The Decadent Gardner E-Book

Medlar Lucan

• Herausgeber: Dedalus
• Kategorie: Lebensstil
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2012

Beschreibung

Fantastic gardens with poisonous and narcotic plants,erotic features and rude vegetables abound.

Das E-Book The Decadent Gardner wird angeboten von Dedalus und wurde mit folgenden Begriffen kategorisiert:

Leseprobe

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The editors would like to thank the following for their kind help: Julian Bingley, Anna Braioni, Gianna Braioni, Barrie Bullen, Roderick Conway Morris, Christine Donougher, Gregory Dowling, the Fondazione Benetton, Robert Hill, François Houtin, Nicola Kennedy, Francis Kyle, Dr. David Lambert of the Garden History Society, Donna Leon, William and lone Martin, Oxford University Botanical Gardens, Horti Praefectus, Katinka Pree, Vera Ryhajlo, Robert Stoney, Clova Stuart-Hamilton, and Roma Tearne, Timothy Walker, Charlotte Ward-Perkins.

They would like to express their particulat thanks to Pierre Higonnet of the Galleria del Leone, Venice, and to Galerie Michèle Broutta, Paris, for introducing them to the works of François Houtin.

The editors would also like to thank Gwyn Headley for permission to quote from Follies, A Guide to Rogue Architecture in England, Scotland and Wales by Gwyn Headley & Wim Meulenkamp (Jonathan Cape, London 1986); and Éditions Gallimard, Paris, for permission to reproduce Sept jardins fantastiques by André Pieyre de Mandiargues.

TABLEOF CONTENTS

TITLE

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

INTRODUCTION

1GUIDE TO THE SACRED GARDEN

2THE GARDEN OF VENUS

3THE CRUEL GARDEN

4THE WATER GARDEN

5THE GARDEN OF HISTRION

6THE ‘PARADIS ARTIFICIEL’

7THE SYNTHETIC GARDEN

8THE GARDEN OF OBLIVION

9THE FATAL GARDEN

10GARDENS OF THE MIND

THE AUTHORS

THE EDITORS

COPYRIGHT

INTRODUCTION

In October 1995, we were approached by Dedalus and offered the chance to edit more of the writings of Durian Gray and Medlar Lucan. We were not only delighted by the offer, but also curious to know what Gray and Lucan had been up to since the closure of their infamous restaurant in January ’94. After their sudden departure from Edinburgh, they had completely vanished. Of course, rumours of their whereabouts abounded - they had been spotted in Samarkand, in Fez, in Cartagena - each location mentioned more exotic than the last. So it came as something of a surprise when a confirmed sighting of the two fugitives was made on the south west coast of Ireland. It seemed a most unlikely destination for such inveterate urbanites and there was general concern as to whether their delicate health would survive exposure to all that clean air and the rigours of country living.

These fears were allayed by the news that Gray and Lucan were guests of Mrs Conchita Gordon at her country seat, Mountcullen. This splendid woman had been a regular and welcome guest at the Edinburgh restaurant. On one occasion, she hired a cabinet particulier to entertain a down-and-out who had stopped her in the street and asked for the price of a cup of tea. It was an act of generosity from which the poor man never recovered. Gray and Lucan were clearly in good hands and a stay at Mountcullen might allow them to rest and recuperate.

By what proved to be a happy coincidence, they arrived at a time when Mrs Gordon was thinking of redesigning the gardens which surrounded her house. Whether in a moment of madness or inspiration it is difficult to say, but she made up her mind that her two guests would be ideally suited to this task. A project like this would help them put their recent disappointments behind them, and “After all,” Mrs Gordon argued, “if one can design a menu, one can design a garden”.

Mountcullen, which had recently been acquired by Conchita Gordon, is a well-proportioned Georgian house in Co. Cork. It stands squarely in eighteen acres of gardens and woods. From the front of the house, one looks out across a broad expanse of parkland and mature trees towards the waters of Lough Doon in the distance. Offshore lies a small island which forms part of the estate. The back of the house is protected by a ring of thickly-wooded hills at the foot of which flows the river Cull. It describes a graceful curve through the grounds before debouching into the lake about a mile to the south-east of the house.

