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501 | of hoary moss has gathered over the inscriptions of
the mural monuments, and obscured the death’s heads, and other mural
emblems. The sharp touches of the chisel are gone from the rich tracery
of the arches; the roses which adorned the keystones have lost their
leafy beauty; everything bears marks of the gradual dilapidations of
time, which yet has something touching and pleasing in its very decay.”
These lines refer to the Great Cloister, but the quiet and repose are
still more noticeable in the Little Cloister, which rarely echoes to
the sound of hurrying feet. The noise and laughter of Westminster
scholars is only dimly heard in this secluded corner. The boys are not
as boisterous as when Horace Walpole feared to face them alone, even to
visit his mother’s tomb. “I literally had not courage to venture alone
among the Westminster boys; they are as formidable to me as the ship
carpenters at Portsmouth,” he wrote in 1754. Even in those days the
list of eminent scholars was already a |
502 | long one--Hakluyt, Ben Jonson,
George Herbert, Dryden, Wren, being on the roll of those who had passed
away, besides others then living, such as Gibbon and Warren Hastings,
who carried on the tradition of this classic ground.
[Illustration: THE LITTLE CLOISTER, WESTMINSTER ABBEY]
In monastic times there were many gardens within the precincts of the
Abbey, besides the infirmary garden; but it is difficult to locate
all of them with certainty, although the sites of some are known. The
abbot’s garden lay in the north-west angle of the wall, and must have
covered part of the present Broad Sanctuary, including the spot
where the Crimean monument now stands. Beyond the abbot’s house, just
west of the cloister, was the abbot’s little garden. The northern part
of Dean’s Yard was from very early times known as “The Elms,” from
the grove of fine trees, some of which remain. It is said that when
Elizabeth ascended the throne and summoned Abbot Feckenham, who had
been reinstated by Mary, he was |
503 | planting some, perhaps these identical,
elm trees. Among them formerly stood a huge oak, which was blown down
in 1791. The horse pool was on the west of the Elms, and beyond both to
the south lay the numerous adjuncts of the monastery, the brewhouse,
bakehouse, and granaries. Skirting this enclosure was the “Long Ditch,”
which flowed by the line of the present Delahay Street and Prince’s
Streets, and passed along outside of the wall of the Infirmary Garden,
in what is now Great College Street, and fell into the Thames. This
stream turned the mill from which “Millbank” took its name. In it, to
the south of the granary, was a small island osier bed. The sale of the
osiers on it used to bring in 10s. annually in the fourteenth century.
Beyond the stream were more gardens. The “Hostry Garden” was a large
one on the site of the church of St. John, and next to it the “Bowling
Alley,” where Bowling Street ran in later times, and to the west of
that was a kitchen-garden. Somewhere also on the |
504 | west of the “Long
Ditch,” before it turned towards the Thames near the osier island, must
have been the “Precentor’s Mede,” or, as it was sometimes called, the
“Chaunter’s-hull,” and also the “Almoner’s Mede” or “Almery Garden.”
On the other side of the “Hostry Garden,” southwards on the site of
“Vine Street” and “Market Street,” was situated the vineyard, without
which no thirteenth-century monastery was complete, and “Market Mede.”
Even this does not exhaust the list of separate gardens, but the
others probably lay further away. The cellarer had charge of a large
garden, which may have been the “Convent Garden,” which is so familiar
as “Covent Garden” that the connection between the site of the market
and the Abbey has been lost sight of. One of the large gardens which
was generally let was “Maudit’s Garden.” In the records it is spoken
of as “Maudit’s” or “Caleys.” The name Maudit was given to it because
Thomas Maudit, Earl of Warwick, in the thirteenth century effected an
exchange |
505 | of lands with the Abbey, of which the garden formed a part.
The other name, “Caleys,” was “Calais,” named from the wool staplers
who came from that town and resided near there, just as “Petty France”
(where Milton lived) was called so from the French merchants. An Act
of interchange of land between Henry VIII. and the Abbey, in the
twenty-third year of his reign, mentions “a certain great messuage
or tenement commonly called Pety Caleys, and all messuages, houses,
barns, stables, dove-houses, orchards, gardens, pools, fisheries,
waters, ditches, lands, meadows, and pastures.” Part of this was
“Maudit’s” garden, which was sometimes in the hands of the convent, but
more frequently let out. Among the muniments in 1350, “a toft called
Maudit’s garden, and a croft called Maudit’s croft,” are referred to.
There seems to have been an enclosure within this “toft” which was let
out separately, and in the twentieth year of Edward IV., Matilda, the
widow of Richard Willy, who had held it, gave up |
506 | this enclosure or
“conyn garth.” This was probably a “coney garth” or rabbit enclosure,
like the one at Lincoln’s Inn, which was kept up for a long time. Such
rabbit gardens were by no means uncommon. All gardening operations
must at times have been rendered difficult by reason of the wet soil
and frequent flooding of the river, but with the patient persistence
characteristic of gardeners in those days, the gardens in monastic
times were probably well kept, and yielded profitable crops. It is
delightful to know that, in spite of all the changes, one portion of
the old gardens actually remains to this day.
Lambeth, on the opposite bank, fared no better than Westminster for
high tides, and wet seasons did occasional damage there. In Archbishop
Laud’s Diary, he notes the inroad of a high tide, which certainly would
be destructive:--“November 15, 1635, Sunday. At afternoon the greatest
tide that hath been seen. It came within my gates, walks, cloysters,
and stables at Lambeth.” Nothing o |
507 | f great antiquity now remains in
these Lambeth Gardens, although they are indeed historic ground. The
long terrace and wide herbaceous border, with a profusion of madonna
lilies, backed by a wooden paling, and fruit-trees peeping over, is
now a charming walk. The trees on the right of the illustration are
planes, ailanthus, and catalpas, all smoke-resisting and suitable,
but not such as would have ornamented the Garden in older days, when
Archbishop Cranmer adorned his garden with “a summer-house of exquisite
workmanship.” It was designed by his chaplain, Dr. John Ponet or
Poynet, who is said to have had “great skill and taste in works of
that kind.” The summer-house was repaired by Archbishop Parker, but
afterwards fell into decay and was removed, and in 1828 not even a
tradition of where it had stood remained. The site of “Clarendon’s
Walk,” another historical corner of the Lambeth Garden, is also
uncertain. It appears to have received the name from a conversation
which took place in |
508 | the Garden between Laud and Hyde, in which the
latter seems to have told the Archbishop pretty plainly that “people
were universally discontented ... and many people spoke extreme ill of
his grace,” on account of his discourteous manners, which culminated on
one occasion by his telling a guest “he had no time for compliments,”
which greatly incensed him. The only survivals of former years are
the delightfully fragrant fig-trees, which flourish between the
buttresses on the sunny side of the library--the great hall rebuilt by
Archbishop Juxon after the destruction in Cromwell’s time. These figs
are now fair-sized trees, but they are only cuttings of the older ones
destroyed in 1829, when Archbishop Howley commenced his rebuilding.
The two parent trees, in 1792, measured 28 inches and 21 inches in
circumference, and were 50 feet high and 40 feet in breadth, and,
according to contemporary evidence, bore delicious fruit of the white
Marseilles variety. Tradition ascribed their planting to |
509 | Cardinal Pole
during his brief sojourn as Archbishop.
[Illustration: HERBACEOUS BORDER, LAMBETH PALACE]
Latimer seems much to have appreciated the Lambeth Garden, when
business called him to the Palace. Sir Thomas More describes, in
1534, how he watched him walking in the Garden from the windows.
Latimer himself, in writing to Edward VI., says, “I trouble my Lord of
Canterbury, and being at his house now and then, I walk in the Garden
looking at my book, as I can do but little good at it. But something I
must needs do to satisfy the place. I am no sooner in the Garden and
have read awhile, but by-and-by cometh there some one or other
knocking at the gate. Anon cometh my man and saith, ‘Sir, there is
one at the gate would speak with you.’” How many of us that have been
called in from a pleasant garden to perform some unpleasant task will
sympathise with the Bishop!
One famous inhabitant of the Garden lived through many and great
changes. This was a tortoise, which is said to have be |
510 | en put into the
Garden by Archbishop Laud, and lived until 1757, when he perished by
the negligence of a gardener. This legend is apparently quite true, so
it had been there for over 110 years.
A short account of the principal gardens near London, written by Gibson
in 1691, describes that of Lambeth Palace. It “has,” he says, “little
in it but walks, the late Archbishop [Sancroft] not delighting in”
gardens, “but they are now making them better; and they have already
made a green-house, one of the finest and costliest about the town. It
is of three rooms, the middle having a stove under it; ... but it is
placed so near Lambeth Church, that the sun shines most on it in winter
after eleven o’clock, a fault owned by the gardener, but not thought
of by the contrivers. Most of the greens are oranges and lemons, which
have very large ripe fruit on them.” The Archbishop who thus took the
garden in hand was Tillotson, and it is not surprising to find him
adopting that keenness for gardening a |
511 | nd the cultivation of “greens”
brought into fashion by William III.
