as it were, with marked
trees and shrubs, the outlines or articulations of each
member of the group, but of the group within the
group, so that the lineaments of these familiar con-
structive features may direct the eye to the actual
composition of the design.

Further than this, it is necessary to go on to the

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Spiraea hypericifolia <. tocips Site 2 Phijadelphus coronarius doe 48 regs, Spat
Lonicera tartarica fl. rubro, . roth — Fuh “5 Craetaegus oxia cantha fl. pleno rubro dunkelblun, spot:
Ribes aureum well, — rit 4% Colntea,arborefiens . 5 ... gl, spect.
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.\ Diagram Showing Arrangement of Shrubs and Herbaceous Plants.
From Piickler’s Atlas, 1834.

Plantations 207

establishment of a type of tree grouping, as well as
shrubs and flowers, and make units of effect which may
be used with variations over and over again, as far as
their combinations of high and low size and contradic-
tions or contrasts of colour and form will permit. One
mass will now for a moment conflict with another and
then flow over and blend with it. There will be sharp
contrasts and then gradually the smoothest blendings.
It is difficult to convey the idea of just how this can be
done. It takes long practice and the study of nature
in many moods. The observant eye well recognizes
in fields and forest glades wonderful exhibitions of how
such work can be accomplished. It will be discovered
how the black alder grows among its native compan-
ions; who are these companions, how they behave
when associated together, what soil and what exposure
they like. An intimate knowledge of each should be
acquired.

The types of growth should be allowed to assert
themselves freely. Instead of a group of high and low
growths, a single tree, or three specimens, may stand
out almost alone with a few attendant shrubs trailing
along in the neighbourhood. Perhaps farther on there
may be a different kind of tree standing on the very
edge of a solid group with a few scattering shrubs around
it. Then again there will be one noble specimen of
tree form standing entirely alone as if it were sufficient
unto itself and brooked no companion, or there might
be several in a grove. Such trees are, whether out in
the middle of the lawn, or in a grassy glade near a path,

208 Landscape Architecture

the one most valuable feature of the picture. They
lend dignity and character more than any other mem-
ber of the association of trees and shrubs growing on the
lawn, and, when combined with the loosely planted
shrubs in the neighbourhood, a mystical and enlarged
effect in the distance is often thus produced which is
of the greatest value in the landscape. The following
quotation may give some suggestion of how such a
difficult grouping should be managed:

“TA newly planted group] or a natural woods
properly thinned out seems to show an inlet into a
wood that has been cut, if the opposite points of the
entrance tally, that gives a show of art and depreci-
ates its merit; but a difference only in the situation
of those points, by bringing one more forward than
the other, prevents the appearance though the forms
be similar. Other points which distinguish the
great parts should in general be strongly marked; a
short turn has more spirit in it than a tedious cir-
cuity; and a line broken by angles has a precision and
firmness which in an undulated line are wanting:
the angles should, indeed, commonly be a little
softened; the rotundity of the plant which forms
them is sometimes sufficient for the purpose; but if
they are mellowed down too much they lose all mean-
ing. Three or four large parts, thus boldly dis-
tinguished, will break a very long outline; more may
be, and often ought to be, thrown in, but seldom are
necessary: when two woods are opposed on the sides

Plantations 209

of a narrow glade, neither has so much occasion for
variety in itself, as if it were single: if they are very
different from each other, the contrast supplies the
deficiency in each, and the interval is full of variety.
The form of that interval is, indeed, of as much con-
sequence as its own; though the outline of both the
woods be separately beautiful, yet if together they
do not cast the open space into an agreeable figure,
the whole scene is not pleasing; and the figure is
never agreeable when the sides too closely cor-
respond; whether they are exactly the same, or
exactly the reverse of each other, they equally
appear artificial.

Every variety of outline hitherto mentioned may
be traced by the underwood alone, but frequently the
same effects may be produced with more ease, and
with much more beauty, by a few trees standing out
from the thicket, and belonging to, or seeming to
belong to, the wood so as to make a part of its figure.
Even where they are not wanted for that purpose,
detached trees are such agreeable objects, so distinct,
so light, when compared to the covert about them,
that skirting along it in some parts, and breaking it
in others, they give an unaffected grace, which can
no otherwise be given to the outline. They have a
still further effect, when they stretch across the whole
breadth of an inlet, or before part of a recess in the
woods; they are themselves shown to advantage by
the space between them, and that space seen between

their stems they in turn throw into an agreeable
14

210 Landscape Architecture

perspective. An inferior grace of the same kind may
be often introduced, only by distinguishing the boles
of some trees in the wood itself, and keeping down the
thicket beneath them. Where this cannot be well
executed, still the outline may be filled with such
trees and shrubs as swell out in the middle of their
growth and diminish at both ends; or with such as
rise in a slender cone; with those whose branches tend
upwards; or whose base is very small in proportion to
their height; or which are very thin of boughs and of
leaves. In a confined garden scene which wants
room for the effect of detached trees, the outline will
be heavy, if these little attentions are disregarded.
As for the kind of trees to be used, good taste and
experience must be left to make the selection.”’'

The following words of Richard Jefferies will perhaps
be found helpful as explaining how the character of
trees counts in the landscape:

“T listened to the sweet Briar Wind; but for weeks
and weeks the dark black oaks stood straight out of
the snow as masts of ships with furled sails frozen
and ice-bound in the haven of the deep valley.”

“Thick are Hawthorn leaves, many deep on the
spray; and beneath them there is a twisted and
interentangled winding in and out of boughs, such as
no curious ironwork of ancient artist could equal;
through the leaves and metal work of boughs the soft
west wind wafts us at his ease.”

t Thomas Whately, Observations on Modern Gardening.

Plantations 211

“The bark of the beech is itself a panel to study,
spotted with velvet moss brown green, made grey by
close-grown lichens, stained with its own hues of
growth and toned by time. To these add bright
sunlight and leaf shadow, the sudden lowering of
tint as a cloud passes, the different aspects of the day
and of the evening, and the change of rain and dry
weather. You may look at the bark of a beech
twenty times, and always find it different. There is
another spirit among beech trees; they look like deer
and memories of old English Life.”

The sense of distant space outside of the estate is
always desirable. If these single trees and scattering
shrubs can seem to lose themselves over the crest of a
hill into the sky it increases the mystery and sense of
largeness, the feeling that one might own the Universe.
Richard Jefferies expresses this idea when he writes as
follows in Field and Hedgerow:

“Still higher and as the firs cease, and shower and
sunshine, wind and dew can reach the ground un-
checked, comes the tufted heath branched heather of
the moorland top. A thousand acres of purple

_ heather sloping southward to the sun, deep valleys
of dark heather, further slopes beyond of purple, more
valleys of heather—the heath shows more in the sun-
light, and heather darkens the shadows of the hollows
—and so on and on, mile after mile, till the heath
bells seem to end in the sunset. Round and beyond
is the immense plain of the air—you feel how limit-

212 Landscape Architecture

less the air is at this height, for there is nothing to
measure it by. Past the weald lie the south Downs,
but they form no boundary, the plain of the air goes
over them to the sea and space.”’

It is really a case of simplicity in variety, a type
repeated and varied, becoming something new con-
tinually, evolving new charms, yet keeping in view a
definite and foreordained unified beauty that is active
and changing, but unlike a river that flows on and on,
the type is ever returning on itself, melting together
and anon conflicting, contrasting, dominating one over
the other, and all the time actively advancing to new
conquests of beauty, to new charms of blended form and
colour. It is like the way the association of mother
and child actively helps to develop the beauties of the
characters of each person, bringing out the charm more
and more the longer they live together, or if mismanage-
ment of their relations occurs, the same tendency to
discord and deterioration will reveal itself. The trees
and shrubs are worked into a scheme, type within
type making the picture fuse together after presenting
different degrees of contrast, and finally wooing it to
enter into a union where the parts are hardly perceptible
to the general sweep of the eye. The play of forces ends
in a picture, which in every way continues to change
day by day while remaining of the same general char-
acter. If the woodland glades and the fields and hedge-
row are studied in the light of these suggestions, their
value will be more and more verified. The only differ-

Plantations 213

ence is that there will be then a conscious recognition of
the truth, whereas in the many cases that have already
happened in the past, the best kind of such landscape
work has been done on instinctively right lines. The
best work is usually done by a man who cannot tell you
why he did it.

The experience of thinning out forest trees in connec-
tion with a park or country place will teach many things
if it is done seriously. Most people do not carry it on
seriously. It is really almost as difficult an undertak-
ing as to create a new place. It will be found that all
the above ideas enunciated should be controlling in the
management of this work, and its combination with new
planting is the most difficult task of all. Thomas
Whately gives the following advice, which is good as
far as it goes but it does not go quite far enough:

“Tt is not however foreign to the subject to observe,
that the effects that have been recommended may
sometimes be produced by wood alone, without any
alteration in the ground itself: a tedious continued
line may by such means be broken; it is usual for this
purpose to place several little clumps along a brow;
but if they are small and numerous the artifice is weak
and apparent: an equal number of trees collected into
one or two large masses, and dividing the line into
very unequal parts is less suspicious, and obliterates
the idea of sameness with more certainty. When
several similar lines are seen together, if one be
planted, and the other bare, they become contrasts to

214 Landscape Architecture

each other. A hollow in certain situations has been
mentioned as a disagreeable interruption to a con-
tinued surface; but filled with wood, the heads of the
trees supply the vacancy ; theirregularity is preserved;
even the inequalities of the depth are in some meas-
ure shown, and a continuation of surface is provided.
Rising ground may, on the other hand, be in appear-
ance raised still higher, by covering it with wood, of
humble growth toward the bottom and gradually
taller as it ascends. An additional mark of the
inclination of falling ground may also be obtained
by placing a few trees in the same direction, which
will strongly point out the way; whereas plantations
athwart a descent, bolster up the ground, and check
the fall; but obliquely crossing it, they will often di-
vert the general tendency; the ground will in some
measure assume their direction, and they will make
a variety not a contradiction. Hedges, or continued
plantations, carried over uneven ground, render the
irregularities more conspicuous, and frequently mark
little inequalities which would otherwise escape ob-
servation: or if a line of trees run close upon an
edge of an abrupt fall, they give it depth and impor-
tance. By such means a view may be improved; by
similar means in more confined spots, very material
purposes may be answered.

“Though the surface of the wood when commanded
deserves all these attentions, yet the outline more
frequently calls for our regard; it is also more in our
power; it may sometimes be great, and may always

Plantations 215

be beautiful. The first requisite is irregularity.
That a mixture of trees and underwood should form
a long straight line, can never be natural; and a suc-
cession of easy sweeps and gentle rounds, each
a portion of a greater or less circle, composing alto-
gether a line literally serpentine, is if possible worse.
It is but a number of regularities put together in
a disorderly manner, and equally distant from the
beautiful both of art and of nature. The true beauty
of outline consists more in breaks than in sweeps;
rather in angles than in rounds; in variety, not in
succession.

“The outline of a wood is a continued line, and
small variations do not save it from the insipidity of
sameness. One deep recess, one bold prominence, has
more effect than twenty little irregularities. That
one divides the line into parts, but no breach is
thereby made in its unity; a continuation of wood
always remains; the form of it only is altered, and
the extent is increased. The eye, which hurries to
the extremity of whatever is uniform, delights to
trace a varied line through all its intricacies, to pause
from stage to stage, and to lengthen the progress.
The parts: must not, however, on that account, be
multiplied, till they are too minute to be interesting,
and so numerous as to create confusion. A few large
parts should be strongly distinguished in their forms,
their directions, and their situations; each of them
may afterwards be decorated with subordinate varie-
ties; and the mere growth of the plants will occasion

216 Landscape Architecture

some irregularity; on many occasions more will not be
required. Every variety in the outline of a wood must
be a prominence or a recess. Breadth in either is not
so important as length to the one and depth to the
other. If the former ends in an angle, the latter di-
minishes to a point, they have more force than a shal-
low dent, or a dwarf excrescence, how wide so ever.
They are greater deviations from the continued line
which they are intended to break; and their effect is
to enlarge the wood itself, which seems to stretch
from the most advanced point, back beyond the most
distant to which it retires. The extent of a large
wood on a flat, not commanded, can by no circum-
startce be so manifestly shown, as by a deep recess;
especially if that deep recess winds so as to conceal the
extremity and leave the imagination to pursue it.’’?

It is not sufficiently realized by most people, even
after hard experience, how difficult it is to grow plants
in the shade among the roots of a piece of woodland.
It would be easy to mention several trees and shrubs
that have the reputation of doing well when planted
in the woods, which in the final test generally fail.
The presence of freshly cultivated and enriched soil,
either on the ground or brought from elsewhere, will
greatly encourage the growth of such plants, but to
really succeed a great deal of light should be let in,
and even under such circumstances too much confidence
in the expected good results should not prevail.

™ Observations on Modern Gardening.

Plantations 217

Plants suitable for landscape gardening purposes
naturally separate themselves into the following broad
divisions: Deciduous trees, evergreen trees, deciduous
shrubs, evergreen shrubs, perennial or herbaceous
plants, and bedding or subtropical plants. There is no
intention here of considering the habits, appearance,
or methods of propagating these plants. Our subject
is landscape gardening, not horticulture, not arboricul-
ture or forestry, not soil culture nor grass culture.
The principles and art of landscape gardening and its
evolution in nature and history are the topics we are
studying.

Evergreens occupy a position and perform functions
that count greatly in the general purpose of the lawn.
They produce the solid effects, the strong shadows, the
enduring colours throughout the season. They shield
the smaller, or less rugged plants, trees, or shrubs
from the cold winds of winter, especially of March and
April. In. their alcoves and in the shelters behind their
promontories they cherish and preserve alive many
shrubs and perennials (flowers) that would otherwise
wither under the cold winds and hot suns of early
spring. Here again that strange instinct is felt which
makes one like to see a great mass of evergreens inter-
mingled with hardly any deciduous trees, stretching out
in sweeping lines of form and colour, spirey and spread-
ing, low or high, spruce, cedar, hemlock, pine, or juniper,
blue, silver, green and fiery red, crimson and dainty
pink, June and November, ever changing, boldly
flaunting, or softly melting into delicate tender hues.

218 Landscape Architecture

Evergreens form all the year round a very positive
feature in the landscape, and require the nicest disposi-
tion of colour and form to establish pleasant and harmo-
nious relations between different members of the lawn
vegetation. There are colours of trees and shrubs that
are offensive, why it is rather difficult to say. For one
thing they are striped yellow or white and come at a
time of the year which makes them look unnatural.
It isnot the maples and dogwoods to which we refer.
Their clothing in June and October or November is
always charming, and so are the silver firs and the
larches in early summer:—but what is meant, for in-
stance, is not the densiflora pine of Japan, grand in its
panoply of green, but a sickly looking and slightly
repulsive form of the same species which when striped
and variegated with gold is called the sun ray pine.
White may be of the highest value in the vegetation
of a landscape, as witness the white birches finding a
home in small numbers disposed against a background
of dark evergreens, and yet the variegated ash-leaved
maple (Negundo acerifolium variegatum) is of a sickly
white hue. . A single deciduous tree of light foliage
standing out in front of a mass of evergreens will often
look well, and so will a small grove of them. It is the
evergreen type and the deciduous, properly related,
and used over and over again, that pleases—conflicting,
triumphing, and then trailing off or losing each other,
in the midst of the blending always distinct and in
some way each asserting its own individuality, but
never carelessly mingling or failing to persist in an evi-

Plantations 219

dently preconceived, though ceaselessly varying, type
or method of growing.

Besides the type of leafage, form, and colour, there is
to be considered the still more positive character of the
trunk, branches, and twigs, stark and bare in winter
and early spring: The white birch already noted is
one, and there are hosts of others. They stand out,
the white oak, for instance, against a lurid winter
sunset, or they glitter after an ice storm, showing their
strange convolution of branches, like the oak and thorn
described in another chapter by Richard Jefferies.
There is also the fruit of the thorns and wild plums,
chokeberries, black alders, viburnums, and roses,
hanging in some cases all winter on their naked stems.

All these separate qualities in a tree or shrub need
to be handled in a sympathetic way in the composition
of a year round landscape. It may be asked how this is
to be done. Certainly it is not easy, and few succeed
in doing it. It can only be done by study, careful
study, of the nature of the trees and shrubs and their
behaviour in hundreds of instances on the lawn and in
the field and woods, and some help can, of course, be
had by reference to books and prints enabling one to
pursue the trail of experience, and to finally attain to
something really worth accomplishing. Did you ever
hear of a man, a city clerk, who on a small city lot grew
such flowers that finally his wonderful horticultural
skill astonished his correspondents the world over.
He did not accomplish these great triumphs by means
of books, but books helped him.

220 Bandscape Architecture

Perennial plants need treatment in the scheme of
the landscape gardener in the same general way as trees
and shrubs, both deciduous and evergreen. They
play a subordinate part, though a no less attractive one
in the scheme. They should stand apart in colonies or
in clusters at the feet of the shrubs and even of the
trees; they should carpet the glades and borders of
the shrub groups with trilliums and anemones, and
even snowdrops in protected nooks. The iris and the
daffodil and the water-lilies all have their places, one
in the moist edge of the stream, the other a little higher
up, and the last in two feet of water. There is always
a way to associate them happily with their larger but
not more beautiful companions, the trees and shrubs.
This association is really necessary for the fullest de-
velopment of the beauty of the perennial wild flower.

Of the annuals and the bedding and tropical plants
nearly as good words can be said, for each in its way is
just as beautiful and valuable as the other, provided it is
set in its own appointed place, as designated by nature
when her secrets have been revealed to the man who
makes the landscape. In the chapter on Gardens is an
illustration showing how this bedding should be man-
aged and fitted into a natural scheme of this kind of
planting, and so we leave the problem of bedding for
each one to work out for himself, finding it on the
whole one of the most difficult and perhaps most
fascinating of any within the range of landscape garden-
ing.

It has already been pointed out that the vegetation

Plantations 221

of a new place should be conformed to already existing
growths peculiar to the region. This does not mean
that no trees save those that naturally grow in the
neighbourhood should be used. There are many other
trees and shrubs of kindred habit and hardiness and
appearance but foreign in origin that suit a particular
territory: in other words, the spirit and nature of the
scenery of the country should be made the key to
the harmony of the plantations. A quotation from
the writings of the late Charles Eliot pertaining to this
subject may make it more clear:

“Within the area of the United States we have
many types of scenery and many climates, but in
designing the surroundings of dwellings, in working
upon the landscape, we too often take no account of
these facts. On the rocky coast of Maine each sum-
mer sees money worse than wasted in endeavouring
to make Newport lawns on ground which naturally
bears countless lichen-covered rocks, dwarf pines
and spruces, and thickets of sweet-fern, bayberry,
and wild rose. The owners of this particular type
of country spend thousands in destroying its natural
beauty with the intention of attaining to a foreign
beauty, which in point of fact is unattainable in any-
thing like perfection by reason of the shallow soil
and frequent droughts. I know too many of these
unhappy ‘lawns.’ Ledges too large to be buried
or blasted protrude here and there. They are
bare and bleached now, though they were once half

222 Landscape Architecture

smothered in all manner of mixed shrubbery; the
grass is poor and, wherever the underlying rock is
near the surface, all is ugliness where once was only
beauty. Moreover, if the lawn were perfect and
truly English, how would it harmonize with the
pitch pine and scrub birches and dwarf junipers
which clothe the lands around? No, the English
park with its great trees and velvet turf is supremely
beautiful in England where it is simply the natural
scenery perfected; but save in those favoured parts
of North America where the natural conditions ap-
proximate those of the old country, the beauty of
it cannot be had and should not be attempted.

“To be sure, the countries of the continent of
Europe all have their so-called English parks, but the
best of these possess little or none of the real English
character and charm. The really beautiful parks of
Europe are those which have a character of their own
derived from their own conditions of climate and
scene. The parks of Paulovsk near St. Petersburg,
of Muskau in Silesia, of the villa Thuret on the cape
of Antibes in the Mediterranean are none of them
English, except as England was the mother of the
natural as distinguished from the architectural in
gardening. The Thuret park, if I may cite an illus-
tration of my meaning, is a wonderland of crowded
vegetation, of ways deep, shaded by rich and count-
less evergreens, of steep open slopes aglow with
bright anemones. Between the high masses of
eucalyptus and acacia are glimpses of the sea, and

Plantations 223

of the purple foothills and the gleaming snow peaks
of the Maritime Alps. In the thickets are laurels,
pittosporums, gardenias, etc., from the ends of the
earth: but ilex, phillyrea, and oleander are natives of
the country, and myrtle and pistacia are the com-
mon shrubs of the seashore, so that the foreigners are
only additions to an original wealth of evergreens.
The garden also has its palms of many species, with
cycads, yuccas, aloes, and the like; but the agaves
are common hedge plants of the country, and strange
euphorbias grow everywhere about: moreover, the
most monstrous of these creatures are given a space
apart in the main garden, so that they may not dis-
turb the quiet of the scene. M. Thuret saved the
olives and the ilexes of the original hillside. He did
not try to imitate the gardening of another and dif-
ferent country or climate but simply worked to en-
hance the beauty natural to the region of his choice.

“At the other end of Europe all this is equally
true of Paulovsk. Here at the edge of the wet and
dismal plain on which St. Petersburg is built, is a
stretch of upland almost featureless, but which
thanks to a careful helping of nature is now the most
interesting and beautiful bit of scenery the neighbour-
hood of the Tsar’s capital can show. Here is no
futile striving after the loveliness of England or any
other foreign land; no attempting the beauty of a
mountain country or a rocky country or a warm
country, or any other country than just this country
that lies around St. Petersburg; here also is no

224 Landscape Architecture

planting of incongruous specimens and no out-of-
place flower bedding. The park of Muskau teaches
the same lesson, and under conditions closely resem-
bling those of our Middle States.

“The lawns or open stretches or glades of turf are
just as carefully considered, it will be noticed, in the
semitropical park and luxuriant vegetation of the
Antibes as in England or Russia. The open spaces
with bordering foliage, the pastoral, the picturesque,
have the same justification and interest given them
here as in England or America.”*

The philosophy of the development of lawn planting
has come in the present day to mean far more than it
did in the days of our fathers, in spite of the fact that
the modern period appears to be one of fads and faddists,
of Italian and old-fashioned gardens, of blue spruces
and yellow Japan cypresses. In the eighteenth century
there was little difference between the landscape archi-
tect and the architect; indeed it was the architect and
gardener who generally designed the entire place.
The name landscape architect was unknown.