The climate in this part of the country is very mild - mild enough to support certain varieties of exotic plants - and the soil is rich and fertile, ideally suited to creating gardens. Immediately around the house were a series of formal gardens, orchards, walled kitchen gardens and greenhouses. Beyond these a sort of park had been laid out. All had been neglected for many years and one of the great attractions of the estate for Mrs Gordon was its air of romantic melancholy. Lucan and Gray’s ambitions for the grounds would soon change all that.

It took very little to persuade them to undertake the task of redesigning the gardens. Unencumbered by doubts or experience, they set about the project with their usual élan. Many hours were spent in the library at Mountcullen and in Dublin, immersing themselves in the history of garden design, poring over vast horticultural tomes, poking around in the rich compost of garden history. Conchita Gordon saw little of her guests during this period. They became secretive and obsessed, and began communicating with their patroness by pushing notes under the locked door of the library. After six months or so without tangible results, however, the gracious hostess was becoming impatient. She wanted a full progress report at once.

The two designers began by explaining their overall conception for the new gardens. According to Mrs Gordon, they had become intrigued by the figure of Bernard Palissy, a 16th century French ceramicist and staunch Protestant. Monsieur Palissy was a man at odds with his times. He saw himself living in a world ruled by folly. He played the role of a second John the Baptist, railing against decadence, greed and corruption. His aim was to use whatever weapons were at his disposal in the fight against depravity, and one project he considered was the building of a garden - a garden which would be entirely devoted to the celebration of wisdom.

Durian Gray and Medlar Lucan photographed in the Library at Mountcullen, posing as James Joyce and Augustus John.

Palissy’s Garden of Wisdom was to be made up of eight different areas. In each of these areas, the visitor would find tranquillity and repose. Edifying texts from Proverbs or Ecclesiastes would be carved into stone tablets or formed from cut branches. At the very heart of the garden a pavilion would stand, bearing the words of warning: ‘Cursed be those who reject Wisdom.’ At the four corners of the garden would stand rustic cabinets. These would be constructed on a brick frame over which would be placed ‘large pieces of rock uncut and unpolished so that the exterior of the said cabinet would in no way have the appearance of a building.’ Herbs and shrubs would be planted on top and water made to trickle down the outside as if springing from the rock itself. Inside the cabinet was a furnace in which would be smelted the enamels used to line the walls. Hence, like a shell, the cabinets would be rough on the outside and smooth and multi-coloured on the inside.

Unfortunately, only verbal descriptions of the garden are available. No exact plans exist. This was deliberate on Palissy’s part. Only the initiated few would be allowed access, so to speak, to his garden of Wisdom

Mrs Gordon was not at all sure what the connection was between this pious, Protestant craftsman and the former proprietors of The Decadent restaurant. So Lucan and Gray went on to explain that here was a clear case of the attraction of opposites. Their intention was to take Palissy’s idea of the Garden of Wisdom and turn it on its head. Their Grand Design was to remodel the estate at Mountcullen as a celebration of Decadence and Folly. Where Monsieur Palissy had engaged in an intimate and respectful dialogue with Nature, they would be roundly abusing her. They saw her as the enemy. The goddess had to be vanquished, enslaved, placed in bondage. The Artificial is what they venerated. Whereas Palissy’s style would countenance no antique statues, grotesque sculptures, low reliefs of satirical or pastoral subjects from pagan fables, Gray and Lucan’s style consisted of little else. Palissy laid great stress on reason and order in his garden. In their designs, Gray and Lucan sought to represent the excessive and the irrational. The ‘land-lady’ whole-heartedly approved of the conception thus far, but she wanted a little more flesh on the bones.

Having described the historical model for the Mountcullen garden, Gray and Lucan now specified the different areas into which the Decadent garden would be divided. They had come up with the following:

•The Sacred, or ‘Blasphemous’, Garden

•The Garden of Venus

•The Cruel Garden

•The Water Garden

•The Garden of Histrion

•The Paradis artificel

•The Synthetic Garden

•The Garden of Oblivion

•The Fatal Garden

•Gardens of the Mind

At this point, Mrs Gordon announced that she was both very excited by the whole scheme and that she was off to Kashmir for the summer. She looked forward to seeing some significant developments on her return.

During her absence, Gray and Lucan set about realising their ideas. Not that this entailed them actually getting their hands dirty. Perish the thought! At Mountcullen, there was a small army of gardeners, estate workers, and contractors to do that - all of them supervised by Mrs Gordon’s factotum, Ryan, who worked closely with the two designers.