Nearly ten acres of the extensive grounds of Lambeth Palace have now
been put under the management of the London County Council, and made
open to the public as “Archbishop’s Park.” For many years this Park had
been used for cricket and so on, but the transference entailed some
alterations, and extended its use to a wider circle.
The Garden of Fulham, the other ecclesiastical palace of London, is
even more interesting than Lambeth, on account of the fine trees
still remaining of which the history is known. Among the Bishops of
London several have shown great interest in the gardens, and two
especially, Grindal and Compton, were eminent gardeners. The tamarisk
was introduced by Bishop Grindal, and in the golden age of gardening
he was in the foremost rank of the patrons of the art, with Bacon and
Burghley. He used to send Queen Elizabeth presents of choice fruits
from his garden, and on one occasion got into trouble by |
512 | sending
fruit, when one of his servants was supposed, unjustly, to have the
plague. He wrote (5th August 1566) to Burghley, to say he was sorry
he had “no fruit to offer him but some grapes.” These grapes were of
course produced out of doors, as growing vines in green-houses was a
fashion unknown until some 150 years later. Even before the additions
of Grindal, the gardens were extensive, and Bonner is said to have been
much in his garden, not from the love of its repose, but, according to
contemporary but prejudiced chroniclers, because in the further arbours
of the garden he could with the rod or by other equally stringent
measures, “persuade” undisturbed those of the reformed religion to
recant and adopt his views. His successor, Grindal, used the Garden
for more laudable and peaceful practices, and his work of planting was
much appreciated in that garden-loving age. Bishop Aylmer, who, after
Sandys, succeeded Grindal in 1577, was accused of destroying much of
Grindal’s work and cu |
513 | tting down his trees, then some thirty-five
years old. Strype, however, protests that he only cut down “two or
three of the decayed ones.” That there should be a controversy on
the subject only shows how much was thought of Grindal’s planting.
The same thing happened after the death of Compton, the next great
planter, as Robinson, who followed him, let the gardener sell and cut
down as much as he liked. In our own day, even, some of Compton’s elms
have been removed, to make the alterations in the Bishop’s Park when
it was opened to the public. The Bishop’s Park is the long, narrow
strip of land between the moat and the river. Flowering shrubs on the
bank of the moat, and rows of cut plane trees by the river, have been
planted. There are two long asphalt paths, and some bedding out and
rock gardening between the grass lawns. It is now kept in order by the
Borough of Fulham, which reminds the public of the fact by the notices
stuck up: “Ratepayers, protect your property.”
The Elm Avenue |
514 | was part of Compton’s design, and many very fine trees
known to be his remain to this day. During the long duration of his
episcopate--1675 to 1714--he had time to see his plants grow and
flourish. His gardening achievements were much appreciated in his own
day. John Evelyn, a great authority on horticultural matters, was
often at Fulham. He notes in his Diary on Oct. 11, 1681: “To Fulham
to visit the Bishop of London, in whose garden I first saw the _Sedum
arborescens_ in flower, which was exceedingly beautiful.” Richard
Bradley, a well-known gardener, in his book published in 1717, quotes
many of the plants at Fulham as examples in his pages. With regard
to the passion flower, his notice is interesting, as it gives the
name of Bishop Compton’s gardener. “That [the passion flower] may
bear fruit,” he writes, “we must Plant it in very moist and cool
places, where it may be continually fed with Water; this I had from
the Curious Mr. Adam Holt, Gardener to the late Bishop of London,
who |
515 | shew’d me a letter from the West Indies, from whence I learnt it
was an Inhabitant of Swampy Places.” Bradley had seen the pistachio
fruiting against a wall at Fulham, and he thought he had also noticed
an olive flourishing there. From time to time there have been special
notices of the trees round the Bishop’s palace. Sir William Watson
wrote a paper on them for the Royal Society, in which he gives a list
of thirty-seven special trees, many of them the finest of their kind in
England. “For exemplification of this I would,” he says, “recommend to
the curious observer the black Virginian walnut tree, the cluster pine,
the honey locust, the pseudo-acacia, the ash maple, &c., now remaining
at Fulham.” Many of the later bishops have paid great attention to
the grounds. Bishop Porteous (1787–1809) who planted cedars; Howley
(1813–1828), and especially Blomfield (1828–1856), all took delight
in the Garden. Bishop Blomfield planted a deciduous cypress and the
ailanthus, which now measures 10 |
516 | feet 4 inches at 4 feet from the
ground, curiously exactly the same girth as the one at Broom House
close by. In 1865, Bishop Tait had the old trees measured, and there
are later measurements of some of the finest. The cork tree was 13
feet 9 inches, and although sadly shattered, part of this magnificent
old tree, with its thick cork bark, still holds its own. The great
black walnut or hickory has not been so fortunate, and died about ten
years ago, and only a venerable stump is left; but a good specimen
still stands in the meadow. The great tree in 1865 measured 15 feet 5
inches; in 1894, 17 feet 3 inches. The tulip tree died about the same
time as the hickory. The honey locust (_Gleditschia triacanthos_), one
of Bishop Compton’s trees, only died last year, the large white elm in
1904, and, sad to say, the flowering ash (_Fraxinus ornus_) was blown
down in March 1907. The Wych elm and a beautiful walnut still flourish,
and also the variety of Turkey oak (_Quercus cerris lucumbeana_ o |
517 | r
_fulhamensis_), so in spite of many disasters Fulham Palace still can
show some fine trees.
Chelsea still abounds in gardens. There are the modern plots along the
Embankment, laid out with the wriggling path that municipal authorities
seem to deem necessary nowadays. The private gardens in front of
some of the houses are an older institution, and some can boast of
delightful patches of old gardens in their rear also. Behind Lindsay
House the Moravian burial-ground is hidden away, and part of its wall
may be the actual wall of Sir Thomas More’s garden. There are the
remains of elms and several good mulberry trees. The large mulberry on
the Embankment near looks as if it once might have been in the garden
too. Chelsea further possesses one of the first botanical gardens in
England, the Duke of York’s School with large grass area and fine elm
trees, and the spacious grounds that surround the Hospital. Much of
the old stately simplicity still clings to these latter, although last
centur |
518 | y saw many variations in their plan.
The site was occupied by King James’s College, founded by Matthew
Sutcliffe, Dean of Exeter, in 1610, which, in spite of the King’s
patronage and the interest of Prince Henry, was a failure. It added
to, rather than allayed, religious discussion, and was familiarly
known as “Controversy College.” The ground was, in 1669, given to
the Royal Society, but the buildings were too dilapidated for them
to use. To Sir Stephen Fox is probably due the idea of founding a
hospital for disabled soldiers, although tradition also attributes
some of the credit to Nell Gwynn, who is said to have appealed to
Charles II. on their behalf. The King laid the foundation-stone, on
the 12th of March 1682, of the building designed by Wren. John Evelyn,
as one of the Council of the Royal Society, had been consulted when
the idea was first mooted, and in January 1682 he notes in his Diary
a talk on the subject with Sir Stephen Fox, who asked for Evelyn’s
assistance with regar |
519 | d to the staff and management. So in Sir Stephen’s
study, as Evelyn writes, “We arranged the governor, chaplain, steward,
housekeeper, chirurgeon, cook, butler, gardener, porter, and other
officers, with their several salaries and entertainments.” This list
of officials shows the importance of the Garden from the first--and no
wonder, as the grounds occupied some twenty-six acres. A survey made in
1702 shows how this space was divided. The largest part, lying to the
north of the Hospital, is what is now known as “Burton’s Court,” and
is used as a recreation ground for the soldiers in the barracks near,
and a cricket ground for the brigade of Guards. The avenue down the
central walk, “planted with limes and chestnuts,” was included in the
early design, and “Royal Avenue” is a continuation of it, Queen Anne
having, it is said, intended to carry it on to Kensington. This part,
called “the great court north of the buildings,” occupied over thirteen
acres. The rest was divided into grass pl |
520 | ots between the quadrangle
courts and canals, nearly three acres; the “garden on the east, now the
governor’s,” about two acres; a kitchen-garden towards the river
of more than three acres, two L-shaped canals with wide walks between,
an “apothecary’s garden” for medicinal herbs, bleaching yards, and the
churchyard. The front garden, with its canals in Dutch style, ended
in a terrace along the river. This garden was subject to much abuse
by the landscape school of designers. “It was laid out,” wrote one in
1805, “when the art of landscape gardening was at its lowest pitch; the
principal absurdity in the garden is cutting two insignificant canals
as ornaments, whilst one side of the garden is bounded by the noble
stream of the Thames.” The writer adds that the gardens were open on
Sundays in summer, and were much frequented as a public promenade.
These severely-criticised canals were filled up in the middle of last
century, and the space is now grass with avenues on either side, and a
c |
521 | entral obelisk, a monument to our soldiers who fell in the battle of
Chillianwallah.