To-day we have an outdoor art of many cultures,
notably architectural and horticultural, the antago-
nisms of which have produced a play of forces which has
tended to break up into various parts the formal and
rigid landscape rules of classic and medizval times.
Extravagances of many kinds have naturally made
themselves evident, yet these very antagonisms are

* Garden and Forest, voli., April 4, 1888, p. 64.

Plantations 225

doing good work; giving renewed and vivid life to
landscape gardening and thrusting its roots deeper and
deeper towards the heart of nature. Every part of
outdoor art is coming to have its place, never quite its
perfect place, but nearer and nearer to the highest
standards. Antagonisms always lead to continually
renewed activity and larger fruitfulness. Although
antagonism sometimes means conquest and even defeat
and death of a sort, it is only a case of dying to live
and to reach heights of accomplishment previously

inconceivable.
15

XIII
MAINTENANCE

‘“ IT is quite impossible to plant a large extensive
park so that it can present the same picture
when full grown as it did at the beginning, only

on an altered scale, and the objects in it are for ever

after in the right relation to one another,—since
nature cannot be calculated so accurately and it
would also take too much time.

‘‘Here we meet with the drawback of our art, in a
certain sense—though it may also be regarded as an
advantage. For it is impossible to create a finished,
permanent work of art in landscape gardening, such
as the painter, sculptor, and architect are able to
produce, because our material is not inanimate, but
living; we can say of the landscape gardener’s art,
as of all nature’s own pictures, as Fichte said of the
German language, ‘‘It is about to be, but never is.”
That is, it never stands still, can never be fixed and
left to itself. Hence a skilful guiding hand is al-
ways necessary for works of this kind. If the hand
is lacking too long they not only deteriorate, they

become something quite different, but if the hand is
226

Maintenance 227

present, beauties are continually being added without
losing or sacrificing those already in existence. The
chief tool which we use for construction, 7.e., our
brush and chisel, is the spade, the chief tool for
maintenance and improvement is the axe. It must
not rest for a single winter, or it will happen to us
with the trees as it did with the water-carriers in ©
the Tale of the ‘Wizard’s Apprentice’—they will
grow over our heads.”?

It is more than a case of overcrowding a design which
is always about to be but never is, in Fichte’s phrase.
It is also in other words always becoming, an ebb and
flow, an unceasing evolution of skilled results, contin-
ually improvement, or retrogression, deterioration, and
decay. Nature never stands still. It is ever increasing
life or ever increasing decay, oscillation between the
two, steadily or spasmodically, as the one gets the
upper hand of the other. Consequently the maintenance
and care must be unceasing and vigilant and based
on penetrating study of new conditions as they arise.
The seasons, cold, heat, drought, insect life, fungi, and
pests of every sort, all need to be watched intelligently
and continually.

It is a common saying that he, or she, knows how to
make a plant grow. It thrives under his hand. A
great propagator handles plants likea wizard. Thereis
something, people think, uncanny in such successful
operations. But, after all, it is chiefly a matter of

1 Prince Puickler, Hints on Landscape Gardening.

228 Landscape Architecture

maintenance. Seed is sown, a cutting or a small plant
is set out, or a graft is set in a stock; one must know
how to do it; but nine tenths of the success attained
comes from an unceasing conflict with adverse condi-
tions, eventually finding in the process of development
the brief poise and equilibrium of a mature and success-
fully grown shrub or tree. Intimate, loving comprehen-
sion of the nature of the plant can alone do this. It
would seem that love is actually necessary to achieve
the greatest results even in growing a plant, but love
without knowledge can accomplish little, as many
an amateur horticulturist has learned to his cost.
Knowledge generally comes from long, heart-breaking
failure and diligent, oft-repeated effort. The man who
hires such work done, even with practically unlimited
means, seldom gets as good results as some enthusiastic
amateur—crank his neighbours probably dub him—who
works night and day whenever he has a moment to spare
to give to his plants. And there is incessant work
todo. There is planting to be done every little while
throughout the seasons, spring, summer, fall, and winter,
especially if the work is supplemented by a greenhouse.
There is always pruning of some sort, pinching if
nothing else, and warfare always on insects, weeds to
fight and watering to be done, and cultivation, spading,
hoeing, and mulching to be maintained.

It is difficult to realize what such maintenance means
when it is faithfully carried out, unless one has been
responsible for it himself. There are endless ways for
maintenance to present its exacting demands. The

Maintenance 229

lawn, for instance, grows bare in spots and needs rich
soil spread over it and then to be reseeded, and, if the
seed does not take on account of dry weather, then
seeding again during a favourable spell. Few spots on
an estate or in a park need more intelligent care than a
lawn. The time apparently never comes when it can
be forgotten any more than anything else on the place,
although it is perhaps more neglected than almost
anything. To mow the lawn every two or three weeks
is often all that is done, whereas the weeds and rain will
come at various intervals and thus make extra work.
If the soil has been properly prepared and the right
kind of clean seed used in making the lawn, there should
however be little need of weeding. Pruning trees and
shrubs may be done during nearly every month in the
year, either in the old wood or the new, and there is
hardly a time except in the depth of winter when noxious
insects do not call for attention. And for each of these
various operations, special knowledge and trained skill
are needed. It is results obtained in this diligent way
that have gained the unrivalled horticultural fame of
the Chinese and Japanese. Verily! how do they do it?
It is actually uncanny, and yet perhaps after all it is
only intelligent maintenance, the skill of which, coming
down through generations, is a possible explanation of it.

All the processes, however, all the knowledge that
goes to the maintenance of a park or estate does not
fall within the province of this book devoted chiefly
to the discussion of ideas and illustrations. Reference
is made.in the bibliography to works on special sub-

230 Landscape Architecture

jects from which enough can be readily learned to
enable any one to intelligently employ, if necessary,
experts of sufficient knowledge and skill to do good
work in the various departments of maintenance. In
time, knowledge will doubtless come in this way to the
owner of the place, and he will find the occupation of
supervising such work a pleasure and even a delight.
There will be failures and many accidents, but a fair
degree of success will make the memory of the misfor-
tunes soon grow dim in the joy of horticultural achieve-
ment.

The chief reason that this supreme excellence of
maintenance is seldom attained is that few people
acquire enough knowledge to know fine maintenance
when they see it. Even if they have given long and
what they consider diligent attention to their place,
grown wonderful roses, or hothouse grapes, by means
of a clever gardener, when they go about the world
their kind of training hardly enables them to realize the
quality of good maintenance. It -would be well if
more people prided themselves on the well-being of their
whole estate, rather than some single feature of it, a
rose garden, a greenhouse, a scheme of carpet beds or of
foliage plants. By a well maintained place it should
not be understood, however, that the standard of high
excellence necessarily implies a swept and garnished and
polished place such as one sees occasionally in Paris
and elsewhere. Cleanliness and neatness are all very
well, but they are overdone when the trees and shrubs
are trimmed and trained until they hardly look like

Maintenance 231

trees and shrubs, and the grass is mown till the roots
are almost bare; where the presence of a stray leaf is
profanation, and sand is spread over the walks and
drives and raked and swept till they look like the sanded
floor of a house. The thought at once protrudes itself
how rich must be the man who can afford to do all this
superfine work.

The kind of maintenance that is sane and sensible is
not neatness and cleanliness only, but high development,
not abnormal culture, but a happy condition of free,
healthy growth with the accidents and defects and
diseases always incident to life well looked after;
otherwise, nothing extraordinary, just steady, easy
growth that a sense of proper re-adjustment accom-
plishes without apparent effort, much as we find that
the appearanoe of a well dressed man or woman is not
noticed but unconsciously enjoyed. Such a place
cannot be developed under the eye of a mere specialist
even if he be multiplied many times. It needs the eye
of a master, who appreciates its possibilities and loves
to see the beauties of the place develop in an all-round
manner. It is interesting to observe how artistic de-
signs conceived in the early construction of Central
Park have been realized and that fifty years later the
original intention of the work is more evident by means
of persistent maintenance than when it was first con-
structed.

In the next quotation it will be seen how a conception
of natural scenery, a landscape poem, was carefully
thought out in the beginning and constructed at great

232 Landscape Architecture

expense. At the present time, on a spring day espe-
cially, this conception is one of the most inspiring por-
tions of the park and the most important trees are still
there. The words of the landscape architects of the
park are as follows:

“As an important suggestion springs from this
observation, we shall be pardoned for referring to a
portion of Central Park, N. Y., where somewhat
similar conditions formerly existed and where our
views have been adopted and realized. Entering
by the turn to the right at the Merchants’ Gate
(soth St. & C. P. W.) in a few minutes the visitor’s
eye falls upon the open space called the cricket ground
where originally was a small swamp, enlarged at
great expense in the construction of the Park in order
to meet a similar artistic purpose to that above
explained, by the removal of several large ledges of
rock, and now occupied by an unbroken meadow
which extends before the observer to the extent of a
thousand feet. Here is a suggestion of freedom and
repose which must in itself be suggestive and tranquil-
lizing to the visitor coming from the confinement and
bustle of crowded streets, but this is not all. The
observer resting for a moment to enjoy the scene,
which he is induced to do by the arrangement of the
planting, cannot but hope for still greater space than
is obvious before him and this hope is encouraged
first by the fact that though bodies of rock and foliage
to the right and left obstruct his direct vision, no

“AIIM eye wera Aq ydeisojoyg & woig
“AUD YIOK MON ‘anusay yg puv 4o013¢ y}6S avou ‘deg [e1yUND Jo pug Jomo7T ‘punoiy jeg oy} puv yoy oirdury oy,

Maintenance 233

limit is seen to the extension of the meadow in a
lateral direction, while beyond the low shrubs
which form an undefined border to it in front there
are no trees or other impediments to vision for a
distance of half a mile or more and the only distant
object is the wooded knoll of Vista Rock nearly a
mile away, upon the summit of which it is an impor-
tant point in the design not yet realized, to erect a
slight artificial structure, for the purpose of catching
the eye and the better holding it in this direction.
The imagination of the visitor is thus led instinctively
to form the idea that a broad expanse is opening
before him, and, the more surely to accomplish this,
a glimpse of the slope of turf beyond the border of the
shrubs in the middle distance has been secured. As
the visitor proceeds, this idea is strengthened and the
hope which springs from it in a considerable degree
satisfied, if not actually realized, first by a view of
those parts of the cricket ground which lie to the right
and left of his previous field of vision, afterwards by
the broad expanse of turf on either side and before
him, which comes into view as he emerges from the
plantations at or near the marble archway.

“The carrying out of this most important purpose
in the scenery of Central Park, owing to the rocky and
heterogeneous character of ‘the original surface, in-
volved much more labour and alarger expenditure than
any other landscape feature of that undertaking.’’*

t Olmsted and Vaux, Sixth Annual Report tu Prospect Park Com-
mission, 1866.

234 Landscape Architecture

In considering this type of maintenance which aims
at perfection, but which is neither superfine or affectedly
natural, we should always remember that on estates and
parks pastoral and picturesque are the terms that best
express what we should seek to create and by mainte-
nance to retain. There should always be a revealing
day by day of a new scene, ever picturesque, always
renewing itself by the help of a ceaseless and intelligent
maintenance which retains all the essential elements
that make landscape gardening grateful and sufficing.

The scene in Central Park in the Ramble well illus-
trates this idea of the picturesque. The trees are large
and shadowy, with a quaint old weeping beech in their
midst and a peaceful lawn extending away from them.
The grass and the trees show evidence of good mainte-
nance and the rocks and masses of the foliage have all
the qualities of the picturesque.

Isaac Taylor in The Spirit of Hebrew Poetry has
beautifully and truly expressed the essential qualities
of the picturesque, and to create such qualities and to
retain them in the landscape by sympathetic and skil-
ful maintenance does certainly compass the highest
reach of the art of landscape gardening. He says:

“The poetry of all nations has conserved more or
less of these elements of the primeval repose; and
in fact we find them conserved also, and represented
in that modern feeling—the love of and the taste for
the picturesque. Modern undoubtedly is this taste,
which has not developed itself otherwise than in

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“AUTO YIOA MON Wlvg [PsyD ‘QTquIvYy oy} UT AVoTA ONDsomnyoIg VW

Maintenance 235

connexion with pictorial art in the Department of
Landscape. What is the picturesque? A question
not easily answered; yet this is certain, that any
attempt that may be made to find an answer for it
must bring us in contact with the very elements which
already have been named; and which are assembled
in the idea of patriarchal repose.

“The picturesque is not simply beauty in nature—
it is not luxuriance; it is not amplitude and vastness;
it is not copiousness; it is not the fruit of man’s
interference: but rather it is the consequence of an
indolent acquiescence on his part in things as they are
or as they have become; the picturesque belongs to the
foreground always, or to the stage next beyond the
foreground—never does it take its range beyond
the horizon. The picturesque claims as its own
the cherished and delicious ideas of deep seclusion,
of lengthened, undisturbed continuance, and of the
absence, afar off, of those industrial energies which
mark their presence by renovations, by removals,
and by a better order of things, and by signs of busy
industry and of thriftiness and order.

“‘Within the sacred precincts of the picturesque,
the trees must be such as have outlived the winters of
centuries, and been green through the scorching heats
of unrecorded sultry summers: they stoop and yet
hold up giant gnarled branches, leafy at the extreme
sprays; and their twistings are such that they look
supernatural, seen against an autumnal evening sky.
The fences that skirt the homestead. of the pictur-

236 Landscape Architecture

esque must have done their office through the occu-
pance of three or four generations. The dwellings of
man must declare themselves such as have sheltered
the hoary quietude of sires long ago gone to their
graves. Inasmuch as the picturesque abjures change
it rejects improvement, it abhors the square, the per-
pendicular, the horizontal, and it likes rather all forms
that now are other than at first they were, and that
lean this way and that way and that threaten to fall;
but so did the same building threaten a fall a century
ago! In a word, the picturesque is the Conservation
of Landscape Beauty. It is where the picturesque
holds undisputed sway that we shall find—or shall
expect to find—secure and placid longevity—domes-
tic sanctity and reverence; together with a piety
that holds more communion with the past than with
the busy and philanthropic present. Give me only
the picturesque, and I shall be well content never to
gaze on tropical luxuriance, or upon Alpine sublimi-
ties, nor shall ever wish to travel the broad walks
that surround palaces: shall never be taxed for my
admiration of those things which wealth and pride
have superadded to nature.”

The strange quality of charm may not and yet is
likely to go with picturesqueness and certainly requires
consideration in landscape gardening. But it may be
asked what is charm? Who shall say? Arthur C.
Benson describing a landscape writes that charm
“‘seems to arise partly out of a subtle orderliness and a

Maintenance 237

simple appropriateness and from a blending of delicate
and pathetic elements of a certain unascertained pro-
portion. It seems to touch unknown memories into
life and to give a hint of the workings of some whimsical,
half tenderly conceived spirit brooding over its work,
adding a touch of form here, and a dash of colour there,
and pleased to see when all is done that it is good.”

This is fine, and in a way true, but after all it is only
an attempt to express the inexpressible. The magic
and mystery may be there, but the interpretation, who
will give it? If the charm is there, all will recognize
it, either consciously or unconsciously, in any bit of
landscape as well as elsewhere. The best course to
pursue is to keep the charm as far as possible untouched
and to set anything like buildings or plants outside of
its sphere of influence. Its inherent quality is strangely
fragile. On the other hand, if one were so fortunate
as to give something of this subtile charm to a bit of
landscape work, one should never allow it to be marred
by a too strict adherence to academic influences; and
moreover, having once created a picture possessing
this precious quality, it behooves the artist to cherish
and maintain his work in the excellent way that has
been briefly, and all too unsatisfactorily, suggested in
previous parts of this chapter.

XIV
GARDENS

ROM the discussion of the relative nature of parks

f and gardens there emerges the idea that build-
ings and gardens and parks are in the scheme of
landscape gardening only parts of a whole, units in one
organized creation made up of natural and artificial
features developed in various ways. The law of con-
tradictions and contrasts may be made to act here as it
may everywhere else in landscape gardening to produce
the most happy effects. There should be no evident
dividing line between the park and garden where one
passes into the other. There should be, however, a
distinct contrast established, it may be by plantations of
trees or by changing frequently and radically the char-
acter of the flowers and shrubs, yet the division line
should be nowhere formal and rigid. For this reason
hedges as usually seen do not make an agreeable divid-
ing line between the garden and the lawn or park.
The transition is too sharp and sudden. In a word it is
too unnatural, and fails to give the suggestion of blend-
ing as well as contrast found so characteristic of the

natural scenes of field and forest.
238

Gardens 239

There are two important elements of design found
in nearly all parks and gardens; one of these is architec-
ture and the other is ‘‘free nature” as the Germans term
it. The law of contradiction or contrast necessarily
comes into play here as elsewhere, and on the way it is
applied and the way the spirit of one idéa breaks into
and overflows into the other depends the success of the
scheme.

This scheme divides itself naturally into simple parts,
contrasting and in a sense contradicting each other but
capable of working out into beautiful pictures. Open
spaces of grass and bordering plantations with paths
and roads running through them are the two divisions
the relations of which should be always kept in mind,
whether the object be to design a park or a garden, which
after all are fundamentally the same, only variations
and combinations of the divisions already indicated.
It is a question of the rhythm of low and high, of broad
or narrow masses of vegetation, and the overflow of
one arrangement into the other. For instance, single
trees and small masses of shrubs may be used effectively
out in the open lawn beyond the bordering shrubbery,
or, on the other hand, the grass spaces may penetrate
with good effect far into the shrubbery.

Then, moreover, these types of division may be
applied to a group of small designs and a number of
them combined into the main design, which, subject
to the same law and presenting the same variety of
types, constitutes the treatment of the estate, gardens,
lawns, and everything within its bounds.

240 Landscape Architecture

Approaching the house from the park and coming to
the pleasure ground through plantations more or less
indeterminate in height and breadth, we reach a sort
of middle ground. This is the pleasure ground, and
after that comes the garden, as it were, a part of the
house.

“The word pleasure ground is difficult to translate
accurately into German, and I therefore consider it
better to retain the English expression; it means a
terrain, abutting on the house territory and decorated
and fenced in, of far larger dimensions than gardens
usually are, something that establishes a gradation
between the park and the true garden, which should
appear to be really a part of the house.”’?

Thomas Whately says in Observations on Modern
Gardening:

“Tf regularity is not entitled to a preference in
the environs or approach to a house, it would be dif-
ficult to support its pretensions to a place in any
more distant parts of a park or a garden. Formal
slopes of ground are ugly, right or circular lines
bounding water do not indeed change the nature of
the element; it still retains some of its agreeable
properties; but the shape given to it is disgusting.
Regularity in plantations is less offensive; we are
habituated, as has been already observed, to straight
lines of trees, in cultivated nature; a double row

t Prince Pickler, Hints, etc., on Landscape Gardening.

The Arrangement of the Beds of Foliage Plants Such as Cannas, Colcuses, and
Geraniums around the Arsenal, Central Park, New York City.

Another View of the Arrangement of the Beds of Foliage Plants Such as Cannas,
Coleuses, and Geraniums around the Casino, Central Park, New York City.

From Photographs by Messrs. Charles Scribner's Sons. (Reproduced by Permission.)

Gardens 241

meeting at the top, and forming a complete arched
vista, has peculiar effect; other regular figures have
a degree of beauty, and to alter or disguise such a
disposition, without destroying a number of fine
trees, which cannot well be spared, may sometimes be
difficult; but it hardly ever ought to be chosen in the
arrangement of a young plantation. Regularity was
once thought essential to every garden, and every
approach, and it yet remains in many. It is still a
character, denoting the neighbourhood of a gentle-
man’s habitation; and an avenue as an object in
.the view gives to the house, otherwise inconsiderable,
the air of a mansion.”

Here in the pleasure ground the sensation produced
by the landscape is of more formality, elegance, and
finish, in other words, a touch of the spirit of the archi-
tecture should appear, retaining still a predominance of
the feeling of free nature belonging to the park. The
shapes of the flower beds should be more irregular as
well as the outlines of the grass spaces, and the walks
should be more meandering than in the garden.

In the garden itself the architectural lines, ovals,
straight lines, and circular, or any form that fits the
architecture of the mansion or house are admissible.
Prince Pickler says in this connexion in his Hints on
Landscape Gardening:

“T might repeat here with some variation what I
have said before: as the park is nature idealized

within a small compass so the garden is an extended
16

242 Landscape Architecture

dwelling. Here the tastes of the owner may have
free play, following his imagination and indulging
even in trivialities. Everything should be decorative,
designed for comfort; and as ornamental as the means
permit. Let the lawns appear as a velvet carpet
embroidered with flowers; gather together the rarest
and the most beautiful exotic plants (provided that
nature or art will enable them to thrive); polished
benches, refreshing fountains, the cool shades of dense
avenues, order and fancy, in short everything in turn
to evoke the richest and most varied effect, just as
one furnishes every salon in the interior of a house in
a different style. Thus one may continue the suite
of rooms on a greater scale under the open sky, whose
blue vault, with ever-renewed cloud canopy, takes
the place of the painted ceiling, and in which sun and
moon are the perpetual illumination.”

But everywhere the same laws of design should con-
trol—low, broad, or narrow plantations in contrast or
contradiction with high ones. In the beds of flowers
the heights of the plants should bear the same relation
to each other in the garden as grass spaces and trees
and shrubs in the park; alternanthera making, as it
were, the grass space, and then coleus and canna, for the
trees and shrubs. It is not so much a question of the
kind of plants as their mode of treatment. The law,
the principle, the type should be the same in all cases.
The unity of effect is just as important as the variety.*

1 See flower beds in Central Park, New York, designed by Calvert
Vaux on this principle. See illustrations on p. 240.

Gardens 243

Variety, moreover, in landscape gardening and par-
ticularly in the garden may assume the guise of mystery
that may under some circumstances, prove magical in
effect. One of the supreme feats of landscape garden-
ing is to suggest surprise, to tempt question as to what
is behind that bush or tree, or round the next turn of the
road or path, or over the hill. Wonderful effects of
the most charming natural character come to us in this
way. A sweep of grass creeps around yonder point of
shrubbery and we wonder what is just there in the
recess.

