This must have been the most glorious Early May bank holiday weekend on record! Three days of pure sunshine and deep blue skies with not a cloud in sight and temperatures even summer does not often spoil you with in Britain. With fond memories of an equally brilliant day there a couple of years ago, we spent the Sunday at Stowe Landscape Garden, now in the care of the National Trust. It is, of course, one of the iconic gardens of Britain and indeed in the history of garden design. I first learned about Stowe many years ago at university, long before I came to Britain.
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The very first sentence of the guidebook had me smiling: "Visitors to Stowe sometimes ask, understandably enough, where the flower gardens are, and it has to be explained that Stowe is not that kind of garden."
Even earlier than uni, in my teens, a friend had invited me round to her hometown and showed me another very famous example of "not that kind of garden". In fact, the garden realm at Dessau-Woerlitz in Germany, now a UNESCO world heritage site, was directly inspired by Stowe as far as I know. I remember going and finding myself mightily disappointed: Where were those famous gardens?? It was November and hence not the best time for garden visiting anyway, but back then the only gardens you'd go "visit" I knew were stately Baroque-style affairs, formal in style (think Versailles), with many sculptures and box parterres etc. Here: nothing of that sort. Just some clumps of trees, rolling acres of grass and lakes, a few bridges...
Obviously, these are the classic elements of an English landscape garden. As the guidebook to Stowe continues: "Though there are a few formal flowerbeds within the balustrade on the south side of the house, all beyond is a picture of idealised nature, whose elements are grass and trees and water, with buildings carefully sited to give accents to the view and allow the wandering eye a resting place." So, yes - in order to appreciate it as a "famous garden" or indeed a "garden" at all, you'd better have at least a rough idea about the English landscape garden movement, its origins, principles and place in history.
Even earlier than uni, in my teens, a friend had invited me round to her hometown and showed me another very famous example of "not that kind of garden". In fact, the garden realm at Dessau-Woerlitz in Germany, now a UNESCO world heritage site, was directly inspired by Stowe as far as I know. I remember going and finding myself mightily disappointed: Where were those famous gardens?? It was November and hence not the best time for garden visiting anyway, but back then the only gardens you'd go "visit" I knew were stately Baroque-style affairs, formal in style (think Versailles), with many sculptures and box parterres etc. Here: nothing of that sort. Just some clumps of trees, rolling acres of grass and lakes, a few bridges...
Obviously, these are the classic elements of an English landscape garden. As the guidebook to Stowe continues: "Though there are a few formal flowerbeds within the balustrade on the south side of the house, all beyond is a picture of idealised nature, whose elements are grass and trees and water, with buildings carefully sited to give accents to the view and allow the wandering eye a resting place." So, yes - in order to appreciate it as a "famous garden" or indeed a "garden" at all, you'd better have at least a rough idea about the English landscape garden movement, its origins, principles and place in history.
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Books have been written and continue to be written, of course, about this history and the philosophy and meaning of Stowe and other iconic examples of the period, such as Stourhead. The National Trust guide book sums it up briefly on its flap (before elaborating inside):
"Created by Viscount Cobham in the grounds of his family home, the garden came to reflect a coherent programme of ideas based on Cobham's hugely influential network of political affiliations, and it was realized by that eighteenth-century master of garden design, William Kent. Encapsulating an idealised Whig vision of constitutional monarchy and political freedom, the garden featured a series of extraordinary and innovative garden buildings, designed by the leading architects of the day and ranging from the Temple of Ancient Virtue and a Rotondo to Lake Pavillions, a Chinee House and a Grotto, all set in carefully constructed Arcadian landscape of valleys and lakes."
But you do not need to know any of this in order to enjoy the place as a destination! Whether you know the landscape was deliberately made to appear like that or not does not inhibit your enjoyment of it. As with most art forms, such as music, architecture or furniture making, knowledge adds a layer, enhances or deepens your enjoyment - but merely that. For even as a total ignoramus you cannot fail to be charmed by this "landscape", to breath deeply and congratulate yourself for coming here with your picnic blanket for a relaxing and recharging day out. My daughter - who'd previously tried mutiny on learning we'd be going to a garden rather than the seaside - was instantly swayed and forgot to complain.