[Illustration: STATUE OF CHARLES II., CHELSEA HOSPITAL]
The statue of Charles II. as a Roman emperor, by Gibbons, in the centre
of the court, was given by Tobias Rustat. The view over the simple,
spacious garden from this central court, to the long balustrade with
steps down to the lower terrace, is very satisfying, and in keeping
with the stately architecture. The Governor’s house has its own
special garden, a fine, wide terrace and large, straight beds, and a
delightful red-brick wall covered with trailing plants and fine iron
gateway. The old pensioners, in their long coats and weather-beaten
faces, enjoying their “peace pipe” and their well-earned repose, add
very greatly to the picturesque effect of the Garden, and all its
surroundings. The churchyard, clearly seen through the railings along
Queen’s Road from Chelsea Barracks, has an air of dignified repose. It
has been closed since 1854. The fi |
522 | rst soldier buried there in 1692,
Simon Box, had served four kings: Charles I., Charles II., James II.,
and William III. The tombs are much worn with age, and it is no longer
possible to find some of those known to have been laid to rest there.
Among them are two women who had served as privates; one of them,
who died in 1739, Christian Davies or “Mother Ross,” had served in
Marlborough’s campaigns. The extraordinary number of centenarians this
small burying-ground contains is astounding. William Hisland surely
beats the record, as he was married when he was over a hundred! He was
born in August 1620, and died in February 1732. Another veteran of 112
died five years later, while another, Robert Comming, who was buried
in 1767, was 115, and before the end of the eighteenth century three
others, aged respectively 102, 111, and 107, were interred. The eldest
of these three, who died in 1772, had fought in the Battle of the
Boyne! It certainly speaks well for the care and attention bestowe |
523 | d on
them in the Hospital.
[Illustration: GARDEN GATE, CHELSEA HOSPITAL]
The garden to the east of the buildings was part of the original
ground, but has had a career and history of its own. It was the famous
Ranelagh Gardens, which enchanted the beaux and fair ladies of the
eighteenth century. From 1742 to 1803 its glories lasted. Ranelagh
House was built by the Earl of that name, who was Paymaster to the
Forces in the reign of James II., a clever, unscrupulous person, who
amassed considerable wealth in the course of his office-work. He
obtained a grant of the land from Chelsea Hospital, built a house
and laid out a garden, where the “plots, borders, and walks” were
“curiously kept, and elegantly designed.” After passing through the
hands of his daughter, Lady Catherine Jones, the property was sold to
Swift and Timbrell, who leased it to Lacey, the patentee of Drury Lane
Theatre. The idea was to turn it into a winter Vauxhall. Eventually
it was open from Easter till the end of the s |
524 | ummer, and effectually
outshone Vauxhall. Walpole, in a letter two days after it was first
opened, did not think much of it. “I was there, last night, but did
not find the joy of it. Vauxhall is a little better, for the garden
is pleasanter, and one goes to it by water.” Two years later he wrote
in a very different strain. “Every night constantly I go to Ranelagh,
which has totally beat Vauxhall. Nobody goes anywhere else--everybody
goes there. My Lord Chesterfield is so fond of it, that he says he
has ordered all his letters to be directed thither.” Fanny Burney,
in “Evelina,” to bring out the character of the “surly, vulgar, and
disagreeable man,” makes him abuse the place which fascinated polite
society. “There’s your famous Ranelagh, that you make such a fuss
about; why, what a dull place is that!” The chief amusement was walking
about and looking at each other, as the poem by Bloomfield puts it--
“We had seen every soul that was in it,
Then we went round and saw them a |
525 | gain.”
The great attraction was the Rotunda, supposed to be like the Pantheon
at Rome. The outside diameter was 185 feet. An arcade ran all round,
and above it a gallery, with steps up to it through four Doric
porticos. Over the gallery were sixty windows, and the whole was
surmounted by a slate roof. In the middle, supporting the roof, was
a huge fireplace, on the space at first occupied by the orchestra.
“Round the Rotunda,” inside, were “47 boxes ... with a table and
cloth spread in each; in these the company” were “regaled, without
any further expense, with tea and coffee.” The whole was adorned with
looking-glasses and paintings, imitation marble, stucco, and gilding.
Dr. Arne wrote music for the special performances; breakfasts were
at one time the rage, and at another masquerades were the order of
the day; while fireworks and illuminations amused the company at
intervals, all through the years in which Ranelagh was prosperous.
“There thousands of gay lamps aspir’d
T |
526 | o the tops of the trees and beyond;
And, what was most hugely admired,
They looked upside-down in a pond.
The blaze scarce an eagle could bear
And an owl had most surely been slain;
We returned to the circle, and then--
And then we went round it again.”
One of the last entertainments at Ranelagh was the Installation Ball
of the Knights of the Bath in 1803; and a few years afterwards all
trace of Ranelagh House, the Rotunda, and even the Garden was gone. The
ground reverted to Chelsea Hospital, and not a vestige of the former
glories is left. The pleasant shady walks and undulating lawns on the
site, bear no resemblance to the lines of the former gardens, and only
some of the older trees can have been there when Lord Chesterfield and
Walpole were paying it daily visits.
The most important of Chelsea gardens, and one of the most interesting
in England, is the Physic Garden, which lies between the Embankment
and Queen’s Road, now called Royal Hospital |
527 | Road. The Garden, both
horticulturally, botanically, and historically, has claims on every
Londoner. England was much behind the rest of Europe in starting
botanic gardens. That of Padua, begun in 1545, was the first on the
Continent, and it was nearly a hundred years later before any were
attempted in this country. Oxford led the way in 1632, and the Chelsea
one followed in 1673. Its formation was due to the Apothecaries’
Company, and its first object the study of medicinal herbs. In those
days botany and medicine were closely entwined. Every botanical and
horticultural work was occupied with the virtues and properties of
plants, far more than their structural peculiarities, or their beauties
of form or growth. Gerard, Johnson, and less well-known botanists, were
herbalists and apothecaries, so it was only natural that the Worshipful
Company of Apothecaries should be the founders of a garden. It was not
the first of its kind in London, but it ranks now as the second oldest
in England |
528 | , as its predecessors in London, such as Gerard’s Garden in
Holborn, and the Tradescants in Lambeth, have long since passed away.
It probably, moreover, embodies the earlier one at Westminster, which
was under the care of Hugh Morgan, said by his contemporaries to be a
very skilful botanist. The Westminster Garden seems to have been still
flourishing when the Apothecaries started theirs in Chelsea, but three
years later it was bought by them, one of the conditions of sale being
that the plants might be moved to Chelsea. The land in Chelsea was
leased from Lord Cheyne. By the time the lease had expired, Sir Hans
Sloane was owner of the property, having purchased it from Lord Cheyne
in 1712. He granted the land to the Apothecaries’ Company on a yearly
rent of £5, on condition that it should always be maintained as a
Physic Garden, and certain other conditions, such as supplying a number
of specimens to the Royal Society. The deed of gift further provided
that should the Apothecaries not |
529 | continue to fulfil their obligation,
the Garden should be held in trust by the Royal Society, and should
they not wish to take it over, by the College of Physicians. It was
acting in conformity with these wishes, that, when the Apothecaries
ceased to desire to maintain it, the Charity Commissioners, in 1898,
established a scheme for the management of the Garden: £800 towards
its maintenance was provided by the London Parochial Charities, who
became trustees of the Garden, and £150 by the Treasury. A committee
was appointed to manage the Garden, and see that it fulfilled the
founder’s intentions. The original societies mentioned by Sir Hans
Sloane, the Treasury, the London County Council, and other modern
bodies each nominate one representative on the board of management, and
the trustees appoint nine. It has been worked under this scheme since
May 1899. The buildings and green-houses, which were tumbling down,
have been rebuilt, and now include up-to-date conveniences for growing
and r |
530 | earing plants, and a well-fitted laboratory and lecture room.
The Garden is certainly now fulfilling the purposes for which it was
founded. It has proved to be of the greatest use to the students of the
Royal College of Science, and members of schools and polytechnics. Cut
specimens, for demonstration at lectures, are sent out in quantities
during the summer, often as many as 750 in a day. Students and teachers
have admission to the Garden, and the numbers who come (nearly 3000
is the average annual attendance) show it is appreciated. Lectures on
advanced botany have been attended by an average of seventy students,
and research experiments are carried on in the laboratory. Seeds are
exchanged with botanical gardens all over the world, to the extent of
over a thousand packets in a year. In this it is carrying on a very
early tradition, as seeds were exchanged with the University of Leyden
in 1682, after Dr. Herman, from that city, had visited Chelsea.
Even in its early days the Apothec |
531 | aries found the Garden expensive to
keep up. When in 1685 it cost them £130, besides the Curator’s salary,
they made an arrangement, by which they paid him £100 a year, out of
which he had to keep up the Garden, and was allowed to sell the plants.
Watt was the first Curator under this new plan, and Doody, a botanist
of some standing who succeeded him, was under the same conditions.
Philip Miller was appointed Curator, after the land had been given by
Sir Hans Sloane, and other well-known men have been connected with it.
