The Wild Garden Or Our Groves and Gardens Made Beautiful by the Naturalisation of Hardy Exotic Plants; Being One Way Onwards from the Dark Ages — Key Ideas to Explore

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Robinson, W. (William), 1838-1935 Project Gutenberg 2014 Not confirmed
Gardening; Wild flower gardening -- Great Britain; Natural gardens -- Design; Natural gardens -- Great Britain Readers of public-domain and historical texts
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Robinson argues for naturalising hardy exotic plants in groves and gardens, using specific examples like American Dog's-Tooth Violet and Trillium grandiflorum to illustrate how wild gardening can succeed where formal borders fail.
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EXAMPLE FROM THE FORGET–ME–NOT FAMILY 9

EXAMPLE FROM HARDY BULBS AND TUBERS IN GRASS 15

EXAMPLE FROM THE GLOBE FLOWER ORDER 21

PLANTS CHIEFLY FITTED FOR THE WILD GARDEN 32

DITCHES AND NARROW SHADY LANES, COPSES, HEDGEROWS, AND THICKETS 36

DRAPERY FOR TREES AND BUSHES 43

THE COMMON SHRUBBERY, WOODS AND WOODLAND DRIVES 51

THE BROOK–SIDE, WATER–SIDE, AND BOG GARDENS 67

ROSES FOR THE WILD GARDEN, AND FOR HEDGEROWS, FENCES, AND GROUPS 81

WILD GARDENING ON WALLS OR RUINS 88

A PLAN FOR THE EMBELLISHMENT OF THE SHRUBBERY BORDERS IN LONDON PARKS 111

THE PRINCIPAL TYPES OF HARDY EXOTIC FLOWERING PLANTS FOR THE WILD GARDEN 120

SELECTIONS OF HARDY EXOTIC PLANTS FOR VARIOUS POSITIONS IN THE WILD GARDEN 163

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

Colonies of Poet’s Narcissus and Broad–leaved Saxifrage, etc. _Frontispiece_

Columbine and Geraniums in meadow–grass v

Large flowered Meadow Rue in the Wild Garden, type of plant mostly excluded from the Garden 1

Night effect of large evening Primrose in the Wild Garden (Œnothera Lamarkiana) _To face page_ 4

A “mixed border” with tile edging, the way in which the beautiful hardy flowers of the world have been grown in gardens hitherto, when grown at all. (_Sketched in a large garden, 1878_) 5

Blue flowered Composite plant; fine foliage and habit; type of noble plants excluded from Gardens. (Mulgedium Plumieri) 6

Caucasian Comfrey in shrubbery 9

The Cretan Borage (Borago cretica) 12

Flowers of Geneva Bugle (Ajuga genevensis), Dwarf Boragewort 14

Star of Bethlehem in Grass 15

The association of exotic and British wild flowers in the Wild Garden.—The Bell–flowered Scilla, naturalised with our own Wood Hyacinth 16

The Turk’s Cap Lily, naturalised in the grass by wood–walk 19

Crocuses in turf, in grove of Summer leafing trees 20

Group of Globe flowers (Trollius) in marshy place; type of the nobler Northern flowers little cultivated in gardens 21

The Mountain Clematis (C. montana) 22

The White Japan Anemone in the Wild Garden 23

Anemones in the Riviera. Thrive equally well in any open soil here, only flowering later _To face page_ 24

The Green Hellebore in the Wild Garden 26

Tall perennial Larkspurs, naturalised in Shrubbery (1878) 28

Double Crimson Pæonies in grass 30

Eupatorium purpureum 32

The Giant Scabious (8 feet high). (Cephalaria procera) 32

Giant Cow parsnip. Type of Great Siberian herbaceous vegetation. For rough places only 35

Foliage of Dipsacus, on hedge–bank in spring 36

The large white Bindweed, type of nobler climbing plants, with annual stems. For copses, hedgerows, and shrubberies 39

The Nootka Bramble; type of free–growing flowering shrub. For copses and woods 40

The Yellow Allium (A. Moly) naturalised 42

Periploca græca (climber) 43

Large White Clematis on Yew tree at Great Tew. (C. montana grandiflora) 45

The way the climbing plants of the world are crucified in gardens—winter effect (_a faithful sketch_) 45