When it comes to defining Gray and Lucan’s approach to gardening, one word which immediately springs to mind is ‘Robertsonian’. This adjective was coined by Medlar Lucan in honour of the Irish garden designer, Daniel Robertson. In 1843 he was commissioned by Lord Powerscourt to remodel the terraces at Powerscourt, Co. Wicklow. He took his inspiration from the Villa Butera in Sicily - among other things. This is what his employer wrote of Daniel Robertson’s style of gardening:

He was much given to the drink and was never able to design or draw so well as when his brain was excited by sherry. He suffered from gout and used to be wheeled out onto the terrace in a wheel-barrow, with a bottle of sherry, and as long as that lasted he was able to design and direct the workmen, but when the sherry was finished he collapsed and was incapable of working till the drunken fit evaporated.

Another gardener upon whom Gray and Lucan modelled themselves was William Beckford. An insight into his approach was provided by one H. Bennett, Esq. in the following passage:

It appears that Mr Beckford pursued the objects of his wishes, whatever they were, not coolly, but with all the enthusiasm of passion. No sooner did he decide upon any point than he had it carried into immediate execution, whatever might be the cost.

In confirmation of our idea that Mr Beckford’s enjoyments consisted of a succession of violent impulses, we may mention that, when he wished a new walk to be cut in the woods, or any work of that kind to be done, he used to say nothing about it in the way of preparation, but merely gave orders, perhaps late in the afternoon, that it should be cleared out and in a perfect state by the following morning at the time he came out to take his morning ride. The whole strength of the village (of Hindon) was then put into requisition, and employed during the night; and the next day, when Mr Beckford came to inspect what was done, he used to give a £5 or a £10 note to the men who had been employed to drink, besides, of course, paying their wages, which were always liberal.

… We admire in Mr Beckford his vivid imagination and cultivated mind, and that good taste in landscape gardening which produced the perfect unity of character which pervades the grounds of Fonthill. …We must, however, enter our protest against the recklessness with which he employed his wealth to gratify his wishes, without regard to its demoralising effects on the labouring population of his neighbourhood, effects so serious that it will take a generation to remove them.

The words ‘pusillanimous claptrap’, written in Medlar Lucan’s hand, appear in the margin of this passage.

There was only one area of the practical side of gardening which appealed to them - ‘clearing the ground’, i.e. the wholesale destruction of what had been there before. In this they took their lead from two well-known figures. Firstly, the Italian poet, D’Annunzio, who always began redecorating a house by removing anything that carried the taint of the bourgeois. He referred to this process as ‘aesthetic disinfection’. Secondly, from Humphrey Repton. Of Repton, Durian Gray wrote:

His greatness lay not in his ability to create acres of tedious English parkland, but in his ruthlessness. As a gardener he was without mercy. At (?), he was quite prepared to flatten an entire mining village because it spoilt a particular sight line.

The great artist is concerned with destruction as much as with creation. Perhaps more so. Certainly one of the attractions of the garden for the Decadent is that it is ephemeral. It does not last. It should not last. In the garden, the Decadent seeks to create a moment of beauty, which should then be allowed to fall into decay and ruin.

For Gray and Lucan, there was only one acceptable way of destroying the old garden at Mountcullen - with fire. They saw this as the time-honoured way of clearing a garden. Durian Gray again:

Take the Yuan Ming Yuan, the ‘Garden of Perfect Brightness’, a huge complex of lakes, gardens and palaces, 70 miles in circumference, 60,000 acres, quite simply the most spectacular pleasure garden on the face of this earth. It was the talk of Europe, designed ‘with so much Art that you would take it to be the Work of Nature.’ Then on October 18th, 1860, British and French soldiers moved into the Garden of Perfect Brightness and set fire to it, in retaliation for the torture of British prisoners. By the end of two days of burning most of the garden lay in ruins. But then the downfall of Chinese dynasties has always been signalled by two things - the sound of women screaming and the smell of Imperial gardens burning. Then the next emperor comes along and builds something even more elaborate. So that is what we are doing. The old gardens will be put to the torch and the new one will rise from the ashes.

Whether Gray and Lucan wore 19th century military uniforms to torch the old garden at Mountcullen is not known. Given their propensity for dressing up, it seems probable.

