CHAPTER XIII. 



The subject of this chapter is one to which whole volumes might be devoted, and The spirit 

 which, in fact, has a library of its own. Space, however, demands that we should dominating 

 condense into it those factors controlling the design and making of what is really, not informal 

 one kind of garden, but an entirely distinct series with many subdivisions and specialized gardening. 

 developments, each of which has its own requirements and methods of construction. It 

 will therefore only be possible to take up the three main divisions mentioned in the 

 title to the chapter, but in so doing we shall point the way more or less to the 

 making of every other form of garden in which wild growth, rock and water have a 

 place. 



So far in our survey of the art of garden making, the mansion, as the paramount 

 architectural feature in the composition, has dominated everything, and, because the 

 garden is complementary to it, a more or less restrained and conventionalized aspect has 

 been given to its various parts that they should form one composite whole, the amount 

 of restraint or freedom in each parterre being nicely balanced in strict accordance with 

 its relation to the dominating feature. 



Now, however, everything is changed. Success depends entirely on all absence of 

 restraint or conventionalization, and, instead of preserving an architectural continuity, 

 we have to subordinate everything to Nature and natural surroundings. Indeed our 

 garden, when finished, will only be successful in so far as we have achieved a generous 

 self-effacement and allowed Nature to reign supreme. Our whole task will consist in 

 giving her an opportunity to realize her highest and her best, a stage whereon to display 

 her greatest powers, and, where her works have been destroyed, a chance to reassert 

 herself. Wherever, in the finished result, artificiality is in the slightest degree apparent, 

 or features appropriate enough in themselves are arranged so as to be incongruous, or 

 so as to suggest a made-to-please effect, the whole will be spoiled, for Nature is never 

 obtrusive in her handiwork. 



Nevertheless, we must not run to the opposite extreme and suppose that, in the 

 wild garden, we have the negation of art and only the result of a fortuitous chance, for, 

 as Pope so truly said : 



" All Nature is but art unknown to thee, 

 All chance, direction which thou canst not see." 



and so we shall find as we proceed with our subject that, even where Nature already 

 holds sway, there are many things which we may do to help her to excel and enhance 

 the loveliness of all she touches. 



There are, of course, scenes of such transcendent beauty and perfection that to 



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