Climbing shrub (Celastrus), isolated on the grass; way of growing woody Climbers away from walls or other supports 47

A Liane in the North. Aristolochia and Deciduous Cypress 48

A beautiful accident.—A colony of Myrrhis odorata, established in shrubbery, with white Harebells here and there 51

Large White Achilleas spread into wide masses under shade of trees in shrubbery 53

Lilies coming up through carpet of White Arabis 56

Colony of Narcissus in properly spaced shrubbery 57

The American White Wood–Lily (Trillium grandiflorum) in Wild Garden, in wood bottom in leaf–mould _To face page_ 58

The Lily of the Valley in a copse 63

Solomon’s Seal and Herb Paris, in copse by streamlet 67

Colony of hardy exotic Flowers, naturalised by brook–side 70

Valley in Somersetshire, with Narcissi, Marsh Marigolds, and Primroses _To face page_ 70

The Cape Pond Weed in an English ditch in winter 75

Day Lily by margin of water 76

Marsh Marigold and Iris in early spring 78

The same spot as in previous sketch, with aftergrowth of Iris, Meadow Sweet, and Bindweed 79

Partridge Berry (Gaultheria) 80

Wild Rose growing on a Pollard Ash in Orchardleigh Park, Somerset 83

White Climbing Rose scrambling over old Catalpa Tree _To face page_ 84

Climbing Rose isolated on grass 87

Arenaria balearica, in a hole in wall at Great Tew 88

Cheddar Pink, Saxifrage, and Ferns, on cottage wall at Mells 89

The Yellow Fumitory on wall (Corydalis lutea) 91

Large Japan Sedum (S. spectabile) and Autumn Crocuses in the Wild Garden 92

Crane’s Bill, wild, in grass 94

Large–leafed Saxifrage in the Wild Garden 95

Tiger Lilies in Wild Garden at Great Tew _To face page_ 98

Large–flowered Clematis 102

Sun Roses (Cistus) and other exotic hardy plants among heather, on sandy slope _To face page_ 104

Wood and herbaceous Meadow–sweets grouped together in Mr. Hewittson’s garden 105

Dug and mutilated Shrubbery in St. James’s Park. _Sketched in winter of 1879_ 111

Colony of the Snowdrop–Anemone in Shrubbery not dug. Anemone taking the place of weeds or bare earth 115

Colony of the Summer Snowflake, on margin of shrubbery 119

The Monkshood, naturalised by wet ditch in wood 121

The white Narcissus–like Allium, in the orchards of Provence; type of family receiving little place in gardens which may be beautiful for a season in wild places 123

The Alpine Windflower (Anemone alpina) 124

Siberian Columbine in rocky place 126

Tall Asphodel in copse 127

The foliage of the Meadow Saffron in Spring 132

The White–flowered European Clematis (C. erecta) 133

Cyclamens in the Wild Garden; from nature 134

A South European Bindweed creeping up the stems of an Iris in an English garden 135

A Sea Holly; Eryngium 138

Groups of Funkia Sieboldi 140

Snowdrops, wild, by streamlet in valley 142

Sun Rose on limestone rocks 144

White Lily in Wild Garden 146

Everlasting Pea, creeping up stem in shrubbery 148

Type of fine–leaved umbellate plants seldom grown in gardens 149

The Bee Balm, Monarda. American wood plant 150

The Great Japan Knotweed (Polygonum cuspidatum). (Showing the plant in flower) 152

Phlomis. Type of handsome Labiates; admirably suited for the Wild Garden 153

The tall Ox–eye daisy (Pyrethrum serotinum) 154

The Great Reed of Southern Europe (Arundo Donax) 155

Telekia. Type of the Larger Composites, excluded from gardens proper 159

Group of Tritoma, in grass 160

Rock steps with Omphalodes 175

Butterbur and Double Furze on margin of lake 176

ONE WAY ONWARDS FROM THE DARK AGES OF FLOWER–GARDENING.