When Mrs Gordon arrived home in the autumn, she was immediately aware of the changes that had taken place in her absence. Around the house, particularly on the south, west and east sides, there was evidence of a great deal of work. The shape of the terrain had undergone various transformations. New beds had been created, new planting had been carried out, strange constructions had appeared here and there. Among these were what looked like three crucifixes which had been raised against the skyline. Mrs Gordon was eager to know how far Gray and Lucan had progressed.

However, of the decadent designers there was no sign. When Mrs Gordon asked Ryan, her factotum, where they were, a sorry story emerged. A week previously, Fr O’Malley, the local priest, and a number of parishioners had turned up unannounced at Mountcullen to put forward their objections to the Sacred, or ‘Blasphemous’ garden, as it had become known. Unfortunately they caught Gray, Lucan, et al. in the middle of rehearsing an outdoor play. The play in question was the Earl of Rochester’s pornographic farce, Sodom, or the Quintessence of Debauchery which was to be performed in the Garden of Histrion to celebrate Mrs Gordon’s return from India. The priest and his flock were outraged by the scenes which they witnessed and were soon locked in furious debate with ‘King Bolloximian’ and ‘Queen Cuntigratia’. Tempers became frayed, voices were raised and blows may have been exchanged. (The full text of the play and a fuller account of the confrontation can be found here) The upshot was that by the next morning Lucan and Gray had packed their bags and gone.

So, what was Mrs Gordon left with? Just one area of the project had been completed (i.e. the Sacred garden, to which Gray and Lucan had also written the guide, reproduced below). Otherwise, it seemed, little else was to be found, one or two features of the remaining gardens, plus a library strewn with files, discarded costumes, and a great many dirty plates and bottles. The files, on examination, proved to be very full and intriguing. Out of the chaos of papers they contained - sketches, design notes, photographs, quotations, historical jottings, and unpaid contractors’ bills - a remarkably coherent vision of a garden emerged. It was bold, grotesque, and utterly uncompromising in its commitment to extend, and more often pervert, the accepted norms of horticulture. Artifice, theatrical effect, and a kind of ‘terrible beauty’ were paramount. Here, albeit only on paper, was a Decadent garden with a vengeance, a true anti-garden; a reflection, as Lucan and Gray saw it, of the madness and corruption not only of our age, but all preceeding ages as well. It is these papers which form the bulk of this book.

What is perhaps sad about the whole Mountcullen project is that so little of it was built, although most grandiose garden schemes, as it turns out, remain incomplete. This is indeed part of their fascination. Visitors to such unfinished gardens find themselves imagining what might have been, or how they might have completed them with the benefit of a team of gardeners and a couple of million pounds. Perhaps, in reading this book, somebody may feel inspired to pick up the torch that Gray and Lucan have lit. At least some of the groundwork has already been done and Gray and Lucan, although they have once again disappeared, have not suffered the same fate as Monsieur Palissy. He died, impoverished and imprisoned, his Garden of Wisdom flourishing nowhere except in the landscape of his mind.

A.M. and J.F.

A GUIDETOTHE SACRED GARDENAT MOUNTCULLEN HOUSE

“… within the garden all is deceit and fantasy;

Nothing subsists.

Decay triumphs over everything;

Both the dancer and the dance

Will cease to be.”

Le Roman de la Rose

The Sacred Garden at Mountcullen consists of not one, but five different spaces linked by a walk. This walk begins at the front of Mountcullen House. It takes the visitor in a one mile circuit around the house and returns to the point of departure.

The garden is a celebration of Decadence. Since the whole notion of Decadence implies a ‘fall’, it makes absolute sense to start with the formal garden in front of the house and to re-design it as a representation of the Garden of Eden.

The Garden of Eden is completely enclosed by the south facade of the house on one side and by wrought-iron railings on the other three sides. We divided this large square area into four, with water-channels which run north-south and east-west. These were covered with thick glass, the water is heated and teems with multi-coloured angel fish. As in a monastery garden, these channels symbolise the four rivers that ran out of Eden. This is also the basic shape of the Persian paradise garden. Within the four quarters, we have planted only wild and primitive flowers, and in great profusion. As far as possible we wish to represent the entire vegetable world within these spaces. The effect is a madhouse of colour and form, but constrained within strict limits. To the casual observer, it appears to be a rather charming garden of Innocence, Eden in its pre-lapsarian state. However, things are not entirely what they seem.

