Let us next see what may be done with the Buttercup order of plants. It embraces many things widely diverse in aspect from these burnished¹ ornaments³ of northern meadows and mountains. The first thing I should take from it to embellish⁴ the wild wood is the sweet–scented⁵ Virgin’s Bower⁶ (Clematis flammula), a native of the south of Europe, but as hardy⁷ and free in all parts of Britain as the common Hawthorn⁸. And as the Hawthorn sweetens the breath of early summer, so will this add fragrance⁹ to the autumnal months. It is never to be seen half so beautiful as when crawling over some tree or decayed stump¹⁰; and if its profuse¹¹ masses of white bloom do not attract, its fragrance is sure to do so. An open glade¹² in a wood, or open spaces on banks near a wood or shrubbery, would be charming for it, while in the garden or pleasure–ground it may be used[22] as a creeper over old stumps¹³, trellising, or the like. Clematis campaniflora, with flowers like a campanula, and of a pale purplish hue¹⁴, and the beautiful white Clematis montana grandiflora, a native of Nepaul, are almost equally beautiful, and many others of the family are worthy¹⁵ of a place, rambling¹⁶ over old trees, bushes, hedgerows, or tangling¹⁷ over banks. These single wild species of Clematis are more graceful¹⁸ than the large Hybrids¹⁹ now common; they are very hardy and free. In mild and seashore districts a beautiful kind, common in Algeria, and in the islands on and the shores of the Mediterranean²⁰ (Clematis cirrhosa), will be found most valuable—being nearly evergreen²¹, and flowering very early in spring—even in winter in the South of England.  
Next in this order we come to the Wind Flowers, or Anemones²², and here we must pause to select, for more beautiful flowers do not adorn²⁴ this world of flowers. Have we a bit of rich grass not mown? If so, the beautiful downy white and yellow Anemones of the Alps (A. alpina and A. sulphurea) may be grown there. Any sunny bushy bank or southern slope which we wish to embellish with vernal beauty? Then select Anemone²³ blanda, a small but lovely blue kind; place it in open bare spots to begin with, as it is very dwarf²⁵, and it will at Christmas, and from that time onward²⁶ through the spring, open its large flowers of the deepest sky blue.[23] The common garden Anemone (A. Coronaria) will not be fastidious, but had better be placed in open bare sandy places; and the splendid Anemone fulgens will prove most attractive, as it glows with fiery²⁷ scarlet²⁸. Of other Anemones, hardy, free, and beautiful enough to be made wild in our shrubberies, pleasure–grounds, and wilds, the Japan Anemone (A. japonica) and its white varieties, A. trifolia and A. sylvestris, are the best of the exotic species. The Japan Anemones grow so strongly that they will take care of themselves even among stiff brushwood, brambles, etc.; and they are beautifully fitted for scattering³⁰ along the low, half–wild margins³² of shrubberies and groups. The interesting little A. trifolia is not unlike our own wood Anemone, and will grow in similar places.
 
Few plants are more lovely in the wild garden than the White Japan Anemone. The idea of the wild garden first arose in the writer’s mind as a home for a numerous class of coarse–growing plants, to which people begrudge³³ room in their borders, such as the Golden Rods, Michaelmas Daisies, Compass plants, and a host of others, which are beautiful for a season only, or perhaps too rampant³⁴ for what are called choice borders and beds. This Anemone is one of the most beautiful of garden flowers, and one which is as well suited for the wild garden as the kinds alluded³⁵ to. It grows well in any good soil in copse or shrubbery, and increases rapidly. Partial shade seems to suit it; and in any case the effect of the large white flowers is, if anything, more beautiful in half–shady places. The flowers, too, are more lasting³⁶ here than where they are fully²⁹ exposed.
 
As for the Apennine Anemone (the white as well as the blue variety), it is one of the loveliest spring flowers of any clime, and should be in every garden, in the borders, and scattered³⁷ thinly here and there in woods and shrubberies, so that it may become “naturalised.” It is scarcely a British flower, being a native of the south of Europe; but having strayed into our wilds and plantations³⁸ occasionally, it is now included in most books on British plants. The yellow A. ranunculoides, a doubtful native, found in one or two spots, but not really British, is well worth growing, thriving well on the chalk, and being very beautiful.
 