About a generation ago a taste began to be manifested for placing a number of tender plants in the open air in summer, with a view to the production of showy masses of decided colour. The subjects selected were mostly from sub–tropical climates and of free growth; placed annually in the open air of our genial early summer, and in fresh rich earth, every year they grew rapidly and flowered abundantly during the summer and early autumn months, and until cut down by the first frosts. The showy colour of this system was very attractive, and since its introduction there has been a gradual rooting out of all the old favourites in favour of this “bedding” system. This was carried to such an extent that it was not uncommon, indeed it has been the rule, to find the largest gardens in the country without a single hardy flower, all energy and expense being devoted to the production of the few exotics required for the summer decoration. It should be distinctly borne in mind that the expense for this system is an annual one; that no matter what amount of money may be spent in this way, or how many years may be devoted to perfecting it, the first sharp frost of November announces a yet further expense and labour, usually more heavy than the preceding.

Its highest results need hardly be described; they are seen in all our great public gardens; our London and many other city parks show them in the shape of beds filled with vast quantities of flowers, covering the ground frequently in a showy way, or in a repulsively gaudy manner: nearly every private garden is taken possession of by the same things. I will not here enter into the question of the merits of this system; it is enough to state that even on its votaries it is beginning to pall. Some are looking back with regret to the old mixed–border gardens; others are endeavouring to soften the harshness of the bedding system by the introduction of fine–leaved plants, but all are agreed that a great mistake has been made in destroying all our old flowers, from Lilies to Hepaticas, though very few persons indeed have any idea of the numbers of beautiful subjects in this way which we may gather from every northern and temperate clime to adorn our gardens under a more artistic system.

My object in the _Wild Garden_ is now to show how we may have more of the varied beauty of hardy flowers than the most ardent admirer of the old style of garden ever dreams of, by naturalising innumerable beautiful natives of many regions of the earth in our woods and copses, rougher parts of pleasure grounds, and in unoccupied places in almost every kind of garden.

I allude not to the wood and brake flora of any one country, but to that which finds its home in the vast fields of the whole northern world, and that of the hill–ground that falls in furrowed folds from beneath the hoary heads of all the great mountain chains of the world, whether they rise from hot Indian plains or green European pastures. The Palm and sacred Fig, as well as the Wheat and the Vine, are separated from the stemless plants that cushion under the snow for half the year, by a zone of hardier and not less beautiful life, varied as the breezes that whisper on the mountain sides, and as the rills that seam them. They are the Lilies, and Bluebells, and Foxgloves, and Irises, and Windflowers, and Columbines, and Rock–roses, and Violets, and Cranesbills, and countless Pea–flowers, and mountain Avens, and Brambles, and Cinquefoils, and Evening Primroses, and Clematis, and Honeysuckles, and Michaelmas Daisies, and Wood–hyacinths, and Daffodils, and Bindweeds, and Forget–me–nots, and blue–eyed Omphalodes, and Primroses, and Day Lilies, and Asphodels, and St. Bruno’s Lilies, and the almost innumerable plants which form the flora of the northern and temperate portions of vast continents.

It is beyond the power of pen or pencil to picture the beauty of these plants. Innumerable and infinitely varied scenes occur in the wilder parts of all northern and temperate regions, at many different elevations. The loveliness and ceaselessly varying charms of such scenes are indeed difficult to describe or imagine; the essential thing to bear in mind is that the plants that go to form them _are hardy, and will thrive in our climate as well as native plants_.

Such beauty may be realised in every wood and copse and shrubbery that screens our “trim gardens.” Naturally our woods and wilds have no little loveliness in spring; we have here and there the Lily–of–the–valley and the Snowdrop, and everywhere the Primrose and Cowslip; the Bluebell and the Foxglove sometimes take nearly complete possession of whole woods; but, with all our treasures in this way, we have no attractions in or near our gardens compared to what it is within our power to create. There are many countries with winters as cold as, or colder than, our own, possessing a rich flora; and by taking the best hardy exotics and establishing them in wild or half–wild spots, we may produce beautiful pictures in such places. To most people a pretty plant in a free state is more attractive than any garden denizen. It is taking care of itself; and, moreover, it is usually surrounded by some degree of graceful wild spray—the green above, and the moss and brambles and grass around.

By the means presently to be explained, numbers of plants of the highest order of beauty and fragrance, and clothed with pleasant associations, may be seen perfectly at home in the spaces now devoted to rank grass and weeds, and by wood walks in our shrubberies and ornamental plantations.

