LETTER IX.

THE PARK AND PLEASURE-GROUNDS.--SITUATION OF OLD HOUSES.--WATER.--FOREST SCENERY.--EFFECT OF A SHRUBBERY IN HARMONISING A FLOWER-GARDEN WITH A PARK.--OPENING VISTAS.--SCENES IN A PARK.--FENCES AGAINST CATTLE.--STYLES IN GARDENING.--USE OF A TERRACE.--PATTE D'OIE.--PLANTING AN ARCHITECTURAL GARDEN.--PLANTING AN ARBORETUM.--RENOVATING TURF.

I am very glad to find that you have procured some plants, and that you begin to feel an interest in the cultivation of your flowers. I do not at all agree with you, however, in thinking, that this is merely because gardening has with you, as yet, the charm of novelty; on the contrary, I am quite sure that as you become better acquainted with the subject, you will find your interest in your garden increase; as gardening is one of those happy arts in which there is always some not quite certain change to look forward to, and to be anxious about. Landscape-gardening is, however, the highest branch of the art, and it is the more necessary that you should study it, as, from the view you have sent me of your house, it appears to me that the general aspect of your park is at present very monotonous.

An ancient mansion embosomed in tall trees, with a fine broad terrace at the back, having a piece of still water lying like a liquid mirror below it, and a large park beyond, overgrown with majestic trees whose lower branches repose upon the turf beneath them, form a scene which sounds exceedingly well in description, but is very wearying to the eye which is destined continually to rest upon it. It is also not very healthy; as chilly vapours are sure to rise from the water, while the mass of trees beyond will obstruct the free current of air.

You must not, however, suppose from these remarks that I admire a house in an open exposed situation, as I think nothing can have a more bleak and naked appearance. Besides, a house entirely unsheltered by trees is sure to be a very uncomfortable residence, from its exposure to the heat in summer, and the cold in winter. It is, therefore, most desirable to have a sufficient quantity of trees near the house to shelter it, and yet to have numerous openings through those trees to admit distant prospects, and a free current of air. If a few openings could, therefore, be made in the plantations near your dwelling, I do not think there would be any danger in leaving the water in its present position; as, from your description, the house is elevated very much above it, and as, notwithstanding its appearance of stillness, there is a current through it. The elevation at which the house is above the water will also prevent the unpleasant consequences which sometimes ensue, when water overflows its banks, and makes its way into the basement story of a house. As to your house being on the ridge of a hill, I do not think that is any objection, as the rise is not very great on either side, and it is a proof that the prospect would be good if you would only cut down a sufficient number of trees to show it. Houses quite in a valley are frequently damp, and if on the summit of a high hill they are apt to be bleak; so that the side of a hill or the ridge of a knoll is, in fact, the best situation that can be imagined. Our ancestors, indeed, rarely went wrong on this subject; and it is quite an extraordinary case to find an old house badly placed. In the old times the country gentry lived in their mansions all the year, and only visited London occasionally, so that they were more anxious to make their homes comfortable than persons of the same rank at the present day, who live in London, and only visit the seats of their ancestors as they would a watering-place.

You complain bitterly of your house not having an extensive view from it. You see nothing but trees, you say, in whichever direction you look; and you detest trees, because their foliage is monotonous, and so thick that you cannot see two hundred yards before you. This last is the real point of complaint.