“The willow wren sings, but his voice and that of
the wind seem to give emphasis to the holy and medi-
tative silence. The mystery of nature and life
hover about the columned temple of the forest. The
secret is always behind a tree, as of old time it was
always behind the pillar of the temple.’’*

The character of the appearance of trees and shrubs
is so varied at different seasons of the year, in sunshine
and shadow, rain and clear weather, that there is
hardly any limit to the mysterious and magical results
that can be accomplished. Some special tree or shrub
may lend itself more than another to this mystery and
magic, and the art of the landscape gardener may do
much, but in the final result there should appear no
sense of effort, no loss of easy naturalness, and the law
of contradiction and contrast should be so applied as to

t See R. Jefferies, Field and Hedgerow, p. 107.

244 Landscape Architecture

give the idea of continual change and at the same time
of adherence to a generally pervading law of arrange-
ment throughout the entire landscape scheme, for ‘‘an
organic unified scheme is one in which the whole is in
every part.’’

Does this seem hard to understand? If the ac-
companying plan taken from Prince Puckler’s book
showing how a group of shrubs and trees should be
constituted or designed is studied the meaning may
be clearer. Certain spaces it will be seen are occupied
with shrubs and trees and flowers of various kinds; these
kinds are made to produce a variation of high and low
forms and masses of colour related to each other accord-
ing to a definite scheme which also has its own relation
as a mass to the surrounding grass space; the grass space
has again its own special relation to its environment.

This type of treatment, with its overlapping and
predominance of each part as the landscape may
demand, should repeat itself over and over again
throughout the space in the garden as well as the park.
From this statement it is evident that there is no abso-
lute garden, nor any park in the sense of wild nature.
Unfortunately there is, however, an antagonism of two
types or schools of landscape art existing, one archi-
tectural and one that may be termed natural. The
architectural school held sway for centuries and pro-
duced a one-sided landscape art, but, in the renewed
artistic life of the Renaissance and the followers of
Rousseau, a violent love of pure nature developed and
produced in the reaction many fanciful and ill-devised

Gardens 245

conceptions. One school reacted on the other and
finally out of the two has developed an art that is like
neither of the old conceptions, but is a new one which
uses more architectural lines near the architectural
features and freer nature farther off.

‘All these little paths were confined and crossed
by a limpid and clear stream, sometimes circling amid
the grass and flowers in almost imperceptible threads,
now in larger streams flowing over a pure mosaic of
gravel which made the water more transparent. I
can imagine, said I unto them, a rich man from Paris
or London master of this house, bringing with him
an expensive architect to spoil nature. With what
disdain would he enter this simple, mean place!
With what contempt would he have all these weeds
uprooted! What fine avenues he would open out!
What beautiful valleys he would have pierced!
What fine goose feet, what fine trees, like parasols
and fans! What fine fretted trellises! What beauti-
fully drawn yew hedges, finely squared and rounded!
What fine bowling greens of fine English turf,
rounded, squared, sloped, and ovalled! What fine
yews carved into dragons, pagodas, marmosets,
every kind of monster! With what fine bronze vases,
what fine stone fruits he would adorn his garden!

“The grand air is always melancholy, it makes us
think of the miseries of the man who affects it.
Amid his parterres and grand alleys his littleness does
not increase.

246 Landscape Architecture

“What then will the man of taste do, who lives for
the sake of living, who can enjoy himself, who seeks
real and simple pleasures, and who wishes to make
himself a walk within reach of his house? He will
make it so commodious and so agreeable that he can
please himself there at all hours of the day and more-
over so simple and natural that he seems to have
done nothing. He will combine water, verdure, shade,
and coolness, for nature too combines all these
things; he will give symmetry to nothing that is the
enemy to nature and variety; and all the alleys of
an ordinary garden have so strong a resemblance,
that you think you are always in the same one; he
will level the soil to walk on it comfortably: but the
two sides of the alley will not be always exactly
parallel; its direction will not be always on a straight
line, it will have a certain vagueness, like the gait of a

leisurely man who sways as he walks.

The entire scheme, however, as indicated above, is
coming more and more (as in Central Park, New York,
and in Germany and England and France) under the
control throughout of unified laws of design. This has
given and is giving increasing value for both park and
garden in the minds of many.

People seeking to improve their places themselves
realize in many cases hardly anything of this harmoniz-
ing of schools, but they will find the best development
will be on these lines, and landscape architects and

rJean Jacques Rousseau, Julie, or the Nouvelle Héloise.

Gardens 247

architects do, in many cases, fully realize it, for already
the garden and the estate or park are frequently thus
made to correlate themselves. There has been conflict,
and there is still some between the “architectural” and
“‘natural”’ schools, but ‘‘ discord is the proof of vitality”’
for it is here as elsewhere, again and again, the conflict
of elements which in spite of their apparently absolute
antagonism are really each contained in the design of a
harmonious landscape scheme, and which will therefore
eventually be reconciled by further development. The
making of a home suggests naturally at first the build-
ing of a house and so the architect and his school or
party take control, but “‘A party first truly shows itself
to have won the victory when it breaks up into two
parties: for so it proves that it contains in itself the
principle with which it first had to conflict, and thus it
had to get beyond the one-sidedness which was inci-
dental to its earliest expression.”’

Here are several examples of how the struggle be-
tween the architectural and the natural progresses and
takes shape. Smollett gives the following account of
a classical architectural garden Villa Pinciana at Rome;
although the writer is doubtless a prejudiced observer,
he was a keen and, on the whole, veracious one and his
travels in 1765 are of great interest and value.

“He who loves the beauties of simple nature and
the charm of neatness, will look for them in vain
amidst the groves of Italy. In the garden of Villa
Pinciana, there is a plantation of four hundred pines,

248 Landscape Architecture

which the Italians view with rapture and admiration:
there is likewise a long walk of trees extending from
the garden gate to the palace; and plenty of shade
with alleys and hedges in different parts of the
ground, but the groves are neglected; the walks are
laid with nothing but common mould or sand, black
and dusty; the hedges are tall, thin, and shabby; the
trees stunted, the open ground, brown and parched,
has scarce any appearance of verdure. The flat,
regular alleys of evergreens are cut into fantastic
figures; the flower gardens embellished with thin cy-
phers and flourished figures in box, while the flowers
grow in rows of earthen pots, and the ground appears
as dusty as if it was covered with the cinders of a
blacksmith’s forge. The water, of which there is a
great plenty, instead of being collected in large pieces,
or conveyed in little rivulets and streams to refresh
the thirsty soil, or managed so as to form agreeable
cascades, is squirted from fountains in different parts
of the garden through tubes little bigger than common
glyster pipes. It must be owned indeed that the
fountains have their merit in the way of sculpture
and architecture, that here is a great number of
statues that merit attention; but they serve only to
encumber the ground, and destroy that effect of
rural simplicity which our gardens are designed to
produce. Ina word, here we have a variety of walks
and groves and fountains, a wood of four hundred
pines, a paddock with a few meagre deer, a flower
garden, an aviary, a grotto, and a fish pond, and in

Gardens 249

spite of all these particulars it is in my opinion a
very contemptible garden when compared to that of
Stowe in Buckinghamshire, or even to those of Ken-
sington and Richmond.”

And yet Smollett says that of the gardens he has seen
in Italy that of the Villa Pinciana is the most remark-
able and the most extensive, including a space of three
miles in circuit, hard by the walls of Rome, containing
a variety of situations which favour all the natural em-
bellishments one would expect to meet in a garden, and
exhibit a diversity of noble views of the city and adjacent
country.
Vernon Lee thus characterizes Italian gardens:

“For your new gardens, your real Italian Gardens
bring in a new element—that of perspective, archi-
tecture, decoration, the trees used as building ma-
terial, the lie of the land as theatre arrangements,
the water as the most docile and multiform stage
property.”

Walter Savage Landor writes thus on gardens:

“We Englishmen talk of planting a garden, the
modern Italians and ancient Romans talk of building

one.

Thus you have the two schools contrasted and a con-
tradiction established, the Latin or Southern against
the North man, and yet out of this is emerging in all
countries the natural parks including the garden which

250 Landscape Architecture

is co-ordinated with the different parts of the place
and especially the house.

In order to realize how fifty years later the Italian
villas assumed a different aspect from that noted by
Smollett, read what William Beckford, the creator of
Font Hill Abbey and therefore a competent observer,
writes:

“T dined in peace and solitude and repaired as
evening drew on to the thickets of Boboli. What
a serene sky! What mellowness in the tints of the

» mountains! A purple haze concealed the bases, while
their summits were invested with saffron light, dis-
covering every white cot and every copse that clothed
their declivities. The prospect widened as I as-
cended the terraces of the garden. After traversing
many long dusky alleys I reached the opening on the
brow of the hill and seating myself under the statue
of Ceres, took a sketch of the huge mountainous
cupola of the Duomo, the adjoining lovely tower, and
one more massive in its neighbourhood, built not
unprobably in the style of ancient Etruria. Beyond
this historic group of buildings a plain stretches itself
far and wide most richly studded with villas and
gardens and groves of pine and olive, quite to the feet
of the mountains.

“Having marked the sun’s going down and all the
soothing effects cast by the declining rays on every
object, I went through a plat of vines to a favourite
haunt of mine: a little garden of the most fragrant

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‘AYID OY} JO MOTA B YA ‘OUaIOPY ‘SuspIeD ToOqog oy,

Gardens 251

roses with a spring under a rustic arch of grotto work
fringed with ivy. Thousands of fish inhabit here of
that beautiful glittering species which comes from
China. This golden nation were leaping after insects
as I stood gazing upon the deep clear water, listening
to the drops that trickle from the cove. Opposite to
which at the end of a green alley you discover an oval
basin and in the midst of it an antique statue full
of that graceful languor so peculiarly Grecian.
Whilst I was musing on the margin of the spring
(for I returned to it after casting a look upon the
sculpture) the moon rose above the tufted foliage of
the terraces, which I descended by several flights
of steps with marble balustrades crowned by vases
of aloes... .

“Then I plunged into a winding path which led me
by a series of steep ascents to a green platform over-
looking the whole extent of a wood, with Florence
deep beneath, and the tops of the hills which encircle
it jagged with pines; here and there a convent with-
ering in the sun. The scene extends as far as the
eye can reach.

‘Descending alley after alley, and bank after bank,
I came to the orangery in front of the palace, dis-
posed in a grand amphitheatre with marble niches
relieved by dark foliage, out of which sprung cedars
and tall aerial cypresses. This spot brought the
scenery of an antique Roman garden so vividly into
my mind, that, lost in a train of recollections this
idea excited, I expected every instant to be called to

252 Landscape Architecture

the table of Lucullus hard by in one of the porticoes
and to stretch myself on his purple triclinium, but
waiting in vain for a summons till on the approach
of night I returned delighted with a ramble that had
led my imagination so far into antiquity.”

Arthur Symons in his book on ‘‘Cities” has given an
excellent description of the Italian garden at its best.
Considering the Villa Mattei he writes:

“Around are broken walls rising brown and jagged
against the sky, the walls of the baths of Caracalla;
a desolate strip of country on the edge of the city;
and beyond, seen from the terraces lined with the
dead bluish green of cactus, the Alban Hills. All
the garden walks, where not even the cypresses are
funereal nor the sunlight itself gay, breathe an ex-
quisite melancholy, the most delicate and seductive
breath of decay. There are wandering terraces,
slim vistas, an entanglement of green and wayward
life, winding in and out of brown defaced walls
fringed with ivy, and about white and broken statues
shining from under this green coat of leaves; every-
where surprising turns of ways among the trees curv-
ing out here and there, as if instinctively, into a circle
about a fountain where broad leaves shadow the
heads of gods or emperors in stone. And everywhere
there is the cool sound of water which rises in the
fountains, and drips under water plants in a grotto;
and everywhere as one follows the winding paths, a
white hand stretches out from among the darkness of

Gardens 253

ivy, at some turn of the way, and one seems to catch
the escaping flutter of white drapery among the
leaves. You will sometimes see the shy figure of an
old Cardinal taking his walk there; and if you follow
him, you will come upon a broad alley of ilexes,
lined with broken statues, broken friezes, and arched
over by fantastically twisted branches, brown and
interlaced, on which the blue-grey leaves hang
delicately like lace; an alley leading to what must
once have been a sarcophagus, covered on the side
by which you approach it, with white carved figures.
On the other side you find yourself in a little trellised
circle from which, as through a window suddenly
opened, you see the Alban Hills; there is a rustic
wooden seat against the stone of the sarcophagus, on
which, roughly carved, two lions meet and seem to
shake hands; and above is written: ‘Qui San Filippo

297

Neri discorreva coi suoi discepoli delli cose di Dio.

For a modern rhapsody or ideal picture of Italian
gardens, a poetical dream, a quotation is given from
Mrs. (E. V. B.) Boyle:

‘““A garden, the word is indeed a picture, and what
a picture it reveals! All through the days of child-
hood the garden is our fairy ground of sweet enchant-
ment and innocent wonder. They are all beautiful,
these Gardens of Poetry! and through the midst of
them flows the broad stream of Memory, isled with
fair lilied lawns, fringed with willowy forests of
whispering reeds. And not less beautiful than these

254 Landscape Zrcbitecture

ideal shades are the gardens which live unchanging in
many a painted picture within the heart. Real and
not less ideal, is the remembrance of the gardens we
have seen; seen once, it may be, and never since for-
gotten, lovely as truth, crystal clear as a poet’s
thought are the earthly Edens our eyes have beheld
in the years that are past. How can we forget the
’ gardens of queenly Genoa in the days before she was
discrowned of Florerice, of Rome and Albano and
Tivoli?
“Tn all Italy, the land of flowers, the garden of the
world, there are no gardens more stately, nor any
nobler cypress trees than at Villa d’Este of Tivoli.
‘In the spring by the straight smooth ways under the
ilexes and cypresses all sunshine, the golden day is
made rosy wherever anon the red Judas trees shower
down their bloom. Marble stairs lead up through
terraced heights to paved walks under Palazzo walls.
There, the air is faint with rich fragrance of the
orange trees. The lofty spires of ancient cypresses
reach up above the topmost terrace; far below in the
garden between their dark ranks sparkle the upspring-
ing fountains. Beyond, above the tallest cypresses
rise brown crumbling walls of the old town, piled up
with open loggia and arched gates and overshadowing
roofs; and high over these, great barren hills crowned
with ruined fortresses and shattered keeps. To the
west rolls out the ocean of the wide Campagna,
undulating far away where Rome is lost in the sunset.
Dream on! until you sigh with the wondrous sweetness

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WSIS JO no qsnl ‘yyorT oy} 4B OUTSeD oy} YI ‘oMOoY ‘TOATL ‘ois qd PUTA UL

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Gardens 255

of Rome herself in the wild garden of the Vatican,
where in April days ten thousand odorous cyclamen
flowers flush with crimson all the moss beneath the
trees. Dream on: till you see once more the swaying
of the tall vines and bathe your steps with flowery
grass in the green Pamphili Doria, and watch the
mystic fountains, most like the form of an inconstant
spirit, like a blue-robed Undine, uncertain if to
leave her source, trembling betwixt desire and
fear.”’

Pity it is that so many abortive attempts are made
to restore these old gardens in the modern style.
Ribbon beds and gay parterres of showy flowers can
be rarely made to fit an Italian garden. The real
Italian garden is simple and dignified and depends for
its charm on a combination of trees and architecture
that is sui generis. Far better would it be if the modern
owner of an old Italian garden could be induced to
restore and retain the old conditions as far as possible,
and to add, if addition is felt to be necessary, some more
Italian cypresses, a magnolia or two, and other trees
that naturally consort with the surroundings; a little
more grass would help, and grass could certainly be
secured by the use of water; it would be no more difficult
than growing coleus and geranium parterres. Imita-
tion in these old Italian gardens is to be avoided.
You can never give the new garden the old spirit, but
you can design the new garden in a similar spirit, as
may be seen by referring to the illustration of Mr. Beale’s

256 Landscape Architecture

garden (see page ——). This will secure not the Italian
garden of Italy, but the home garden of America.

Here is another intimate and suggestive description
of a garden which might be applied to the best gardens
the world over:

“Forgotten beside some rosy palace by the Adri-
atic, its fountain overrun with maidenhair, its gold-
fish twinkling in the marble font, and grass growing
gaily and wildly where it will, the garden that once
was trimmest has a delightful spirit that it could
not have without precisely that past of artifice and
ceremony. No prosperity except that of summer,
no order that is not sweetly made light of while it
is carelessly fulfilled, and all access open by way of
the sunny air, so that no seeds are denied an anchor-
age in this port and harbourage of the winds. A trim
garden that is no longer trim is full of frolic. A trim
garden that is still trim has a kind of comeliness as an
accessory of architecture. It is at any rate a garden
and not a landscape.

‘“‘How has the world taken so much trouble to make
less lovely things out of those fine materials—the
blossoming earth and the fostering sky? Pity is it
that the word garden should be so vulgarized by
worldly gardens. It is an early word for all men,
one of the earliest of words. It is an Orient word,
fresh.and perpetual from childhood and the Divine
East.”*

t Alice Meynell, 1900.

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‘AON Y

SSS .

Gardens 257

Fountains are a special and most important feature
of a garden and here is a suggestion made by Henry A.
Bright in The English Flower Garden:

“One of the greatest ornaments in a garden is a
fountain, but many fountains are curiously ineffective.
A fountain is most effective when it leaps high in the
air, and you can see it against a background of green
foliage. To place a fountain among new flower beds,
and then to substitute small fancy jets that take the
shape of a cup, or trickle over in a basin of goldfish,
or toy with a gilded ball, is to do all that is possible
to degrade it. The real charm of a fountain is when
you come upon it in some grassy glade of the ‘pleas-
aunce’ when it seems as though it sought, in the
strong rush of its waters, to vie with the tall boles
of the forest trees that surround it.”

Such was the fountain of Leigh Hunt’s story of
Rimini which shot up beneath the shade of darksome
pines.

And twixt their shafts you saw the water bright
Which through the tops glimmered with showering light.

This is very pertinent to the subject, as it is sel-
dom that a fountain is met which is both designed and
located properly, particularly when used in the garden.

But turning from the spell of these Italian gardens
and their unquestionable beauty and charm we must
not forget to recall the natural effects we have been

considering, and allow ourselves to yield once more to
17

258 Landscape Architecture

the call of the flowers in their homes in the nooks of the
bushes and groves of lawns and forests, where

Thick on the woodland floor
Gay company shall be
Primrose and hyacinth

And frail anemone,

Perennial strawberry bloom,
Wood sorrel’s pencilled veil,
Dishevelled willowweed,

And orchids, purple and pale."

Richard Jefferies, although not a landscape gardener,
observed and appreciated and interpreted nature in a
wonderful way. Here is his criticism of gardening and
free landscape:

“Happily this park escaped and it is beautiful.
Our English landscape wants no gardening, it cannot
be gardened. The least interference kills it. The
beauty of English woodland and country is its detail.
There is nothing empty and unclothed. If the clods
are left a little while undisturbed in the field, weeds
spring and wild flowers bloom upon them. Is the
hedge cut and trimmed, lo, the blue flower, the more
and a yet fresher green buds forth on the twigs.
Never was there a garden like the meadow; there
is not an inch of the meadow in early summer without
a flower. Old walls as we saw just now are not left
without a fringe; on the top of the hardest brick wall,
on the sapless tiles, on slates stonecrop takes hold
and becomes a cushion of yellow bloom. Nature is
* Robert Bridges, The Idle Flowers, 1913, p. 352.

Gardens 259

a miniature painter and handles a delicate brush, the
tip of which touches the tiniest spot and leaves
something living. The park has indeed its larger
lines, its open broad sweep and gradual slope to
which the eye accustomed to small enclosures re-
quires time to adjust itself. These left to themselves
are beautiful, they are the surface of the earth which
is always true to itself and needs no banks for artificial
hollows. The earth is right and the tree is right,
then either and all is wrong. The deer will not fit
into them then.”

Washington Irving, although not known as a horti-
culturist or landscape gardener, nevertheless showed
fine discrimination in the method he chose for the
improvements of the lawns around his home near
Tarrytown. This is what he says about English
landscape gardening in his Sketch Book:

“The taste of the English in the cultivation of land,
and in what is called landscape gardening is un-
rivalled. They have studied nature intently and
discover an exquisite sense of her beautiful forms and
harmonious combinations. Those charms which in
other countries she lavishes in wild solitudes, are
here assembled around the haunts of domestic life.
They seem to have caught her coy and furtive graces,
and spread them, like witchery, about their rural
abodes. Nothing can be more imposing than the
magnificence of English park scenery. Vast lawns

260 Landscape Arcbitecture

extend like sheets of vivid green, with here and there
clumps of gigantic trees, heaping up rich piles of
foliage; the solemn pomp of groves and woodland
glades with the deer trooping in silent herds across
them; the hare bounding away to the covert; or
the pheasant suddenly bursting upon the wing; the
brook taught to wind in natural meanderings or
expand into a glassy lake; the sequestered pool
reflecting the quivering trees, with the yellow leaf
sleeping upon its bosom, and the trout roaming
fearlessly about its limpid waters. These are a few
of the features of park scenery, but what most de-
lights me is the creative talent with which the English
decorate the unostentatious abodes of middle life.
The rudest habitation, the most unpromising and
scanty portion of land, in the hands of an English-
man of taste becomes a little paradise. With nicely
discriminating eye, he seizes at once upon its capa-
bilities, and pictures in his mind the future landscape.
The sterile spot grows into loveliness under his hand;
and yet the operations of art which produce the
effect are scarcely to be perceived. The cherishing
and training of some trees; the cautious pruning of
others; the nice distribution of flowers and plants of
tender and graceful foliage; the introduction of a
green slope of velvet turf; the partial opening to a
peep of blue distance, or a silver gleam of water; all
these are managed with a delicate tact, a pervading,
yet quiet assiduity, like the magic touchings with
which a painter finishes up a favourite picture.”

Gardens 261

Prince Ptckler’s description of the garden at Windsor
and the landscape beyond forms a good illustration of
the proper relation of these features:

“The garden lay before us, a perfect paradise,
lighted by the glow of the evening sun. Along the
whole house, now projecting, now receding, were
verandas of various forms and clothed with creeping
plants. These formed a border to the gayest flower
garden covering the whole slope of the hill. Close
upon the edge of it was a narrow green valley, between
which the ground rose again and formed a higher
line of hill, the side of which was clothed with huge
beeches.”

