March 21, 1888.] 



Garden and Forest. 



39 



It is easy to see that this is true wlien it is a question of 

 formal, "architectural" design in gardening. But it is 

 just as true when it is a question of the most "natural" 

 landscape work. Nature seldom shows the artist a large 

 composition which he can wish to reproduce ; and if by 

 chance she does, it is impossible for hinn to reproduce it. 

 Practical difficulties hedge him narrowly in, and appropri- 

 ateness — which in every art is a prime consideration — 

 controls his efforts more imperiously than those of most 

 other artists. 



If the painter finds a natural scene which, without al- 

 teration, would please him upon canvas, he can paint it as 

 he finds it and take his picture where he will. If Nature 

 will not help, she will not hinder him, nor will appropriate- 

 ness forbid his savage, or his arctic, or his tropical land- 

 scape to hang upon a' wall in Paris or New York. But the 

 gardener cannot reproduce such a landscape if he would, 

 and appropriateness would forbid him if he could. He 

 cannot even reproduce a scene nearer horde, the appropri- 

 ateness of which, in general effect and in details of vege- 

 tation, might be entire. His aim is never purely ideal ; 

 he can never think simply of beauty or even of appropri- 

 ateness in the abstract. He may practice with abstract 

 problems on paper, but with each piece of his actual work 

 Nature says to him : Here in this spot I have drawn a 

 rough outline, which it is for you to make into a picture. 

 In many other spots I have shown you scattered beauties 

 of a thousand kinds. It is for you to decide which of them 

 you can bring into that picture, and for you to discover 

 how they may be fused into a whole " which shall look as 

 beautiful, as right, as though I had created it myself." 



Thus we see that appropriateness must be the touch- 

 stone as regards not only general effects, but particular 

 features. The memory may be stored with endless beau- 

 ties that Nature has revealed — with innumerable "bits" of 

 composition, with pregnant ideas for foregrounds, back- 

 grounds, middle distances and "effects" of every sort, and 

 with exhaustless materials in the way of trees and shrubs 

 and flowers. But not one can be used without bringing 

 the mind to bear upon the questions : Will it, theoretically, 

 be appropriate in this part of the world.? Can I, theoreti- 

 cally, introduce it into a creation of this special sort.? And 

 will practical, local consideratio.ns permit me to introduce 

 it, if I find it theoretically appropriate ? Indeed, the true 

 process of landscape creation is more synthetical, more 

 imaginative than this. The true artist will not go about 

 with a store of ready-made features and effects in his mind 

 and strive to fit them into the composition of the moment 

 as best he ma}'. He will conceive his general idea in 

 deference to the local prescriptions of Nature ; develop his 

 general scheme as artistic fitness may seem to counsel ; 

 discover the special features and details which are needed 

 to perfect it (considering which Nature will permit among 

 those that he might desire); and then, half unconsciously 

 perhaps, search for memories of natural results which may 

 teach him how to achieve his own. In educating himself 

 he will have tried less to remember in a definite way those 

 particular results of Nature which he may have seen than 

 to understand how Nature goes to work to produce beauti- 

 ful results — to permeate himself with her spirit, to compre- 

 hend her aims, to learn what she means by variety in 

 unity, by harmonious contrasts, by appropriateness of 

 feature and detail, by beauty of lineand color, by distinct- 

 ness of expression — in a word, by composition. Pie will 

 have tried to train his memory of general rather than his 

 memory of particular truths, and chiefl)' to purify his taste 

 and to stimulate his imagination ; — for he will have known 

 that, while in soine ways he is Nature's favorite pupil, in 

 other ways she treats him more parsimoniously than the 

 rest. She gives him a superabundance of models by the 

 study of which he may make himself an artist ; but when 

 as an artist he is actually at work she will never give him 

 one which, part by part, can guide him in his effort. When 

 we read of painters we marvel most not at -the modern 

 " realist" working inch by inch from the living form, but at 



Michael Angelo on his lonely scaffold, filling his Sistine 

 ceiling with forms as true as Nature's, and far more power- 

 ful and superb- — no guides at hand but his memory of the 

 very different forms he had studied from the life and his 

 own creative thought. Yet something very like this is 

 what the landscape gardener must do every time he takes 

 a piece of work in hand. Certainly not each of his tasks is 

 as dilficult as a Sistine ceiling, but each, vi'hether small or 

 large, whether hard or easy, must be approached in the 

 same way that this ceiling- was approached. Is his work 

 not, therefore, pre-eminently artistic work ? Does it not 

 give him full chance to express himself since it calls so im- 

 peratively at every step for the exercise of the imagination, 

 and since the best memory in the world can only give him 

 general, and not special, counsels.? 