After 1724, besides the Curator, a “Præfectus Horti,” or Director, was
appointed to visit and inspect the Garden, and report on its condition
to the Company. Sometimes there was a little rivalry between the two,
and at one time this occasioned two lists of the plants contained in
the Garden being published, one by Isaac Rand, the other by Philip
Miller. Among the famous names in botany or horticulture connected with
the Garden are Dr. Dale, Mrs. Elizabeth Blackwell, Jam |
532 | es Sherard and
his brother William, Joseph Millar, William Curtis, Forsyth, Robert
Fortune and Dr. Lindley, and Nathaniel Ward, the inventor of “Wardian
Cases.” But of all the Curators, Philip Miller was one of the most
eminent, and did most for the Garden. His Dictionary was for years the
standard work on horticulture, and went through numerous editions and
translations. He published a catalogue of plants in the Physic Garden
in 1730. The last “Præfectus Horti” was Lindley, who held the office
from 1835 to 1853. During that time the expenses were getting too heavy
for the Society, and after his death no successor was appointed. Thomas
Moore, who was co-editor with Lindley of the well-known “Treasury of
Botany,” and author of several works on British ferns, continued alone
as Curator. He held the office from 1848 to 1887. During his later
years the Garden gradually declined for want of funds, and after his
death no new appointment was made by the Apothecaries, and a labourer
looked aft |
533 | er the grounds. With the advent of the new authority and
great expansion of work, the office was once more bestowed on a
competent man, William Hales, the present Curator, who ably maintains
the old traditions of the garden.
One of the institutions of early days which has had to be discontinued
was the “herborising.” Expeditions in search of herbs were undertaken
by the students, in company of their teacher, in the neighbourhood.
After 1834, owing to the spread of London, these excursions had to be
abandoned.
The famous cedars were planted in Watt’s time, and from contemporary
references to them, there seems no doubt that they were the first to
be grown in England. John Evelyn in his “Sylva” in 1663, writing of
the cedar, says, “Why should it not thrive in Old England?” and Ray
is astonished in 1684 to see the young trees flourishing at Chelsea
without protection. They are shown in a plan of the Garden in 1753
(the year of Sir Hans Sloane’s death) at the four corners of a pond,
which |
534 | no longer remains in the same position. Eighteen years later the
two furthest from the river were cut down (1771), “being in a decayed
state” (and no wonder) from the rough usage they had been subjected
to. The timber, 133¾ feet, was sold at 2s. 8d. a foot, and, together
with the branches, the trees fetched £23, 9s. 8d. The two specimens
nearest the river were for nearly a hundred years a conspicuous object,
although much injured by snow in 1809. By 1871, only one remained, and,
in a report of the Garden seven years later, it was said to be in a
“dying condition.” At the time the new Management Committee came into
office, that one was quite dead. They left the tree standing until the
fungi on it became a danger to the rest of the trees in the Garden,
when most reluctantly it was felled in March 1904, all the sound parts
of the timber being carefully preserved. Miller gives a good account
of them in his time. “The four trees,” he writes, “(which as I have
been credibly informed) were p |
535 | lanted there in the year 1683, and at
that time were not above three feet high; two of which Trees are at
this time (viz. 1757) upwards of eleven feet and a Half in girt, at
two Feet above ground, and thereby afford a goodly shade in the hotest
Season of the Year.” He goes on to point out that they were planted so
near the pond, which was bricked up to within two feet of them, that
the roots could not spread on one side. Whether the water was good for
them he is not sure, but feels certain it was injurious to cramp the
roots. The two specimens nearest the green-house had had some of their
branches lopped off, to prevent their shading the grass, and suffered
in consequence. Though one remained for nearly 150 years after Miller
gave these measurements, it was only 13 feet round the trunk at the
base when it was felled, and was so completely rotten it must soon have
fallen. Miller records that three of the trees began producing cones
about 1732, and that in his time the seeds ripened, and |
536 | germinated
freely, so it is probable that many plants in England are descendants
of the Chelsea trees. That these were actually the first to be grown
in England there is not much doubt. Evelyn regrets in his “Sylva” the
absence of the cedars in England. The only trees which have put forth
rival claims to the Chelsea ones are those of Bretby and Enfield. The
Bretby one is undoubtedly very old, but there is no early reference to
it in histories which mention the Enfield trees, and the famous one
at Hendon, traditionally planted by Queen Elizabeth and blown down in
1779, and a few others; and there is no contemporary evidence of the
date of its planting to warrant the assumption that it was before 1683.
The Enfield tree in the garden of Robert Uvedale was said, in 1823, by
Henry Phillips, to be about 156 years old, therefore older than the
Chelsea ones by some six years; but there is no evidence to corroborate
this. When Gibson describes the Garden in 1691, he makes no mention
of it, and |
537 | it seems unlikely he would have omitted such an important
tree. There exists much correspondence with Uvedale and botanists of
his time, but in none of the letters or early notices is the cedar
mentioned before Ray’s note of the Chelsea trees, or even referred to
as the first planted in England, so it seems the Chelsea trees’ claim
to be the first is fairly established.
The oriental plane, which fell just as it was going to be taken down
in 1904, was one of the finest in London, planted by Philip Miller,
and is quoted by Loudon, in 1837, as then 115 feet high. Some of the
other famous trees have also died, such as the cork trees and paper
mulberries; but some have been more fortunate, and are among the
oldest of their kind in England. The _Koelreuteria paniculata_ is
probably the finest in this country, and the other old trees which
were noted as being particularly fine specimens in 1813 or 1820, and
which are still alive, are _Diospyros Virginiana_, the Persimmon or
Virginian date p |
538 | lum, the Quercus ilex, black walnut, mulberry, and
_Styrax officinale_. _Rhus juglandifolia_, which grows by the wall,
was probably planted when introduced from Nepaul in 1823. The wistaria
and pomegranate are old and still flourishing, and young plants of the
trees once famous in the Garden are doing well. The amount of attention
the novelties in the Physic Garden used to attract is well shown by
the spurious translation of De Sorbière’s travels. The little book,
published in 1698, purported to be a translation of De Sorbière, but
was really an original skit. The writer pretends De Sorbière visited
the Garden, and reported a delightful series of imaginary flowers. “I
was at Chelsey, where I took particular notice of the plants in the
Green House at that time, as _Urtica male oleus Japoniæ_, the stinking
nettle of Japan; _Goosberia sterelis Armenia_, the Armenian gooseberry
bush that bears no fruit (this had been potted thirty years);
_Brambelia fructificans Laplandiæ_, or the Blooming |
539 | Bramble of Lapland;
with a hundred other curious plants, and a particular Collection of
Briars and Thorns, which were some part of the curse of the Creation.”
That it was worth while laughing at the Garden in a popular skit,
shows what an important position it had taken. The green-houses were
among the earliest attempted, and many scientific visitors describe
their plans and arrangements. They were rebuilt at great cost in 1732.
The statue to Sir Hans Sloane, by Michael Rysbrach, stood in a niche
in the green-house wall. It was moved to the centre of the Garden
in 1751, where it still stands. The Garden was honoured by a visit
from the great Linnæus in 1736, and he noted in his diary: “Miller of
Chelsea permitted me to collect many plants in the Garden, and gave me
several dried specimens collected in South America.” Among the valuable
bequests to the Garden were collections of dried plants, now in
the British Museum of Natural History, and a library left by Dr. Dale
in 1739, on condi |
540 | tion that “suitable and proper conveniences” were made
for them at the Physic Garden. They should be there still, and the new
buildings are eminently suited for their reception; and their use to
students would be very great, now that the Garden is well equipped for
supplying all the requirements for the modern teaching of botany.
[Illustration: CHELSEA PHYSIC GARDEN]
Before quitting these gardens of historic interest, there is one which
must not be forgotten, although its former charms have vanished, and
it can no longer claim such botanical curiosities as the Chelsea
Physic Garden--that is, the remains of John Evelyn’s Garden of Sayes
Court. The Garden is now enjoyed by numbers in that crowded district
of Deptford, through the kindness of Mr. Evelyn, the descendant of
the famous diarist, John Evelyn, who keeps it up as well as opens it
to the public. The Manor of Deptford was retained by the Crown in
James I.’s time, and Sayes Court was leased to Christopher Browne, the
grandfather |
541 | of Sir Richard Browne, whose only daughter and heiress
John Evelyn married. After his wife had succeeded to the property,
and they had lived there some years and made the Garden, John Evelyn
purchased the freehold land from Charles II. The delight he took in
his garden, how he exchanged seeds and plants, imported rare specimens
from abroad, through his many friends, and grew them with success, is
well known. The ruthless way his treasures were treated by Peter the
Great was a sore trial to Evelyn. The Czar amused himself, among other
acts of vandalism, by being wheeled about the beds and hedges in a
wheelbarrow. The holly hedge, even, he partially destroyed. In writing
of the merits of holly in his “Sylva,” Evelyn says of this one: “Is
there under heaven a more glorious and refreshing object of the kind,
than an impregnable Hedge a hundred and sixty feet in length, and seven
feet high, and five in diameter, which I can shew in my poor Gardens at
any time of the year, glittering with it |
542 | s armed and vernish’d leaves?
the taller Standards at orderly distances blushing with their natural
Corall. It mocks at the rudest assaults of the Weather, Beasts, and
Hedgebreakers.” This hedge has long since departed, but young hollies,
planted in groups on the same part of the Garden, keep up the old
associations. One wing of the house is standing, and is at present
used as a school. The walled garden on the south side is still there,
and on the north a wide terrace walk, with a straight grass lawn with
large beds, is in keeping with the old place. But instead of the views
over the river, and the Garden descending to the water’s edge, there
is a high rampart of the buildings of the Foreign Cattle Market, from
whence the sounds of lowing oxen mingle with the din of streets which
close round the Garden on the three other sides. In spite of these
drawbacks, it is delightful to know, that the surviving portion of the
once-beautiful Garden is fulfilling a want among the poor in a way tha |
543 | t
would have appealed to the generous and kind-hearted author.