That all is not perfect in English landscape work Prince
Pickler indicates in the following quotation:

“T found the garden (pleasure ground) much
altered, but not I think for the better; for there is
now a mixture of the regular and the irregular which
has a very unpleasant effect. The ugly fashion now
prevalent in England of planting the ‘pleasure
ground’ with single trees or shrubs placed at a
considerable distance, almost in rows, has been
introduced in several parts of these grounds. This
gives the grass plots the air of nursery grounds.
The shrubs are trimmed round so as not to touch each
other, the earth carefully cleared about them every
day, and the edges of the turf cut in stiff lines, so
that you see more of black earth than of green foliage,
and the free beauty of nature is quite checked.”

262 Dandscape Architecture

For the flower gardens of Cheswick he has nothing but
praise.

“On the other hand,” he says, ‘‘the flower gardens
are magnificent. The beds are so thinly planted
that each separate plant has room to spread, except-
ing in those beds which are entirely filled with one
sort of flower. In them, the chief aim is the perfec-
tion of the whole, and they are consequently by far
the most beautiful.”

To emphasize more fully the value of the broad,
simple, and wholly natural idea of making a garden, an
example is shown from Union College, Schenectady, New
York State. There is no pretence here: plenty of trees
and shrubs with peonies and other old-fashioned flowers
springing abundantly at their feet; little stretches
of turf between the flowers and the walk; then almost
out of sight'a brook running under a bridge of plain
boards out into a small grassy hollow, lying in an
amphitheatre under high overarching elms. The
Professor of Mathematics and Natural Philosophy in
Union College, Isaac W. Jackson, commenced to make
this garden in the early thirties of the last century, and
his daughter, Mrs. Benedict, still cherishes it with lov-
ing care.

I doubt not the flowers of that garden sweet
Rejoiced in the sound of her gentle feet;

I doubt not they felt the spirit that came
From her glowing fingers thro’ all their frame."

1 The Sensitive Plant, John Keats.

ERRATUM

Page 262, footnote—For John Keats read Percy Bysshe Shelley.

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Gardens 263

Prof. Jackson had also the ‘“‘most delicate artistic
feeling and he loved beauty with so true an instinct
that one can imagine the very flowers and shrubs which
he affectionately tended returning his affection,’’—thus
testified an old friend at the time of his death.

The garden is a simple affair, just trees, shrubs, and
flowers and grass, nothing rare or specially unusual,
only a gathering of congenial plant friends, who have
been looked after for nearly a century by people who
loved them. The sight of this garden might easily
recall, to those who have seen it, the one at New College,
Oxford, of which Nathaniel Hawthorne says it has

“lawns of the richest green and softest velvet grass,
shadowed over by ancient trees which have lived a
quiet life here for centuries, and have been nursed and
tended with such care, and been so. sheltered from
rude winds, that certainly they must have been the
happiest of all trees. Such a sweet, quiet, stately
seclusion—so age long as this has been and I hope
will continue to be—cannot exist anywhere else.”

Long may these lovely old gardens continue to exist
in their academic shades and cloistered homes.

XV
PUBLIC PARKS

HE problem of creating public parks while, in
many respects, the same as that of estates-or
even of gardens, should always be carefully

correlated with the rights and desires of the public.
Historically, the public park is modern. A hundred
years ago there were few public parks in the strict sense
of the term, either in Europe or America. People were
simply allowed to use Kings’ and Princes’ parks.
Naturally, such parks had not been designed in the
beginning for the use of the people, although they were
of great size and magnificence like Versailles. The
first man we can find who really seemed to comprehend
and present intelligibly the idea of a public park in
America was Andrew Jackson Downing, and no better
expression has been given of appreciation of what he
did for people’s parks in both America and Europe than
the eloquent words of William A. Stiles in the pages of
The Garden and Forest.

“No one,” he says, “‘who has looked into the his-
tory of public parks in American cities and the

development of the public sentiment which brought
264

Public Parks 265

them into being, will deny that the strongest impulse
which the movement received at the outset came
from Andrew Jackson Downing. Mr. Downing was
born with a strong love of nature, and as his father
was a nurseryman he was brought up in a calling
that increased his interest in trees and planting.
Reared almost in sight of many of the old places on
the Hudson which had been planned and planted by
Parmentier and others of that older school, he learned
while still young that a landscape could be made
impressive by the simplest and most natural treat-
ment. As he was to become our first authoritative
writer on the art of landscape gardening, the whole
country has occasion to be thankful that he was in this
way led to adopt what was then called the English
style of gardening, in which, to quote his own words,
‘the spirit of nature, though softened and refined by
art, always furnished the essential charm, thus dis-
tinguishing it from the French or Italian style, where
one sees the effects of art slightly assisted by nature.’
Downing was a man of catholic views, but while he
realized the fact that vases and balustrades and
studied symmetry might be mingled with foliage
enough to make a garden, yet his ideal garden-scene
was the primeval paradise, whose pervading beauty
was found in the unstudied simplicity of nature.
With his natural taste refined by travel and by study,
Downing’s Treatise on the Theory and Practice of
Landscape Gardening, which was published in 1841,
became at once the accepted text-book of rural art in

266 Landscape Architecture

this country, and this book, passing through many
editions, and his Rural Essays and other works, are
still classics in this branch of literature. It was His
example and precept which inspired such men as
Henry Winthrop Sargent, and they in turn kindled
the enthusiasm of younger men, so that the best
private gardens in America to-day owe what is best
in them to his sound teachings.

“Downing was a graceful and forcible writer as well
as an artist of the highest intelligence, and as he had
been already recognized as an authority a timely
series of letters which he wrote for the Horticulturist
on the subject of public parks in 1849 had a marked
influence in creating and moulding popular sentiment
in this direction. These essays, which appeared
month after month, and were widely copied by the
press, marshalled in a convincing way the arguments
which were then fresh and original, although many
of them have since become a part of our common
knowledge and belief. He began by showing that
public parks were needed not only to educate the
public taste, but because everybody at some time
felt the necessity for this contact with nature. He
showed that this communion was not only a delight
to people who were as unsophisticated as children,
but that the more thoughtful and educated a com-
munity became the stronger grew the passion for
rural pleasures. When it was argued that the people
would not visit parks, even if artistic ones were con-
structed, he pointed to the large cemeteries to prove

Public Parks 267

how eager all classes were to avail themselves of an
opportunity for a visit to anything resembling a park.
Mount Auburn, Greenwood, and Laurel Hill had
been already established for a quarter of a century,
and that they had come to be places of resort was
certainly not because they afforded opportunity for
solemn meditation or for the artistic value of the
monuments reared within them. He truly argued
that it was because they contained bits of forest-land,
hills and dales, copses and glades that they attracted
throngs of visitors in cities which possessed no great
public gardens, and that if thirty thousand people
would visit Laurel Hill in one year many times that
number would visit a public park in a city like Phila-
delphia. He set his argument on the highest plane
at the very outset, and, while recognizing the use of
parks as helping to furnish air and sunshine, he held
that the fostering of the love of rural beauty was
quite as important an end, and that such a love of
nature helped to civilize and refine national character.
Mayor Kingsland’s proposed park of a hundred and
sixty acres he pronounced altogether too scant, and
argued that five hundred acres between Thirty-ninth
Street and the Harlem was the smallest space that
should be reserved for the wants of the city, since no
area less than this could furnish a rural landscape or
offer space enough for broad reaches of parkland with
a real feeling of the breadth and beauty of green
fields and the perfume and freshness of nature. It
was argued by some who assumed to represent the

268 Landscape Architecture

labouring classes that the park would be monopolized
by those who ride in their carriages, and, on the other
hand, some of the wealthy and refined people of the
city complained that a park would certainly be
usurped by rowdies and low people. It is refreshing
now to read Downing’s replies to such objections.
He stoutly asserted that these social horrors were
nothing but phantoms of the imagination; his faith
was, as the event has proved, that rich and poor
could breathe the same atmosphere of nature and of
art and enjoy the same scenery without any jealousy
or any conflict.

“‘The actual work of constructing Central Park was
not begun until six years after Downing’s untimely
death, but it was his stirring appeals that aroused the
city to feel its need, and provision to meet it quickly
followed. By rare good fortune, too, designers were
found whose artistic temperament and training were
akin to his own, so that our first great urban park
was planned on such broad lines as he would have
approved. The works which followed at once in
Brooklyn, Buffalo, Chicago, San Francisco, and other
cities were beyond question the result of this same
inspiration, so that his keen foresight and conscien-
tious devotion to an idea were the most powerful of
the agencies which united to initiate the movement
which has given to American cities their thousands of
acres of parkland during the past thirty-five years.
When we think of the health and comfort, the rest
and the refreshment, the delight to the eye and the

Public Parks 269

imagination which these smiling landscapes have
given and will continue for ever to give to all the
people, it is not too much to say that Downing takes
rank among the greatest benefactors to his country
which this century has produced.”

Largely as a result of Downing’s writings in the
Horticulturist and in his books and letters elsewhere,
the idea gradually secured recognition that New York
needed a large public park. In selecting a site there
was much discussion, and at first Jones’s Woods on the
East River in the neighbourhood of 66th Street was
chosen. It is not sure that in view of later develop-
ments better boundary lines might not have been ob-
tained at the time than those of the present Central
Park; and that brings us to the importance of giving
most careful and intelligent consideration to the choice
of public park sites. Let us see what Mr. Olmsted says
on this subject. Noone could speak with greater weight
of authority than he did. This is what he says in
Public Parks and the Enlargement of Towns—in dis-
cussing two different types of grounds for park sites:

“We want a ground to which people may easily go
after their day’s work is done, and where they may
stroll for an hour, seeing, hearing, and feeling nothing
of the bustle and jar of the streets, where they shall
in effect find the city put far away from them. We
want the greatest possible contrast with the streets
and the shops and rooms of the towns which will be
consistent with convenience and the preservation of

270 Landscape Architecture

good order and neatness. We want, especially, the
greatest possible contrast with the restraining and
confining conditions of the town, those conditions
which compel us to walk circumspectly, watchfully,
jealously, which compel us to look closely on others
without sympathy. Practically, what we most want
is a simple, broad, open space of clean greensward,
with sufficient play of surface and sufficient number
of trees about it to supply a variety of light and shade.
This we want as a central feature. We want depth of
wood enough about it not only for comfort in hot
weather, but to completely shut out the city from our
landscapes.

“The word park in town nomenclature should, I
think, be reserved for grounds of the character and
purpose thus described. Not only as being the most
valuable of all possible forms of public places, but
regarded simply as a large space which will seriously
interrupt crosstown communication wherever it
occurs, the question of the site and bounds of the
park requires to be determined with much more
deliberation and art than is often secured for any
problem of distant and extended municipal interests.”
Speaking further about promenades being “‘congre-
gated human life under glorious and artificial condi-
tions,” with the natural landscape not essential to
them, he thus speaks of the level compared with the
rugged or picturesque type of park: “‘there is no more
beautiful picture, and none can be more pleasing
incidentally to the gregarious purpose than of beauti-

Public Parks 271

ful meadows, over which clusters of level-armed
sheltering trees cast broad shadows, and upon which
are scattered flocks of black-faced sheep, while men,
women, and children are seen sitting here and there
forming groups in the shade, or moving in and out
among the woody points and bays.

“Tt may be inferred from what I have said that very
rugged ground, abrupt eminences, and what is techni-
cally called picturesque in distinction from merely
beautiful or simply pleasing scenery, is not the most
desirable for a town park. Decidedly not in my
opinion. The park should as far as possible comple-
ment the town. Openness is the one thing you can-
not get in buildings. Picturesqueness you can get.
Let your buildings be as picturesque as your artists
can make them. This is the beauty of a town.
Consequently the beauty of the park should be
the other. It should be the beauty of the fields, the
meadow, the prairie, of the green pastures and the
still waters. What we want to gain is tranquillity
and rest of mind. Mountains suggest effort. But
besides this objection there are others of what I may
indicate as the housekeeping class. It is impossible
to give the public range over a large extent of ground
of a highly picturesque character, unless under very
exceptional circumstances, and sufficiently guarded
against the occurrence of opportunities and tempta-
tions to shabbiness, disorder, indecorum, and inde-
cency that will be subversive of every good purpose
the park should be designed to fulfil.”

272 Landscape Architecture

Mr. Olmsted in the Mt. Royal Park Report again
follows out much the same line of thought:

““The value of a city property is to depend on the
design in which it shall be adapted to attract citizens
to obtain needful exercise and cheerful mental occu-
pation in the open air, with the result of better health
and fitness in all respects for the trials and duties of
life; with the result also necessarily of greater earn-
ing and taxpaying capacities so that in the end the
investment will be in this respect a commercially
profitable one to the city.”

Mr. Olmsted also says in the Mt. Royal Park Report
that
“The possession of charming natural scenery
is a form of wealth as practical as that of wholesome
air, pure water, or sunlight unobstructed by smoke or
fog, as practical as that of sewers, aqueducts, and
pavements.”

There is a more potent influence, however, than the
mere bodily one, valuable as that is, namely the re-
freshment and uplift of the spirit that come from the
poetical side of the nature of most men. Here is the

way that Mr. Olmsted explains and illustrates this
point:

“Let us say that for the time being the charm of
natural scenery tends to make us poets. There is a
sensibility to poetic inspiration in every man of us,
and its utter suppression means a sadly morbid con-

Public Parks 273

dition. Poets we may not be; but a little lifted out
of ordinary prose we may be often to our advantage.
‘To compare our small measures with larger let us
take a recorded experience of a full-grown poet.
Wordsworth, only greater in poetic sensibility than
any one of us, not differently organized, not differently
affected by medicine, came home from a painful
experience in France after its great revolution, sick,
broken down, unfit for business. Everything was
going wrong with him. His sister Dorothy, of whom
it was well said that she was the greater poet of the
two, only that she was not a literary poet, watched
his symptoms, saw the nature of his troubles, and
divined their cure. She persuaded him to let her
guide him into the midst of charming scenery, and
subject himself for a time to its influence,’ and thus,
says Dr. Shairp, telling the story, ‘began the sanative
process which restored him to his true self and made
that blessing to the world that he has become.’
Commenting further on Wordsworth’s case he writes,
‘continuing the study of nature (not with the science
of the botanist, or the florist, but the poet), he at last
came to hold the conscious conviction, what he had at
first felt it, hardly knowing that he felt it, that nature
had a life of her own, which streamed through and
stimulated his life, a spirit which, in itself invisible,
spoke through visible things to his spirit." That the
characteristics of this spirit were calmness, which
1 The Poetic Interpretation of Nature, p. 249, Dr. John Campbell

Shairp.
18

274 Landscape Architecture

stilled and refreshed man; sublimity, which raised
him to noble thoughts; tenderness, which, while
stirring in the largest and loftiest things, condescends
to the lowest: is with the humblest worm and weed as
much as in the greatest movements of the elements
or the stars. Above all, nature he now saw to be
the shape and image of right reason,—reason in its
highest sense embodied and made visible in order,
stability, in conformity to eternal law. The percep-
tion of this satisfied his intellect and calmed and
soothed his heart.” *

The sanative and pleasurable effects of “rural inci-
dents’? and open grass spaces of comparatively large
extent are continually emphasized in the writings of
Olmsted and Vaux whether they have been indited
jointly or individually. Of all the different country
experiences the charms of which they proclaim, the
great sweeping meadows and shadowing trees on their
borders, and now and then in the midst, are considered
the most important—the green pastures and _ still
waters, the restful embrace and life-giving glance of
nature, where the turf and lakes or streams give new
vigour to exhausted human beings, and prove that of all
the phases of park landscape, the best and happiest is
the pastoral one.

Read what Olmsted and Vaux say on this subject of
the pastoral landscape in the Tenth Annual Report to
the Prospect Park Commissioners in 1873:

1 Mt. Royal Park Report.

Public Parks 275

“The development of the pastoral idea in its most
favourable aspects is possible in a large city park and
it is the peculiar advantage of the ground under your
control that it offers an unusually favourable oppor-
tunity for the purpose. A stretch of greensward a
mile in length, surrounded by woods and unbroken by
any carriage way, should certainly offer a field of
ample dimensions for an illustration of the idea, and
this we have in the Brooklyn Park. Thousands of
people, without any sense of crowding, stroll about
on the level or undulating sunny or shaded turf
spaces that are to be found in this strip of pasture or
woodland.”

The report goes on to state that they made every
effort to improve a large portion of the ground with
special reference to the development of this element of
pastoral effect in pursuit of which they say they have,
at several points, made considerable changes in the sur-
face of the ground so as to connect a series of dissevered
and isolated patches of comparatively level ground
into one sweep of grass land that is extensive enough
to make a really permanent impression on the mind.

Again in an earlier report of 1866 to the Prospect
Park Commissioners, Olmsted and Vaux when dis-
cussing initial ideas which should govern in judging the
capabilities and limitations of a park site, with refer-
ence to the artistic purpose, strongly emphasize the
importance of securing as much pastoral effect as the
conditions will allow:

276 Landscape Architecture

“The first process in the application of this art
[landscape architecture] upon any given site is the
formation of a judgment upon the capabilities and the
limitations of that site with reference to the artistic
purpose. It is obviously impossible, for instance, to
produce in the vicinity of Brooklyn such scenery as
will affect the mind as it is affected by the Alps or the
Sierras on the one hand, or by tlie luxuriant vegeta-
tion of a tropical swamp on the other.

“‘Moreover there are certain kinds of scenery which
experience shows to be most satisfactory in a town
park, which require an extensive aggregation of their
elements. It will be readily seen for instance that if
all the wood, water, and turf within a certain area of
ground were distributed in patches, strips, and pools,
however extensive as a whole, and however varied in
detail it might seem to those who should thoroughly
explore all its parts, there would be no part which
would not seem confined, there could be no large
open single scene,'and no such impression or effect
on the mind would be produced as there would be if
all the water were collected in a lake, all the trees in
one grove, all the strips of grass in one broad meadow.
Such aggregations, and consequently the degree of
the impression intended to be produced by them,
must be limited by consideration for two other pur-
poses, the purpose of variety and interest, and the
purpose to make all the scenery available to the
satisfaction of the public by ways of communication.
Other limitations upon the artistic purpose, again,

Public Parks 277

are imposed by conditions of soil and exposure, by
rock and springs. How far each of these can be over-
come, as by blasting, grading, draining, screening,
manuring, and other processes, has to be studied with
care, and the artistic purposes of the plan must be
affected in every part and particular by the conclu-
sions arrived at.

“‘In the case before us, it is obvious that we should
attempt nothing that is incompatible with, or in-
appropriate to, comparatively slight variations of
surface and a climate of considerable rigour. On the
other hand, there are no protruding ledges of rock,
no swamps difficult of drainage, and there is no es-
pecial bleakness or danger to trees from violent winds
to be apprehended. It is under similar conditions
to these that we find in nature that class of scenery
already referred to as the original and typical scenery
of parks and which is termed pastoral. It consists of.
combinations of trees, standing singly or in groups,
and casting their shadows over broad stretches of turf,
or repeating their beauty by reflection in the calm
surface of pools, and the predominant associations
are in the highest degree tranquillizing and grate-
ful. As expressed by the Hebrew poet: ‘He maketh
me to lie down in green pastures, he leadeth me beside
the still waters.” We know of no other landscape
effects that can be commanded within the limitations
fixed by the conditions of this site which experience
shows to be more desirable in a town park than these.
Only so far then as we can without sacrificing any-

278 Landscape Architecture

thing that will contribute to the highest practicable
ideal of pastoral scenery, should we endeavour to
secure any degree of those other ideals, of which the
best types are found under widely dissimilar cir-
cumstances.

‘Although we cannot have wild mountain defiles,
for instance, in the park, we may have stony ravines
shaded with trees, and made picturesque with shrubs,
the forms and arrangement of which remind us of
mountain scenery. We may, perhaps, even secure
some slight approach to the mystery, variety, and
richness of tropical scenery by an assemblage of
certain forms of vegetation, gay with flowers, and
intricate and mazy with vines and creepers, ferns,
rushes, and broad-leaved plants. All we can do in
these directions must be confessedly imperfect and
suggestive rather than satisfying to the imagination.
It must, therefore, be made incidental and sub-
ordinate to our first purpose.”’

When it is fully recognized that the poetic, artistic
quality of a public park constitutes one of its chief
assets of value, and that the development of the features
that lend this quality to the landscape is of supreme
advantage, the following words of Mr. Olmsted are
specially pertinent, giving an idea of the vast extent
that a park development may reach. Speaking of Mt.
Royal Park, Montreal, he writes:

“Among properties of its class your mountain
park possesses one marked advantage over all others,

Public Parks 279

I mean that of noble views extending far beyond its
borders. These are of such extent and so composed
and their foregrounds within the property are so
easily adapted to increase their value: their interest is
so varied according to the direction of the outlook and
the passing effect of clouds and atmospheric condi-
tions, that it is not only impossible to speak of them
in adequate terms of admiration, but trying to make
a business estimate of them and seeking standards
of comparison for the purpose, it will be found
that what communities have been able to obtain by
expenditures counting in millions of dollars is really
‘too insignificant to be available for the purpose.”

“Tt might be a question whether the most valuable
influence of properties of this class (mountainous)
is to be found in such distinct sensational features,
even though provided by nature, as are commonly
most consciously felt, most talked about, and written
about, or in more unobtrusive, pervading, homelike
qualities of which the effects come to us less in a
torrent-like way than as the gentle persuasive dew,
falling so softly as to be imperceptible and yet
delightfully invigorating in its results. Even this
might be to some a question, but let any man ask
himself whether the value of such views as the grand-
est that the mountain offers is greater when they are
made distinct spectacles, or when they are enjoyed
as successive incidents of a sustained landscape poem
to each of which the mind is gradually, sweetly led

280 Handscape Architecture

up, and from which it is gradually and sweetly led
away so that they become a consistent experience;
let him ask this with reference to the soothing and
refreshment of a town-strained human organization,
and he will need no argument to lead him to a sound
conclusion.”

In other words it may be said of parks as of painting
and poetry that they should suggest thoughts of potent
and distinct influence on the mind. The thoughts sug-
gested may vary with the point of view and mental
condition of the individual, but they should in any case
arouse the mind and uplift and vivify the spirit.

Olmsted and Vaux in their work in Prospect Park,
Brooklyn, New York, and Central Park, New York,
have produced noteworthy examples of pastoral scenery
combined with woodland effects of the kind that not
only inspires thoughts of a different kind but that en-
hances by contrast the beauty of the meadows. These
thoughts are explained in the following extracts from
another report made at the time the parks were com-
menced. How true and fine were these conceptions
is shown by the supreme beauty of these parks at the
present time some fifty years later.