Forest scenery is extremely beautiful in itself, and principally from the great variety it presents in the same objects. A fine tree, even when bare of leaves in winter, is beautiful, from the delicate tracery presented by its branches, which look like the masts and rigging of a large ship, intricate, yet without confusion. In snow, trees assume a new character; the weight sustained by the branches makes them droop, and a thousand graceful and elegant forms take the place of what was before a stern and rigid outline. In hoarfrost trees glisten with a thousand gems, reflecting the rays of light in so many different colours, that they remind one of the description of Aladdin's magic garden. In spring they present vivid ideas of youth and fertility, and all nature appears awakening into new and vigorous life; the buds swell, their coverings burst, and the young leaves display their tender and delicate green; at first only half-unfolding their beautiful forms, and reminding one of a young and timid girl half-wishing and half-fearing to make her first appearance in the busy world. Trees now begin to assume each a new and decided character of its own. The leaves of no two trees are alike: those of the beech are of clear dark green, and so thin that they are almost transparent, and yet they are deeply marked with a strongly indented feather-like set of veins. The bark of the beech is clear and smooth, as though nature had intended it for the use to which it has so often been applied by lovers--to carve on it a fair one's name. The leaves of the elm are of a thick coarse texture, rugged and distorted, wrinkled, and of a dingy green; and the bark of the tree is cut into a thousand furrows. The leaves of the ash are light and pendulous, and cut into numerous leaflets; those of the oak are deeply indented, and generally grow in tufts. The palmate, drooping leaves of the horsechestnut contrast with the long, slender, and nearly erect leaves of the white willow; and those of the black poplar, which present a smooth outline, with those of the sweet chestnut, which are remarkable for their finely indented edges. In short, the leaves of every tree have beauties peculiar to themselves, in form as well as in colour. In autumn these colours become more decided; the lime trees take a yellowish tint, and the oak a reddish brown; the liquidambar becomes of a rich purplish crimson, and the maples and American oaks show a thousand varied dyes.

Yes, my dear Annie, I repeat, the fault is not in the trees, for they are beautiful; you dislike them only because they are so crowded that you cannot see their beauties. I allow it is a very difficult task to know how to proceed in a case like yours. Cutting down indiscriminately will never do; the trees must be thinned, not only with a view to make openings through the wood, but with care as to themselves. I think the first point will be, to find out the handsomest trees among those in the plantations near the house, in order to see which you would have left. Some will have been drawn up so much, and will have been forced into such awkward forms by their present crowded state, that they would be hideous if the trees that now surround them were removed. Others want room, but have grown so that they may easily be trained into a better form when space is given to them. One great point to be attended to is, to break the present formal outline; but, in doing so, it is scarcely possible to avoid destroying some trees that your husband might wish to spare, from local associations. I hope, however, he will allow a sufficient space to be cleared, not only to make your flower-garden, but to allow the plants in it to grow without being overshadowed by trees.

When the flower-garden is formed it will be necessary to have a _shrubbery_, so that the transition may not be too abrupt from the high state of culture in a flower-garden, to the wild nature of the forest trees. This shrubbery, indeed, will afford the only means of harmonising a newly laid out garden with the general scenery of the park, as it will contain, first, dwarf flowering shrubs next the garden; then shrubs of a larger growth, such as the laurustinus and arbutus; and, lastly, flowering trees, from the different kinds of Cratæ'gus to those of loftier growth, such as Pyrus spectábilis, Sophòra japónica, and the tulip tree, which last equals in height some of the loftiest forest trees in the park.

When a sufficient space for the flower-garden and the adjoining shrubbery has been cleared, and the most interesting trees marked, the next point is to ascertain what distant prospects will be admitted by cutting an opening through the wood, before it is finally decided in what direction the intended openings shall be made; as, for instance, if the view of a church or castle would be admitted by cutting an opening in a particular direction, that direction should be chosen in preference to any other, and a vista made in that line, even though an opening in another line would be preferable on other accounts. Should such an object be discovered, you must take care not to obscure it when planting your shrubbery; and should the object you wish to catch a view of be very distant, and not distinctly marked, the eye may be guided to it by planting some whitish-leaved low tree, such as Elæágnus angustifòlia, in the shrubbery, backed by dark-leaved shrubs, such as alaternus and phillyrea; and again, at a greater distance, planting an abele tree or white poplar in the same direction, where it will be backed by dark masses of Scotch pines or other similar trees. Before you make an opening, you must also ascertain whether any disagreeable objects will be exposed by your so doing; and, before cutting down even a single tree, you must consider what effect its removal will produce upon the trees around it. You have often told me of the exquisite taste your husband possesses, and his fondness for fine paintings: he must, therefore, be admirably qualified for improving the scenery round his house himself. Landscape-gardening is, in fact, but landscape-painting on the largest scale, and with the noblest materials; the same taste is required in both.

