The Bar adopts at times the quietly assured purr of the contented cat who has seen the mouse and is merely waiting for a propitious moment to spring.
Category: Nature (Page 1 of 2)
Recently returned from his tour to the eastern states, Captain Ken has reported his astonishment that Americans could describe the architecture and layout of New York as beautiful, and his further astonishment at the praise they heaped on the scenery along the train line from New York to Philadelphia.
Mr Honey comes in spinning like a top – I have seldom seen such irritability in a man – and flings onto our table first one issue then another then another of The Spectator – a journal with which I feel myself to be closely associated. Indeed it is one in which I take a nigh-on paternal interest. Each of these issues has within it another attack on the landscapes of Capability Brown.
Capability Brown was no dandy but a diamond-decent down-home sort of chap and when Mr C of Essex asked me what that great master of gardening Capability Brown might have learned from Kent, I took it to my companions at the Tatler’s Waste-bin who wondered whether he had the county in mind or the man said to have been his master, that coiffed stylist, William Kent.
Forgive me if in this note I resume my happy task of setting out the progress of enlightened thought in pursuit of that snappy salesman, the gardener, Capability Brown, through a consideration of Dr Sarah Rutherford’s new book Capability Brown and his landscape gardens.
Ms T writes from Hampton Court. She is designing a garden in the style of that man, no nun, but a notable gardener, Capability Brown and wants to know how he would have felt about Fagus sylvatica ‘purple fountain’ weeping copper beech, or corkscrew willow.
Mr A of Boston, and Mrs H of Houston, Texas, raise a robust series of familiar questions about Capability Brown’s use of exotics in parkland: did he use them? Could he have used trees that were not hardy and so have failed? If he didn’t use them why didn’t he use them?
I have just received, for my comments, a piece so vacuous, so cheerfully empty of meaning, that I believe it can only have been pasted together by a PR department. This piece claims, as if it were common knowledge, and without any evidence or attempt to explain what it means, that the quintessential gardener, Capability Brown, made landscapes that were natural.
By great good fortune I came across a Major J.S., recently demobbed, of Wolverhampton while he was feeding the ducks in West Park. ‘Hats off to his handling of the ground’ he said, ‘but I have often wondered what Capability Brown was trying to show with his maps.’