CHAPTER XI 



THE USE OF SHRUBS 



THERE seems ever to have been an antagonism between the 

 view of a plant which the horticulturist holds, and that of 

 the landscape architect. To the former it exists as a 

 specimen, an individual that is filling an important place in the 

 world, in and by itself. The spread of its branches and the size 

 and quantity of its blossoms are the things by which he judges 

 it, and by which he values it. Consequently the more these are 

 increased, the more any characteristic is exaggerated in it, the 

 more valuable does it become to him. Naturally, therefore, his 

 whole aim is to provide it with those surroundings which will 

 promote such exaggeration to the highest degree. 



But the landscape architect views it from a very different 

 point. A plant is to him what a single note is to the musical 

 composer, or what the tubes of raw, pure color are to the painter. 

 One note, struck by itself, can mean nothing, no matter how 

 loud and startling or soft and sweet the tone; one color in a 

 great vivid blotch on the canvas expresses nothing, no matter 

 how clear and striking it may be. It is only as the note is 

 brought into relation with other notes, the color with other 

 shades and colors, that a composition takes shape. And plants 

 are subject to the same law, producing nothing worthy the name 

 when isolated. 



(107) 