“Two classes of improvements were to be planned
for this purpose: one directed to secure pure and
wholesome air, to act through the lungs, the other
to secure an antithesis of objects of vision to those
streets and houses which shall act remedially, by im-

Public Parks 281

pressions on the mind and suggestions to the imagi-
nation.

“The latter only require our present attention and
the first question with reference to them is: What
class of objects are best adapted to the purpose?

“Experience should lead most men to answer that
they are chiefly such as give the characteristic charm
to gardens, pleasure grounds, and rural landscapes.
But some consideration may be required to determine
by what mode of selection from among these, and by
what general principle of arrangement, the highest
practicable degree of the desired effect is to be at-
tained. It sometimes occurs that certain species of
trees grow naturally under conditions which favour
such a result, in forms of extraordinary symmetry,
their heads each having the outline of a haycock set
upon a straight perpendicular pose. Occasionally
several such trees may be found in nature, growing
together. Any number of objects of that character
would have but limited value, if any, for the purpose
of the park, because it is a character more nearly
compatible in a tree than any other with the con-
venience of men when living compactly in streets and
houses. Trees of that form might be, and in fact
sometimes are, grown along the streets of the city,
between rows of houses.

‘A series of rosebushes, grown in pots, trained to
single stakes, would have still less value. Trim beds of
flowers, such as might be set on the drawing-room

.table, or in the fore court of a city dwelling, still less,

282 Landscape Architecture

A cluster of hornbeams and hemlocks, the trunks of
some twisting over a crannied rock, the face of the
rock brightened by lichens and half-veiled by tresses of
vines growing over it from the rear, and its base lost
in a tangle of ground pine, mosses, and ferns, would
be of considerable value, partly because of the greater
difficulty of reconciling the presence of such an assem-
blage of objects with the requirements of convenience
in the streets, but mainly because the intricate dis-
position of lights and shadows seen in the back parts
of it would create a degree of obscurity not absolutely
impenetrable, but sufficient to affect the imagination
with a sense of mystery. A broad stretch of slightly
undulating meadow without defined edge, its turf
lost in the haze of the shadows of scattered trees
under the branches of which the eye could range,
would be of even higher value, and if beyond this
meadow occurred a depression of the surface, and the
heads of other trees were seen again at an uncertain
distance, the conditions would be most of all avail-
able for the purpose in view, first because there would
be positive assurance of a certain considerable extent
of space free of all ordinary urban conditions, and in
the soft, smooth, tranquil surface of turf, of immunity
from the bustling, violent, and wearing influences
which act upon the surface of the streets; and secondly
because the imagination, looking into the soft com-
mingling lights and shadows and fading tints of colour
of the background, would have encouragement to
extend these purely rural conditions indefinitely.

Public Parks 283

“‘Considering that large classes of rural objects and
many types of natural scenery are not practicable to
be introduced on the site of a park,— mountain, ocean,
desert, and prairie scenery for example,—it will be
found that the most valuable form that could have
been prescribed is that which we have last indicated,
and which may be distinguished from all others as
pastoral. But the site of the park having had a very
heterogeneous surface which was largely formed of
solid rock, it was not desirable that the attempt
should be made to reduce it all to the simplicity of
pastoral scenery. What would be the central motive
of design required of the rest? Clearly that it
should be given such character as, while affording
contrast and variety of scene, would, as much as
possible, be confluent to the same end, namely, the
constant suggestion to the imagination of an un-
limited range of rural conditions.

“The pleasing uncertainty and mysterious tone
which chiaro-oscuro lends to the distance of an open
pastoral landscape certainly cannot be paralleled in
rugged ground where the scope of the vision is limited ;
but a similar influence on the mind, less only in de-
gree, is experienced as we pass near the edge of a long
stretch of natural woods, the outer trees disposed in
irregular clusters, the underwood mingling at inter-
vals with their foliage. Under such circumstances,
although the eye nowhere penetrates far, an agree-
able suggestion is conveyed to the imagination of
freedom, and of interest beyond the objects that

284 Landscape Architecture

meet the eye. While, therefore, elements of scenery
of this class (which may, for the present purpose, be
distinguished as picturesque, sylvan scenery) would
both acquire and impart value from their contrast
with the simpler elements of open pastoral landscapes;
their effect, by tending to withdraw the mind to an
indefinite distance from the objects associated with
the streets and walls of a city, would be of the same
character.

“The question of adjusting and localizing these two
classes of landscape elements to the various elements
of the topography of the park next occurs, the study
of which must begin with the consideration that the
park is surrounded by an artificial wall twice as high
as the great wall of China composed of urban build-
ings. Wherever this should appear across a meadow
view the imagination would be checked abruptly at
short range. Natural objects were thus required to
be interposed, which, while excluding the buildings
as much as possible from view, would leave an un-
certainty as to the occupation of the space beyond,
and establish a horizon line composed as much as
possible of verdure. No one looking into a closely
grown wood can be certain that at a short distance
back there are not glades or streams, or that a more
open disposition of trees does not prevail.

“A range of high woods, or of trees so disposed as to
produce an effect when seen from a short distance
looking outwardly from the central parts of the park,
of a natural woodside, must be regarded more nearly

Public Parks 285

indispensable to the purpose in view—that of re-
lieving the visitor from the city—than any other
available feature. The site of the park being natur-
ally very broken and largely composed of masses of
tock, the extent to which the meadow-like surface of
pastoral scenery could be introduced in the plan was
limited. It was then, first of all, required that such
parts of the site as were available and necessary to
the purpose should be assigned to the occupation of
elements which would compose a woodside, screening
incongruous objects without the park as much as
possible from the view of observers within it.

‘Secondly, of the remaining ground it was required
to assign as much as was available to the occupation
of elements which would compose tranquil, open, pas-
toral scenes.

“Thirdly, it was required to leave all of the yet
remaining ground to elements which would tend to
form passages of scenery contrasting in depth of
obscurity and picturesque character of detail with
the softness and simplicity of the open landscapes.”’*

The artistic necessity in park landscape gardening
of having types of effect persist in some kind of size and
form and colour everywhere; the one general effect
among many, the grass space, the lake or pool surface,
trees, shrubs, and flowers around, even a colony of
flowers, a flower bed, if you will, all repeating in a hund-

tSecond Annual Report to the New York Park Department,
Olmsted & Co.

286 Landscape Architecture

red ways whatever makes pastoral and picturesque
changes true to the nature of the place: this is well
explained in the following words:

“Tt has been stated that this park [Central Park]
differs from most English parks in substituting a
multiplicity of small picturesque scenes for broad
expanses of turf but it ought not to be forgotten that
the park has the same pastoral charm of simple,
natural scenery which is found in landscapes where
the features are broader. When the site was selected
not the slightest attention was given to its landscape
possibilities, and the fact seemed only to be considered
that it was in the centre of the island and that the
ground was so broken and intractable that it would
cost as much to construct streets throughout it on
the established rectangular system as it would to
re-form it into a pleasure ground. South of the res-
ervoir the surface was so rugged and heterogeneous,
traversed as it was diagonally by ridges of outcrop-
ping gneiss, with marshy hollows between them, that
no opportunity for making a spacious meadow-like
effect was offered. The upper half of the park could
be treated in a somewhat broader way, as its natural
features were larger, its slopes had a grander sweep,
and its horizon lines were nobler. The only landscape
effects which could be produced under these restric-
tions were such as could be controlled between the
boundaries of a long narrow, rocky territory with no
prominent points commanding extensive views. No

Public Parks 287

doubt, if the same intelligent study could have been
applied to the selection of a site which was given later
to devising contrivances to remedy its defects, the
park could have been made still more satisfying.
Nevertheless it was the primary effort of the design-
ers to make as large open spaces as were practicable.
Two considerable stretches of greensward were pro-
cured in the lower part at great expense by blast-
ing out protruding rock and filling the space with
earth and mould. As it is the green contains about
sixteen acres and the ball ground but ten acres, al-
though they both seem much larger. The rolling
surface of the green and its obscure borders where the
limits of the grass are lost in the shady recesses among
the trees through which glimpses of grassy slopes are
seen at intervals beyond, all suggest indefinite dis-
tances to the imagination. All the roads are ar-
ranged so as to bring these spaces into view—several
times from different points with varying effect. Of
course, there is a greater sense of enlargement and
freedom experienced in the north meadows, but even
here only nineteen acres could possibly be secured.
These small picturesque scenes, therefore, were not
used because the designers considered them prefer-
able to large expanses and simple groves, but because
this was the only possible method of treating the
ground. They were so used, however, as to produce
the same effect upon the imagination as broad pas-
toral scenes. The small spaces are distributed
through the park in such a way that they carry for-

288 Landscape Architecture

ward and emphasize the softness and simplicity of the
meadow scenery. Even the Ramble, which is char-
acterized by intricacy and picturesqueness and where
there are places which have all the mysterious charm
of a natural wildwood, there are many little grassy
openings bordered with trees which repeat the
meadows in a small way and carry the idea of pastoral
quiet throughout the work. Indeed, the great value
of Central Park is that it is a work with unity of
design and that it is consistent throughout, and it
still remains the best, as it was the first example of a
pleasure ground designed to have the restful charm
of natural scenery and yet completely enclosed by a
compactly built city... .

“<Truly,’ says an English writer, ‘the transforma-
tion of a tract of swamp and rock into one of the most
beautiful parks in the world is a striking monument
of American skill and perseverance.’ It is more than
that, it is a work of genius, and the more it is studied,
the more we wonder at the prophetic power of the
designers in providing so far in advance for the wants
of a city, which only existed at the time in imagina-
tion. Whenever any radical change in this design
is proposed, the project should always be examined
with reference to its effect on the fundamental charac-
ter of the work as a whole. It is just as truly a
unit in conception as if it consisted of one broad
meadow.”’*

* Garden and Forest, William A. Stiles, New York Park Commis-
sioner.

Public Parks 289

There are other elements yet to be considered; but
those already classified and assigned to various quarters
of the site, contribute directly to the general and char-
acteristic purpose of the park and are therefore to be
distinguished as its essential elements.

After studying the essential artistic elements, es-
pecially the poetic elements that mark and emphasize
the difference between a playground, a farm, a field,
and a park, we find these authors (Olmsted and Vaux)’
writing in illuminating phrase and warning against the
employment in parks of features which, though possess-
ing a value of their own, do not contribute to, much less
enhance, their characteristic beauty:

“Accessory elements by which walking, riding,
driving, resting, eating, and drinking are facilitated,
were also to be required in the design of the park,
in so far as they would be instruments necessary to
be used to obtain the benefit of its essential elements.

“But if people were allowed to straggle at will any-
where upon the ground and if provision were made
for their doing so comfortably and with cleanliness,
all the ground would need to be specially prepared
for the purpose; there would be no turf and no trees
upon it, and it would afford no relief from the city.
It will thus be seen that these accessory elements of
the park are admissible only where and so far as the
advantages they offer make its essential elements
available, and compensate for any curtailment

their introduction may involve in these essential
19

290 Landscape Architecture

elements. They are desirable so far as they aid the
essential elements in inviting the observer to rest or
move forward in one way or another, as shall most
conduce to his recreation. They are undesirable in so
far as they tend to weaken, divide, blot, or make
patchwork of the essential features of the natural
landscape.

“The first consideration, then, in a truly critical
study of the size, form, and place in the park of any
required construction for the accommodation of vis-
itors was originally, and always should be, that the
degree of display which may be allowed in it should
correspond, as nearly as other considerations will
permit, with the importance of the need it is designed
to meet: this being measured not only by its average
value to each user, but with regard also to the number
of those who will have occasion to use it.””

Bridges in landscape gardening are in reality what
Olmsted and Vaux term an accessory, and not an essen-
tial artistic necessity of the landscape design. As a
feature of the landscape, their artistic necessity is not
felt when compared with the elements of trees, shrubs,
water and grass spaces;—but the accessory of first im-
portance is the passageways that lead the observer to
the different views of the landscape picture, and the
bridge forms part of these passageways. There is no
question, however, that more than most other accesso-
ries in the landscape, the bridge may be so used as to
give a charm and variety which may be kept in harmony

Public Parks 291

with the general scheme. The general features of its
construction should be therefore blended largely with
foliage, retaining the pervading idea of natural effect.
But the fact that it is a bridge for people to use in pass-
ing that way, makes it important that it shall be safe
and comfortable. For the same reason the bridge struc-
ture should be quite visible. Hence its location, form,
and material of construction become important. It
may consist of stepping-stones, of one solid arch, or of a
series of arches. There may be many forms, but they
should be as simple as possible and as unobtrusive:
lines, proportions, all seemly and graceful, yet with
as little pretension to architectural display as may be.
It is naturally chiefly a question of choosing material
fitted ‘to special conditions, and usually, almost in-
variably, stone of rustic character is to be preferred for
bridges in the midst of a landscape, but it might readily
be that some spot would suggest the use of wood or even
iron. Central Park has in its Bow Bridge a light iron
structure of such grace that its loss would be irreparable
(see illustration). Artificial stone or cement in any
form or mixture should be barred. In the midst of
trees and foliage its unnatural appearance is specially
objectionable.

The entrance and exit of a bridge should be clothed
and screened with foliage and above the shrubs should
tower some large trees to emphasize the effect of coming
on to the structure. Sometimes Lombardy poplars in ©
clusters are effective in such places. The bridge should
emerge from the foliage with a certain distinction and

292 Landscape Architecture

yet not obtrusively. The exact point of the course of
the stream or arm of lake chosen for the location of the
bridge should be carefully selected and the height and
conspicuousness of the bridge adjusted to the landscape.
Thomas Whately has written perhaps better than any
one else on these and other points in relation to bridges:

“The form of a lake, on the contrary, intimates
that all the several shores are, by making a certain
circuit, accessible. Bridges therefore are inconsistent
with the nature of a lake, but characteristic of a river:
they are on that account used to disguise a termina-
tion; but the deception has been so often practised,
that it no longer deceives; and a bolder aim at the
same effect will now be more successful. If the end
can be turned just out of sight, a bridge at some dis-
tance raises a belief, while the water beyond it re-
moves every doubt of the continuation of the river,
and the supposition immediately occurs, that if a dis-
guise had been intended the bridge would have been
placed farther back, and the disregard thus shown to
one deception gains credence for the other.

“To give bridges their full effect, the connexion
between them and the river must be attended to:
from the want of it, the single wooden arch, now
much in fashion, seems to us generally misplaced.
Elevated without occasion so much above, it is totally
detached from the river; it is often seen straddling in
the air, without a glimpse of the water to account for
it; and the ostentation of it as an ornamental object

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“AWD MIOQ MAN “reg eyes UL OYL'T OY} JOAO aS8plig Mog ayy,

Public Parks 293

diverts all the train of ideas which its use as a com-
munication might suggest. The vastness of Walton
Bridge cannot without affectation be mimicked in a
garden, where the magnificent idea of including the
Thames under one arch is wanting, and where the
structure itself, reduced to a narrow scale, retains no
pretension to greatness. Unless the situation makes
such a height necessary; or the point of view be
greatly above it, or wood or rising ground, instead
of sky behind it, fill up the vacancy of the arch, it
seems an effort without a cause, forced and prepos-
terous.

“A gentle rise and easy sweep more closely preserve
the relation. A certain degree of union should also
exist between the banks and the bridge that it may
seem to rise out of the banks, and not barely to be im-
posed upon them. It ought generally to swell much
above their level; the parapet wall should be brought
down near to the ground, or end against some swell,
and the size and the uniformity of the abutments
should be broken by hillocks or thickets about them:
—every expedient should be used to mark the connex-
ion of the bridge both with the ground from which it
starts, and the water which it crosses.’’*

The two views of the Boulder or Huddlestone Bridge
should perhaps have been included in the chapter on
Rocks, but they are so characteristic of the rugged wild
scenery of the part of Central Park where they have

* Thomas Whately, Observations on Modern Gardening.

204 Landscape Architecture

been employed that they have been used as illustrations
of a park feature.

With the exception of the rough archaic arch that
forms the bridge, the whole picture of its south side
might be that of a cataclysm of nature. If the illus-
trations are carefully examined it will be seen that before
bringing these stones together there has been careful
_study given to their selection and the way they would
naturally come together under the impelling force of the
elements brought to bear on them year after year.

But there are other features pertaining to a park or
an estate that are more evidently accessories and there-
fore need intelligent adjustment, or, in some cases, for
various reasons, abandonment.

The names of these features are numerous; a few of
them are statues, busts, memorials of all kinds including
tablets let into the rock, museums, libraries, bandstands
of a permanent character, stadiums, restaurants (no
strong liquors should be sold in a park on account of
the women and children if for no other reason), merry-
go-rounds, playgrounds, games of all kinds.

These things mar the harmony and injure the turf
and produce a disturbance of the mind that lessens the
pastoral and other sylvan charms of the park. It should
be remembered also that important as it is that children
should have all reasonable opportunity to amuse them-
selves in the park, yet as there are adults as well as
young people who have the right to enjoy the scenery,
their ‘due and privilege’ should not be neglected.
The remedy for the temptation to overcrowd the park

Public Parks 295

with games for children and adults is the construction
elsewhere of children’s playgrounds and athletic fields
on special reservations of their own. This has been
done in Brooklyn, New York, with great success, en-
tirely outside of the boundaries of Prospect Park.

Every one of the objects named, with many things of
a similar type, should be barred from the park. If it
were found absolutely necessary to have any such
structures in the park, they might better be placed
beneath the surface of the ground in a subterranean
hall.

It may be conceded that there is another class of
artificial structures that should find a place in the park,
and that is architecture on the borders. A wall or fence
or some boundary treatment should surround every
park. A park boundary barrier, however, should havea
simple, unobtrusive character and be made as low as
safety will permit, but to preserve this character no
special ornaments, such as statues or urns, should be
inserted in the wall: a plain tablet with names carved on
it might appear just at or about the entrance. On the
plazas opposite the park entrances, fountains, statues,
and other architectural and sculptural structures may
properly find a place if they are not allowed to dominate
the neighbouring park scenery. Gates and architectural
adornment of the actual park entrances are ‘not likely
to be altogether satisfactory, and, as a matter of fact,
have hardly ever been designed successfully. Unless
the architecture is extremely modest, it will insist on
imposing too dominant and alien an influence for the

2096 Landscape Architecture

poetic or pastoral character which should be evident in
the park, even from outside of the entrance.

The question of museums in the park is discussed by
Park Commissioner W. A. Stiles, one of the most en-
lightened officials who has ever written on the subject:

‘All this (employment of museums) is very attrac-

tive, and not impracticable. But when Mr. H
declares that a public park does not fulfil its highest
function until it develops into a vast and multi-
tudinous museum for popular instruction he plainly
ignores the specific purpose for which pleasure
grounds like Central Park have been created. Indeed
one may read Mr. H

’s article attentively and fail
to discover whether he has ever cared to inform him-
self precisely what that purpose is. The fact is that
in popular language there is no well-defined group of
ideas suggested by the word park, and it is applied to
areas of ground which are used for the most varied
and incongruous purposes. To one man it means a
baseball field, to another a military parade ground, to
a third a place where race horses are used to facilitate
gambling. Indeed the danger of the assaults on the
integrity of city parks is constant because of the lack
of clear popular conception of their true functions,
and they never will be safe from attacks until their
primary purpose is universally understood, and until
this purpose is admitted to be of sufficient importance
to justify their existence and maintenance.”’*

! Garden and Forest, vol. ii., May 2, 1891.

Public Parks 297

Again the same author says:

“Scenery of a purely pastoral character is no doubt
the most valuable element of a park within the limits
of a great city like New York, for no stronger contrast
to the constrained and artificial conditions of urban
life can be imagined than meadow-like stretches of
greensward which are not fenced in by rigid bounda-
ries but fade away in obscure and shadowy distance.
Broad open landscapes with spacious skies, and the
sense of enlargement and freedom which they bring,
offer the most pleasing contrasts to the hard confine-
ment of city streets with their skyline of roofs and
chimneys; the tranquillizing influence of soft, smooth,
grassy surfaces is an unfailing refreshment from the
wear and weariness, the strain and pressure of city
life, with its strenuous effort and consuming ambition.
The designers of Central Park plainly endeavoured
to embody as much as possible within their limita-
tions, and in a dignified way without resorting to
affectations and deceptions, the quiet, pastoral idea.
Within the narrow area of the park the broadest scope
of open meadow that could be secured was consider-
ably less than thirty acres. But the bordering woods
were so depressed as to leave the boundaries uncer-
tain and mysterious, and the turf was made to flow
into sunny alcoves and about promontories of foliage
until it was lost in hazy shadows which suggested in-
definite extent of the same restful scenery. The view
shown [see p. 197] is taken from a point overlooking the

2098 Landscape Architecture

north meadow near 100th Street on the west side.
The glimpse of distant turf seen under the branches of
the group of trees in the centre of the opening in the
wood border on the left, the skyline of trees in the dis-
tance, all suggest to the imagination a limitless extent
of similar rural conditions. No object meets the eye
of the observer to indicate that there is anything be-

yond but green pastures and tree-flecked meadows.

This is a most beautiful and true description of a
public park as it should be and continue to be, and no
museum or similar alien structure should be allowed a
place within its bounds.

In connexion with the subject of parks, the impor-
tance of civic planning naturally suggests itself. A park
is, in reality, only a part of a civic scheme which should
have a wide extension and give attention to all of the
spiritual, mental, and physical needs of a community
in the largest sense of the term. A city is like a body
and its members. Each part has a definite relation to
the others and a distinct function of its own to perform.
In its truest sense, it is an organism that necessitates a
constant interplay of functions of various kinds. The
park exercises one of these functions, while the streets,
squares, circles, and other features possessing use or
beauty are other members that contribute to the enjoy-
ment and well-being of the community. This adjust-
ment of the existing conditions to the various uses of the
community should be so managed as to recognize the

* Garden and Forest, vol. i., May 9, 1888.