At the intersection of the channels the visitor will notice an unusual object - a large glass globe which stands on a stone pedestal. Around the base of the pedestal, we have planted a patch of giant strawberries. You may be tempted to see this as a representation of the Tree of Knowledge. But that was not our intention. If you take a look at that extraordinary painting by Hieronymus Bosch, The Garden of Earthly Delights, among the many bizarre and outlandish images, will find both a giant strawberry (a symbol of earthly pleasure in Medieval iconography; the fruit looks very tempting, but tastes of nothing), and a naked couple copulating within a glass vessel.

What interests us about Bosch is not only his strange and beautiful painting, but also his supposed involvement with a heretical sect called the Adamites. This sect, according to de Perrodil’s Dictionnaire des hérésies, des erreurs et des schismes, saw it as their sacred duty to violate the laws which the Creator had given to man. This neatly encapsulates the Decadent impulse. They also wished to rehabilitate Adam and Eve by seeking inspiration from their conduct in the garden of Eden. Nudity and sexual games formed part of their ritual. The Adamites were of course condemned and brutally persecuted by vindictive ecclesiastical authorities.

So, as you move around the Sacred garden, it is well to bear in mind the words of the epigraph which introduce this guide.

There is only one exit from the Garden of Eden. It is through the gate to the east. Above the gate has been fixed a gilded ‘flaming’ sword and the path leads across to The Penitential Maze.

We take great delight in the penitential maze at Mountcullen. It is an unusual feature. A very large rectangular area formed by a low box hedge extends along the east front of the house, across the lawns and reaches almost as far as the River Cull. It measures some 70 yds long by 30 wide. Within this rectangle, the path of the maze has been cut into the grass and filled with smooth gravel. On top of this has been spread a large quantity of crushed oyster and mussel shells. Even on overcast days, these shards of mother-of-pearl catch the light and make the pathway glitter. In fact, we have come to refer to the route through the maze as ‘the path of shining light.’ The dark green of the box hedge set against the grey, silver and black of the path creates a startling effect, as does the contrast between the sinuous path and the geometric precision of its frame. But the use of crushed shells has another effect. It makes the maze extremely painful to traverse. This is because penitents are expected to negotiate it on their knees. Ah, Pain and Beauty! To the Decadent there can be no more irresistible combination.

Penitential mazes were originally constructed as a single twisting path which eventually leads to the middle. In this, they represented the sinful world through which we must all pass on the way to redemption. Virtue, following the one true path, brings its own reward. However, it does not take long to realise that in the Mountcullen maze it is all too easy to lose your way, not knowing which way to turn, to find yourself constantly returning to the same spot. In effect, our maze is a celebration of blind, irrational fate, rather than of Christian virtue. Indeed, like the labyrinth at the court of Isabella d’Este, it is more closely related to the reversals of fortune, the ecstasy and despair experienced in the pursuit of earthly love.

There is another aspect of our maze which distinguishes it from its sacred antecedents. There are not one, but two exits. Normally in a penitential maze the penitents followed their via dolorosa from the outside to the centre. At Mountcullen, the unsuspecting penitents might easily follow a path which leads to a narrow exit about two-thirds the way up on the left hand side. At this point they will find themselves kneeling in front of a door which leads into the walled garden. The walled garden we have designated as the site for what we call the Paradis artificial, in other words, the Narcotic garden (see chapter six).

But what of the other exit? What awaits the suffering penitent at the end of their path of pain by the river? Here the path enters a green ‘room’, created from a ring of closely-planted cypress trees. Within this room stands a statue which, for obvious reasons, one assumes to be the fat pagan, Priapus. But it’s not! It’s St Ters, of course. Our favourite saint! On his feast day, the women of Antwerp used to decorate the phallus of figures of St Ters with garlands of flowers (why do the women have all the fun?) and pray to him, that their gardens might receive a good forking, no doubt. We have approached the local parish priest with a view to reinstating this delightful custom.

As you leave the shrine to St Ters, you also leave the maze and find yourself on the banks of the river Cull. A narrow footbridge takes you across the river. On the other side the land rises sharply to a ring of wooded hills. Looking up, you see the water staircase which forms a wide path through the trees. Before reaching the bottom of the staircase, the water comes to a wall with an upward-curving lip along the top. This shoots the water forward in a semi-transparent curtain to the bassin below. Hidden behind this curtain of water, in the centre of the wall, is the entrance to the next feature of the sacred garden - The Hermit’s Cave.

