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Intro Mary Garden
Man in God's Garden
by John S. Stokes, Jr.
Catholic World April, 1953
In a poor agricultural region of China, each family grows only
one flowering plant - so pressing is the need for soil in which to
grow crops. Yet, just one flower can be bountiful and overflowing
to the eyes of faith; for not even Solomon (or a Chinese emperor) in
all his glory was like unto the riches and artistry of God shown
forth in a single bloom.
To sacramentalize earth, garden and fruits, and to
supernaturalize goverance and labor, calls not for number and size
but for understanding and vision. Thus, the sowing and tending,
too, of just one plant offers profound instruction in the
fundamental principles, habits and responsibilities of our labor and
stewardship for God's growing things.
Much of the written history of gardening, however, is the story
of the extremes to which human invention and ambition have been
carried in the garden, with little attention to the religious sense
and true dignity of garden stewardship and labor. In their gardens
men would be as gods, introducing infinity into the finite, and
setting up as end what is only means. They would spend their days
"gilding the lily" instead of sacramentally rising from it to the
contemplation of "Beauty, ever ancient, ever new" - the infinite
Creator.
In Europe the most notorious example of the "will to infinity"
in gardens was that of Louis XVI, who commissioned the laying out of
the Garden of Versailles, with its mile-long grand canal, its
multitude of terraces, its 1,400 jets of water, and its
quarter-mile-long orangry building containing 3,000 orange trees. As
many as 36,000 workmen and 90 artists were employed at one time for
its construction and ornamentation, which continued for twenty-six
years. From his palace, the King wished to gaze upon nothing but
that which he had "created"; and not being willing to wait for trees
and shrubs to grow, he imported them to the garden full grown, in
shipments as large as 25,000 trees each. (Cf. Richardson Wright,
"The Story of Gardening", 1938.)
Lost was the sense of fitness and proportion which governed the
gardens of medieval Christendom. To the clearer view of those
earlier times, God was God and man was his creature: "The earth is
the Lord's and the fullness thereof; the world and all they that
dwell therein." The garden, its labor and its fruits, were properly
seen as providential means for honoring God and for serving man in
his name. Devoted monks tended cloister and sacristan's gardens for
love of God, kitchen and herb gardens for love of neighbor. As
beauty was not divorced from utility, flowers and vegetables were
regularly grown side by side; some of our present-day flowers -
violets, roses, primroses - being highly regarded for their use in
cooking.
The first step down the "primrose way to the everlasting
bonfire" was taken when late medieval and Renaissance men undertook
the quest for beauty, of itself, apart from use and devotion, as a
means to greater earthly pleasure and enjoyment. Overstepping the
norms of sufficiency and right order, men's aroused desires and
appetites were soon dissatisfied with mere flowers and fruits, and
embarked on the endless search for gratiflcation in the big, the
artificial, the unique and the varied in gardens.
This trend found its beginnings in Italy when the aristocracy
undertook the construction of pleasure gardens around their country
villas. Spurred on by the returning Crusaders' reports of Eastern
splendor, and by the plans and ruins of pagan Roman plantings, they
filled their gardens with intricate topiary work of artificially
arranged and clipped trees and shrubbery. In time, as the new
gardens spread throughout Europe, more and more statues, stone
terraces, architectural structures, ornaments, "water tricks" and
other man-made creations were introduced. Flowering plants were
used for little more than to trace patterns in geometrical terrace
beds, and stewardship was reduced to maintenance.
In England the new mode of gardening did not get underway until
the sixteenth century, at which time the monastery lands
"sequestered" by Henry VIII and distributed to his friends
conveniently became available for the building of country manor
houses and the laying out of pleasure gardens:
"Rich with his newly-obtained spoils, Henry was able to hand
out rewards in the shape of estates to his deserving friends, and
thus the monastic buildings and lands came into the hands of owners
who were usually supplied with very adequate revenues from the
properties. . . . The house once in order, the new owner would turn
his attention to his garden and bring [it] into line with the new
ideas. The Earl of Surrey, who was granted St. Leonard's Priory,
near Norwich, not only entirely rebuilt the house and laid out large
new gardens, but also endeavored to obliterate the memory of the
previous owners by changing the name of the place to the secular
title of "Mount Surrey" (Ralph Dutton, "The English Garden". London,
1945, p. 39).