* * * * *
These are some of the chief gardens of historic interest, but it by no
means exhausts the list of the smaller ones rich in associations, green
courts attached to schools, almshouses, hospitals, or such-like, which
are hidden away in unexpected corners throughout London.
CHAPTER XIII
PRIVATE GARDENS
_Even in the stifling bosom of a town
A garden, in which nothing thrives, has charms
That soothe the rich possessor_; ...
--COWPER.
In writing of the private gardens of London it is difficult to know
where to begin. There are a few large and beautiful gardens, but for
the most part the smaller they are, and the less there is to write
about them of interest to the general reader, the more they are of
value to the happy possessors. It is the minute back-garden, invaded
by all the cats of the neighbourhood, with a fe |
544 | w plants on which an
infinity of time and trouble, care and thought, have been expended,
that is the real typical London garden. What a joy to see the patches
of seeds come up in the summer, and with what expectation are the buds
on the one lilac bush examined to see if really at last it is going to
flower! What pleasure the fern dug up on a summer holiday gives, as it
bravely uncurls its fronds year by year! What delight is occasioned if
the Virginian creeper, which covers the wall, grows more luxuriantly
than those of the houses on either side, and what excitement if it
really turns red once in a way in October, instead of shrivelling up
to an inglorious end! What grief is felt when the fuchsia, purchased
as a fitting centre-piece to the formal geranium bed, loses its
buds one by one before they expand! These and many similar joys and
sorrows are the portion of those who tend small gardens in London.
How fascinating it is to look into back-gardens as the train passes
over viaducts ou |
545 | t of the heart of the town. Certainly the differences
in their appearance show what skill and devotion can accomplish.
Nothing but real love of the plants, and a tender solicitude for their
welfare, can induce them to exist in the confined areas and stifling
atmosphere of the average London garden. But even these inauspicious
surroundings may be brightened by flowers. When those absolutely
ignorant of the requirements of plant life take to gardening in the
country, they have Nature at hand to help them. The sunlight, air,
and good soil supplement their deficiencies of knowledge, and, though
terribly handicapped by careless planting, unsuitable situations, want
of water, and such drawbacks, the plants can struggle with success to
maintain their natural beauty. But let the ignorant try in town to
grow plants, where all the conditions militate against them, instead
of assisting, and the results are very different. For instance, many a
small back-garden, or even window box, is planted year |
546 | after year with
no renewal of the soil. The crumbling mould, which is either caked hard
or pours like dust from the hand, is completely exhausted, and the poor
plants are starved. They should be given plenty of what in gardeners’
slang is called “good stuff,” if they are to grow in such adverse
conditions. A little of the money expended on plants which dwindle
and die, spent on manure or good soil, would better repay the would-be
gardener. Many plants require a good deal of water when making their
growth, and if that is denied them they will not thrive, no matter
how great the solicitude for their welfare in other ways. Washing
the leaves, especially of evergreens, and scrubbing stems is also a
great help, as leaves choked with dirt have no chance of imbibing the
life-giving properties necessary to the plant.
The back-garden has many enemies besides soot and fogs. Cats are one
of the greatest trials, and most destructive. Sparrows also are very
mischievous. They will pick the flower- |
547 | buds off trees just at the
critical moment. A wistaria climber laden with young blossoms they
will destroy in a few days, just before the purple buds appear. But,
notwithstanding all these pests and difficulties, it is surprising how
many things will not only survive, but grow well. The task becomes
more and more easy as the houses recede from the City. In St. John’s
Wood, Bayswater, or Earl’s Court, in Camberwell or Stoke Newington,
plants will grow better than in Bloomsbury or Southwark. But yet it is
possible to grow many things even in Whitechapel.
It is impossible to prescribe the best plants for all London gardens,
as there is such a great difference in soil and aspect, that what
does well in one part will not flourish in another. The heavy soil of
Regent’s Park, for instance, is well suited to peonies, which do not
seem at home in Chelsea. On the other hand, some of the showy, hardy
spring flowers, such as wallflowers and forget-me-nots, die off with
fogs much more quickly in t |
548 | he Regent’s Park than in other districts.
Any deciduous tree or shrub thrives better than an evergreen or
a conifer in any part of London. The fresh growth of clean leaves
every year, by which the plant absorbs much of its nourishment, must
necessarily be better for it than dried-up, blackened leaves. Among
flowering shrubs, a great number grow sturdily in London. Laburnums
of all kinds, thorns in many varieties, flower well; lilacs grow and
look fresh and green everywhere, but cannot be depended on always
to flower; almonds, snowy medlars, double cherries, weigelas or
diervillas succeed; broom, Forsythias, acacia, syringa, many kinds
of prunus, ribes, rose acacia, Guelder rose, Japanese red peach,
_Kerria japonica_, _Hibiscus Syriacus_, or _Althæa frutex_, are all
satisfactory, and many more could be mentioned. _Yucca gloriosa_ will
stand any amount of smoke, and _Aralia spinosa_ does well in many
parts; and among evergreens, _Arbutus Andrachne_ can be recommended.
Fruit-trees, pears, |
549 | and apples are charming when in bloom, and in a
large space, or to cover a wall, figs are valuable.
Alpines grow astonishingly well, and though a considerable percentage
will die from the alternating damp fogs and frost in the winter, many
will really establish themselves, and be quite at home, much nearer
the heart of London than Dulwich, where many have been cultivated. “I
know a bank whereon the wild thyme grows” in London--not a green, mossy
bank, but rather a blackened rockery; still the slope is really covered
with large patches of wild thyme, purple with bloom in the summer,
carefully marked by the London County Council “_Thymus serpyllum_,” for
the benefit of the inquiring. Several of the other thymes, which form
good carpets, will also grow. _Antennaria dioica_, a British plant,
forms a pretty silvery groundwork on beds or rockeries, and nothing
seems to kill it. Saxifrages in great numbers are suitable, beginning
with the well-known mossy green _hypnoides_, to the giant kno |
550 | wn as
_Megasia cordifolia_, also sedums, semper-viviums, aubrietias, phloxes,
tiarella, dianthus in variety; and several other Alpines have succeeded
in different parks and gardens, such as _Androsace sarmentosa_, _Dryas
octopetala_, yellow fumitory, _Cotoneaster frigida_, the small ivy
_Hedera conglomerata_, _Achillea tormentosa_, _Lychnis Haageana_,
_Linnæa borealis_, _Azalea procumbens_, _Campanula garganica_, only
to mention some that have been noticed; even edelweiss has been
successfully grown in the centre of London.
A few annuals will make a good show, and nothing is better in a
window-box or really dingy corner than Virginian stock; but, as a rule,
it repays trouble best to rear perennials. Seedling wallflowers, sweet
Williams and Canterbury bells, and such like, make a border bright. The
great secret of success in growing annuals is to thin them out well;
the patches of seedlings are too often left far too much overcrowded.
This “thinning” is even more important than good so |
551 | il and careful
watering. Marigolds thrive best of all, and will often seed themselves,
but a few other annuals can be safely recommended.
Candytuft.
Catchfly. (Silene pendula and
armeria).
Erysinum perofskianum (a kind of
Treacle mustard).
Eschscholzia.
Flax (scarlet).
Godetias.
Ionopsidium acaule (violet cress).
Larkspur (annual).
Love-in-a-mist (Nigella).
Nasturtiums.
Phlox drummondi.
Snapdragon (Antirrhinum).
Toadflax (Linaria).
Very many things may succeed well that are not specially noted here,
but the following list of fifty herbaceous plants have all been seen
really growing, and coming up, year after year, in private gardens
in London. Some are not so sturdy as others; for instance, neither
alyssum nor phlox flourish as well as thrift or the members of the iris
tribe, but all are hardy in London. Thomas Fairchild, who had a famous
nursery garden at Hoxton, writing of City gardens in 1722, gives his
experience of plants that succeed best, and many |
552 | on his list are those
that do well still. He specially notes some growing in the most shut-in
parts of the City, which were flourishing: fraxinella in Aldermanbury,
monkshood and lily of the valley near the Guildhall, bladder senna
in Crutched Friars, and so on, mentioning many of those which still
prove the most smoke-resisting. One large, coarse, but handsome plant
deserves mention, as it grows so well it will seed itself, and that
is the giant heracleum. It propagates itself in the garden of Lowther
Lodge, Kensington Gore, and in much more confined spaces, even in the
garden used by the London Hospital, near the Mile End Road.