As the plantations near the house have been suffered to become so completely overgrown, I have no doubt those in the _park_ are in a similar state, and that the park itself will require considerable improvement. The same general observations with regard to thinning out plantations will apply in every case; but in the park I think you will find it advisable, whenever an opportunity occurs, to take advantage of any natural feature to introduce what landscape-gardeners call a scene; as, for instance, should your park contain a rocky glen, advantage may be taken of it by planting it with different kinds of pines and firs, to form an imitation of alpine scenery, as was done, in a very striking manner, by the late Mr. Beckford at Fonthill. Another part of the grounds might be planted in imitation of American scenery, with magnolias, American oaks, and maples, and tulip trees, as was done by the late Duke of Marlborough at White Knights. A pond, in a secluded part of the grounds might have a degree of interest given to it by planting its banks with alders and willows. A variety of similar scenes will no doubt suggest themselves to you, which do not occur to me, from my ignorance of the peculiar features of the place.

I suppose neither deer nor cattle are allowed to graze in your park, as you speak of several of the trees sweeping the grass with their foliage. Cows are particularly destructive to the beauty of park scenery, as they are very fond of tearing off the lower branches of the trees, and thus producing the hard line which looks as though the branches had been shaved off about five feet from the ground, and which is called by landscape-gardeners and painters the browsing line.

It is disagreeable to have even deer come close to the windows, and they are not only fond of the young shoots of trees, but they would be decidedly injurious to your flower-garden and the clumps of ornamental shrubs in the pleasure-ground. Should your husband have any deer, it will be necessary to have some fence or line of demarcation between the park and the pleasure-ground; and it is always considered a proof of skill in the landscape-gardener to conceal such a fence as skilfully as possible. When an iron fence is used it is generally extremely slight, and painted green, so as to be almost invisible; and when this fence is used, it is sometimes concealed by a plantation of trees thrown together indiscriminately, as in fig. 13., or planted artistically in groups. In other cases a sunk wall, forming a kind of ditch, is used, which is concealed by plantations; or iron hurdles are stuck in, and the line is varied occasionally. Any of these plans may be adopted in the front of your house, to protect your garden if necessary.

As I have already alluded to the improvement that will be effected by introducing a shrubbery to harmonise the intended flower-garden with the trees in the park, you will probably wish to know if any thing of the kind will be required on the back-front of the house; but in that case there will be less difficulty, as the terrace affords an admirable medium for uniting the architectural stiffness of a mansion with the beautiful wildness and grace of nature. There is always a degree of incongruity in passing abruptly from the stiff symmetrical forms of a building, to the unsymmetric, though graceful, forms of a tree left in a state of nature; and it was no doubt a feeling of this kind which induced our ancestors to surround their houses with formal architectural gardens and trees clipped into stiff and regular forms. In more modern times something of the same kind was done, by always adding to the house verandas, porticos, and terraces, which formed a connecting link between the building and its grounds. After a time these also were laid aside; and about the beginning of the last century, when Brown and his followers would admit nothing but what they called nature in garden scenery, the park was allowed to come close up to the windows of the house, and, as a writer in the _Gardener's Magazine_ observes, the inhabitants of the mansion might "leap from their windows into jungles, and steppes, and wildernesses, where the lion and the panther would be more at home than the lady in her silken sheen."

You will see from these observations that there are styles marking different periods in gardening, as well as in architecture; and, in some cases, it is advisable to preserve a certain degree of similitude between the style of the garden and that of the house. Of course, however, this can only be done as far as is consistent with modern comforts; and the fact of your house being partly Elizabethan does not entail upon you the necessity of having a formal garden with high clipped hedges, and trees cut into a thousand fantastic forms, any more than it obliges you to sit in rooms darkened by stone mullions and small-paned casements, because the courtiers of Queen Elizabeth were obliged to submit to such inconveniences. With regard then to the back-front of your mansion, I would leave the terrace in its present form, with its stone alcoves at each end, as it corresponds so well with the style of that part of the house which appears to have been added in the reign of Anne or George I.; and I would preserve and repair the stone balustrade with urns at regular intervals, and the stone steps leading from the terrace, which are all in the same style as the house; I would also have them lead into an architectural garden below. The form of this garden should be quite regular, or, if you prefer the term, quite formal; and it should be ornamented with fountains, urns, and statues. The natural boundary of this garden is the piece of water before alluded to, the borders of which should be planted with a few tufts of shrubs to break, but not disguise, the regularity of the outline. On the other side of the water these tufts must be continued, but in a much wilder and more natural manner; and here and there the plantation must take the character of a clump, and consist of low trees, mingled with shrubs of the largest size. This will unite the house and garden with the park scenery as regards the view from the drawingroom windows, and on the side of the garden, gravel walks may be carried on through the various scenery of the park, a stone bridge being thrown over the water on the side nearest the entrance-front; and, farther on, a rustic bridge may be thrown over the stream in a situation where it is not seen from the house.