As for Henry VIII, himself:
"This simple layout [of the previous garden at Hampton Court]
was not at all in accord with Henry's flamboyant taste and afforded
no adequate background to his enlarged palace. More color and
interest were required, and these were easily obtained by the new
fashion of setting up colored figures, carved in wood and stone
about the garden. The Royal Garden must excel all others. . . .
There were to be 58 stone statues, of Kings and Queens, a quantity
of dragons, lions, greyhounds, harts and unicorn, 16 of the 'King's
Beasts' and 10 sundials: and in addition a large number of highly
colored figures of heraldic beasts set up on tall poles painted in
the Tudor colors, white and green" (Ibid. p. 36).
Yet flowers fared little better in the romantic, naturalistic
English landscape gardening movement which swept the Continent in
the eighteenth century as a reaction to the Renaissance and Baroque
formal, architectural gardens. Garden walls, buildings, terraces,
statuary and topiary work were indeed torn down, but only to make
the trees and lawns blend with the countryside in deference to
Mother Nature.
Plants and their tending flnally received more attention in
England late in the eighteenth century - following upon the earlier
"tulip mania" in Holland. This came about, however, not by virtue
of a renewed appreciation for God's providential artistry as shown
forth in the familiar native blooms, but from the discovery and
importation to Europe of numbers of new and unique American and
Asiatic plant varieties. It arose, too, as a result of the growth
of botanical science and of the perfecting of hortlcultural
techniques for raising tender plants under glass and "bedding them
out" in the garden.
The early twentieth century modern, utilitarian trend again
attempted to do away with flowers and plants in the garden; this
time replacing them with colored pebbles and concrete. Gardening
work was thought to entail too much time, expense and effort - in
competition with other ways of using one's leisure.
But now, in the United States, the "back to nature" movement -
in reaction to city living and to the severities of modernism - is
bringing about a renewed interest in gardening, although the
prayerful, religious sense and the arts-crafts of garden stewardship
are all too often overridden by the practice of obtaining grown
plants from professional nurserymen and sowing only a few "easy"
seeds, with a view to obtaining the biggest display with the least
care and labor.
Regardless of form, the garden itself, as such - large or small
(or a single bloom) - is potentially ever a temptation for men to
lower their gaze from heaven to earth. This temptation is found
wherever there are men, regardless of century or vocation. Epicurus,
the philosopher of pleasure, is reported to have laid out the first
pleasure garden in Athens. In Rome the passion of the wealthy for
gardening developed to such an extent that they took over more and
more of the city's land for pleasure gardens, crowding the remainder
of the inhabitants into smaller and smaller areas.
Montezuma, not satisfied with merely "gilding the lily,"
carried artificiality to the extreme by fashioning an entire garden
of flowers from precious metals. In the sixteenth century the
Cistercian monks of Melrose Abbey in Scotland were charged by the
watchful General Chapter at Citeaux with the offense that each monk
maintained his own pleasure garden. The first German herbal was
written by Otto Brunfelt, a Carthusan monk who joined the Lutheran
revolt.
Thus, while the aristocracy, wealthy and even religious
stumbled and fell in their gardens, God continued to tend the "wild"
flowers of the countryside. The peasant, small householder, or
gardening monk, too, tended his field or his modest garden. As
garden worker he understood how utterly dependent he was on God's
providence for his daily bread and how his loving stewardship for
God's creatures - seeds, plants, blooms, fruits - was an integral
part of the providential ordering of nature.
Saved by his necessities from indulging himself in the whims of
the big, the artificial, the unique and the varied, his thoughts
were raised to God in thanksgiving, praise and joy by even one
plant. Each day his life was an enactment of the parables of
sowing, tending, reaping. By personally experiencing the hardships
and disappointments of gardening work - rather than enjoying only
the pleasing results of the labor - he clearly saw the consequences
of original sin, and the need and opportunity for penance, sacrifice
and reparation.
Yet this closeness to God comes ultimately not of the garden
and its stewardship, but of God. Like family, school and civil
society, the garden is to protect and cultivate the supernatural
faith received of God and nourished by the sacraments; just as the
gardener protects and cultivates the plants which come of God's
creatures, the seeds. At best, the garden can be, as it were, a
sacramental, leading the gardener to Church and Sacrament. Although
his necessities protect him or her from an inordinate concupiscence,
the sacraments in turn must deliver him from his necessities.