No sacred garden would be complete without a hermit’s cave. Of course there is nothing new about this. In the 18th century, Charles Hamilton advertised for a person who was willing to become a hermit in his garden at Painshill, Surrey. The conditions were that he must…

‘...continue in the hermitage seven years where he should be provided with a Bible, optical glasses, a mat for his head, a hassock for his pillow, an hour-glass for his timepiece, water for his beverage, food from the house but never to exchange a syllable with the servant. He was to wear a camlet robe, never to cut his beard or nails, not ever to stray beyond the limits of the grounds. If he lived there under all these restrictions till the end of the term he was to receive seven hundred guineas. But on breach of any of them, or if he quitted the place at any time previous to that term, the whole was to be forfeited.’

One person attempted it, but a three week trial cured him.

The abode that we have designed and decorated for the Mountcullen hermit is very different from the one Charles Hamilton had in mind. The interior is illuminated by natural light, as at Goldney House, via shafts in the roof, and the walls are covered with hundreds of thousands of small shells set in the most elaborate patterns, as in the Bain des Nymphes at the Château de Wideville. The shellwork is all a pun on Mrs Gordon’s Christian name, Conchita, which (among other things) means ‘little shell’ in Spanish. This homage becomes even more explicit when one examines the statue which dominates the hermitage. This is a small-scale copy of the ecstasy of Saint Teresa by Bernini in the church of Santa Maria della Vittoria in Rome. On seeing the original statue for the first time, some wag felt bound to comment: “If that’s religious ecstasy, I’ve seen it many times.” Close inspection of the copy reveals the face of the statue to be unmistakably that of Mrs Gordon. Of course, one doesn’t have to be a member of the Sigmund Freud fan club to understand the sort of connotations that a dark, moist opening like a grotto can have.

As for the rest of the cave, it is blatantly modelled on Cardinal Richelieu’s grotto at Rueil.

In four of the angles there are satyrs, in the other four, nymphs, all life-size, prettily formed of sea-shells and snails; each character makes a strange gesture with the hand, sometimes putting a finger on the thigh, sometimes on the mouth, while the other hand directs the membrum virile in the air and water spurts from it; all that is treated with great realism. On four of the sides there are fountains with fine oval basins; near each stand three marble figures also discharging water from their genitals.…

Our overt intention was to make life as difficult as possible for the Mountcullen hermit. Not for him a severely simple life uncluttered by the distractions of worldly concerns. Rather than the plain table with a wooden bowl and beaker, he has to make do with …

…an octagonal marble table on which one could do all kinds of amusing things in that by pressing the instrument or tube coming from the centre, one made all kinds of figures with the water, for example, lilies, cups, flowers, glasses, moons, stars, parasols. When the whole grotto plays, water spouts from all parts (above, below, from the sides) … as if a heavy shower was falling and the wind was blowing from all sides, mingling the jets, so that whoever does not immediately get to the benches does not escape a soaking.

On leaving the Hermit’s Cave, you cross the river again by a second footbridge and come to an irregular-shaped enclosure created from a dry stone wall which is broken down in places. This is the Garden of Gethsemane. It is one of our favourite haunts. A place of agony, self-doubt and betrayal. A perfect location for anyone enveloped in ‘a dark night of the soul.’ Here one can kneel at a boulder for hours, languishing in the depths of religious agony, waiting for the flaming brands which betoken the arrival of the soldiers, their lightly-oiled muscles gleaming in the torch light. Such a garden is de rigueur.

We have put a great deal of effort into this faithful recreation of the garden at the foot of the Mount of Olives. In order to improve the chances of the olive grove surviving in this part of Ireland, hot water pipes have been run through the walls and through the large boulders placed between trees. The idea came from the warmed garden walls of Beeleigh Abbey and is a technique which also ensures the survival of the Judas tree (Cercis siliquastrum) planted against the south-facing wall.

This particular section of the sacred garden has not reached its full potential as one important element is still lacking. We want this to be a ‘night garden’ but we are still awaiting the completion of our planting scheme. This includes night-flowering cacti (Selenicereus grandiflorus), eveningflower gladiolus (Gladiolus tristis) as well as Nicotiana, night-scented stocks (Matthiola longi-petala) and Mycelia fungus which glows in the dark. Planted in combination and in sufficient profusion the effect should be overpowering, or indeed, deliriously mystical.

