CHAPTER XII

SOME WAYS AND MEANS

“No gardener has made experiments, however small, in the formation of a rock garden and the culture of Alpine plants without bringing a new gladness to himself and others.”—S. REYNOLDS HOLE,A Book About the Garden.

Forsuch as wish to set about creating an Alpine meadow, either as an attractive feature of their pleasure-grounds or—which is more to the point—as a completing part of their rock-garden, let me at once say that this volume is no detailedvade mecum, and that, for the cultural requirements of the plants mentioned, recourse must be had to the many good books already dealing with that phase of the subject. All that is pretended here is to point the way to a much-neglected path in Alpine circumstance and to attempt to arouse the necessary enthusiasm for its better and more just appreciation, incidentally indicating what may be novel in its aspect and untouched by Alpinegardening books. To this end, then, I would try to conjure up a representative field or meadow of the Alps. But, before doing so, let me impress upon the reader that, not only will it be no Alpine field in the popular sense, but that we may occasionally have to descend even to the fields of the Swiss plain in order to find one or two subjects which we can use with advantage to enrich our scheme—plants such as the Star of Bethlehem andScilla bifolia. The Swiss plains lie high when judged by English standards; rarely, if ever, do they fall below some 1,200 feet.

The field I have in my mind’s eye as I write these lines is one which, “with its early and exquisite diversities of form and colour”—to quote again from Dean Hole’s little book—“is a new and large delight.” It is one in which the bulbs, hundreds upon hundreds in number and about five in kind, burst into life with the grass in the first days of spring. White and purpleCrocus vernus, rosy Crocus-likeBulbocodium vernum, and yellow Gagea are the first-comers, quickly followed by the golden Daffodil (Narcissus Pseudo-narcissus), the bright blueScilla bifolia, the green-and-white Star of Bethlehem (Ornithogalum umbellatum) and itshandsome large-flowered relative,O. nutans. Then, following close upon the Violet, Cowslip, and Oxlip, come the earlier of the Orchids—Orchis Morio,O. mascula, andO. maculata. A little laterMyosotis sylvestrisspreads a blue haze over the field, aiding most admirably the lively pink ofOrchis (Gymnadenia) conopsea, and rendering the appearance ofParadisia Liliastrum, the paper-white Paradise Lily, daintier than ever. And now I see a glorious multitude of Pheasant-eye Narcissus (Narcissus poeticus), with here and there a tall, deep blue or purple Columbine. Lemon-yellowBiscutella lævigata, too, clear-blueLinum alpinum, and whitePotentilla rupestrisblend their blossoms to produce a lovely harmony in true spring-like key.Muscari comosumthrows up its curious blue-purple spikes, over-topped by the white sprays ofAnthericum Liliago. And in the moister part of the meadow I see great colonies ofRanunculus aconitifoliusand the yellow Globe-Flower (Trollius europæus) sown in most happy manner with our Ragged-Robin (Lychnis Flos-cuculi), presently to be joined by bright-pink regiments of Bistort or Snakeweed (Polygonum Bistorta). And then, whenCentaurea montana, accompanied byGeranium sylvaticum,Salvia pratensis,Lychnis dioica(theRed Catchfly),Silene Cucubalus(the Bladder Campion), andPolemonium cæruleumusher in the summer, the field is rich indeed in blue, mauve, lilac, red, and pink, with a distinct leaning towards blue, mauve, and lilac. And these colours seem to hold their own to the end. White may come with the Ox-eye Daisy (Chrysanthemum leucanthemum) and the many Umbelliferæ; red may come with brilliantCentaurea unifloraand crimsonC. nigra, the common Hard-head; yellow may come with tallHypochœris unifloraand such Buttercups asRanunculus bulbosusandR. acris, but blue and mauve and lilac seem always to predominate; for the Rampions (Phyteuma betonicæfoliumandP. orbiculare) and Campanulas (C. rotundifoliaandC. rhomboidalis) join forces with the Meadow Clary and the Wood Crane’s-bill and linger on until the Martagon Lily is gone out of flower and the field stands more than ready for the scythe. Indeed, long after the scythe has done its worst, andColchicum autumnaleis a thing of yesterday, and autumn’s fires have paled, and

“The few late flowers have moisture in the eye,”

those flowers, or the major portion of those flowers, will be blue and mauve and lilac—Campanula, Geranium, and Salvia.