"Created by Viscount Cobham in the grounds of his family home, the garden came to reflect a coherent programme of ideas based on Cobham's hugely influential network of political affiliations, and it was realized by that eighteenth-century master of garden design, William Kent. Encapsulating an idealised Whig vision of constitutional monarchy and political freedom, the garden featured a series of extraordinary and innovative garden buildings, designed by the leading architects of the day and ranging from the Temple of Ancient Virtue and a Rotondo to Lake Pavillions, a Chinee House and a Grotto, all set in carefully constructed Arcadian landscape of valleys and lakes."
But you do not need to know any of this in order to enjoy the place as a destination! Whether you know the landscape was deliberately made to appear like that or not does not inhibit your enjoyment of it. As with most art forms, such as music, architecture or furniture making, knowledge adds a layer, enhances or deepens your enjoyment - but merely that. For even as a total ignoramus you cannot fail to be charmed by this "landscape", to breath deeply and congratulate yourself for coming here with your picnic blanket for a relaxing and recharging day out. My daughter - who'd previously tried mutiny on learning we'd be going to a garden rather than the seaside - was instantly swayed and forgot to complain.
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I distinctly remember that when we first went a few years ago, I was utterly charmed by the abundance of butterflies, dragonflies and damselflies dancing in the wildflower meadows and the vegetation around the lake. That was in summer though. For the children, apart from close observation of a majestic red kite and a buzzard being mobbed by crows, doing cartwheels, playing frisbee and generally running around and rolling in the grass, this time the highlight of the day proved to be a baby squirrel that was yet to develop any sense of shyness.
Returning once more to the artistic side though: on purely aesthetic terms, I think I prefer the William Kent-like gardens to those "Capability" Brown landscapes that seem to come without follies (and rely on clumps of trees, lakes and vast expanses of grass alone). Obviously, I don't care about the political statements/ implications/ philosophy expressed therein, but I love most of the visual anchors dotted around the former. I say "most" because I loath the Gothic Temple, for instance, and I dislike those "ruins" or "pyramids" that became so fashionable at the time.
In fact, many of the follies are quite ugly close up - roughly executed, to be admired from afar rather than appreciated at close quarters. I can't help but feel the owners either ran out of money or wanted to avoid just that, suddenly aware even they had to keep an eye on the budget: "Build me a temple there, will you? Should look like the real thing from across the lake - but don't worry about execution of the finer details, would be a waste of money as we won't use it for anything else anyway. No one's ever getting that close and anyway, it's the idea that counts." These buildings (in the sense of "a thing that has been built") look as if the builders have finished and left but the interior architects/ decorators haven't moved in yet.
But they do work a treat in the way they were intended. Walking around the landscaped garden, they suddenly pop up as if out of no-where, to such an effect as to often cause your jaw to drop. Again and again I've found myself marvelling at the skill of the person devising these axes. Even though you know where e.g. the Rotunda is - you've glimpsed it through semi-bare trees before - you won't see it for several minutes along the way until you suddenly come to a point where it is revealed to full stunning effect that couldn't be more beautiful even if one tried (which, of course, is what they did and aimed for!).
In fact, many of the follies are quite ugly close up - roughly executed, to be admired from afar rather than appreciated at close quarters. I can't help but feel the owners either ran out of money or wanted to avoid just that, suddenly aware even they had to keep an eye on the budget: "Build me a temple there, will you? Should look like the real thing from across the lake - but don't worry about execution of the finer details, would be a waste of money as we won't use it for anything else anyway. No one's ever getting that close and anyway, it's the idea that counts." These buildings (in the sense of "a thing that has been built") look as if the builders have finished and left but the interior architects/ decorators haven't moved in yet.
But they do work a treat in the way they were intended. Walking around the landscaped garden, they suddenly pop up as if out of no-where, to such an effect as to often cause your jaw to drop. Again and again I've found myself marvelling at the skill of the person devising these axes. Even though you know where e.g. the Rotunda is - you've glimpsed it through semi-bare trees before - you won't see it for several minutes along the way until you suddenly come to a point where it is revealed to full stunning effect that couldn't be more beautiful even if one tried (which, of course, is what they did and aimed for!).
And not just one feature per view! Quite often, the skill is such that you do not only see one folly from your view point but the eye is led further into the distance by yet another built structure much farther afield that reveals itself again from that very point you are standing at. Neither of which was visible just a few paces before. Pure magic and mastery of the craft! You can't fail to be in full admiration and awe - even if only on a subconscious level.