Af. G. Va7i Rensselaer. 



Horticulture in Florida. 



T^HE cold wave which swept over Florida in January, 1886, 

 ■'■ marked the beginning of a new epoch in her develop- 

 ment. Before that time orange culture had been made to 

 advertise the State so extensively that it had come to be re- 

 garded as the all-important industry, and thousands even of 

 her inhabitants looked upon it as the only one that could be 

 carried on with profit here. Therefore this killing frost was 

 regarded as an unmitigated disaster. True, the groves within 

 the orange belt proper were not seriously damaged, but a 

 cloud was cast on the title of the orange to public confi- 

 dence, and the result has been that for the past two years 

 Florida has suffered partial eclipse. But there are strong in- 

 dications that the obscuration will not last much longer. 



The orange fever will hardly be revived and it is far from 

 desirable that it should be. While it conrinued we suffered 

 all the evils of a one-crop system. Besides, it diverted im- 

 migration from that large portion of the State where oranges 

 cannot be grown with profit, but where people can more read- 

 ily make a living by mixed agriculture. The great freeze, 

 therefore, did some good in checking rash investment and 

 reckless planting and turning people's attention to more sub- 

 stantial branches of rural industry. 



Besides the orange no fruits had obtained much favor in 

 Florida before 1886, except afewof a still less hardy nature. For 

 a few years the Lemon had been planted largely in southern 

 Florida and the fruit was shipped in considerable quantity. 

 Being less perishable, it promised soon to rival the orange in 

 public favor. The Lime succeeded finely in the same region, 

 as did the Grape fruit. Citron and Shaddock, but they were 

 but little grown except for ornament and home use. 



In the orange belt the Guava [Psidium pomiferwn in varieties, 

 and to a less extent P. Caitleianujii) had come to be regarded 

 as a standard fruit, and deservedly so, for there is scarcely 

 another that can be put to a greater variety of uses, or 

 used more months in the year. In 1885 it was plentiful in the 

 Jacksonville market, but it could hardly be shipped fresh out 

 of the State. These with Bananas (planted mainly for orna- 

 ment). Figs, improved native Plums {Prunus angustifoUd), the 

 Scuppernong Grape, and more rarely some inferior Peaches 

 and Pears, the Japan Persimmon, the Loquat {Eriobotrya) the 

 Mulberry,' Pomegranate, and a few varieties of improved 

 Grapes, comprised the minor fruits of the Citrus belt. 



The Cocoanut and Pineapple, formerly confined to the 

 southern keys, were coming into notice as fruits adapted to 

 the latitude of Lake Okeechobee, and the latter fruit had suc- 

 ceeded well on the eastern coast as far north as Cape Canaveral. 

 The Mango {Mangifcra Indica) and Avocado Pear (Persea 

 gratissima) had fruited bountifully as far north as Tampa. 

 These and other sub-tropical fruits were planted still further 

 north, and there was a growing disposition to put them to the 

 severest test in a climate subject to a lower range of temper- 

 ature than they could by nature endure. 



Such was the situation when the memorable cold wa-s-e 

 swept over us, driving the mercury down to a lower mark by 

 four degrees than had been known since 1835. To make 

 matters worse this cold wave was of twice the usual duration, 

 which is two days. All Citrus fruits that had not been 

 gathered, except in the southernmost counties and on the 

 Indian River, were frozen. The Orange groves which had 

 been the pride of Florida, were stripped of their foliage and 

 remained bear and drearv during the remainder of the winter. 

 Weak trees were seriously damaged, as were Lemon and Lime 

 trees, while Guavas and 'the whole list of sub-tropical fruits 

 were killed to the ground. 