A field such as this is a garden in itself, and a revelation, surely, for those who know only our home-fields. And it will be noted that in such a field there need be no destruction of effective English field-flowers. Indeed, the addition of Alpine wealth to our home-fields ought not to oust any but rank invaders, such as the Plantain, the Nettle, or the Bindweed, or other “volunteers,” as Californians picturesquely call them. Our Buttercups, Daisies, Orchids, and Red Sorrel should be secure; Dandelions and Ox-eye Marguerites can, and should, continue their reign as of yore; for all of these are constituents of meadows in the Alps. Thus, if we create meadows to companion our rockworks, we should be growing many an Alpine which at present we do not allow among our Alpines; and in this way, if in no other, our Alpine gardens would be far more complete, far more representative, and, therefore, far more worthy the name.

No; because a flower is already common in England is no necessary reason why it should be taboo in any Alpine field we may create in England. Indeed, such common things as the Marsh Marigold (Caltha palustris), the two Buttercups (Ranunculus acrisandR. bulbosus) and theBladder Campion (Silene Cucubalus) are most precious. Who that has seen the Marsh Marigold pencilling with golden lines the course of some mountain rivulet through the spring fields, and lying, withPrimula farinosa, a brilliant mass, in some juicy hollow; or the two Buttercups, blending with acres ofRanunculus aconitifolius, and forming a filmy sea of yellow and white; or slopes packed with the Bladder Campion and the tall Rampion (Phyteuma betonicæfolium), a perfect picture of grey-white and blue,—who that has seen these common flowers thus growing but has not vowed rarity to be no essential passport to the ranks of beauty? I remember once—it was at Montroc, near the Col des Montets—passing over a meadow-slope of Bladder Campion and Rampion, with just a sprinkling of that other and closely allied Campion,Silene nutans(the Nottingham Catchfly), and the effect so fascinated me, as to send up these Campions considerably in my esteem, as subjects with decorative possibilities of which I had not dreamed.

Objection may possibly be taken to the large area required for the creation of an Alpine meadow in comparison with its short duration as “a thing of beauty.” It will perhaps be objected that ourfield must be mown; that the ripening growth cannot be allowed “to lie in cold obstruction and to rot”; that, from July to the end of the year, the field will be a stubbly place of emptiness, whereas our rockwork will bear a continual round of interest until the coming of the frost. And this complaint would be reasonable if we were dealing with just an English meadow set with certain Alpine plants to make it gayer than is its habit. But we are not—not, that is to say, if we are contemplating the meadow as a companioning feature of our rock-garden. A typical Alpine meadow is full of “accident”; there is nothing of the billiard-table about its eventful surface. Palpably, it must have been the scene of utmost violence before Nature decked it out with verdure. Steep depressions; wide gullies; abrupt limits, falling suddenly away in a grassless, rocky bank to a rough path below,—such “accidents” as these break its even tenor. Rocks, grey and lichen-flecked, crop up from it here and there—rocks hurled in some past fury from the heights above or borne from afar upon the breast of some ancient glacier; for an Alpine field, more often than not, is a delightful combination of rockwork and pasture. Hence there is accommodation for a muchwider range of plant-life than in a meadow run upon English lines, and the season of interest is, therefore, as long-lived as that of any part of our garden. “Accident,” indeed, is the constant characteristic of it, and floral variety the natural corollary. When the hay has been made upon the richer portions of it, the poorer or more broken parts and the rocks continue to abound in blossom, giving us such things as the Thalictrums, Monkshoods, Peas, Veronicas, Pinks, Saxifrages, Sempervivums, and Sedums.

GENTIANA CAMPESTRISandGENTIANA BAVARICA.

When, therefore, we choose the parcel of ground to be transformed into a Swiss mountain meadow, we should not be dismayed if its surface is already more than undulating; we should not summon assistance to level it up and smooth it out. We are not proposing to make a croquet-lawn, but are supposed to be inspired by Nature in one of her wild, “irresponsible” moods. Violence, however, should depend upon size. If we are dealing with several acres, we can afford to be grand with regard to “accident”; but if the land at our disposal is, perhaps, half an acre, irregularity should be to scale; for to be artistic we should avoid extravagance.