I think it very desirable that openings should be made in several places through the mass of wood, to admit views of the distant scenery from the drawingroom; as, for instance, if there is a church or a tower, or any other object that would form a suitable termination to a vista. In the reign of William and Mary, when the Dutch style of gardening was fashionable, nothing was more common than long vistas of the kind called _patte d'oie_, all springing in rays from one point, and each terminating in some ornamental object, such as a temple, an obelisk, or a statue. Some slight approximation to this style, by cutting long vistas through your woods, might therefore be very consistently introduced wherever a suitable occasion for it may occur.

In planting your _architectural garden_, you must observe that it should have rather a different character from the small garden in front of your sitting-room window. The architectural garden should contain standard rose trees, almond trees, double-blossomed peaches and cherries, the Chinese magnolia, or yulan tree, and other showy-flowering trees, planted in company with arbutus, phillyrea, Minorca box, and other evergreens of a similar character. In the shrubbery, at each end of the garden, but not forming part of it, these trees should be continued, and mixed with variegated hollies, the different kinds of Cratæ'gus, and other trees that are ornamental, and that never attain a large size.

I have already suggested that in various parts of the pleasure-grounds advantage should be taken of any natural inequalities that may exist, to form different scenes; and I have now only to add that advantage may be taken of singular peculiarities, should you wish to form in your grounds one of those arboretums which are now so fashionable.

An _arboretum_ is a collection of trees and shrubs, in which all the different species of natural order are planted together; and it does not necessarily imply that these orders should be arranged in any particular manner; as indeed botanists are not agreed as to how they should be placed, Jussieu having adopted one plan, De Candolle another, and Dr. Lindley another. The only essential point is, that all the plants which agree sufficiently to form an order should be placed together; as, for example, all the Coníferæ or cone-bearing trees, such as the pines and firs, the cedars, the cypresses, and the junipers; and all the Cupulíferæ or nut-bearing trees, such as the oak, the chestnut, the beech, and the hazel. Thus in your grounds, where there is a valley, it may be formed into what is called an American ground, consisting of the shrubs allied to the heath family, and planted with rhododendrons, azaleas, kalmias, and other similar plants. A glen may be planted with pines and firs, so as to form it into a kind of pinetum; and an open space among trees may be turned into a rose-garden or rosery. In this way most of the exotic trees and shrubs that will stand the air in English gardens may be planted in groups, without going to much expense, and with less formal appearance than that of a regular arboretum. Besides, the beautiful colours which some of the exotic trees will take in autumn give them a splendid appearance, when they are backed by other trees with verdant foliage.

The _rose-garden_ will be a very beautiful object if skilfully arranged; and, by thus forming your park into a succession of scenes, you will not only increase its beauty in the eyes of strangers, but add very materially to your own enjoyments by increasing the objects of interest within your reach.

I do not suppose you will have any occasion to renovate the _turf_ in any part of your park; but, if you should, the best way is to get a mixture of the seeds of several sorts of grasses, such as the fox-tail meadow grass (_Alopecùrus praténsis_), the sweet-scented vernal grass (_Anthoxánthum odoràtum_), the crested dog's-tail grass (_Cynosùrus cristàtus_), and other valuable kinds. If ever you find a patch of grass has become bare, have an iron rake drawn over the ground two or three times, so as to loosen it, and then sow a few seeds of the grasses I have mentioned, when the ground is in a tolerably moist state from rain. This will generally be sufficient; but if it should not, as the seed of the fox-tail meadow grass is very often bad, you have only to add a little seed of the common white clover, and the ground will appear green in a few days.