LIST OF FIFTY HERBACEOUS PLANTS
Alyssum.
Auricula.
Bachelors’ buttons.
Buglos.
Campanula--several varieties.
Candytuft.
Carnations.
Centaurea.
Chrysanthemums.
Columbines.
Comfrey.
Crane’s bill.
Creeping Jenny.
Crown Imperial.
Cyclamen.
Day lilies.
Dictamnus fraxinella (burning bush).
Doronicum (leopard’s bane).
Erigero |
553 | n (Fleabane).
Funkias (Plantain lilies).
Galega officinalis.
Golden rod (solidago).
Heucheras.
Hollyhocks.
Iris--several varieties, especially those with rhizomes and
non-bulbous roots.
Japanese anemone.
Larkspur.
Lilies of the valley.
Lilies--
Canadense.
Candidum.
Davuricum.
Lancifolium (speciosum).
Martagon dalmaticum.
Pyrenaicum.
Tigrinum.
London Pride (also many other Saxifrages).
Lupin.
Mallow.
Michaelmas daisies.
Monkshood.
Montbretia.
Pansies.
Periwinkle.
Phlox.
Polygonum.
Primroses (also Japanese primulas, cowslips, and polyanthus).
Pyrethrum.
Rock roses.
Solomon’s seal.
Southernwood.
Speedwell (Veronica amethystina and others).
Spiræa (S. aruncus, venusta, &c.).
Sunflower (perennial, including Harpalium).
Thrift.
Tradescantia.
Trollius.
Of climbing plants the Virginian creeper, which makes a green bower
of so many London houses, must come first, but the real grape vine is
quite as |
554 | successful. In several parts of London vines laden with grapes
may be seen in the autumn, by those on the look-out for such things.
One vine in Buckingham Gate had forty bunches of fruit that ripened in
1906. On one branch of a vine, near Ladbroke Square, fourteen purple
bunches were hanging in a row at the same time, and in other parts of
the town well-cared-for vines will bear well. Wistaria also thrives,
and jasmine, yellow or white, and ivy. Besides these in constant use,
for more special gardens there are Everlasting peas, Dutchman’s pipe
(_Aristolochia_), clematis, Jackmani, Montana, or the Wild Traveller’s
Joy, and Passion flower; also convolvulus, _Cobæa scandens_, and gourds
of all kinds for the summer.
Spring flowers planted in autumn succeed, and even those in pots
or boxes in windows or on roof gardens flower freely. Hyacinths,
crocus, tulips, daffodils, and narcissus do well; snowdrops are not so
successful as a rule, but Spanish Iris will make a good show when the
earlie |
555 | r bulbs are over. The minute green-house which often opens out of
a staircase window in London houses can easily be made gay in spring
by this means. Acorns and chestnuts sown in the autumn in shallow pans
and covered with moss make a delightful small forest from May onwards.
Foxgloves dug out of the woods will flower well in these dingy little
green-houses, and are a delightful contrast to the ferns which will
flourish best in them. A few other plants are sturdy for this purpose,
such as the fan palms, _Chamærops excelsa_, _Fortunei_, and _humilis_,
Aspidistra, _Aralia Sieboldii_, _Selaginella Kraussina_, the Cornish
money-wort (Sibthorpia). Geraniums will flower well, and Imantophyllums
(or Clivias) are one of the most accommodating plants for such small
green-houses, as although they take up an undue share of room on
account of the large pots necessary, they will flower well every year.
[Illustration: THE GARDEN OF SIR LAURENCE ALMA-TADEMA, R.A.]
Roses only do fairly well; but tho |
556 | ugh they sometimes will last two
or three years, they are apt to give disappointments and must often
be renewed. The climbing roses, however, in some gardens are very
charming. In one of the prettiest in London--that belonging to Sir
Laurence Alma-Tadema, in Grove End Road--the illustration shows how
charmingly an iron trellis is covered with red and white roses. The
garden is most artistically arranged and is a good illustration of
how much can be made of a small space. A large evergreen oak overhangs
the basin with a stone margin and splashing fountain, on which
water-lilies gracefully float. The variety and harmony of the whole
garden, with its paths shaded by fig-trees, apples and pears, cherries
and lilacs, sunny borders with Scotch roses, Day lilies, foxgloves,
and iris, and formal fountains, all in a small space, yet not crowded,
and bright with flowers, is delightful. Another small garden in
Kensington--tended by Lady Bergne--of quite another type, contains
nearly all the flowe |
557 | rs that have been mentioned as growing well in
London. It is only the stereotyped long narrow strip at the back of
the house; but by putting a path and rock-work and pools of water on
one side, and having grass and flower borders on the other, backed by
flowering shrubs and ferns at the shaded end, a great variety of plants
have been grown successfully.
In most London gardens very little enterprise is shown. The old system
of bedding out is adhered to. Of the large London houses standing by
their own lawns, none have gardens of any horticultural interest.
Montagu House is on the site of the extensive gardens of Whitehall, and
the present lawn is where the bowling green, with its gay throng of
players, lay in former years, and the terrace keeps up the tradition
of the wide terraces that descended from the palace to the green. The
turf is still fair and green, and is brightened in summer by lines of
geraniums, white daisies, and calceolarias. Devonshire House garden,
on the site of the |
558 | famous one belonging to Berkeley House that covered
all the present Square, is in the same way merely planted with the
usual summer bedding plants. Lord Portman’s house, 22 Portman Square,
is where Mrs. Montagu, the Queen of the Blue-Stockings, held her
court. The present garden, with spacious lawn, has no horticultural
peculiarity, but its historical interest lies in the fact that it
was here that Mrs. Montagu entertained the chimney-sweeps, every
year on the 1st of May. She is said to have done so, to give these
poor children “one happy day in the year,” and when the horrors and
tragedies attending the lives and often deaths of these cruelly treated
little creatures is realised, it is not to be wondered at that one lady
was humane enough to befriend them.
A quaint pathetic poem by Allan Cunningham, written in 1824, records
in characteristically stilted language an incident supposed to have
occurred to Mrs. Montagu. A sad boy, whose life was spent in climbing
flues, is pictured, and |
559 | one lady he supplicates turns away--“And lo!
another lady came,” and spoke kindly to him, asked him why he thus
spent his life, listened to his tale of how he was an orphan and “sold
to this cruel trade.”
“She stroked the sooty locks and smiled,
While o’er the dusky boy,
As streams the sunbeam through a cloud,
There came a flash of joy.
She took him from his cruel trade,
And soon the milk-white hue
Came to his neck; he with the muse
Sings, ‘Bless the Montagu.’”
Her kindness is recorded in other poems, and in her lifetime took the
practical shape of a sumptuous spread of beef and plum-pudding on the
lawn of her house in Portman Square.
Grosvenor House garden, with terrace and lawn sloping down to large
trees, has natural advantages for a beautiful garden, but a row of
beds along the terrace are the only flowers. The owners of these large
London gardens have such an abundance of floral display elsewhere that
no real gardening seems to be |
560 | attempted. To understand what are the
horticultural possibilities of London, it is in the minute back-garden
that the lesson must be learned, and the subject studied. Holland House
is an exception to this rule, for there the most beautiful garden, in
keeping with the magnificent old house, is kept up, and the greatest
care and skill were bestowed on it with wonderful results by the late
Earl of Ilchester.
