THE USE OF GARDENS 



of concealing the means by which its perfection has been produced. 

 No formula would ever bring about such a result because the adop- 

 tion of a formula in design inevitably encourages a slackening both of 

 thought and effort, and leads to careless compromises which weaken 

 the whole of the work done and make it more or less meaningless. 

 Indeed, it is a vital principle in garden-making that each subject 

 should be treated according to its particular needs that careful 

 attention should be paid to characteristics of site and situation, 

 because it is upon these that the distinctive qualities of the design 

 must be founded, and because it is from these, if they are properly 

 considered, that the charm and character of the completed garden 

 will most surely come. Here, the resourceful designer will have 

 his fullest opportunity of making his alliance with nature close and 

 binding, and of turning to advantage her own suggestions. The 

 material provided by her is ready for him to adapt, he can shape 

 it as his artistic instincts suggest, but in this shaping he will be 

 guided by a knowledge of her intentions and he can prepare confi- 

 dently for the modifications which she will introduce when, as years 

 go on, she sets herself to finish what he has begun. 

 The place which has such a history of careful preliminary study and 

 thoughtful adaptation of natural features, followed by a long period 

 of development during which nature has been busy weaving her spells 

 round the work of her pupil and follower, can always be recognised 

 by its peculiar distinction and by its possession of an atmosphere that 

 is all its own. As a piece of garden designing it may be entirely 

 unpretentious, beautiful in its simplicity rather than its elaboration or 

 richness of effect, but it will be none the less convincing because it 

 does not profess to be a monument of costly labour. Its completeness, 

 its Tightness of proportion, its justness of relation part to part, and 

 above all its air of having come about by a sort of spontaneous 

 generation simply and inevitably, all these justify amply its existence 

 and give to it an aesthetic value which is almost inestimable. 

 Really, the garden which has as its chief purpose the assertion of 

 the ambition of its designer, or of the wealth of the man to whom 

 it belongs, can never be a true example of the art which it professes 

 to illustrate. When motives such as these are allowed to obtrude, 

 nature is either forgotten or treated as of small account. No chance 

 is given her to exercise her influence either in the first making of 

 the design or in those later stages of the work when her help is 

 so desirable ; and her most strenuous efforts to assert herself are 

 made of no avail by human ingenuity misdirected and misapplied. 

 Consequently not even age can take away from such a garden 

 b vii 