Let us be ever mindful that mankind fell in a garden, and that
in the parable of the marriage feast, concern over a farm caused one
of the chosen guests to forego his invitation to redemption. Let us
be mindful, too, that the aesthetic view: "If I had two loaves of
bread, I would sell one and buy hyacinths, for they would feed my
soul" is of itself inadequate. We are to affix our vision only to
the truth that "not by bread [or hyacinths] alone does man live, but
by every word that comes forth from the mouth of God." The first
rule of gardening is fervently to repeat the Lord's Prayer, with
particular attention to "and lead us not into temptation."
Even in the pagan traditions and cultures, sacerdotal
legislation was introduced from time to time to protect the
religious use of flowers from secular abuses. In ancient Rome,
where certain flowers were reserved for religious use, a prominent
banker was sentenced to sixteen years in prison by the Senate for
appearing on a balcony wearing a garland.
In some regions of India, flowers are not acceptable in the
temple unless they are unblemished and have been grown by the
worshiper himself or herself. In Japan gardens are laid out
according to precise traditional religious and aesthetic symbolism.
And in many pagan traditions special flowers were dedicated to the
presiding deities.
In Christian tradition, the flowers of field and garden have
been associated especially with our Blessed Lady, the "Flower of
flowers." Under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, Solomon sang of
the wonders of his garden in the Song of Songs not as his "creation"
but as representations and types of the Beloved whom the Fathers saw
as a prefiguration of the Church, and more particularly of the
immaculate and ever blessed Virgin Mother.
The beautiful walled garden as a whole elevated Solomon's
thoughts to the Beloved: "a garden enclosed", as did also the
underground spring supplying the refreshing waters of the irrigation
system: "a fountain sealed up." He saw the Beloved in individual
blossoms, too: the "flower of the field," the "lily of the valleys"
and the "lily among the thorns."
Prominent among the illustrations of gardens of medieval
Christendom are those of Mary Gardens, in which our Lady and her
Divine Son and Lord are portrayed in enclosed gardens, surrounded by
symbolical flowers. And in popular tradition a great many flowers
of garden and field were seen to recall Our Lady's mysteries, feast
days, attributes and household possessions: Madonna Lily,
Purification Flower, Mary's Gold, Our Lady's Thimble.
For those of us moved to action, our rich Christian tradition
in gardening offers both profound inspiration and the practical
means for restoring the former religious sense and true dignity to
our gardening work, and for acting as leaven for the present-day. A
garden firmly founded in tradition would be one planted and tended
for the greater glory of God, and dedicated to Our Lady. Fit blooms
would be those which were lovingly seen and named to recall Our Lady
in old, popular, pre-Reformation English tradition - many of which
are available and cultivated today under other names. Small garden
beds could be laid out around a wayside shrine or piece of Marian
sculpture, as a fit setting in which to tend God's artistry and His
riches, the plants and blooms. Once established, such a garden is
easily tended by one person in an evening or two a week.
The undertaking of stewardship for Our Lady's flowers - annuals
and perennials, some easy and some difficult - presents an
opportunity and a challenge really to learn the arts and crafts of
gardening. In a small garden, proper soil preparation and faithful
sowing and tending are practical possibilities. All work can be
offered up as an act of faith which God is asked to accept and bless
- any early failures being acknowledged with a "mea culpa" as an
occasion for instruction.
The greenhouse technique of starting seeds indoors (a Roman
practice reportedly first revived in medieval times by Albertus
Magnus) where they may best be cared for secure from cold, flood,
drought or animals, can be applied very simply to small two-inch
deep boxes, tins or other containers of light soil placed on a
sunny window sill in March or April.
Seedlings of Our Lady's annuals flowers started in such flats
may be transplanted to the garden in May for bloom in summer and
fall. Those of biennials and perennials may be transplanted in
summer or fall for bloom the next and succeeding year. Some of our
Lady's annuals flowers are suited for transplanting to pots or
window boxes - for those who are not so fortunate as to have ground
for a garden bed. And perhaps in time vegetables, too, can be
grown.
The fruits of our Lady's garden are to be shared with family,
neighbors and friends, that they too may be edified by God's riches
and his artistry, and perhaps may be moved to undertake stewardship
of a garden of their own. Finally, these fruits are for the altar
of God, that we may follow them from garden to church, from glory to
glory, from sacramental to sacrament.
Let us undertake a garden as a prayerful work, placing our
labor under the protecting mantle of Our Blessed Lady - the Mystical
Rose, the Lily of Israel and the Bud of Promise - who assuredly
tended a garden in Nazareth, with St. Joseph and her Divine Son and
Lord.
Reprinted with permission