[Illustration: THE LILY POND, HOLLAND HOUSE]
No house, perhaps, has more associations than Holland House. Its
history has been so often written, that to go over it in detail would
be superfluous. Built by Sir Walter Cope, while Elizabeth was on
the throne, from the designs of Thorpe, it doubtless from the first
had a good garden, as in those days great care was expended on the
surroundings of a house, for people realised, as did Bacon, that, “men
come to build stately, sooner than to garden finely; as if gardening
were the greater perfection.” The second stage in its history, when
i |
561 | t passed to Henry Rich, through his marriage with Sir Walter Cope’s
daughter and heiress, was even more eventful. He enlarged the house,
which became known as Holland House after Charles I. had created him
Baron Kensington and Earl of Holland. His wonderful personal charm,
inherited from his mother, the “Stella” of Sir Philip Sidney, made
him a general favourite; but not even his attachment to the Queen
preserved him from disloyalty, although in the end he fought for
the King’s cause. While he was on the Parliamentary side, Holland
House was often the meeting-place of its leaders. Cromwell and Ireton
talked together in the centre of the field in front of the house, so
that their raised voices, occasioned by Ireton’s deafness, should not
be overheard. For a time after the Restoration, Holland House was
tenanted by various people of note, to whom it was let out in suites
by the widowed Countess. One among them, the Frenchman Chardin, who
became famous by his travels to Persia, it has bee |
562 | n surmised, may
have brought some of the rare plants to the garden. The connection
with Addison came from his marriage with the Dowager Lady Warwick, to
whom the house belonged, the second Lord Holland having succeeded his
cousin as Earl of Warwick. He must have delighted in the gardens of
Holland House, although they were hardly so wild as the ideal one he
describes in the _Spectator_. There he said, “I look upon the pleasure
which we take in a garden as one of the most innocent delights in human
life.” No doubt he found some solace in the beauties of Holland House
garden to cheer the depression of the unhappiness the marriage had
brought him. The brilliant days of Holland House continued after it
changed hands, and was owned by Henry Fox, second son of Sir Stephen
Fox, who was chiefly instrumental in starting Chelsea Hospital. Henry
Fox eloped with Lady Caroline Lennox, and was afterwards created
Lord Holland. He took great interest in his garden, and was advised
and helped by the we |
563 | ll-known collector and horticulturist, Peter
Collinson. This friend was the means of introducing many new plants
to this country--a genus Collinsonia was named after him--and he
must have been pleasant and good besides, for his biographer says to
him was attached “all that respect which is due to benevolence and
virtue.” He was in correspondence with leading men in America, and was
constantly receiving seeds and plants, and his own garden contained
“a more complete assortment of the _orchis_ genus than, perhaps, had
ever been seen in one collection before.” No doubt some found their way
to the gardens of his friend, Lord Holland. How astonished they both
would be could they peep for a moment at the orchids displayed in the
tents of the Horticultural Society’s shows, which have been allowed
to take place in the park where Cromwell conversed? At this time the
gardens must have been considerably remodelled, as the taste for the
formal was waning, and the “natural” school taking its place. |
564 | One of
the pioneers of the natural style, Charles Hamilton, assisted the new
design. His own place, Painshill, near Cobham, in Surrey, embraced
all the newest ideas, groves, thickets, lakes, temples, grottos, sham
ruins, and hermitages. A contemporary admirer, Wheatley, says of
Painshill, it “is all a new creation; and a boldness of design, and
a happiness of execution attend the wonderful efforts which art has
there made to rival nature.” No doubt this adept in the new art would
introduce many changes. The “Green Lane” was a road shut up by Lady
Holland, and Hamilton is said to have suggested turfing it. He appears
to have been fond of woodland glades and turfed the shaded walks in his
own creation, so it seems very likely that the idea of grass was his.
In the Green Lane, Charles James Fox, son of the first Lady Holland,
who closed the road, loved to walk, and still the Green Lane is one
of the most attractive spots in all London. The fame of Holland House
increased as time went on, |
565 | and some of its most brilliant days were
during the time of the third Lord Holland, when Lady Holland drew all
the wit and fashion of London to her salon. Although it is no longer
a country place, and though no highwaymen have to be braved to reach
it, and though its surroundings are completely changed, the garden of
Holland House was never more beautiful than it is to-day. It is easy to
forget it is a London garden, the flowers look so clean and fresh. The
long vista into the rose garden from the lawn, which lies to the north,
is flanked on either side with pink roses, that pretty free-flowering
Caroline Testout. To the west, overlooking the Dutch garden, the view
is even more attractive, and the garden so well harmonises with the
house that it is easy to picture the beaux in wigs, and ladies in
hoops and powder, moving among the box-edged beds. On the south, the
wide terrace shown in the sketch was made in 1848, when the footpath
was altered and the entrance to the house changed to |
566 | the eastern side.
The stone basin in the centre was put in by the late Lord Ilchester.
The hybrid water-lilies, raised by Marliac, grow well in it, and that
rather delicate, but most beautiful of the Sagittarias, _montevidensis_
has flowered there. The raised terrace on the arches of the old
stables, which encloses one side of the garden and is covered with a
tangle of ivy, affords a charming view over the Dutch garden. Beyond is
the old ballroom, orangery and garden enclosed by arches of cut limes.
A terrace runs to the south of the Dutch garden and orangery, and the
Italian garden which lies here is in itself as complete a contrast to
the box-edged beds of the Dutch garden as is the Japanese garden,
a new addition which lies further to the north. It was near here that
the fatal duel between Lord Camelford and Colonel Best took place in
1804. There is yet another small enclosed garden cut off by thick yew
hedges and fat hollies from the rest. In it is the seat inscribed with
lines to |
567 | the poet Rogers:--
“Here Rogers sat, and here forever dwell
With me those Pleasures that he sings so well.”
In this garden, year by year, dahlias have grown ever since they were
first successfully grown in England. In 1789 the dahlia came for the
first time from the New World to the Old. It was then sent to Spain,
and that same year Lady Bute procured some from Madrid. She was not,
however, successful in growing it and it quite died out, until it
was reintroduced by Lady Holland in 1804. The plants remained rare
in England for some years. It was being grown in France, Germany,
and Holland, but little had been done to improve the original plant.
When, however, a larger supply was available in England after 1814,
the English growers took it up, and produced, before long, the round
very double flowers which soon became the rage. In stilted style a
writer in 1824 describes the dahlia mania, after giving the history of
its introduction. “It was left to English capital and perse |
568 | verance,”
he says, “to illuminate the northern part of the globe by the full
brilliancy of these floral luminaries.” Thus in extravagant language
he continues to sing the praises of the dahlia. It is curious that
the name is now generally pronounced as if it were “dalea,” forgetful
of the fact that there is a flower, something like a vetch, called
“Dalea” by Linnæus, after Dr. Samuel Dale, who died in 1739, a
well-known botanist and friend of Ray. The dahlia was named long after
in honour of the Swedish botanist Dahl.
The so-called “Japanese garden” was made by the late Lord Ilchester. It
is extremely pretty, but is entirely an English idea of what a Japanese
garden is like, and, however pleasing it may be to the uninitiated,
would probably shock the Japanese gardener, who is guided by as precise
rules in his garden, as the painter in his art. In Japan the rules
governing the laying-out of a garden are so exact that, apparently, it
requires years of study to acquire the rudiments. The |
569 | Japanese garden
at Holland House, which is pleasing to the English eye, consists of a
little stream descending through grassy lawns, with groups of plants,
a stone lantern, and rustic bridges, and water plants at each little
pond. The delightful _Iris kæmpferi_ flowers well, and yuccas, which,
by the way, come from America, and not Japan; neither do _Aralia
spinosa_ or _Saxifraga peltata_, which together form charming groups,
with auratum lilies in the summer and other Japanese plants. The French
hybrid water-lilies, of varying shades of pink, red, and yellow, here
too make a picture, with their brilliant blossoms floating on the
miniature pools--while bamboos, maples, and eulalias, true natives of
Japan, make a soft and feathery background. Above the Japanese garden
there is a well-furnished rock garden, and between that and the roses,
which make such a grand display on the north of the house, green walks
through rhododendrons and flowering shrubs unite the gardens. There
are some re |
570 | ally fine trees, as well as all the charming flowers, in
the grounds. Near the bridge leading to the Japanese garden there is
a beautiful evergreen oak and rare forest trees, while on the lawn
some old cedars, planted by Charles James Fox, are showing signs of
decrepitude, although the delightful picturesque effect a cedar always
has, adds one more to the many charms of this, the most beautiful as
well as the largest of London gardens.
There is a charming group of houses standing in their own grounds
still left on Campden Hill, although Campden House has been demolished
and its site built over within the last few years. The property on
which Campden House stood, and some authorities say the house itself,
was won over some game of chance in James I.’s time by Sir Baptist
Hicks, afterwards Viscount Campden, from Sir Walter Cope, the builder
of Holland House, hard by. It was to Campden House that Queen Anne’s
little son, the Duke of Gloucester, was taken for country air. The air
is still |
571 | pleasant on these heights, and the open tract of Holland Park
gives so much freshness that plants flourish wonderfully. There are
good gardens attached to many of the houses--Cam House, Blundell House,
Aubrey House, Thornwood, Holly, and Moray Lodges, and several others.
Holly Lodge is noteworthy as having for a few years been the residence
of Lord Macaulay. There are some charming trees in the grounds, even
yews (which are among the first to suffer from smoke) looking well;
a good old mulberry and silver elms, and a camellia in a border near
the wall, which often flowers out of doors, although some years the
half-open buds drop off from the effects of frosty fogs.
Cam House has one of the most charming gardens. It is now lived in by
Sir Walter Phillimore, and has been in his family for some 150 years.