Not the best light here, but spot the three different features in this view
Conceal and reveal, surprise and awe, to induce strong emotions/ sensations - which, back in the day, would be accompanied by the political statements. These would likely be pointed out to you by the owner showing you around or a booklet or guide to explain the features to you. Not the interpretation, of course - these would have been obvious to visitors of the time - but the "title" of features like "Temple of Ancient Virtue" (as opposed to "Temple of Modern Virtue") for you to draw your conclusions.
It has to be one of the loveliest forms of Political PR imaginable! And - just a thought - one of the most powerful and persuasive as it is immersive and engages most of your senses in a setting where your senses are most open to any stimulation? So - any landowner keen follow suit and make a political statement for our day and age? Somehow I can only imagine a good example for "Remain" rather than "Brexit" (in the British case), for "inclusiveness and reaching out" rather than what "Trumpism" stands for.
What would the modern equivalent of political PR in a garden be like?
As the guidebook tells me, Stowe's Palladian Bridge for instance was decorated with sculptural reliefs stressing the importance of trade British prosperity. Based on fact rather than wishful thinking that would point to a "Remain" vote then? Actually, I think you could conceivably claim Stowe for either side of the contemporary argument. And it is void, of course, because those were different times, different politics, different sentiments and totally different competing ideas anyway. It would be grossly absurd and plain wrong to link Stowe's creators to either faction of today's big divide. It's tempting to make the comparison - but I'm only doing it via association of thought, purely speculatively, rather than claiming there is any connection, any actual relevance here.
The National Trust's guide book again: " 'What does the garden mean?' is hardly ever asked. For the concept that a garden as large as Stowe could have a specific and detailed programme of meaning - a sort of philosophic or political manifesto on the ground - is alien to our way of thinking." Still: It could be fun imaging what either could look like, though I wouldn't want to waste any time on that when lying underneath a tree in fresh leaf, gazing up into that juicy green and vivid blue.
It has to be one of the loveliest forms of Political PR imaginable! And - just a thought - one of the most powerful and persuasive as it is immersive and engages most of your senses in a setting where your senses are most open to any stimulation? So - any landowner keen follow suit and make a political statement for our day and age? Somehow I can only imagine a good example for "Remain" rather than "Brexit" (in the British case), for "inclusiveness and reaching out" rather than what "Trumpism" stands for.
What would the modern equivalent of political PR in a garden be like?
As the guidebook tells me, Stowe's Palladian Bridge for instance was decorated with sculptural reliefs stressing the importance of trade British prosperity. Based on fact rather than wishful thinking that would point to a "Remain" vote then? Actually, I think you could conceivably claim Stowe for either side of the contemporary argument. And it is void, of course, because those were different times, different politics, different sentiments and totally different competing ideas anyway. It would be grossly absurd and plain wrong to link Stowe's creators to either faction of today's big divide. It's tempting to make the comparison - but I'm only doing it via association of thought, purely speculatively, rather than claiming there is any connection, any actual relevance here.
The National Trust's guide book again: " 'What does the garden mean?' is hardly ever asked. For the concept that a garden as large as Stowe could have a specific and detailed programme of meaning - a sort of philosophic or political manifesto on the ground - is alien to our way of thinking." Still: It could be fun imaging what either could look like, though I wouldn't want to waste any time on that when lying underneath a tree in fresh leaf, gazing up into that juicy green and vivid blue.
The only regret as a visitor I have is that the National Trust closes Stowe at 5pm already, leaving you not all that much time to explore and enjoy - especially if you travel from a little further afield. Also, apart from the sheer size which makes it near-impossible to discover most of it in one day if you also want to sit down a while and just enjoy taking it in, having a picnic and perhaps a game of badminton: because of these closing times you miss out on the glorious late afternoon and evening light which add considerably to the garden's beauty (as opposed to the flat light of the glaring midday sun). But of course, National Trust staff - in fact, many of them volunteers - want to go home and have time off, too. Well, there is one good reason to participate in Stowe's big "Camp Off" in August, I'd say.
Still axes, but not as in Versailles... View from Stowe House, with the lake barely visible below the temple-like pavilions (above) and in the opposite direction (below)
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