From the exit to the garden of Gethsemane, you walk a short distance across the lawn towards the next section of the Sacred Garden. This lies to the north east of the house and should be the first thing that the visitor notices on arriving by the east drive. It is difficult to miss. It is a Calvary.

The Mountcullen Calvary did not start out as one. Originally, we wanted to follow in the footsteps of the 12th century Chinese emperor, Hui-Tsung. He was a fabulously decadent gardener, a man for whom the word ‘excess’ was devoid of meaning. When the imperial geomancers informed Hui-Tsung that the land to the north east of the capital was too flat, he ordered a mountain to be built.

Ken-yu, or the Impregnable Mountain, was more than ten li in circumference. It comprised ten thousand layered peaks with ranges, cliffs, deep gullies, escarpments and chasms. At its summit, the structure rose two hundred and twenty five feet above the surrounding countryside. From there it descended through foothills and excavated earth to ponds and streams bordered by orchards of plum and apricot trees densely planted.

To the east the emperor could stand on a high ridge looking clear over the tops of a thousand plum trees. In spring he would be enveloped in the scent of blossom as the warm breeze wafted it up from below. High on the hillside was a smooth and gleaming precipice of purple rock which was reached by stone steps winding up along the cliff. As the emperor passed by, sweating lackeys would open a sluice gate in the hill which caused a man-made waterfall to tumble across the rock beside him.

The display of rocks on the mountain was extraordinary. One eye-witness account states:

‘They were all in various shapes, like tusks, horns, mouths, noses, heads, tails, and claws, They seemed to be angry and protesting against each other. Among them were planted gnarled trees and knobbed, clinging vines and evergreens.’

A little further on, this same fascination with the grotesque gave rise to a display of fantastically contorted pine trees, ‘their branches … twisted round and knotted to form all kinds of shapes, like canopies, cranes, dragons.’

Although the cost in manpower and materials was immense, Hui-Tsung remained blissfully unconcerned. The hard labour of transporting earth in baskets was not felt, and the sound of hammer and axe not heard’, he wrote. The building of the mountain bankrupted the empire, leaving it easy prey to marauding northern tribes. Hui-Tsung died a captive in a barbarian tent.

The Mountcullen calvary may not have cost an empire but it did require some major construction work. Large quantities of rock, rubble and earth were needed to produce a grassy knoll. Only when we realised that we could not come close to emulating the great Hui-Tsung did we decide to create a calvary and incorporate it into the Sacred garden. We began with the path which winds up from the bottom through swathes of bitter herbs - aloes, hyssop, rue, wormwood - to the three crosses on its summit. The central cross is embedded in a group of madonna lilies and early purple orchids. (The spots on its leaves are supposed to be drops of blood from the crucified Christ). Out of these grow several passion flowers, which entwine themselves around the crucifix. The whole effect is one of grotesque kitsch. Possibly one of our greatest triumphs to date.

Calvaries are of course a common sight in the catholic countries of southern Europe. Mont Valérien, outside Paris, comprised a cluster of churches, the Stations of the Cross and a crucifixion scene. During its heyday in the 17th century, it not only attracted a large number of pious and devout pilgrims but also a ragbag of mountebanks, tinkers, con men, indulgence sellers, holy water touts, bawds and drunkards. This farrago of sensibilities will no doubt appeal to the Decadent, but there was another reason for the building of the calvary at Mountcullen, another act of homage.

Placed at the foot of the central cross and almost hidden among the lilies is a carved stone pistol. This is a reference to that high priest of Decadence, J.K. Huysmans. After he had read Huysmans’ A Rebours, Barbey d’Aurevilly commented: Après un tel livre, il ne reste plus à l’auteur de choisir entre la bouche d’un pistolet ou les pieds de la croix. [After such a book, the author is left with a simple choice - between blowing his brains out or kneeling at the foot of the Cross]. Some pious souls have argued that our calvary depicts the possibility of salvation for even the most debauched. We admit there is a certain ambiguity here.

The path down from the Calvary leads in two different directions. One leads away from the house and towards the cruel Garden. A most appropriate direction to take! (See chapter three). The other path returns to the front of the house and the Garden of Eden, from whence the whole dubious pilgrimage begins again.