“One or Two is Enough”: John Bartram’s Garden Philosophy Revealed

June 20, 1757

On this day, the esteemed botanist John Bartram penned what can only be described as a deliciously forthright letter to Philip Miller, revealing the unvarnished truth of his gardening preferences with refreshing candor.

Those of us who labor in soil's service might do well to heed his wisdom, delivered without the tiresome pretension so common among botanists of reputation.

Miller, for those unacquainted with horticultural aristocracy, ruled as chief Gardener at the Chelsea Physic Garden from 1722 until his eventual demise. He maintained correspondence with botanists spanning continents – a veritable spider at the center of a global botanical web – including our friend Bartram.

One might note that Miller even trained William Forsyth, that ambitious character after whom Forsythia is named. (A showy plant, indeed, but one cannot deny its golden charm after a dreary winter.)

When Bartram wrote to Miller on this particular Wednesday, he abandoned all pretense and revealed himself as a gardener of discerning taste and practical sensibilities.

How refreshing to encounter such honesty among men of science!

First, Bartram declared his preference for diversity over repetition – a philosophy this writer finds eminently sensible. He stated, with admirable brevity:

"One or two is enough for me of a sort."

Indeed!

What garden benefits from monotonous replication?

The garden that speaks to the soul must offer variety – a chorus of different voices rather than a single note repeated ad nauseam. Bartram understood this fundamental truth, despite the fashion among certain circles for symmetrical plantings of identical specimens.

Perhaps we might all take a page from his book and embrace diversity in our own plots.

Later in this remarkable correspondence, Bartram continued his refreshing honesty by sharing his pronounced distaste for plants ill-suited to Pennsylvania's unforgiving climate. One can almost hear the exasperation in his quill as he wrote:

"I don't greatly like tender plants that won't bear our severe winters but perhaps annual plants that would perfect their seed with you without the help of a hotbed in the spring will do with us in the open ground."

How marvelously practical! While lesser gardeners might chase fragile exotics that collapse at the first hint of frost, Bartram preferred plants with backbone and resilience.

Why invest one's limited time and garden space in coddling botanical weaklings when hardier specimens offer equal beauty with far less fuss?

One cannot help but admire Bartram's clear-eyed assessment of his growing conditions. He knew his climate intimately and refused to fight against it – a lesson many modern gardeners might benefit from absorbing. The truly skilled gardener works with nature's constraints rather than battling against them, selecting plants that will thrive rather than merely survive.

This exchange between botanical luminaries reminds us that even in the 18th century, gardeners grappled with the same fundamental questions we face today: How much variety is optimal? Which plants deserve precious garden space?

When should we adapt our desires to suit our climate, rather than foolishly attempting the reverse?

Perhaps in our own gardens, we might channel a bit of Bartram's forthright spirit, embracing diversity while respecting the realities of our growing conditions.

After all, gardening wisdom, like the hardiest perennial, endures through centuries.