Among my reasons for advocating this system are the following:—

_First_, because hundreds of the finest hardy flowers will thrive much better in rough and wild places than ever they did in the old–fashioned border. Even comparatively small ones, like the ivy–leaved Cyclamen, a beautiful plant that we rarely find in perfection in gardens, I have seen perfectly naturalised and spread all over the mossy surface of a thin wood.

_Secondly_, because they will look infinitely better than ever they did in gardens, in consequence of fine–leaved plant, fern, and flower, and climber, grass and trailing shrub, relieving each other in ways innumerable and delightful. Any one of a thousand combinations will prove as far superior to any aspect of the old mixed border, or the ordinary type of modern flower–garden, as is a lovely mountain valley to a piece of the “black country.”

_Thirdly_, because, arranged as I propose, no disagreeable effects result from decay. The raggedness of the old mixed border after the first flush of spring and early summer bloom had passed was intolerable, bundles of decayed stems tied to sticks, making the place look like the parade–ground of a number of crossing–sweepers. When Lilies are sparsely dotted through masses of shrubs, their flowers are admired more than if they were in isolated showy masses; when they pass out of bloom they are unnoticed amidst the vegetation, and not eyesores, as when in rigid unrelieved tufts in borders, etc. In a wild or semi–wild state the beauty of individual species will proclaim itself when at its height; and when out of bloom they will be succeeded by other kinds, or lost among the numerous objects around.

_Fourthly_, because it will enable us to grow many plants that have never yet obtained a place in our “trim gardens.” I allude to the multitudes of plants which, not being so showy as those usually considered worthy of a place in gardens, are never seen therein. The flowers of many of these are of the highest order of beauty, especially when seen in numbers. An isolated tuft of one of these, seen in a formal border, may not be considered worthy of its place, while in some wild glade, in a wood, as a little colony, grouped naturally, or associated with like subjects, its effect may be exquisite. Among the subjects usually considered unfit for garden cultivation may be included a goodly number that, grown in gardens, are no addition to them; subjects like the American Asters, Golden Rods, and like plants, which merely overrun the choicer and more beautiful border–flowers when planted amongst them. These coarse subjects would be quite at home in copses and woody places, where their blossoms might be seen or gathered in due season, and their vigorous vegetation form a covert welcome to the game–preserver. To these two groups might be added subjects like the winter Heliotrope, the handsome British Willow herb, and many other plants which, while attractive in the garden, are apt to spread about so rapidly as to become a nuisance there. Clearly these should only be planted in wild and semi–wild places.

_Fifthly_, because we may in this way settle also the question of spring flowers, and the spring garden, as well as that of hardy flowers generally. In the way I suggest, many parts of every country garden, and many suburban ones, may be made alive with spring flowers, without interfering at least with the geometrical beds that have been the worthless stock–in–trade of the so–called landscape–gardener for centuries. The blue stars of the Apennine Anemone will be seen to greater advantage “wild,” in shady or half–shady bare places, under trees, than in any conceivable formal arrangement, and it is but one of hundreds of sweet spring flowers that will succeed perfectly in the way I propose.

_Sixthly_, because there can be few more agreeable phases of communion with nature than naturalising the natives of countries in which we are infinitely more interested than in those of which greenhouse or stove plants are native. From the Roman ruin—home of many flowers, the prairies of the New World, the woods and meadows of all the great mountains of Europe; from Greece and Italy and Spain, from the sunny hills of Asia Minor; from the alpine regions of the great continents—in a word, from almost every interesting region the traveller may bring seeds or plants, and establish near his home the pleasantest souvenirs of the various scenes he has visited.

Moreover, the great merit of permanence belongs to this delightful phase of gardening. Select a wild rough slope, and embellish it with the handsomest and hardiest climbing plants,—say the noble mountain Clematis from Nepal, the sweet C. Flammula from Southern Europe, “Virginian creepers” in variety, the Nootka Bramble (Rubus nutkanus and R. odoratus), various species of hardy vines, Jasmines, Honeysuckles—British and European, and wild Roses. Arranged with some judgment at first, such a colony might be left to take care of itself; time would but add to its attractions, and the happy owner might go away for years, and find it beautiful on his return.