The large Hepatica angulosa will grow almost as freely as Celandine among shrubs³⁹ and in half–shady spots, and we all know how readily the old kinds grow on all garden soils of ordinary quality. There are about ten or twelve varieties of the common Hepatica (Anemone Hepatica) grown in British nurseries and gardens, and all the colours of the species should be represented in every collection of spring flowers.
 
There are many of the Ranunculi, not natives of Britain, which would grow as freely as our native kinds. Many will doubtless remember with pleasure the pretty button–like white flowers of the Fair Maids of France (Ranunculus aconitifolius fl. pl.), a frequent ornament² of the old mixed border. This, and the wild form from which it comes—a frequent plant in alpine⁴⁰ meadows—may also be enjoyed in our wild garden. Quite distinct from all these, and of chastest beauty when well grown, is R. amplexicaulis, with flowers of pure white, and simple leaves of a dark glaucous green and flowing graceful outline; a hardy and charming plant on almost any soil. This is one of the elegant exotic forms of a family well represented in the golden type in our meadows, and therefore it is welcome as giving us a strange form. Such a plant deserves that pains be taken to establish it in good soil, in spots where a rank vegetation may not weaken or destroy it.
 
Of the Globe Flowers (Trollius), there are various kinds apart from our own, all rich in colour, fragrant⁴¹, and hardy in a remarkable⁴² degree. These are among the noblest wild–garden plants—quite hardy, free of growth in the heaviest of soil and wettest of climates, affording a lovely type of early summer flower–life, and one distinct from any usually seen in our fields or gardens; for these handsome Globe flowers are among the many flowers that for years have found no place in the garden proper. They are lovely in groups or[26] colonies, in cold grassy⁴³ places, where many other plants would perish.
 
The Winter Aconite (Eranthis hyemalis) should be naturalised in every country seat in Britain—it is as easy to do so as to introduce the thistle. It may be placed quite under the branches of deciduous⁴⁴ trees, will come up and flower when the trees are naked, will have its foliage⁴⁵ developed before the leaves come on the trees, and be afterwards hidden from sight. Thus masses of this earliest flower may be grown without the slightest sacrifice of space, and only be noticed when bearing a bloom on every little stem. That fine old little plant, the Christmas Rose (Helleborus niger), likes partial shade better than full exposure, and should be used abundantly, giving it rather snug⁴⁶ and warm positions, so that its flowers may be encouraged to open well and fully. Any other kinds might also be used. Recently many kinds of Helleborus have been added to our gardens, not all of them so conspicuous⁴⁷ at first sight as the Christmas Rose, yet they are of remarkable beauty of foliage and habit as well as of blossom, and they flower in the spring. These, too, show the advantage of the wild garden as regards cultivation⁴⁸. They[27] will thrive much better in any bushy places, or copses, or in mutually sheltering groups on warm banks and slopes, even in hedge banks, old quarries⁴⁹, or rough mounds⁵⁰, than in the ordinary garden border. Of the difference in the effect in the two cases it is needless to speak.
 
Some of the Monkshoods are very handsome, but all of them virulent⁵¹ poisons; and, bearing in mind what fatal accidents have arisen from their use, they are better not used at all in the garden proper. Amongst tall and vigorous herbaceous plants few are more suitable for wild and semi–wild places. They are hardy and robust⁵² enough to grow anywhere in shady or half–shady spots; and their tall spikes⁵³, loaded with blue flowers, are very beautiful. An illustration in the chapter on the plants suited for the wild garden shows the common Aconite in a Somersetshire valley in company with the Butterbur and the Hemlock⁵⁴. In such a place its beauty is very striking. The larger rich blue kinds, and the blue and white one, are very showy grown in deep soils, in which they attain⁵⁵ a great height. When out of flower, like many other stately Perennials⁵⁷, they were often stiff and ugly in the old borders and beds. In the wild garden their stately beauty will be more remarkable than ever under the green leaves in copses and by streams. And when flower–time is gone, their stems, no longer tied into bundles or cut in by the knife, will group finely with other vigorous herbaceous vegetation.
 