Rocks, as has been said, are an almost essentialfeature of an Alpine field. The ground should rise towards them and should be of a poorer nature than where the grass is to be really meadowy; for upon the poorer ground we shall be dependent for many colonies of gay and interesting plants which would be out of place, even they could exist, among the thicker grasses. Here we may count upon brilliance long after the Geranium and its field-consorts have been mown down—brilliance afforded by such subjects asOnonis natrix,Linum tenuifolium,L. alpinum,Jasione montana,Campanula spicata,C. barbata,C. persicifolia,Trifolium alpinum,Eryngium alpinum,Vicia onobrychioides,Veronica urticæfolia,Lathyrus heterophyllus,Anthyllis vulneraria,Carduus defloratus,Verbascum phlomoides, andOnobrychis viciæfolia, the rosy Sainfoin or “wholesome hay,” for which the ass is said to bray.

The rocks employed ought, in greater part, to be of a “generous” nature, not hard and unresponsive. They should if possible be even soft (as rocks go) and somewhat liable to disintegration—rocks upon which, with a little preliminary encouragement, Sedums, Dianthus, and Sempervivums can take root. They ought not to be built up to form what is generally recognised asa rockwork, but should be large, massive, and sparsely set, cropping up from the ground haphazard and as if their greater bulk were beneath the soil. Grass should be encouraged to grow about them, even upon them in places; andPoa alpina, forma viviparais a suitable, as well as a most interesting, grass for this purpose. The Alpine Clover, too (Trefolium alpinum), may well be encouraged to spread around the base of these rocks and over the ground that slopes up to them. With its large, loose, rosy flower-heads, sometimes white or lilac, it is an ever-welcome June visitor, especially where it luxuriates; as, for instance, at Le Planet, below the French side of the Col de Balme.

I have said that the rocks ought,in greater part, to be of a “generous” nature; and I have said this because a hard and unresponsive rock here and there would not be out of place. Although quantity equally with quality is the predominant note in Alpine floral circumstance, it is not an invariable rule, and something of barrenness only adds to the scene of plenty. Moreover, a cold, bare rock with just one cleft in it where some single tuft of Dianthus, or ofVeronica saxatilis, for instance, can cling is oftena very precious object amid a surrounding exuberance of blossom. Often in English rock-gardens there is too little unoccupied rock. Ubiquity of plant life in this respect is not so artistic as when there is a modicum of reticence; nor is it so truthful.

Another by no means inappropriate feature is that which can be lent by shrubs or bushes; not as hedges, for Switzerland, when compared with England, may be said to be devoid of

“... Little linesOf sportive wood run wild.”

“... Little lines

Of sportive wood run wild.”

characteristic commonplaces in England, where, it is said, they cover one and a half million acres, they are rare in Switzerland; or, at any rate, as Leslie Stephen remarked, “those detestable parallelograms, which cut up English scenery with their hedgerows, are sternly confined to the valley.” And in the valley they are comparatively scarce, and lack the charm pertaining to the English hedgerow.

No; if our field is to have an Alpine allure, hedges must be tabu. But a negligent grouping around the rocks or upon the outskirts of the field, of such bushes asRhododendron ferrugineum,Rosa alpina,Berberis vulgaris,Rosa pomifera,Juniperus nana,Sambucus racemosa, and the twoHoneysuckles,Lonicera alpigenaandL. nigra, would not only enhance the effect and interest, but would tally with Nature as she generally rules in the Alps. Nor would the Bird Cherry (Prunus avium), if kept in bush form, be out of place. This lovely spring-flowering tree, treated as a hedgerow subject on the plateau at the back of Lausanne, is an arresting object in the fields around Chamonix at the end of May. And here, with the shade and shelter of such bushes, may come the nobly plumed Goat’s Beard (Spiræa Aruncus), the mauve and the cream-plumedThalictrum aquilegifolium, the deep-blueAconitum napellus, the violet-blueA. paniculatum, the creamy-whiteA. Lycoctonum, the rosyAdenostyles albifrons, the ever-graceful Solomon’s Seal (Polygonatum verticillatum), the blue-mauveMulgedium alpinum, the red-brownLilium Martagon, the brilliant orangeL. croceum, the pale-yellowSalvia glutinosa, the goldenLathyrus luteus, the pink and featheryDianthus superbus, the Fennel-likeMeum athamanticum, the distinctive Umbellifer,Laserpitium latifolium, besides such Orchids asEpipactis atrorubens,E. latifolia,Cephalanthera ensifolia,C. pallens,C. rubra, andHabenaria (Plantanthera) chlorantha.