EXAMPLE FROM THE FORGET–ME–NOT FAMILY.

I will now endeavour to illustrate my meaning by showing what may be done with one type of northern vegetation— that of the Forget–me–not order, one far from being as rich as others in subjects suited for the wild garden. Through considering its capabilities in this way, the reader may be able to form some idea of what we may do by selecting from the numerous plants that grow in the meadows and mountain–woods of Europe, Asia, and America.

The Forget–me–not or Borage family is a well–marked and well–known one, containing a great number of coarse weeds, but which, if it possessed only the common Forget–me–not, would have some claims on us. Many persons are not acquainted with more than the Forget–me–nots; but what lovely exotic plants there are in this order that would afford delight if met with creeping about along our wood and shrubbery walks! Nature, say some, is sparing of her deep true blues; but there are obscure plants in this order that possess the truest, deepest, and most delicate of blues, and which will thrive as well in the wild garden as common weeds. The creeping Omphalodes verna even surpasses the Forget–me–not in the depth and beauty of its blue and its other good qualities, and runs about quite freely in any shady or half–shady shrubbery or open wood, or even in turf in moist soil not very frequently mown. Its proper home is the wood or semi–wild spot, where it takes care of itself. Put it in a garden, and probably, unless the soil and region be moist, it soon perishes. Besides, in the border, it would be a not very agreeable object when once the sweet spring bloom had passed; whereas, in the positions spoken of, in consequence of the predominance of trees, shrubs, and tall herbs, the low plants are not noticed when out of flower, but crawl about unobserved till returning spring reminds those fortunate enough to see them how superior is the inexpensive and natural kind of gardening here advocated.

Another plant of the order is so suitable and useful for this purpose, that if a root or two of it be planted in any shrubbery, it will soon run about, exterminate the weeds, and prove quite a lesson in wild gardening. I allude to the Caucasian Comfrey (Symphytum caucasicum), which grows about twenty inches high, and bears quantities of the loveliest blue pendulous flowers. It, like many others, does much better in a wood, grove, or any kind of shrubbery, than in any other position, filling in the naked spaces between the trees and shrubs, and has a quick–growing and spreading tendency, but never becomes weedy or objectionable. As if to contrast with it, there is the deep crimson Bohemian Comfrey (S. bohemicum), which is sometimes startling from the depth of its vivid colouring; and the white Comfrey (S. orientale), quite a vigorous–growing kind, blooming early in April and May, with the blue Caucasian C.

These Comfreys, indeed, are admirable plants for rough places—the tall and vigorous ones thriving in a ditch or any similar place, and flowering much better and longer than they ever did in the garden proper, in prim borders. There are about twenty species, mostly from Southern and Central Europe, Asia, and Siberia.

Robinson opens his preface by recalling how the prevailing 'system' of formal flower borders excluded 'a vast world of plant beauty.' His response was to coin the term 'wild garden' and advocate for naturalising hardy exotic plants in woods, copses, and neglected corners. The third edition, illustrated by Alfred Parsons, retains the combative tone of a reformer: Robinson calls the old ways 'the Dark Ages of Flower Gardening' and offers his method as 'one way onwards.'

The excerpts show a writer who thinks in terms of plant communities, not isolated specimens. He praises 'colonies of Poet's Narcissus' and describes how golden rods and asters can evoke 'an aspect of vegetation everywhere seen in American woods in autumn.' His eye is on mass effect and ecological fit, not on bedding-out patterns.

A Polemic Against the 'Mixed Border'

Robinson frames his argument as a battle against the 'mixed border,' which he calls a 'formal way' that kept countless hardy flowers out of gardens. He does not mince words: the old system produced 'bare borders' and 'weedy' or 'half bare' places. His solution is not a compromise but a replacement. The wild garden, he insists, can 'make happy around us' plants that were previously exiled to the margins. The language is that of a manifesto, not a handbook. Robinson repeatedly uses the word 'system' in scare quotes, dismissing it as a fashion rather than a necessity. He is particularly scornful of the notion that gardeners 'cannot go back' to older methods, implying that his proposal is actually a forward step.