Public Parks 299

valuable legacy of the past, to recognize the needs of
the present and the immediate future and something of
the potentiality of a more distant time and circumstance.
Perhaps the retention of the valuable features is the
most important because it has a definite and deter-
minable value about which there can be no mistake.
Let us not, therefore, lose our hold on the past when we
study our civic designs. Moreover, while modifications
will naturally suggest themselves in view of changed
conditions and requirements, there will still be the
possibility of retaining much of the old features in
conjunction with the new, combined together in one
unified whole. The difficulty with many city planning
designs is that they are not sufficiently conservative
of the old and valuable conditions already existing and
show often indications of a willingness to let go too
readily old-time features. There are, likewise, various
dominant ideas of even contradictory characteristics
which should pervade the whole city plan and co-oper-
ate together to make an ideal extension of the lives of
individuals. It should be remembered that “men do
not forma community . . . merely in so far as the men
co-operate. They form a community . . . when they
not only co-operate, but accompany this co-operation
with the ideal extension of the lives of individuals where-
by each co-operating member says, ‘This activity which
we perform together, this work of ours, its past, its
future, its sequence, its order, its sense,—all these enter

Ris d

into my life, and are the life of my own self writ large.

1 Josiah Royce.

300 Landscape Architecture

Dr. Harald H6ffding thus expresses the idea of how
feeling acts in passing from the old to the new, which
always, consciously or unconsciously, contains more or
less of the old: ‘‘The stream of feeling,” he says, “‘is in
general reluctant to quit the bed that it has worked
for itself. It has accommodated itself to the traditional
ideas, and a time of unrest and discord must be passed
through before it can reaccommodate itself to the new
ideas. During such a time of transition, the two streams
of feeling, the one tending to flow on in the old bed,
the other to expand, have a hard struggle with one
another. Or, to express it more correctly, the tendency
of the old feeling to spread itself over and colour the
whole of consciousness struggles against the same
tendency on the part of the new feeling, for the feelings
that are bound up with tradition have also an expansive
tendency and will always try, if they cannot altogether
crowd out the new feeling, at any rate to colour and
transform it; in extreme cases, where they can maintain
themselves in no other way, the old ideas become trans-
formed in correspondence with the new.”

These remarks, although they are intended to apply
specially to the feelings of an individual, have an even
greater force when predicated of a community. For
instance, the park idea of pastoral restfulness, an old
one, should be extended and transformed in a new way
from the park to the sidewalk and street by means of
intervals of grass space between trees and shrubs all
skilfully associated together. This park idea should be
further extended to the lawns and dooryards of citizens,

Public Parks 301

and a certain amount of formality and regard for con-
venience should, on the other hand, reach over from
the street designs to that of the park as well as the lawn
and dooryard. It should not be confusing to speak of a
whole city as an actual park, or of a great park as, ina
perfectly legitimate sense, the abode of a community,
that is a city developed on comprehensive lines. The
city planner, therefore, should make his standpoint of
design that of the community and thus evolve a com-
prehensive plan that allows due regard to the limitations
of the place and of the residents. On the other hand,
the formality, as understood in common parlance, is
required for its distinctly human quality to take its
proper place in the park and on the street and in the
city lawn or yard. The park idea should pervade the
city everywhere throughout its streets, and particularly
around its residences and public buildings. In other
words, if I may be allowed to repeat the same idea in
other words, a city should be looked upon, if ideally
laid out, as a great public park in which a community
is to live and move and have its being.

The city planner, therefore, should make his stand-
point of design that of the community and thus evolve
for his city a unified artistic creation realizing the ideal
of both the architect and landscape architect. In order
to illustrate the application of these ideas I will venture
to refer to a plan for redesigning an important part of
the city of Washington made in 1900 for the Chief
Engineer of the United States and submitted to the
Speaker of the House of Representatives by the Secre-

302 Landscape Architecture

tary of War.t| The region under consideration in this
plan as designated by the Act of Congress includes
that section of the District of Columbia situated
between B Street S. W., the Capitol, Pennsylvania and
Delaware Avenues, and requires a connexion with the
Zoological Park. It should be specially noticed in this
plan that the original design of Major L’Enfant made
one hundred years ago has been treated with due respect.
Pennsylvania Avenue and all the boundary streets have
been retained in exact accordance with the original
design. Like L’Enfant’s design also the main treat-
ment of drives and lawns is kept on the axis of the
Capitol and Washington Monument. Moreover, by
setting apart the Botanical Garden and the grounds of
the Smithsonian Institute and the Agricultural De-
partment and the space around the White House, an
actual park in the heart of Washington has been already
secured. The design under consideration seeks as far as
possible to retain and improve all this highly developed
and desirable park effect and also seeks to enlarge and
complete it by purchasing the necessary land to extend
it to Pennsylvania Avenue and Delaware Avenue.
Very few cities in the world have such a park develop-
ment as already exists in the Washington of the present
day, which is much of it in a peculiar degree really the
Washington of the past and of L’Enfant’s creation.
The essential and underlying idea of the plan in question
is that in place of a park crisscrossed by traffic streets

t The preparation of this plan was awarded to Samuel Parsons in 1900
by the Chief Engineer of the United States.

The Plan of Park Treatment of the Territory Situated between the Capitol Groun

From

e Washington Monument and Pennsylvania and Delaware Avenues, Washington, D.C.

c's Design.

Public Parks 303

and obstructed here and there by an inferior class of
houses, the plan proposes to retain the half dozen
important public buildings existing and lay out the
grounds around them, or in other words park them.
Broad lawns are arranged for pastoral effects and trees
and shrubs are clustered along the paths and drives and
on the borders of the lawns, and a series of longitudinal
elliptical grass spaces leads the eye of any one stand-
ing in front of the Capitol down over a vista of green
lawns to the Washington Monument.

By the employment of bridges over the transverse
streets the entire territory of park space is brought into
one unified whole, a park unit and yet correlated in the
most intimate way with the neighbouring city. It is
intended that the bridges shall be so screened and
planted in the manner of those of Central Park, New
York, that the sense of the close neighbourhood of the
city shall not be appreciably felt as one wanders through
the park. It is also proposed that in future all public
buildings for the United States or the District of Colum-
bia that may be erected here shall be kept strictly out
of the main area of the park, and disposed along the bor-
ders of Pennsylvania and Delaware Avenues. It is not
claimed that this arrangement of a great park in the
heart of Washington City is entirely ideal, but simply
that it does recognize and treat with due respect the
original plan of L’Enfant, taking in consideration the
needs and tastes of the present and future generations.
Moreover, it may be said also that the admirable system
of tree planting adopted long years ago on the streets of

304 Dandscape Architecture

Washington has given the city the appearance of a
somewhat formal park, and this feature with the con-
siderable lawns and dooryards of the citizens adorned
with grass and shrubs and flowers helps to extend the
park idea.

The main and most important principle, therefore, of
city planning, to repeat in another form what has been
already discussed, is for both architect and landscape
architect to remember that, in the case of such work,
they are designing for a community of various members
having various needs and desires, and that they should
always consider well traditions and peculiar inherited
conditions. They should not design for individuals, or
even groups of individuals, but for the whole community
understood in the broadest and best sense of the term.

XVI
CHOICE TREES AND SHRUBS

LTHOUGH it may seem to be a truism the
reiteration of which is hardly necessary, it is
well to keep in mind from the very start in

this chapter that the problem of the proper use of plants
varies with every spot where work is undertaken, and
that the hardiness of trees and shrubs and fertility of
soils will always be found relative to varying conditions.

Having emphasized these limitations, it has been
deemed a good idea to bring together some notes on
the peculiarities of certain choice trees and shrubs and
flowers and suggestions as to their treatment. In
doing this, ideas and facts may be set forth which
will be familiar to many and yet it is believed they may
possess a decided value for others.

It is important, first of all, to warn lawn planters not
to make a museum of their lawns. Many trees and
shrubs, and particularly perennials, or wild flowers,
are interesting botanically and horticulturally, and
yet do not count for much in the landscape picture,
and are not specially controlling in the general effect.
They, of course, may be used in their proper place duly

20 305

306 Landscape Architecture

related to their more important neighbours, but to have
too many of them, or to locate them improperly, works
often great injury to the picture and mars, in various
ways, its harmony. The following remarks, therefore,
will bear chiefly on this fitness of a plant for a landscape
picture both in appearance and general habit.

To follow the seasons and make each one interesting
as it comes forward in turn will always have much
value for many people. One of the earliest things to
come in leaf and flower is the willow, and as a lawn
plant it has many good qualities. It will live and
thrive in almost any soil, especially a wet one. The
fresh-looking flowers it bears in early spring are always
a kind of revelation or forestate of good things to come.
Not all willows are of equal value in lawn planting
‘although there are numerous species and varieties.
The difficulty with the willows is that they are liable
to become naked and bare of foliage as they grow older,
and like most soft wooded trees their beauty is apt to be
short lived. One of the best willows for its retention
of beauty, bushiness, and general health is the common
white willow, Salix alba. It is superior for this reason
to the red-stemmed willow and the yellow, Salix vitellina
aurea, and especially the weeping willow, Salix baby-
lonica. The latter grows often into a fine tree with
great spreading branches, but it is brittle and suffers
much from ice storms, which, helped by windstorms,
generally succeed eventually in destroying it. There
seems to be little reason for using this willow along
watersides. Its drooping habit is not specially attrac-

Choice Trees and Sbrubs 307

tive, being stringy and wanting in fulness. It is
generally considered a sad-looking tree, suitable for
graveyards and pools of water, why it would be hard
to explain. The pussy willow (Salix caprea) is a fine
bushy kind. It is important to remember that the
members of the willow family need pruning strongly in
order to keep them in good shape.

Other rapid-growing trees for the spring lawn are
poplars, the oriental plane tree, alders, birches, and the
forsythias, fortuni and viridissima. The latter kinds
are excellent shrubs, blooming early with abundant
yellow flowers and keeping a rich, compact, and in the
case of Forsythia viridissima a graceful foliage through-
out the summer and autumn. The viridissima looks
well on the borders of shrub groups, because its branches
droop close to the ground. There is another shrub,
Berberis thunbergt, that is compact, of vigorous growth,
and fine throughout the season with its glossy foliage,
summer flowers, and autumn colour. It is one of the
best shrubs for the lawn. Its relative, the common
barberry, is also an excellent shrub, fine in masses with
its bright flowers and fruit. The Spirea thunbergi is
perhaps the prettiest of spireas with its light-coloured
graceful foliage, early white flowers in great masses,
and its lovely autumn colour.

The horse-chestnut is fine in May with its fresh
green foliage and large white or red trusses of bloom,
but later on in July it is apt to lose its leaves and look
forlorn for the rest of the season. Hawthorns belong
to spring, and the most celebrated and beautiful in

308 Landscape Architecture

flower is the English variety (Crategus oxycantha) with
its white or scarlet flowers, but this species is liable
to blight in America and does not equal in beauty of
foliage and size and brilliancy of fruit the numerous
American species among which are the well-known
cockspur (Crus galli) and coccinea kinds. These
thorns are gems of beauty and of varied individuality;
no soil or exposure seems too adverse for them. San
José scale is an insect pest that troubles the American
hawthorns as well as the English, but a little care
will readily conquer it. The same may be said of the
Japan quince and the flowering apple and peach and
plum and almond. They are all most lovely in spring
but are all liable to San José scale.

Magnolias make one of the choicest denizens of the
lawn but are hard to transplant. One of the sights of
Central Park, New York, is a large tree, a Chinese
magnolia (M. conspicua), a perfect cloud of white
bloom, with as yet no leaves, in the midst of a snow-
storm in April.

But after spring come the summer effects, which
really commence in May and linger on through the first
and second weeks of June and later. This is the season
of roses and with a little care they are beautiful, but
with pruning at frequent intervals and also cultivating
with plenty of manure and mulch, making a light mellow
soil containing plenty of humus, they are unsurpassed
for beauty. There are the climbing Wichuriana hybrids
on the wall in mid-June and the regular June roses
blooming freely once only such as the General Jacque-

Choice Trees and Sbrubs 309

minot and similar kinds, and last and most important
the ever-blooming roses, the hybrid teas, which flower
repeatedly in the utmost profusion all summer until
frost. A bed of these hybrid tea roses properly
managed is a wonderful sight.

There is another summer rose blooming in late June
and July, the prairie rose (R. setigera), already men-
tioned, that is very lovely in flower with small pink and
white petals hanging in clusters. It is comparatively
free from disease and grows to great size under the most
unpropitious circumstances. The Japan rose (R. ru-
gosa) is a shrub which has rich green foliage and large
red and white flowers, and thrives on the seashore, and
in autumn has large red fruit likesmallapples. It needs
to be sharply pruned every year to keep it from becom-
ing ragged and devoid of leaves.

If a general consensus of opinion were obtained among
those who love and know something about flowers, I
think the rhododendrons would, after roses, be declared
most popular. Their rich dark evergreen foliage with
red and purple and white trusses of flowers cannot be
surpassed for massive and impressive beauty. The
rhododendron is king of flowers as the rose is queen.
Nevertheless they have their drawbacks, especially in
this climate. Sometimes the spring hot suns and cold
nights brown and even destroy the leaves. Even
then the plant is seldom killed, only rendered unsightly
for a time, and retarded in its growth. Usually it will
be found in such cases that it has been weakened by
disease or drought. A few of the best kinds that have

310 Landscape Architecture

proved hardy after many years of trial are as follows:
Abraham Lincoln, rosy crimson, Album elegans, light
blush fading white, Boule de Neige, white, dwarf, and
very hardy, Atrosanguineum, blood red, Charles Dickens,
dark scarlet, Charles S. Sargent, rich crimson, Charles
Bagley, cherry red, Everestianum, rosy lilac, best and
hardiest habit, General Grant, rosy scarlet, Kettledrum,
tich purplish or crimson, bushy, excellent form, and
very hardy, Lady Armstrong, pale rose, Lee’s dark
purple, Mrs. Milner, rich crimson, Old Port, rich plum
colour, Purpureum elegans, Parsons grandiflorum, and
Sefton, dark maroon. There are, however, others
besides these kinds that are desirable for hardiness and
beauty.

Of the hybrid tea, the ever-blooming roses, the
following varieties ought to be mentioned as reliable
and excellent, namely: Caroline Testout, bright satiny
Tose, Etoile de France, velvety crimson, large double,
General MacArthur, large bright crimson, Gruss an
Teplitz, bright rich scarlet, free bloomer, La France,
clear silvery pink, large and full, Madam Abel Chatenay,
carmine rose shaded with salmon, Madam Jules Grolez,
bright China rose, Madam Cochet, deep rose pink,
beautiful in bud and flower, Countess of Shaftesbury,
silvery carmine, Juliet, vermilion red, reverse of petals,
old gold, Bessie Brown, creamy white, Kaiserin Augusta
Victoria, cream shaded lemon, Melanie Soupert, pale
yellow, suffused carmine, Duchess of Portland, pale
sulphur yellow, Richmond, bright, light crimson, Mil-
dred Grant, creamy white, Dean Hole, pale silvery rose,

Choice Trees and Sbrubs art

deeper shaded on yellow ground, Arthur R. Goodwin,
coppery orange red, Chateau de Clos-Vougeot, velvety
scarlet, Duchess of Wellington, intense saffron yellow
stained with crimson, Edward Mawley, velvety crim-
son, Entente Cordiale, capucine red with wide yellow
base, and Farben K6nigin, imperial pink or salmon
pink.

The azaleas are a charming family and do not receive
as much attention as they deserve. They are, more-
over, hardy, except the showy Azalea mollis whose un-
satisfactory behaviour after cold winters has given the
entire family a bad name. The colours vary between
brick red, orange, and yellow white, while rhododendrons
show white and purple and red and crimson, having a
decidedly different key of colour. There are many
species and varieties of azaleas but the best of them
are native American species, especially A. calendulacea
or lutea, and the A. ponticum, crossed with the calen-
dulacea, which are always hardy and fine, while some of
the varieties containing ponticum alone or mixed with
tender kinds are not so hardy. These azaleas are all
deciduous. Japan has given us some good kinds such
as the deciduous form, Azalea ledefolia narcissifiora
a mauve type and very hardy, and the evergreen Azalea
amena with glossy foliage and masses of deep red
small flowers. The last is very beautiful, but occasion-
ally it is touched with frost, though rarely killed.
Azalea kaempferi is hardy and bears a fine red flower.
The deciduous azaleas look well in the woods in nooks
and corners where the shade is not too deep. Rho-

312 Landscape Architecture

dodendrons like similar places and in fact should be
planted .underneath or with a background of trees.
If the trees are planted at the same time as the rhodo-
dendrons or azaleas the latter will do well, because
everything can then grow up together. To plant them
under old trees in dense shade where roots already
occupy the ground and take up the moisture and fertil-
ity and to expect them to thrive is asking too much of
any plant. The best soil for rhododendrons and
azaleas is mellow loam with plenty of humus in it to
retain moisture and lend fertility. If the soil is sandy
with hard-pan, it should be well cultivated and some
soil richer in clay and humus added to it; if it is a stiff
clay it will doubtless need a good deal of sand. To the
improper preparation of the soil of rhododendron and
azalea beds may be attributed much of the failure of
the plants.

Of all the members of the rhododendron family
the best in the judgment of high authorities is the
Kalmia latifolia, commonly called the mountain laurel.
The splendid mass of the pinkish white flowers with the
evergreen foliage make a most impressive combination;
and the formation of the flower and the truss has an
exquisite finish and elegance that should not be over-
looked, and the colouring is delicate and lovely. There
is nothing of its kind quite equal to the sight at the
great Arnold Arboretum near Boston where thousands
of kalmias or mountain laurels cluster in a glade and
run up among the trees of a great hemlock-covered
hillside..

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Choice Trees and Sbrubs 313

There are many kinds of evergreen-leaved shrubs
described in nurserymen’s catalogues that are hardly
to be depended on except in favourably situated spots,
spots that are really quite difficult to find. In this
country, evergreen trees and shrubs do not, as a rule,
thrive as well as in England or in many parts of the
Continent; but on the other hand, deciduous trees and
shrubs thrive better here than in Europe. The decid-
uous shrubs bloom more freely and many trees and
shrubs grow with more vigour and persistence, soil and
other conditions being equal. We have been prone in
the past to model our horticulture too much on that of
Europe, forgetting how different the conditions are here
from those abroad.

The glory of June and summer is the purple and
golden leaved tree. The purple beeches, the purple
maples, the golden oaks, the many-coloured Japanese
maples, one type of which is well named polymorphum
—all of these plants are rich and glowing with colour
and their beauty on the lawn cannot be denied. Some
abnormally coloured leaved trees have been referred
to in the chapter on Plantations. These naturally
need avoiding. The most delicate and charming of
all summer or spring trees, the white birch, should be
considered here in more detail. Its beauty is not easy
to establish. The transplanting is difficult and can
only be. done successfully at one season of the year,
unless by chance, namely in April just as the young
leaves are pushing out. Even then it is necessary for
success that the birch be young and recently trans-

314 Landscape Architecture

planted so that it may have plenty of fibrous roots.
The weeping cut-leaved form is the best variety for
the lawn, its stem is so white.

June is the month of flowers. Later in midsummer,
few blooms appear. There are the scarlet rambler
roses and Rosa setigera or the prairie rose, and at this
season, also, blooms one of the finest of all half trees
or shrubs, andromeda, or Oxydendron arboreum, the
sorrel tree. Its flowers are great white tassels like the
plume on a helmet and the foliage is a rich glossy green.
It grows slowly like the dogwood at first, but eventually
it attains great size. This recalls the fact that the dog-
woods have not been noticed. They are specially
beautiful in summer after their spring bloom has
passed. The foliage is fine and so are the branches,
and they are fine at any age even whenaruin. Itisa
fact, when you come to think of it, there is no deciduous
shrub of such great, as well as lasting, beauty to be
found on the lawn, not even the andromeda. It is,
however, shy in transplanting and takes some time to
establish itself.

There is after all so much personality and individual-
ity in plants that one never knows how to take them.
They develop such queer freaks and odd divergence
from ordinary habits. Dogwoods form an instance in
point. Sometimes they will get away and grow at once
after transplanting in spite of the fact that they are.
naturally slow in starting, so much so that dry weather
and other.causes kill many of them in the very beginning.
It is often as hard to diagnose the troubles of plants

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Choice Trees and Sbrubs 315

as those of human beings. A rhododendron in good
health usually termed hardy, will die and nearby a kind
considered tender will survive. These surprises occur
frequently with trees and shrubs and should not dis-
courage any one. The dogwood, the birch, and the
rhododendron are notable instances of the vagaries of
plant nature.

The Virgilia lutea (Cladrastis tinctoria), the yellow-
wood, is a beautiful tree in midsummer with its smooth
bark like a beech and graceful branches bearing long
racemes of sweet-scented, white wistaria-like flowers in
June. Not unlike the Virgilia lutea, especially in its
leguminous character, is the laburnum or golden chain.
It is perfectly hardy, and though seldom seen in this
country, is a favourite in Europe. Francis Thompson
writes:

Mark yonder how the long laburnum drips
Its jocund spilth of fire, its honey of wild flame.

The catalpa has some good qualities for summer
besides its rapid growth, which is sometimes an injury
to it. The flowers are white and large and make a
show in June. It is not a first-class shade tree any
more than the silver maple, poplar, ailanthus (in some
respects the toughest and finest of trees, barring the
odour), the weeping willows, and the American ash.
The beech is the shade tree par excellence for the lawn,
but not for the street. Its unsurpassed beauty may
not be gainsaid. The trunk and bark are wonderful,
and the foliage is equally fine, especially the purple

316 Landscape Architecture

variety. A beech tree, in its prime, fifty or more years
old, makes a feature on the lawn of inestimable value.
Money value can hardly express it. Two or three such
specimens will make an otherwise somewhat ordinary
place a great and distinguished estate. The beeches are
hard to transplant and slow of growth in youth, but they
are well worth the trouble of establishing. The Kolreu-
teria paniculata (varnish tree) is fine in summer,has been
long known, and but little used. Its showy panicles of
yellow flowers are very welcome in July and it is hardy.

