Revealing walled gardens: Felbrigg Hall

I've always had a thing for walled gardens. I don't mean any old garden with a wall, but those traditional 19th century gardens enclosed by a tall structure of brick or local stone, often up to 10 ft high. For me, they embody the archetypal concept of a garden as a hortus conclusus: a space that expells the wilderness beyond by creating enclosure and impressing formality. And there's something special about the hidden space they create. In how many stories does a secret garden arouse magic and mystery, concealed behind an impenetrable wall?

The walled garden at Sandringham (c) Brian Bristol

Walled gardens create a range of microclimates including sun traps and rain shadows. As a result a walled kitchen garden could be a highly productive space for tender fruit, vegetables and flowers for cutting. Elsewhere, the walled gardens could have a more aesthetic function, laid out with ornamentals such as roses, clipped yew, and marble statuary. As such, a walled garden was a must have for any self-respecting (and self-sustaining) country house estate.

However, over the course of the 20th century, their fate took a turn for the worse. They simply required more maintenance than the post-war country house could support - and besides, the demand for fresh fruit and vegetables could be met elsewhere. As such, walled gardens can now be found in all states of delapidation: even at Sandringham House, where the gardens proper are so pristinely maintained, the walled garden to the east of the house is now seemingly forgotten, the paths crowded with weeds and the statuary overgrown with ivy. 

The walled garden at Sandringham (c) Brian Bristol

Shorn of their function, it seems that walled gardens don't cope well with redundancy. Yet as powerhouses that fed the estate or entertained it, walled gardens can be considered just as important to the story of a country house as the servants' quarters or stables. But where a stable can easily be repurposed (think how many National Trust properties have 'The Stables Tearoom'*), a walled garden is a trickier customer. 

This said, the movement to renovate walled gardens and restore them to their former glory has grown apace in the new millennium, and a great example of this is Felbrigg Hall, situated on the North Norfolk coast just a couple of miles from Cromer. Dating back to the 17th century, the 1760-acre estate at Felbrigg includes a Capability Brown-style landscape garden, an azalea walk and - you guessed it - a walled garden. 

Since the millennium, the walled garden has been the subject of a restoration project, and now the space is something of sheer beauty. It is the epitome of a walled garden, an idyllic retreat that transports you to a whole different world. Named fruit trees including apples, pears and figs are espaliered against the walls all around; glasshouses in the centre of the garden boast a waterfall of jasmine and a space for succulents, too; chickens wander freely over the vegetable patch, where rhubarb pots force thick pink stems; doves watch you from their palatial cote. 

The garden isn't just beautiful; it's also clever. While the perimeter wall hides the space from the outside world, the garden plays further games of concealment and revelation: internal walls and arches create intrigue. They lead you on a journey around the garden by creating frames that tease you with a glimpse of a nymph, a vista, a stately palm, an area of seeming wilderness. As you seek to explore their secret from all angles, they give you a sense that something is still hidden, something they still successfully conceal.

What's more, the interpretation is appropriate for the situation. Specimen plants labelled up, making the garden a useful resource for visitors, but signage is far from in-your-face. Flip-top black boxes containing laminated sheets serve the multiple functions of being unobtrusive, informative, weatherproof and also easy to update and replace. Permanent signage is never that, so why try to make it so in a garden, which is constantly growing and changing?

But the real success of the walled garden restoration at Felbrigg is how it's maintained. Part of the garden is neatly divided into plots that serve as allotments, and each one is labelled with the name of the allotmenteer. From the condition of the allotments, you can tell that the allotmenteers are all exceptionally proud of their personal/public garden, and this doesn't just provide a great opportunity to talk about volunteer stories. It also represents a novel - and sustainable - means of managing a demanding space. Recognising on the one hand that its function has changed significantly since it was built (i.e. it is no longer the private preserve of the landowner) and on the other hand that green space is at a premium (allotments often have waiting lists years long), the National Trust has harnessed the popular demand for what the garden embodies and employed it in a way that benefits everyone.

In a century where the walled garden can no longer rely on its original function, it's great to see a trend towards reutilisation of the space in a way that is not just historically sensitive but also economically viable and socially inclusive. By creating a garden of plenty through a project that actually meets a demand, it creates a space that people will be proud of and encourages more people to join in. It's a self-perpetuating cycle, and I hope it's one that grows.

*A quick google shows that 'The Stables Tearoom' exists in one guise or another at Florence Court, Lacock, Hinton Ampner, Canons Ashby, Lanhydrock, to name just a few!