Evidence from Cultivation: Specific Plants and Their Needs

Robinson grounds his advocacy in concrete examples. He notes that the American Dog's-Tooth Violet would flower 'quite as freely as at home' in uncultivated spots, while an exposed garden border is 'the worst place' for wood and copse plants. He cites a successful specimen of Trillium grandiflorum that grew 'quite two feet through and two feet high' in a shady shrubbery. For Epigaea repens, he recommends a 'sandy fir-wood, under the shrubs and pines'—exactly the conditions of its native New Jersey. These observations are not abstract; they are drawn from failures and successes in actual gardens. Robinson uses them to argue that the wild garden offers 'advantages from the point of view of cultivation,' not merely aesthetics.

The Wild Garden as a Means of Enjoying Foreign Vegetation

One of Robinson's most striking arguments is that naturalisation allows gardeners to experience 'representations of the vegetation of other countries.' He points to the golden rods and asters of American autumn, which on 'the poorest soil in the most neglected copse' can recreate a scene 'everywhere seen in American woods.' He acknowledges that this may seem 'a very commonplace delight,' but insists it is welcome because Britain has 'nothing at all like it.' The passage reveals a cosmopolitan curiosity: Robinson wants to bring the world's flora into British landscapes, not as curiosities in a botanic garden, but as integrated, self-sustaining colonies. He even suggests reciprocal exchanges, such as American gardeners naturalising English primroses and polyanthuses in moist, shaded positions.

Shade as an Asset, Not a Liability

Robinson devotes a long passage to the value of shade, a topic he knows will resonate with American readers 'to whose language belongs the term “shade trees.”' He observes that flower beds are typically placed in full sun, which is sensible in a cool climate, but on warm days 'the woodland shade is sought in preference to the open lawn.' The wild garden, he argues, can fill shady places with flowers, using plants that 'love the shade.' He predicts that in America, where 'shade is such a necessity,' the wild garden will become 'the most delightful retreat near the country house.' The tone is practical and persuasive: he is not merely describing an ideal, but offering a solution to a real problem—how to have flowers where conventional gardening fails.

Robinson's prose is that of a campaigner: direct, opinionated, and grounded in observation. Readers should expect not a neutral guide but a sustained argument, supported by specific plant examples and a clear vision of how gardens might look and function differently. The excerpts suggest that the book is as much about changing minds as about changing planting methods. Those interested in the history of garden design, or in the origins of naturalistic planting, will find here a foundational text—one that still provokes thought about what a garden can be.

I’ve often thought Robinson’s wild garden whispers of patience—roots finding their own soil, unforced. Reading The Wild Garden, I recalled another quiet record of growth, A decade of negro extension work, 1914-1924 — A Reader’s Guide. Both books watch things take hold slowly, beyond formal plans. There’s a gentle kinship there, in how living things, given room, teach us their own seasons.

Mila Scott
1 month ago

Scarlett Lewis
4 weeks ago

3.5
3.5 out of 5 (2 User reviews )

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    Stephen Morales - 1 month ago
    The ideas in 'The Wild Garden' are intriguing, and I appreciate the push towards more naturalistic planting. The author's passion is evident, and the book has inspired me to experiment with wildflowers. However, the writing can be a bit dense and rambling at times, and the specific plant lists may not suit all climates. Still, it's a thought-provoking read that will appeal to gardeners looking to break away from formal beds. Just be prepared to adapt the advice to your own conditions.

  • ...
    Brenda Little - 2 weeks ago
    The Wild Garden is a visionary work that has transformed my approach to landscaping. The concept of naturalizing hardy exotic plants to create a self-sustaining garden is genius. The book explains how to integrate wildflowers and foreign species into existing groves and gardens, reducing maintenance while increasing beauty. The writing is poetic and inspiring, and the plant recommendations are spot-on. My garden has become a haven for pollinators and a source of year-round interest. I can't recommend this enough for anyone looking to create a natural, vibrant landscape.

  • ...
    Mary Joseph Hill - 1 week ago
    The book's central idea is interesting but poorly executed. I found the text to be overly philosophical with too little practical guidance. The author spends pages on the beauty of naturalized plants but gives scant attention to how to actually achieve that. Many plant recommendations are not hardy in my zone, and the book lacks clear instructions on planting and maintenance. It feels more like a manifesto than a gardening manual. If you're looking for actionable advice, this isn't it.


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