Of all native trees there is hardly any one that quite
equals the tulip. To hear Henry Ward Beecher praise
it—for he knew and loved trees—was a treat, es-
pecially to hear his grand voice roll out with sonorous
accents its botanical name, Liriodendron tulipifera.
The tulip makes a lofty tree with a fine stem and lovely
foliage both in shape and colour, really quite curious in
its way, and in June the yellow flowers nestle attractively
among the leaves. It is not an easy tree to transplant,
having fleshy roots somewhat like the magnolia: it
should always be set out in the spring, not in the fall.
The oriental plane is a notable tree in summer with its
lofty form and thick spreading foliage. There are
more beautiful trees but few that endure so well difficult
conditions, especially in cities, or that grow faster and
at the same time keep their beauty better in mature
years, and they are not, moreover, difficult to trans-
plant. It is a mistake to condemn any class of hardy
trees, for they all have their value. Even poplars, whose
beauty is apt to be short-lived unless skilfully pruned,

Choice Trees and Sbrubs 317

have in some cases a decided advantage of their own.
The Lombardy poplar, or better still the white-stemmed
form (Populus alba Bolleana), with its narrow pyra-
midal growth has a distinct value for its colour as well
as shape in the landscape, rising from the midst of other
foliage. Employed as it often is, singly, or in lines,
alongside a building, or in hedge effects bounding a
garden or roadway, it is not satisfactory. The lower
portions are, doubtless, apt to become unsightly, but
a little pruning, intelligently and occasionally applied,
will enable its towering form to show out from the
general mass of foliage on the lawn for many years in
the most attractive manner.

Something should be said for the oaks, for much can
be said against them on account of their slow growth
and generally crooked stems and tendency to failure
in transplanting. All this may be said, and yet after
all there is no family like the oaks. They are kings
among northern trees. There is the white oak!
What is there among trees like some specimens to be
seen along roadsides throughout the country? Summer
and autumn and winter all the oaks stand for the very
ideal of strength and beauty, white oak, red oak, scarlet
oak, pin oak, black oak, willow oak. They should be
seen to appreciate them, for instance in Flushing, Long
Island, near New York, the home of fine trees, where
some of the avenues are lined with oaks. Look at those
great pin oaks on Bowne Avenue, fifty or sixty feet high,
with drooping shining foliage and trunks like masts of
a ship black with age.

318 Landscape Architecture

Another great tree for summer is the linden, the
European linden in its various forms; the American
linden or the basswood being a much inferior tree.
The sweet-scented flowers and the deep shadowing
foliage make it perhaps the most grateful shade tree
in summer except the beech and Norway maple. The
best three forms are the yellowish red kinds (Tilia
dasystyla) and a specially drooping form, T. petiolaris,
and the silver-leaved linden (T. argentea or tomentosa),
which is the hardiest and most distinct of all. Nothing
can be finer however, in its way, than a large tree of
the old-fashioned linden (JT. petiolaris). It should be
remembered that the linden will not bear as much
hardship as the Norway maple and certain other kinds
of shade trees. The silver linden is the hardiest of the
family.

What shall be said of the elms, American and English,
both quite distinct in appearance as though they were
not of the same genus? The American elm with its
arching, Gothic form is quite familiar, for it may be
seen everywhere in America, and the streets of the
towns and cities of New England are greatly dignified
by its presence. Of late years, however, the American
elm has gained a bad name on account of the borers and
other insects that infest it. This is no reason for giving
up planting it, because horticulturists have learned to
control these pests with a little care and skill. The old
trees are hard to clean because they are so large, and
there are also many of them so old as to be at the end
of their natural careers, consequently it is no wonder

Choice Trees and Shrubs 319

they are dying in many old New England towns. The
trouble is that nothing will quite take the place of the
American elm. The wine-cup form is quite unique.
It is to be hoped the use of the American elm will not
pass away.

The English elm is very hardy and stands all sorts
of difficult exposures, especially on the seashore and in
cities. For instance, it suits the streets of Boston
better than almost any other tree. It is not as beauti-
ful as the linden and maple or even the American elm,
but the massive dark green foliage is fine and the tree
grows to great size and age. Its growth is quite rapid.

There is a tree, the ginkgo, which is so unique and
excellent that it demands a few moments’ attention. It
is a strange looking tree. It might have come from
another planet. Indeed, it is one of the oldest trees
on earth, having been found in one of the lowest strata
where fossil plant life appears. There is but one species
and one variety and it is found native in the region of
Northern China. The leaves are fan-shaped and weird
and eastern looking. It is, moreover, hardy and free
from disease to an extent that can scarcely be said of
any other tree. The cones grow on the branches in a
curious way, but it seldom fruits and then only if it
stands near a female tree of the same kind, for it is
dizcious. The great arms of these trees thrust them-
selves in the sky in strange fashion and yet some of the
most notable specimens in America, in front of the
Smithsonian Institute in Washington, District of
Columbia, are broad and massive. The forms it as-

320 Landscape Architecture

sumes are myriad, and it is only apt to grow well after
it is about ten years old. It is not a good shade tree.
Its transplanting qualities are excellent.

Another tree of many interesting qualities is the
deciduous cypress. Its form is picturesque as well as
symmetrical. Delicate foliage and erect carriage give
it dignity and elegance. There is a variety of it, the
Chinese cypress (wrongly so-called, as it is a form of
the American deciduous cypress), which is particularly
refined and elegant. This tree naturally likes low wet
ground, although it will grow well on high land. Fine
specimens may be seen on the streets of Flushing,
Long Island, on ordinary high land. One drawback it
has, that of putting out its foliage very late in spring,
as late as the middle of May.

The mountain-ash is a fine tree bearing beautiful
berries. It is of moderate size and classes in that re-
spect with the white birch. The Sophora japonica (the
Japanese pagoda tree) is little used although it is ex-
cellent, and perfectly hardy, bearing quantities of yel-
low flowers in June in the midst of attractive foliage.

There are a few shrubs that have not been touched on
which are well suited for summer bloom on the lawn.
Very hardy and picturesque is the Aralia pentaphylla.
It is somewhat low and compact in growth and al-
together much superior to the Aralia japonica, the
angelica tree from Japan, sometimes known as the
devil’s walking-stick, a great awkward, aggressive-look-
ing object with large, ragged, tropical-looking foliage.
The angelica tree is perfectly hardy, but so coarse

Choice Trees and Sbrubs 321

looking that there are few places where it is acceptable.
Some of the buddleias are fine and suited for summer
effect, especially the variety Buddleia veitchti. The
callicarpa is a good summer flowering shrub and so
is the sweet-scented shrub calycanthus; and Chionan-
thus virginica is tall with fine, large, deep green foliage
with fragrant, drooping, open clusters of white flowers,
lace-like in appearance, hence its name, white fringe
tree. The weigelas or diervillas make fine summer
shrubs, especially Weigela lavallee, bearing deep crim-
son flowers all through the summer; of the same type
is the bloom of the weigela, Eva Ratke, whose great
masses of deep crimson make a rich effect in the summer.

The Elzagnus family is worth growing because it is
so vigorous and has such silvery shades on the under
sides of the leaves. It is called the silver-thorn or the
oleaster, and although somewhat coarse, its great vigour
and hardiness make it valuable for the lawn. The
Eleagnus longipes is the best kind and is notable for
its profusion of red berries in August and edible fruit
in autumn. The rose of Sharon, althea or hibiscus,
has its value for its brilliant midsummer flowering.
The plant is vigorous and hardy and easily trans-
planted, but it is coarse and stiff looking in habit.
Potentilla fruticosa, shrubby cinquefoil, bears on its low
form bright yellow flowers in summer among narrow
fuzzy leaves. The mock oranges (Philadelphus) are
excellent shrubs, large, vigorous, and healthy, bearing
showy flowers, somewhat like those of the orange;
Philadelphus grandiflora and Philadelphus coronarius

322 Landscape Architecture

are two of the best kinds. Rhamnus catharticus, the
buckthorn, is very hardy and suited to places where it
is likely to have bad usage. It has good foliage and red
berries in summer, turning black. Rhamnus frangula
is, perhaps, the best species of the genus.

St. John’s-wort, the hypericum, a July flowering
shrub, is quite low in size with quanities of bright
yellow flowers and compact foliage. The largest flower
is, perhaps, that of Hypericum moserianum and the best
kind Hypericum kalmianum. Kerria japonica, the globe
flower, is another good summer blooming shrub. It is
dwarf with bright yellow flowers and green branches.
It is hardy, pretty, and rather refined. Rhodotypus
kerrioides is a valuable shrub from Japan. The foliage
is of a specially fresh and light green colour, making
an excellent contrast to that of most other shrubs,
and after all it is the foliage that counts; thé flowers
last such a comparatively short time. The flowers
of the Rhodotypus are not specially conspicuous and
the black berries are borne all winter. Rubus odoratus,
the flowering raspberry, is pretty all summer with its
clusters of beautiful pink or purple fragrant blossoms.

The spireeas are a numerous family and apt to look
a little weedy on the lawn. Spirea Anthony Waterer
is one of the latest varieties, bearing bright-coloured
flowers nearly all summer. Spireas bumaldt, callosa,
billardit, and douglasi all have red flowers, most all
summer, and even though the flowers are gone, the
delicate light green foliage of Spirea thunbergit makes
it a fine summer shrub. Symphoricarpus vulgaris

Choice Trees and Sbrubs 323

(coral berry) is a humble little shrub, but it is useful
with its red and yellow berries all summer in connexion
with larger shrubs.

Stuartia pentagynia is a lovely shrub that is little
known and not quite hardy in the Middle States. The
flowers are strikingly large, of pearly whiteness, with
orange-coloured anthers. The leaves are a bright rich
green, reddish beneath. The whole shrub looks not
unlike a camelia. Styrax japonica has a little the
appearance of the dogwood, only its habit is not as
good; it is, however, hardy, the flowers are pure white,
bell-shaped, and arranged in pendulous groups, and
bloom in May and early June.

The lilacs are the glory of spring. Few flowers are
so popular both for odour and colour, and the foliage is
massive and green throughout the summer and is
specially suited to the garden. There are a number of
tamarisks, both erect and spreading; some of them
are naturally hardier than others. They all belong
in exposed places near the shore or the brink of some
feature of water, or in the seams of or near by rocks.
They are wild looking and odd and graceful and bear
bright red flowers in summer mingled with light
feathery foliage. The tamarisk does not group well
with other shrubs and should, therefore, be kept some-
what by itself. The best kinds are Tamarisk africana,
Tamarisk gallica, Tamarisk germanica, and Tamarisk
indica, and, perhaps, the hardiest and most generally
useful is Tamarisk africana.

The snowballs (viburnums) are an important family

324 Landscape Architecture

and include many species and varieties most valuable
for grouping with other shrubs on the lawn. Their
appearance is varied. The large-sized flowers of Vi-
burnum plicatum, the well-known Japanese form, are
much like Viburnum tomentosum, only the latter is
more bushy, with less showy flowers, while on the other
hand, the native Viburnum acerifolium, Viburnum
cassinoides, and Viburnum dentatum are beautiful
and valuable for their foliage, but not as much for their
flowers, and they are different in almost every way from
the Japanese or Chinese kinds, plicatum, dilatatum, and
macrocephalum, while Viburnum lentago and Viburnum
lantana are each beautiful in their way. The Viburnum
oxycoccus, or opulus, and opulus sterilis have beautiful
large white flowers, and in the case of the first, splen-
did red fruit in autumn. Viburnum steboldii—if you
have ever seen it, you have beheld the finest of the
family. When mature, it is almost a tree, and has
splendid large thick glossy foliage not easily described.
The flowers are white and grow in more or less erect
open clusters, and red berries decorate it in autumn.
The little recognized Viburnum prunifolium (black haw
or stag bush) comes a close second to the Viburnum
steboldii. Its foliage is glossy and fine and compact
and picturesque and the autumn colouring is unsur-
passed among shrubs except by the dogwood, androm-
eda, and Euonymus alatus.

And this leads to the consideration of the autumn:
coloured trees and shrubs. A list of some of them may
be of value to induce study of catalogues and botanies

Choice Trees and Sbrubs 325

to learn their habits; the best of them are maples (red
and scarlet), the Japanese polymorphum, the striatum,
the sugar, the circinatum, and Tartaricum ginnali, a
brilliantly red kind. Then come the Nyassa multiflora,
sour-gum or pepperidge, the red oak, the scarlet oak,
the white oak (Quercus alba), the swamp white oak
(Quercus bicolor), and the pin oak (Quercus palustris)
and the liquidambar: these with the dogwoods, an-
dromedas, the sumacs (Rhus aromatica, Rhus glabra, and
Rhus typhina), and Berberis thunbergi, our excellent
friend of the spring flowering kinds. In addition to
the beautiful fall colour, there are the bright red berried
kinds, Japanese Rosa rugosa, other roses, the barberries,
and other hawthorns.

There is one shrub that is becoming deservedly pop-
ular and that is really in almost a class by itself, and
that is the Euonymus alatus. Its red is unique. There
is nothing just like it. The crimson is not exactly a
fiery one, but there is a glow in the heart of it that is
quite indescribable. You notice it afar off. Perhaps
this red is not better than the velvety sheen of the dog-
wood autumn colour, but it is a surprise and a delight.
The hydrangeas are a family which, while not noticeable
for the colour of the leaf, make an important feature on
the autumn lawn. They have large massive foliage
and some species a silvery under surface, but their chief
beauty is the flower. This grows in great trusses of a
white colour which fade in September to pink, red,
purple, and brown colour. Beside this flower which
comes at a season when hardly anything else is in bloom,

326 Landscape Architecture

the foliage is somewhat uninteresting and a little coarse.
On one kind, Hydrangea paniculata grandiflora, the
flowers hang their heads in a somewhat heavy fashion.
The Hydrangea paniculata tardiva, as it is sometimes
called, has an erect spike of bloom which lasts much
longer and is more attractive. Probably on account of
this late blooming faculty the hydrangea has become
very popular. It is a shrub that needs sharp pruning
any time after it has bloomed in fall until it begins to
put out leaves in spring. There is a way of pruning
during the summer that induces growth of flower-bear-
ing wood. Hydrangea hortensia is not hardy, but
bears beautiful flowers. It is grown in tubs. The
paniculata type is very hardy.

To the ornamental vines some consideration should
be given. They are all fine: wistaria, Japan ivy (Am-
pelopsis vetichii), Virginia creeper, climbing roses,
especially the Japanese kind Wichuriana, the trumpet
vine (Bignonia grandiflora), and of less value Bignonia
radicans, honeysuckles, climbers and half bush ones,
Sullivanti and Periclymenum belgica, Euonymus rad-
icans, the only evergreen climber of the lot, English
ivy being of little value in this climate of America,
the periwinkle (Vinca ‘minor), matrimony vine, lycium
in variety, the wild grape (the fox grape), Vitis labrusca,
the Dolichos japonica (kidsu vine), fastest of growers,
forty feet in one season, bitter-sweet, Celastris scandens,
Dutchman’s-pipe, Aristolochia sipho, a hardy, strong-
growing, tropical-looking vine with large light green
leaves; finally the Clematis family, the native kinds,

Choice Trees and Sbrubs 327

Clematis virginiana (the virgin’s-bower), and Clematis
paniculata, one of the most attractive and profusely
blooming climbers with white flowers in August. The
clematis hybrids are charming, purple, white, pink, red,
and blue; only they are a little difficult to grow in this
climate of New York State. Actinidia polygama is
vigorous and picturesque.

There is one shrub that has not been mentioned and
yet it is probably the most useful plant of all, and that
is the privet. There are many kinds of privet, ever-
green and deciduous, hardy and tender, and they are
all interesting in their own way, but there are three that
count a great deal in all lawn planting. The so-called
California privet from Japan (Ligustrum ovalifolium)
is used for hedges everywhere in Europe and America.
Doubtless millions of plants are grown every year and
it behaves well on all occasions except once in a few
years a severe winter comes along and kills it, although
it hardly ever altogether dies, but springs up the next
season. It transplants well, grows fast, and if properly
pruned will retain its beauty for many years. Perhaps
it is felt to be a little stiff in form and monotonous, but
it has glossy green foliage and if allowed to grow freely
makes in time a good shape. Its stiffness probably
persists in our minds on account of its frequent use as
that abomination of vegetation, a hedge. The Euro-
pean privet has not so fine a shade of green, but in other
ways greatly resembles it. The best privet is the
Ligustrum regelianum from China, and this is rapidly
being recognized. It has a graceful weeping, somewhat

328 Landscape Frcbitecture

spreading habit and the leaves are grouped in a quaint,
odd fashion. In time it grows to considerable size,
but it always retains its graceful, quaint habit, and
needs but little pruning. There are no shrubs perhaps
that are so generally useful on the lawn as these un-
obtrusive privets.

Coming to the winter time our thoughts naturally
turn to the evergreens. There are white-stemmed
birches, red-stemmed dogwoods, yellow- and red-
stemmed willows, and the berries that linger on them
from fall, but the evergreens after all make the winter
landscape and create by far the major part of its
interest.

The Abies or firs are a numerous family, stately and
of great size and beauty. There are firs and spruces
in Europe one hundred and twenty feet high. The
hemlock, Picea canadensis, or more properly Tsuga
canadensis, is a beautiful, graceful evergreen that does
not grow so rapidly as some others, but is easily trans-
planted and generally hardy, although it is apt to
suffer from severe cold and winds in early spring, during
the earlier years of its growth. There is a beautiful
form of it called Tsuga carolinianum because it was
found in the mountains of North Carolina. It is very
symmetrical and has a drooping grace at the end of its
branches and deep shadows in the inner spaces of its
foliage in the case of a somewhat mature tree that is
very lovely.

The white fir (Abies concolor) is, perhaps, after the
hemlock, the finest of the firs. Its young growth is of

Choice Trees and Sbrubs 329

unequalled beauty, light coloured, rich, and drooping,
and there is the same beauty in its inner spaces which
has been noticed in the Carolina hemlock. One of
the finest evergreens to be seen anywhere is a specimen
of Abtes concolor in the Arnold Arboretum, Jamaica
Plain, Boston, Mass. It stands forty feet high, is some-
what narrow compared to many other evergreens of
the same size, but is compact and of perfect symmetry
and unsurpassed colour. The colour is finer than that
of the highly prized blue spruce, Picea pungens, but
more of that hereafter. Abies nobilis (noble silver fir)
is fine for its deep blue colour and picturesque form,
but many of the silver firs that thrive in Europe do not
in North America, and this is one. Noteworthy in
this respect are the balsam firs, Nordman’s fir, Euro-
pean silver fir (Abies pectinata), and Silver Spanish fir
(Abies pinsapo). The Veitch’s silver fir (Abies veitchii)
and the Nikko fir (Abies homolepis, synonym brachy-
phylla) are, however, entirely hardy and satisfactory.
The biotas or Chinese arbor-vite can hardly be said
to be entirely hardy in the northern States of America.
The biotas are a beautiful family with fine tints of blue
and green and gold.

The cedars, so beautiful in Europe, Lebanon, deo-
dara, and Atlas, are not hardy in the Middle States of
the United States. The cryptomerias, especially the
lobbi, which is certainly hardy, are strange, oriental
looking trees that seem a little out of place in American
or European landscapes. They belong, particularly,
in a Japanese garden. The cypresses, especially

330 Landscape Zrcbitecture

Lawson’s, are very lovely in Europe, but they do not
succeed in the Middle States of the United States.
The junipers, on the other hand, are equally attractive
"and in many cases do well, though one of the best of
them, the Irish juniper, does not succeed in the Middle
States. Its narrow pyramidal form makes it a valuable
plant in grouping. The American pyramidal forms, the
red cedar and its varieties, are almost always hardy; yet
what plant is absolutely hardy?

The red cedar is as effective in lawn planting as the
celebrated Italian cypresses, which do not grow here.
There are more or less trailing forms of juniper, Juni-
perus canadensis, the Savin juniper and its variety of
great beauty, tamariscifolia, and also quite as trailing
are Juniperus squamata and Juniperus procumbens,
all excellent to use in connexion with rocks or along
borders of streams. The Japanese and Chinese juni-
pers are nearly all good and do not grow out of size.
They have most picturesque and elegant forms. Some
of them are Juniperus chinensis, Juniperus pfitzeriana,
and Juniperus japonica. There is a blue Virginia cedar
called iripartita that is excellent for planting near
rocks. It has a wild and rustic look and is irregular and
spreading in habit. The entire juniper family is most
valuable on the lawn.

Among the spruces (the Piceas) the old Picea excelsa,
the common Norway spruce, is not proving altogether
satisfactory, as the years go on, but generally its prox-
imity to the seashore will be found to be the cause of its
failure, or it may have been grown too far south. The

Choice Trees and Shrubs 331

northern part of New York or Massachusetts suits it
better than Washington, D. C. Moreover, when it
becomes old, it is not always attractive in colour and
form.

The white spruce is better and succeeds in more
places, but even it has its favourite spots, and they are
not so far north as those suited to the Norway spruce.
The attractive lighter shades of the white spruce form
another of its attractions, but for really fine blue tints it
is necessary to go to the real blue spruces, Picea pungens
or Picea engelmant. ‘They are the richest of all the blue
spruces. The most intensely blue are the grafted plants
of Picea pungens, but seedlings are more symmetrical
and make finer trees when fully developed, although
some of them do not show as deep a shade of blue and
silver. A hardy and picturesque dark fir is Picea
omorica, and although there are many other firs,
hardly any others than those mentioned can be said
to be satisfactory in the climate of the Middle States of
the United States. In many parts of Great Britain
many others do well. The spruces (Piceas) have great
value in landscape gardening. The Norway spruce is
well known everywhere and its towering form and rapid
growth arealwaysfine. As already noted, it has not the
beauty, however, of some other kinds and is a little
more liable to disease in North America. An instance
of a superior kind is the oriental spruce (Picea orien-
talis). This might be termed a highly refined Norway
spruce. It is hardier, has richer, more closely set
foliage, most beautiful colour, and often retains its

332 Landscape Architecture

beauty to great age. Though a little difficult to trans-
plant and at first slow of growth it eventually attains
great size and stateliness. Picea omorica, already men-
tioned, is somewhat like the last, only it has a very
dark colour, darker than almost any evergreen except the
yew. Itis, unfortunately, little known and appreciated.
Alcock’s spruce (Picea alcockiana) has fine close set
foliage, silvery underneath, and itis quitehardy. Picea
polita, the tiger-tail spruce, is quaint with its dark
rich foliage and shape of branches suggesting a tiger’s
tail. It is a very rugged kind. Of course, there are
other fine spruces, but the ones mentioned are most
useful for a lawn laid out on a well-conceived landscape
design and not for a museum of evergreens.

