The greenhouse effect
Emma Tennant
CONSERVATORY AND INDOOR PLANTS, VOLUME I by Roger Phillips and Martyn Rix Macmillan, £19.99, pp. 286 he British Isles are famous for their gardens. They are made possible by a mild, maritime climate which enables us to grow an extraordinary range of plants from many parts of the world. But the grass is always greener, and English gardeners have always longed to grow an even wider range of plants, particularly those which flourish in Mediterranean climates and curl up at the first touch of frost. The current craze for conservatories, symbolic of a certain way of life in late 20th-century Britain, is the latest manifestation of an old urge. No conservatory- or greenhouse-owner should be without this remarkable book.
Goethe said that the south is where oranges grow in the ground. Like most northern Europeans, he thought that citrus fruits symbolise the romance and glamour of the Mediterranean. The earliest orangeries — most delightful of garden buildings — were built in England in the 17th century. The well-off connoisseur of plants would go to enormous lengths to bring the sight, the flavour, and perhaps above all the very scent of the south to his grey-skied domain. So it is a surprise to find that the genus Citrus, though long domiciled on the shores of the Mediter- ranean, did not originate there. The first citrus to reach the region, C. medica, the citron, is thought to have been introduced by the armies of Alexander the Great on their return from the east in 300 BC. The lemon, which like the citron is of unknown origin, was brought in by the Arabs some time before 1200 AD and the sweet orange, thought to be a native of southern China and Vietnam, was introduced to Europe by sailors about 1500 AD.
Phillips and Rix treat the genus Citrus according to their well-tried formula. A scholarly text, which includes advice on cultivation, is accompanied by photographs showing mature specimens in their setting, wild or cultivated as the case may be, as well as pages of individual fruit and flowers arranged together on a plain background for ease of identification. Roger Phillips's photographs have set a new standard of botanical illustration — is it possible that his spreads were inspired by the best of the old herbals and florilegia? They certainly combine cutting-edge technology with a high degree of artistry. And the photographs taken further afield inspire the armchair traveller as much as the arm- chair gardener. The avenue of huge old potted lemons at the Villa Camberaia near Florence, for instance, is an image to set the pulse racing.
The genus Camellia is another native of the Far East which is now very much at home in the west. A memorable photo- graph shows an ancient, gnarled C. japoni- ca in the Master of the Fishing Nets Garden in eastern China. More fine old specimens line the drive at Quinta da Palheiro Ferreiro in Madeira, and flourish in Californian gardens. Mount Edgcumbe in Cornwall and Coleton Fishacre in Devon hold their own with collections of camellias, and tree-sized C. reticulata. 'Captain Rawes' in Paxton's famous 'Case' at Chatsworth is another historic sight, beautifully recorded by Mr Phillips.
Anyone who thinks they know their pelargoniums has another think coming. Phillips and Rix are particularly strong on this very varied genus, which is familiar to everyone from many a bright red or pink window-box and roundabout. But how many people know the dozens of beautiful species, most of them natives of the dusty South African Veldt, Karroo or Fynbos? P. crassicaule is a succulent from the Namibian desert. It has red-spotted, primrose-yellow flowers and is rare in culti- vation, though the authors say it is easy to grow. P. triste, with deliciously scented but drab-coloured flowers, was grown in England by John Tradescant as early as 1632, but is not often seen nowadays. The early hybrids, such as P. x lawrencianum, P. x glaucifolium and tricky but beautiful `Splendide' are very appealing, with fasci- nating, bi-coloured flowers and subtly shaped leaves. The photograph of even such a familiar species as P. quercifolium is a revelation. Taken of a group of estab- lished plants in the wild, it shows that this handsome species is a substantial shrub which should be given the space and the respect that it deserves.
This book deserves space and respect too. It represents an awesome amount of 'It was cheaper than removing the tattoo.' travel and research. The authors know what they are talking about and never patronise their readers. Of Euphorbia hierosolymitana, for instance, they tell us that Boissier described it as common around Jerusalem, hence the name. They are generous with tips. If your Correa seeds won't germinate, try leaching them with water or a short burst of fire. But although they have quartered the globe in search of plants, they also open the reader's eyes to sights he may have overlooked on his own doorstep. Ceanothus arboreus is a native of the Californian chaparral, but Mr Phillips found and photographed a fine specimen of the wild form in Eccleston Square. And the authors are honest to a fault. They admit that the pink form of Clianthus puniceus that they photographed in Devon is now dead. If that doesn't persuade a fellow-gardener to buy this book, nothing will.
Lady Emma Tennant has been Chairman of the National Trust Gardens Advisory Panel since 1984.
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