The Delphiniums, or tall Perennial⁵⁶ Larkspurs, are amongst the most beautiful of all flowers. They embrace almost every shade of blue, from the rich dark tone of D. grandiflora to the[28] charming cærulean tints⁵⁸ of such as D. Belladonna; and being usually of a tall and strong type, will make way among long grasses and vigorous weeds, unlike many things for which we have to recommend an open space, or a wood with nothing but a carpet of moss⁵⁹ under the trees.
 
One of the prettiest effects which I have ever seen was a colony of tall Larkspurs. Portions of old roots of several species and varieties had been chopped off when a bed of these plants was dug in the autumn. For convenience sake the refuse had been thrown into the neighbouring shrubbery, far in among the shrubs and trees. Here they grew in half–open spaces, which were so far removed from the margin³¹ that they were not dug and were not seen. When I saw the Larkspurs in flower they were certainly the loveliest things that one could see. They were more beautiful than they are in borders or beds, not growing in such close stiff tufts, but mingling⁶⁰ with and relieved by the trees above and the shrubs around. Little more need be said to any one who knows and cares about such plants, and has an opportunity of planting in such neglected places. This case points out that one might make wild gardens from the mere⁶¹ parings and thinnings of[29] the beds and borders in autumn in any place where there is a collection of good hardy plants.
 
The engraving⁶² on the next page represents one of the most beautiful effects obtained in his wild garden by an acquaintance of mine who began when he knew very little of plants and their favoured haunts, and succeeded well in a not very favourable⁶³ site. Herbaceous Pæonies were amongst those that succeeded best. The effect was very beautiful, either close at hand or seen at a considerable distance off. Herbaceous Pæonies are amongst the most free, vigorous, and hardy of perennial plants, and with them alone most novel and beautiful effects may be carried out in most places where there is room. Even in comparatively small gardens, a group or two outside the margin of a shrubbery would be desirable. The effect of the blooms amongst the long grass of the wild garden is finer than any they present in borders, and when out of flower they do not seem to be in the way, as they often are thought to be when in borders and beds. It is almost needless to speak here of the great variety of forms now obtainable amongst these herbaceous Pæonies, many of which are agreeably scented. The older forms were not remarkable in that respect, but rather the contrary. In addition to the splendour of colour for which Pæonies are long and well known, there are now many delicately–coloured and tinted⁶⁴ varieties. The whole race is undeservedly neglected. People spend plenty of money on greenhouses which will never produce anything so handsome as a well–grown group of herbaceous Pæonies in the open garden; yet when they are grown they are often begrudged⁶⁵ a few feet of good soil, though that is all they would require for years at a time. My friend’s[30] Pæonies formed a group that could be seen from a distance; when I saw them they were surrounded by long and waving grass. I cannot give any idea of the fine effect.
 
The Clematis–like Atragene alpina is one of my favourite flowers—seldom seen now–a–days, or indeed at any time, out of a botanical garden, and till lately not often seen in one. It likes to trail over an old stump, or through a thin low bush, or over a rocky bank, and it is a perfectly⁶⁶ hardy plant. Speaking of such plants as this, one would like to draw a sharp distinction between them and the various weedy and indistinct subjects which are now creeping into cultivation owing to the revival⁶⁷ of interest in hardy plants. Many of these have some botanical interest, but they can be only useless in the garden. Our chief danger now is getting plants into cultivation which are neither very distinct nor very beautiful, while perhaps we neglect many of the really fine kinds. This[31] Atragene is a precious plant for low bush and bank wild garden.
 
Among plants which one never sees, and which, indeed, one never ought to see, in a flower garden, are the Meadow Rues⁶⁸; and yet there is a quiet beauty and grace about these plants which entitle them to some consideration; and the flowers, too, of certain species, particularly the one here shown in the illustration on page 1, are of singular beauty. When it is considered that all the species will grow anywhere—in any hedgerow or lane or byeway, or among coarse grass, or in a copse, or under the shrubs, in places usually abandoned to common weeds, there is no reason why numbers of them should not be rescued from the oblivion of the botanic garden.