December, 1917 
29 
Our gardening is a con¬ 
quest of nature around 
us. We must tame 
water and trees and 
shrubs and rocks to 
play their part in the 
friendliness of the 
garden scheme 
course—as a sort of outdoors 
curiosity shop. It is to this mis¬ 
taken impulse, I think, that we 
owe the unfortunately common 
tendency to have this kind or 
that kind of a garden of spe¬ 
cialties in parts or in plan; a 
Japanese garden, an English 
garden; an Italian, a Greek, a 
Dutch, a pink, a blue, a night¬ 
blooming garden. These things 
are in essence only less flag¬ 
rantly bad in art than it would 
be bad in manners for a hostess 
to receive visitors in an Italian, 
Dutch, Japanese, or night¬ 
blooming costume. 
Garden Citizenship 
“As soon as we pass out of 
the domain of severely formal 
gardening, gardening subordi¬ 
nated to a severe architecture, 
our gardening is a conquest of 
nature around us; but,” he 
added, pounding the arm of the 
bench emphatically, “it is not a 
German conquest. It is a be¬ 
nevolent, gracious naturalization 
of nature to citizenship under 
the home’s domain, and an 
American garden should re¬ 
main American whatever it bor¬ 
rows from Japan, England, 
Italy, or Holland. 
“This reminds me,” Mr. 
Cable said, as we walked 
toward his garden gate, “of a 
mistake often made by those who 
discourse with both knowledge 
and authority on gardening. It 
belongs to the other side of this 
view, and here it is: the con¬ 
demnation of the introduction of 
exotics into the home garden. 
As to Exotics 
“The real mistake is not in the 
introduction, but only in the in¬ 
trusive introduction of exotics; 
their introduction merely because 
they are exotics, curious, fan¬ 
tastical, or far-fetched. Can you 
imagine anything more crudely 
inharmonious than a bed of cacti, 
creeping and sprawling in the 
sunshine inside a border of fra¬ 
grant, old-fashioned pinks? Cacti 
have their justifiable garden uses, 
of course. If they must be had 
merely because they are so odd, 
give them a place apart where 
they cannot jar sensibilities at¬ 
tuned to homelike things. In¬ 
deed, this applies equally to many 
less grotesque exotics. 
“As a matter of fact,” he con¬ 
tinued, his hand sweeping over 
the border of day-lilies and white 
foxgloves which we were passing, 
“at least four-fifths of all the com¬ 
monest and most beautiful things 
in our gardens are exotics, but 
they are naturalized citizens and 
have themselves long forgotten 
that they came from China, Scot¬ 
land, Persia, or the islands of the 
seven seas. The justification of 
our exotics is their identification 
with the garden as a whole, and 
their contribution to its beauty 
and repose.” 
“A man’s garden,” says George 
Cable, “is like his book. It does not 
betray the thousand and one mis¬ 
takes which have been passed through 
and left behind. It is a revela¬ 
tion of the gardener’s personality ” 
There is a charming absence of pomp 
and eager show in Mr. Cable’s gar¬ 
den. It has a kindly way of reveal¬ 
ing its beauties to you gradually—a 
tree trunk here, an open glade there, 
a splash of sunlight across a path 
A garden should not be 
a curiosity shop. It 
may contain exotics, 
but they must show a 
benevolent, gracious 
naturalization of nature 