The pines are always fine and the number of kinds is
considerable. Some of the common American sorts,
however, head the list for hardiness and usefulness,
although they are, unfortunately, not much used.
Pinus resinosa, red pine, is such a one and so is Pinus
regida, pitch pine, though less beautiful. It is most use-
ful, however, on poor, sandy land. The native white
pine (Pinus strobus) is, on the other hand, fully appre-
ciated though it is native. It is perhaps the most
beautiful evergreen of North America. It attains a
lofty size and is sometimes damaged by wind storms and
ice, but it is lovely in its colouring. The Bhotan pine
(Pinus excelsa) much resembles the white pine except
the needles are a little longer and more graceful. It is
not quite as hardy as the white pine. Then there is
Pinus parviflora with its blue shades. Quite distinct,

Choice Trees and Shrubs 333

however, is the widely grown Austrian pine (Pinus
austrica). This is the best of all evergreens for the sea-
shore or very much exposed places. It grows fast, and
is a positive feature in the landscape with its fine dark
masses of foliage. In a dwarfer, more compact way,
Pinus mughus, the Mugho pine, is about as hardy, and
has a very decided and pleasing effect on the lawn.
Pinus cembra, the Swiss stone pine (not the Italian
stone pine which is tender in northern climates), is
very hardy, has a pyramidal compact form, and grows
slowly, although it attains considerable size.

The yews are a fine family of evergreens, one of the
very best, but in America they are most of them not
really hardy, that is, the winter is apt to destroy their
beauty even if it does not killthem. There is a spread-
ing yew, Taxus repandens, whose dark green foliage will
sometimes cover a space fifteen feet square. Its chief
value is its great hardiness. The last yew that will be
mentioned is Taxus cuspidata, the best of the family for
all purposes and in certain ways the best of all ever-
greens. The foliage is deep green and glossy; it grows
as arule compactly, but it takes on various forms, some
low and even dwarf, and others pyramidal and of
considerable size. All these forms are hardy and ex-
ceedingly effective in every way. The umbrella pine
(Sciadopitys verticillata) looks like a yew, but it is not.
Its form is symmetrical and its colour deep and glossy;
a beautiful tree and a choice tree but no longer so very
rare. The Japanese are sending them over in consider-
able numbers and they are grown in this country and

334 Landscape Architecture

Europe. A large tree of this umbrella pine twenty
feet high, as it can be seen in Europe, is a fine sight.
It is quite hardy.

The Thuyas (arbor-vite) are most of them hardy,
compact, and of pyramidal form. Their colouring is not
as fine as the biotas, but they are hardier. Most of
them are varieties of the American arbor-vite. There
is a Thuya standishit, that is hardy and graceful with
slightly pendulous branches. The Retinosporas are a
beautiful family, but some of the kinds fall into a bad
condition unless they are frequently pruned. This ap-
plies to the Retinospora plumosa, squarrosa and psifera;
Retinospora obtusa and filifera are better. There is
also a weeping hemlock (Sargent’s weeping hemlock)
which should have been noted before as a very beautiful
evergreen, and also Tsuga sieboldit, a hemlock of very
deep green colour, compact and hardy and a good tree
though seldom seen on lawns. It should be understood
that the term hardiness is meant in all cases to apply
to the Middle States of the United States.

These notes are closed with the evergreens. . Peren-
nials and bedding plants of the tender kinds are too
extended a subject to properly discuss within the limited
space of this book. Moreover, such plants as the
irises, phloxes, larkspurs, pinks, hollyhocks, peonies,
the bedding plants, -cannas, salvias, geraniums, and
coleuses fill up the minor spaces of the landscape picture.
They have great beauty, perhaps as much as anything
on the lawn, but they do not count much in the general
survey of the picture. It would not be unpleasant or

Choice Trees and Sbrubs 335

a failure if they were not present; their presence would,
on the other hand, lend a charm, a loveliness to the
scene that can hardly be overstated. It would, there-
fore, be of great advantage to study diligently these
plants.

Finally, in closing this chapter it should be noted that
very many kinds have been left unconsidered not be-
cause they do not have value for the lawn in both this
country and Europe, but because it was necessary in
one short chapter to limit the purview to the most dis-
tinctive, easily obtained, and most important from a
landscape gardener’s point of view. If neglect or over-
sight is felt, it should be charged to lack of space and
the desire to avoid the appearance of a nurseryman’s
catalogue.

Notre.—The Douglas spruce is one of the best of evergreens for hardi-
ness, vigour, and graceful symmetry, and for its beautiful bluish green
colour,

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INDEX

Abies (Fir) brachyphylla, 329

Abies concolor, 329

Abies, European silver fir, 329

Abies nobilis, 329

Abies, Veitch’s silver fir, 329

Addison, Joseph, Chinese lands-
cape gardening, 15

Ailanthus, 315

Althea (rose of Sharon), 321

André, Edouard, nature playing
a ridiculous part, 37

Angelo, Michael, Pantheon and
St. Peter’s Dome, 84

Apollinaris, translated by Sir
Henry Wotton, 7

Aralia japonica, 320

Aralia pentaphylla, 320

Arbor-vite, Chinese, 329

Arbutus, Warwick Castle, 117

Architect, function of, 103

Aristotle, 203

Ash, mountain, 320

Attiret, Jesuit Father, Chinese
imitation of nature in gardening,

Authorities, value of, 31

Autumn fruits for ornament:
Barberries, 325
Hawthorns, 325
Rosa rugosa, 325

Autumn shrubs for colour:
Andromeda arborea, 325
Berberis thunbergt, 325
Dogwood (Cornus florida), 325
Sumac, 325

Azaleas, best and hardiest kinds,

31I

Bagehot, Walter, Garden of Eden,
10

Beale, R., 65

Beckford, William, BoboliGardens,
250-252

Beech, 315

Benson, Arthur C., the quality of
charm, 236

Berberis thunbergi, 307

Biran, Maine de, emotion in-
spired by landscape gardening,

Birch, white, 320

Boboli Gardens, 79

Boyle (E. V. B.), Mrs., Italian
gardens, 253

Bridge, Boulder, Central Park,
New York City, 293

Bridge, Bow, Central Park, New
York City, 291

Bridges, 181, 290

Bridges, Robert, 162, 258

Brown, Launcelot, 19

Buddleia vettchii, 321

Cactus, wild (prickly pear),
Opuntia vulgaris, 172
Callicarpa, 321
Catalpa syringafolia, 315
Catullus, address to Lake Sirio, 52
Cedar:
Atlas, 329
Deodara, 329
Lebanon, 329
Chambers, Sir William, Pekin
gardens, 8; Petit Trianon, 19
Claude, value of study of nature,

Clematis, base of wall, 173

Coleridge, S. T., dream of poem,
67; knowledge of parks, 68

Colour effects in landscape gar-
dening, 57

Conn, Prof. H. W., 123, 125

Constable, art of, 83

Croce, Benedetto, 39

Cryptomeria lobbi, 329

Cusa, Nicholas de, 74

343

344

Cypress, deciduous, 320
Cypress, Lawson's, 330

Delille, Abbé, 11, 15

Ditch or Ha-ha, use of, 96

Douglas spruce (Pseudo-Tsuga
Douglasi), 335

Downing, Andrew Jackson, 22, 41,
61, 264, 265, 266

Drives, 135

Dufresny, Charles, early advo-
cate of the natural style, 21

Durham Cathedral, water effect,
160

Eleagnus (silverthorn or oleaster)
longipes, 321

Eliot, Charles, character of the
landscape gardening of Prince
Packler, 26; plantations in
harmony with environment,
221-224

Elm, American, 318

Elm, English, 319

Eucken, Rudolph, order
scribed by nature, 2

Euonymus alatus, 324

Euonymus radicans, 173

Evolution of landscape gardening,
viii

pre-

Fence on boundary of Muskau
Park, I00

Fénelon, love of nature, 55-56

Ferns, base of wall, 173

Fichte, 227

Forsythia fortuni, 307

Forsythia viridissima, 307

Fountains, 157, 237

Fringe, white (Chionanthus vir-
ginica), 321

Fruit trees, double flowering
kinds, 308

Garden, Chinese, 67; New College,
Oxford, England, 263

Garden and Forest, vol. i, p. 8,
Prof. C. S. Sargent’s artificial
lake, 158-159; vol. i, p. 52,
description of bridge, Dart-
moor, England, 181

Garden of Damascus, 3

Garden of Eden, in Paradise Lost,

10
Garden, old-fashioned, 262-263

Tndex

Gardening, French, 24

Gardens, hanging, 5

Ginkgo tree (Salisburia adianti-
folia), 319

Girardon, Marquis, owner of
estate of Ermenouvelle where
Rousseau was buried, 17

Goethe, appreciation of Prince
Packler, 2

Grasses, 129

Grouping of shrubs along side-
walk, 100

Hawthorn, English (Crategus oxy-
cantha), 308

Hawthorns, American, 308

Hegel, 203

Hemlock (Tsuga canadensis), 328

Hilgard, Prof. E. W., 125

Hirschfeldt, Theorie der Garden
Kunst, 155

Hoffding, Harold, action of feel-
ing when passing from the old
to new, 300

Home, Henry, Lord Kaimes, emo-
tion inspired by gardening, 53

Honeysuckle for fence, 93

Horsechestnut, white and red
flowering, 307
Horticulture not necessarily

landscape gardening, 73

Horticulturist, by A. J. Downing,
269

House, adjustment to landscape,
106; relation tooutbuildings, 109

House leek (sempervivum), 172

Huet, Pierre Daniel, early advo-
cate of natural style, 19

Hugo, Victor, natural style versus
formal style, 24

Humus, 122, 123, 129

Hunt, Leigh, lines on a fountain,
257

Hydrangea hortensia, 326

Hydrangea paniculata grandiflora,
326

Hydrangea paniculata tardiva, 326

Hypericum kalmianum, 322

Hypericum moserianum, 322

Iris, base of wall, 173

Irving, Washington, 259

Ivy, Tintern Abbey, 104

Ivy, Japanese noe veit-
chit), 173

Tndex

Japanese art, ideas about Central
Park by a Japanese artist, 64
Jefferies, Richard, 80, 81, 210, 243,

25
Jekyll, Gertrude, use of rocks,
171

Johnson, Dr. Samuel, approves of
landscape gardening, 17
Johnson, Prof. S. W., 125
Juniper, Chinese, 330
uniper, Irish, 330
uniper, Italian, 330
uniper, red cedar, 330
uniperus, japonica, 330
uniperus, pfttzeriana, 330
uniperus, procumbens, 330
uniperus, squamata, 330
Juniperus, fripartita, 330

J
J

Kant, Immanuel, iv

Keats, John, 262

Kent, William, 21

Kerria japonica, 322

Kinglake, A. W., 3

Kingsland, Mayor of New York
City, discussing park sites, 267

Knight, Richard Payne, treat-
ment around the house, 108

Koempfer, Engelbert, Dutch bot-
anist and traveller, 9

Laburnum, golden chain, 315
La Farge, John, 6, 38
Landor, Walter Savage, gardens,

249
Landscape gardening, requisites
for perfection, 52

Langley, Battey, execution of
plan, 45 . .
Larch, great size at Warwick

Castle, 117
Laurel, mountain (Kalmia lati-
folia), 312

Lee, Vernon, Italian gardens, 249
Leibnitz, Gottfried Wilhelm, 71
L’Enfant, concerning original de-
sign of Washington, D. C., 303
Le Notre, 16, 17, 147
Lilacs, 323
Linden, European varieties:
argentea, 318
dasystyla, 318
pettolaris, 318
Liquid ambar, autumn colour, 325
Loudon, J. C., 22, 36

345

Magnolia conspicua in Central
Park, 308
Maples, autumn coloured:
Circinatum, 325
Polymorphum, 325
Striatum, 325
Sugar, 325
Tartaricum ginnalt, 325
Meynell, Alice, Mrs., ideal of
garden, 256 :
Milton, John, description of
Garden of Eden, 10
Montesquieu, essay on taste, 15
Morel, M., laid out estate of
Ermenouville, 17
Mt. Vernon, home of George
Washington, 59
Muskau Park, as it now exists
after alterations by Prince
Pickler, 60; as it originally
appeared, 60

Nero, parks and Golden House, 6

Newman, John Henry, respect
for all kinds of beauty, 58

Nolen, John, editor of last edition
of Humphrey Repton, vi

Oak (Quercus), black, 317

Oak (Quercus), pin, 317

Oak (Quercus), red, 317

Oak (Quercus), scarlet, 317

Oak (Quercus), white, 317

Oak (Quercus), willow, 317

Olmsted, Frederick Law, creator
of Central Park, New York, 26;
beauty of landscape gardening
far-reaching, 36; Mt. Royal
Park, Montreal, Canada, report,
138; two types of park sites,
269; value of certain property
for parks, 272; sanative effect
of parks on mind and body, 273;
view beyond borders of prop-
erty, 278

Olmsted & Vaux, design of Central
Park, New York City, vi;
concerning the natural style of
park design, 28; roads and
paths, 139; meadow effects,
Central Park, New York City,
232; value of pastoral landscape,
275; choice of park site, 275-
278; creation of pastoral scen-
ery, 280-285

346

Park, roads and paths, 142; sana-
tive effect of, 272; scenery of,
286; accessory elements of, 289;
treatmentof, Washington, D.C.,

301

Park, Babelsberg, 60

Park, Central, New York City, 70,
94, 142, 183; rockwork, 180

Park, English, character of enclos-
ure, 95

Park, Muskau, character of en-
closure, 94; development one
hundred years ago, 70

Pekin, gardens of, 69

Pepperidge (Nyssa multiflora), 325

Philadelphus coronarius, 321%

Philadelphus grandiflora, 321

Picea alcockiana, 332

Picea (blue) engelmani, 331

Picea (blue) pungens, 331

Picea (Norway) excelsa, 331

Picea omorica, 332

Picea orientalis, 331

Picea (tigertail) polita, 332

Picea (white) alba, 331

Pine, umbrella (Sczadopitys verti-
cillata), 333

Pinus austriaca, 333

Pinus (Bhotan) excelsa, 332

Pinus (Mugho) Mughus, 333

Pinus parviflora, 333

Pinus (pitch) rigida, 332

Pinus (red) resinosa, 332

Pinus (Swiss stone) cembra, 333

Pinus (white) strobus, 332

Plato, causes of things, ii

Pliny the Younger describing his
villa, 7

Polo, Marco, residence in Cathay,

07
Pope, Alexander, genius of place,

15
Poplar, Lombardy, use in connex-
jon with bridges, 291; proper
use of, 317
Pordenone, Oderic of, Franciscan
friar and traveller, 68
Potentilla fruticosa (shrubby
cinquefoil), 321
Price, principles of Claude, 35
Prickly pear (wild cactus), 92
Privet (Ligusitrum ovalifolium),

327
Privet (Ligustrum regelianum), 327
Packler, Prince, von Muskau, 120;

Index

treatment of the Bois de Bou-
logne, 29; architecture in the
landscape, 29; importance of
prompt correction of mistakes,
47; estate of, 60; garden art
compared with music, 81; size
of estate, 84; Claude, 87; Eng-
lish, French, Italian, and
Roman gardens, 87; grading,
184; definition of the term
“garden,” 241; Chiswick flower
gardens, 262

Purchas, Marco Polo’s travels, 67

Racine, free nature, 55

Rapin, formal style of landscape
gardening, II

Repton, Humphry, v, 21, 22,
23; requisites for landscape
gardening, 52; landscape treat-
ment around the house, 102;
design of house, 107; treatment
of distant views, 113; water,

147
Retinospora filifera, 334
Retinospora obtusa, 334
Retinospora plumosa, 334
Retinospora psifera, 334
Retinospora squarrosa, 334
Rhamnus catharticus, 322
Rhamnus frangula, 322
Rhododendrons, best hardy sorts,
309; best soil for, 312
Robinson, William, need of sound
views on landscape gardening,
23; use of rocks, 174
Rock plants, proper place for, 92
Rosa rugosa, 309
Rose, scarlet rambler, 314
Rose, setigera or prairie rose, 314
Roses, climbing, 173; Wichuriana
hybrids, 308; prairie, 309, hybrid
tea or ever blooming, 309
Rousseau, J. J., 17, 245, 246
Royce, Josiah, 299
Rubus odoratus, 322

Sargent, Prof. C. S., artificial
lake, 158

Saxifrage, 173

Scale, San José, 308

Schopenhauer, iv

Shairp, John Campbell, effects
of nature on the spirit, 273

Sheep for lawns, 131

' Inder

Shenstone, essay on landscape
gardening, 14; criticism of, 15

Sidewalk, treatment of, 100

Smith, Sydney, 69

Smollett, Villa Pinciani, 247

Snyder, Prof. Harry, 126

Sod gutters, 137

Sophora japonica (Japanese pa-
goda tree), 320

Sorrel tree (Oxydendron arboreum
or Andremeda arbored), 314

Speranza, Gino C., 65

Spinoza, 56

Spirea Anthony Waierer, 322

Spirea billardi, 322

Spirea bumaldi, 322

Spirea callosa, 322

Spiraea douglasi, 322

Spirea thunbergit, 322

Staples, John, 62

Stiles, William A., vi; concerning
Andrew Jackson Downing, 264;
importance of persistence of
types in parks, 286; nurseries
in parks, 296; pastoral scenery
in parks, 297

Stonecrop (Sedum Sacre), 92, 172

Straight drive in Central Park,
New York City, 142

Stuartia pentagynia, 323

Styrax japonica, 323

Symons, Arthur, Villa Mattei, 252

Symphoricarpus vulgaris, 322

Tacitus, description of Golden
House, 6

Tamarix africana, 323

Tamarix gallica, 323

Tamarix germanica, 323

Tamarix indica, 323

Taylor, Isaac, the picturesque, 234

Thompson, Francis, lines on the
laburnum, 315

Thuya (arbor-vitz), American, 334

Tintern Abbey, description of its
site, 104

Trosachs, 141

Tsuga sieboldit, 334

Turner, value of the study of
nature, 32

Vaux, Calvert, concerning lawn

347

planting in its widest sense, 1;
imitation of nature, 4; creator
of Central Park, New York
City, 26; flower beds in Central
Park, New York City, 241-243
Versailles, character of, 55
Viburnum acerifolium, 324
Viburnum cassanoides, 324
Viburnum dentatum, 324
Viburnum lantana, 324
Viburnum lentago, 324
Viburnum macrocephalum, 324
Viburnum opulus sterilis (snow-
ball), 324
Viburnum oxycoccus (opulus), 324
Viburnum plicatum, 324
Viburnum prunifolium, 324
Viburnum sieboldi, 324
Vines, different kinds of, 326
Virginia creeper, its use by Prince
Puckler, 97; base of wall, 173

Walpole, Horace, Kent’s landscape
gardening, I2

Warwick Castle, 115

Water-lily (Nymphaea pygmea), 160

Weigela, Eva Rathke, 321

Weigela lavallee, 321

West Point, New York, gates of
the Highlands of the Hudson, 89

Whately, Thomas, 175-178, 208-
210, 213-216; perversion of art,
33-35; water, 148-155; grading,
186-197

Willow, pussy (Salix caprea), 307

Willow, red-stemmed, 306

Willow, weeping, 306

Willow, white, 306

Willow, yellow-stemmed, 306

Windham, Lord, 35

Windsor Park, description and
praise of, 58

Wire fence, 92

Wordsworth, William, landscape
gardening a liberal art, 40;
effects of nature on spirits, 273

Yew (Taxus cuspidata), 333

Yew (Taxus repandens), 333

Young, Arthur, estate of Ermen-
ouville, 17; criticism of Petit
Trianon, 18

Landscape ‘Gardening

Notes and Suggestions on Lawns and Lawn-
Planting, Laying Out and Arrangement of
Country Places, Large and Small Parks,
Cemetery Plots, and Railway Station
Lawns; Deciduous and Ever:
green Trees and Shrubs, The
Hardy Border, Bedding
Plants, Rockwork, etc.

Samuel Parsons, Jr.
Ex-Superintendent of Parks, New York City

Large 8°. With Nearly 200 Illustrations, $3.50
Popular Edition, $2,00

“We commend it highly to all landowners, as
being certain, first, to incite anintelligent admira-
tion of handsome (though not necessarily exten-
sive or costly) grounds; and, second, to impart
clear and precise information for the improve-
ment of perhaps every kind of rural premises.”

—The Cultivator and Country Gentleman.

New York G. P. Putnam’s Sons London

Modern Civic Art
The City Made Beautiful

By CuarLtes MuLrorp ROBINSON

Author of ‘‘ Improvement of ‘Towns and Cities,” etc.

Octavo. Third Revised Edition. With 30 Full-
page Illustrations.
Net $3.00 (By Mail, $3.25)

66 PRoBaBLy no American has thought more on the subject of

the beautifying of cities, or thought to better effect, than has
Charles Mulford Robinson. His first book, ‘The Improvement of
Towns and Cities,’ gave the greatest impetus to the now widespread
movement for civic beauty that it has yet received in this country.
His occasional articles since have contributed vastly to information,
delight, and enthusiasm on the part of those who have learned that
the places where men live are worthy of love and care.” — Philadel-
phia Ledger.

“Tt is difficult to name any movement forthe bettering of mu-
nicipal conditions that is of greater importance, or shows more likeli-
hood of success, than that of which Mr. Charles Mulford Robinson’s
new book, ‘Modern Civic Art,’ is the latest exponent. There is
hardly a matter concerning the adornment of the city, the convenience
and comfort of the people as a whole, that is not discussed. To give
force to suggestions concrete examples are given, for, luckily, there
is scarcely a possible improvement of our cities that cannot be seen
in some one city. The book is a strong plea.”—Chicago Tribune.

“Civic art is one of the sanest and most sensible practical move-
ments of this day, andis just now meeting with a consideration which
signities a great triumphant movement for the beauty and comfort of
our municipalities. . . Atatime when real beginnings are being
made, and a desire is becoming general and emphatic to carry this
city beautifying forward, the splendid book by Mr. Robinson comes
as especially welcome and appropriate. It is a most complete and
thorough work. We should almost say that every patriotic citizen
should have this beautiful and helpful book in his library.”— St. Pawel
Dispatch.

G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
New York London

Field Book of American
Trees and Shrubs

By
F. Schuyler Mathews

Author of ‘“‘ Field Book of American Wild
Flowers,” “ Field Book of Wild Birds
and Their Music ”’

16°. With Many Illustrations, Some in Color
and Maps
Cloth, $2.00. Full leather, $2.50

Mr. Mathews’s earlier books, dealing
with American Wild Flowers and Wild
Birds, are a sufficient guaranty for his
volume on American Trees and Shrubs.
The book is not only artistic in form
but also possesses scientific accuracy and
value. It covers the entire territory of
the United States. An important feat-
ure is a series of maps showing the
habitat of the various species.

G. P. Putnam’s Sons
New York London

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