If we are to have some kind of boundary-mark to our field, let it be by preference a low, mortarless wall of fairly large rough stones or pieces of rock built up with earth—a sort of rockwork wall. These walls may be met with almost anywhere in the Swiss mountains, and are frequently composed of fragments of rock which at one time and another have been strewn about the fields by rockfalls or avalanches. They often become the home of brilliant masses of such plants asSaponaria ocymoides,Silene rupestris,Gypsophila repens,Helianthemum vulgare,Arabis alpina,Calamintha alpina, andCerastium alpinum, thus adding considerably to the gaiety and charm of the fields—a gaiety and charm which in the case of these walls lasts well into the autumn.

Some difficulty may be experienced over the grass which is to accompany the meadow-flowers. Indeed, it is an objection usually raised whenever I have broached the subject of Alpine fields to gardening enthusiasts; they fear that English meadow-grass would overwhelm the stranger-flowers by leaving them no room to breathe. But is not this obstacle one rather of hasty imagining than of reality? We are not proposing to putViola alpina,Gentiana verna, or the Soldanella into the field. Moreover, there are grasses and grasses; and I believe a very suitable selection could be made from any of the leading seed-merchants. I should suggest that the ground be sown with smaller, daintier grasses, andonly after the flowering-plants have become more or less established; and I imagine that if this were done—and a sharp eye kept for the ever-ready invasion by native weeds—the imported field-flowers would hold their own.

An interesting fact in connection with Alpine fields—one that should not be copied in England—is the tendency of what is usually shade-loving vegetation to creep out into the sunlight. In spite of the intensity and power of the sun’s rays, even certain ferns, such asAspidium Lonchitis, the Holly-fern, andPolystichum Filix-mas, seem to think nothing of basking upon the hottest slopes. True, their roots are generally sheltered by rock and stone, but the fronds look the sun squarely in the face; and yet, what can possibly be fresher and more engaging than, for instance, the masses of Parsley-fern to be met with in the stony places of the granitic Alps? Wood-Sorrel, too, will come out into the open; so will the little Alpine LondonPride (Saxifraga cuneifolia) and the little Yellow Violet; so, also, will the May Lily or False Lily-of-the-Valley (Smilacina bifolia). In England,Astrantia major, when found, is said to seek the partial shade of copse and spinny, but here on these Alpine fields it is in the full sunshine—and looking very much the better for such boldness. It is as though the higher plants climb, the less they fear the light, extraordinarily searching though this latter be; it is as though they revel in the purity, and, casting retirement to the winds, take on a new and healthier joy in life.

ASTRANTIA MAJOR,A. MINOR, and the Apollo butterfly.

There is, perhaps, just one other matter calling for special attention: the grouping of colours. Alpine fields own immense variety in this regard. Some will be almost of uniform tint, while others are of a bewildering, diverse blend. One will be blue and white (Campanula rhomboidalisand Ox-eye Daisy); another will be blue and red (Salvia pratensisandLychnis diocia); another, yellow and pink (the Globe-Flower and the Bistort); while another will be a close, irregular mixture of some score or more of colours, with no one in particular predominating. Although Nature in her wildness is almost invariably “happy,” it is only natural that some of her results should behappier than others; and it is well to take note of the best she can do. Personally, I find her happiest when she keeps her palette simple, painting broadly, and not indulging in Segantini-like technique. And surely her simpler floral harmonies are among the perpetual delights of the Alps, and incapable of being bettered by even the most fancifully fastidious of “post-impressionists”? What could be more charming than, for instance, the simple combination of pale yellow and paper-white, or of rosy-pink and rich mauve when, as is quite usual, Biscutella and Cerastium, orSaponaria ocymoidesandCalamintha alpinaare luxuriating around and among the rocks; or when blue Myosotis and white Paradise Lily, or canary-coloured Crepis and sky-blue Veronica, or white Potentilla and rosy-mauve Geranium, or vivid orange Arnica and lilac Orchids are blooming in important numbers side by side among the grasses? I do not advocate formality—the formality depicted in Andrew Marvell’s lines:

“See how the flowers, as at parade,Under their colours stand display’d”:

“See how the flowers, as at parade,

Under their colours stand display’d”:

which suggests the careful horrors of bedding-out. A certain negligence is imperative; we may bestudious as regards effect, but we must not show it. The question of colour-grouping is certainly one worthy of careful consideration; for if gardening is not exactly an art that “doth mend Nature,” it is, at all events, a selective art, picking and choosing of Nature’s best and bringing this together within special confines, there to show in a series of close-knittableauxthat which wild Nature spreads out far and wide among much that, æsthetically, is of secondary “happiness.”

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