It was well known as Argyll Lodge, as the late Duke bought the lease
and made it his town residence from the time he first took office in
Lord Aberdeen’s ministry in 1852. Before that |
572 | it was known as Bedford
Lodge, as the Duchess of Bedford, step-mother of Lord John Russell,
the Prime Minister, had lived there and laid out and planted most of
the garden. The “two very old oaks, which,” wrote the Duke of Argyll,
“would have done no discredit to any ancient chase in England,” are
still to be seen. The Duke was also delighted with the wild birds
which there made their homes in the garden; in fact, he says in his
Memoirs, it was the sight of the “fine lawn covered with starlings,
hunting for grubs and insects in their very peculiar fashion,” the
nut-hatches “moving over the trees, as if they were in some deep
English woodland,” the fly-catchers and the warblers, that made him
decide to take the house. During the half-century he lived there many
of the birds, the fly catchers, reed-wren, black cap, and willow-wren,
and nut-hatches, deserted the garden, but even now starlings and
wood-pigeons abound, and, what is even more rare in London, squirrels
may be seen swinging fr |
573 | om branch to branch of the old trees. Besides
the two old pollard oaks there are good beech and copper-beech, elder,
chestnuts, snowy medlar, sycamore, several varieties of thorn, and
a large Scotch laburnum, _Laburnum alpinum_, which flowers later
than the ordinary laburnum, and is therefore valuable to prolong the
season of these golden showers. The leaves are broader and darker,
and growth more spreading. On the vine trellis is a curious old vine
with strongly scented flowers. All the plants which thrive in London
are well grown in the charming formal garden and along the old wall,
which is covered with delicious climbing plants. So luxuriously will
some flowers grow, that the hollyhocks from this garden took the prize
at the horticultural show held in the grounds of Holland House, in a
competition open to all the gardens in the Kingdom.
At Fulham there is a charming garden, with trees which would be
remarkable anywhere, and appear still more beautiful from their
proximity to Londo |
574 | n. These trees in the grounds of Broom House have
fared on the whole better than those at Fulham Palace, hard by. It is
separated from the Palace by the grounds now attached to the club of
Hurlingham. Of Hurlingham there is not much early history. Faulkner,
the authority for this district, writes in 1813: “Hurlingham Field is
now the property of the Earl of Ranelagh and the site of his house. It
was here that great numbers of people were buried during the Plague.”
The same authority mentions: “The Dowager Countess of Lonsdale has
an elegant house and gardens here in full view of the Thames,” and
Broom House is shown on Rocque’s map of 1757. The estate was bought
by Mr. Sulivan from the Nepean family in 1824, and his daughter, Miss
Sulivan, keeps up the garden with the utmost good taste and knowledge
of horticulture. The ailanthus, with a trunk 10 feet 4 inches in girth
at 4 feet from the ground, is probably one of the finest specimens in
England. The one in Fulham Palace garden is exac |
575 | tly the same girth, but
does not appear to be so lofty. The liquidamber is also a magnificent
tree, and the false acacia is quite as fine as the one in Fulham
Palace, and was probably planted at the same time. There are still
two cedars left, although the finest was blown down some years ago,
and the timber afforded panelling for a large room and many pieces of
furniture. Perhaps the most beautiful of the trees is the copper or
purple beech. Not only is it very tall and has a massive trunk (14 feet
6 inches at 2 feet from the ground), but the shape is quite perfect,
and its branches are furnished evenly all round. There are also good
evergreen oaks, elms, chestnuts and Scotch firs. There is a large
collection of flowering shrubs, which are in no way affected by the
smoky air. Standard magnolias, grandiflora, conspicua and stellata,
many varieties of the delightful autumn-flowering plant, the _Hibiscus
syriacus_, known to older gardeners as _Althæa frutex_, and recommended
under that na |
576 | me by Fairchild in 1722 as suited to London, _Cratægus
pyracantha_, _Choysia_, _Pyrus spectabilis_, and many other equally
delightful shrubs all appear most flourishing. These, together with
herbaceous plants and ornamental trees, well grouped in a garden of
good design, with the river flowing at the foot of it, make the grounds
of Broom House rank among the most attractive about London.
[Illustration: ST. JOHN’S LODGE, REGENT’S PARK]
A few of the gardens, like this one, have succeeded in keeping the
real stamp of the country, in spite of the encroachments of the town
and the advance of trams and motor omnibuses, but they are every day
becoming more scarce. Hampstead and Highgate have many such, and here
and there, to the north and on the south of the river, such delightful
spots are to be found, although the temptation to cut them up and build
small red villas on the sites is very great. Towards the north of
London there are many small gardens which are bright and attractive,
and wi |
577 | thout going so far as Hampstead, pleached walks and small but
tastefully arranged grounds are met with. Within Regent’s Park
there are several charming gardens round the detached villas, which
have been already noticed in the chapter on that Park. The two most
interesting from a horticultural point of view are St. Katharine’s and
St. John’s Lodges. The fountain in the former is the frontispiece to
this volume, and that view says more than any elaborate description.
It might be in some far-away Italian garden, so perfectly are the
sights and sounds of London obliterated. On a still, hot day, when
the fountain drips with a cool sound and there is a shimmering light
of summer over the distant trees beyond the terrace, the delusion is
perfect. Most of the herbaceous plants which take kindly to London grow
in the border--hollyhocks, day lilies, poppies, peonies, pulmoneria
and lilies, while there is a large variety of flowering shrubs--ribes,
lilacs, buddleias, shumachs and _Aralia spinosa_ |
578 | . The kitchen-garden
produces good crops of most of the ordinary vegetables. The garden is
arranged with a definite design; there is nothing specially formal,
no cut trees or anything associated with some of the formal ideas in
England, but there is method in the design; the trees and plants grow
as Nature intended them, but they are not stuck about in incongruous
disorder and meaningless, distorted lines, as is so often thought
necessary, in designing a garden or “improving” a park.
St. John’s Lodge has also a well-thought-out garden, some of it of a
distinctly formal type. The coloured illustration of it is taken from
a part of the garden enclosed with cut privet hedges, with a fountain
in the centre, on which stands a statue of St. John the Baptist, by
Mr. Johnes. Between the four wide grass walks there are masses of
herbaceous plants, backed by rhododendrons, which, as the picture
shows, stand out with brilliant colour in summer against the green
background. This garden opens into |
579 | a bowling-green enclosed by cut lime
trees, and a cool walk for summer shaded by pleached lime trees. A
seductive broad walk bordered with fruit-trees is another feature. This
attractive garden has been made within the last eighteen years. The
conception of it was due to Lord Bute, and the designing and carrying
out to Mr. Schultz. The other side of the house, with a wide terrace
and park stretching down toward the water, has no special horticultural
feature, but the formal garden is full of charm, and the plants are
thriving and trees growing up so fast there is no trace of its newness.
It only shows how much can be done where knowledge and good taste are
displayed.
St. James’s Park is still skirted by garden walls--Stafford, Clarence,
and Marlborough Houses, as well as St. James’s Palace, though their
gardens are hardly as elaborate as those of former years. The garden
of that Palace delighted the Sieur de la Serre, who accompanied Marie
de Medicis when she came to pay a visit to H |
580 | enrietta Maria and Charles
I. and was lodged in St. James’s Palace. After describing the house,
“there were, besides,” he writes, “two grand gardens with parterres of
different figures, bordered on every side by a hedge of box, carefully
cultivated by the hands of a skilful gardener; and in order to render
the walks on both sides which enclosed it appear more agreeable, all
sorts of fine flowers were sowed.... The other garden, which was
adjoining and of the same extent, had divers walks, some sanded and
others grass, but both bordered on each side by an infinity of
fruit-trees, which rendered walking so agreeable that one could never
be tired.”
[Illustration: IN THE GARDEN, ST. JOHN’S LODGE]
The garden of Bridgewater House was a little slice taken off Green
Park. On the advice of Fordyce, the Crown in 1795 granted a lease, on
certain conditions, to the Duke of Bridgewater and other proprietors
near their respective houses, on the ground that it would improve
rather than injure the P |
581 | ark. In 1850 the question arose whether the
plans Barry had just made for the garden of Bridgewater House infringed
the terms of the lease, and Pennethorne, architect to the Office of
Works, had to report on the question. It being finally settled that the
proposed wall and terrace would not hurt the Park, the alterations were
allowed.
Last, but by no means least, either in size or importance, the gardens
of Buckingham Palace must be glanced at. The Palace is so modern, when
compared with the older Royal residences, that it is easy to forget
the history of the forty acres enclosed in the King’s private garden,
yet they have much historical interest. In the time of James I. a
portion of the ground was covered by a mulberry garden, which the King
had planted, in pursuance of his scheme to encourage the culture of
silkworms, in 1609. That year he spent £935 in levelling the four acres
of ground and building a wall round it for the protection of the trees.
A few years later most of the enc |
582 | losure became a tea-garden, while part
was occupied by Goring House. There are many references to these famous
tea-gardens, called the “Mulberry Garden,” in plays and writings of the
seventeenth century. Evelyn notes in his “Diary,” on 10th April 1654:
“My Lady Gerrard treated us at Mulberry Garden, now the only place
of refreshment about the town for persons of the best quality to be
exceeding cheated at, Cromwell and his partisans having shut up and
seized Spring Garden, which till now had been the usual rendezvous for
the ladies and gallants at this season.”
Goring House stood just where Buckingham Palace does now, and was the
residence of George Goring, Earl of Norwich, and of his son, with whom
the title became extinct. It was let in 1666, by the last Earl of
Norwich, to Lord Arlington, and became known sometimes as Arlington
House. It was burnt in 1674, and Evelyn notes in his “Diary” of 21st
September: “I went to see the great losse that Lord Arlington had
sustained by fire at |
583 | Goring House, this night consumed to the ground,
with exceeding losse of hangings, plate, rare pictures, and cabinets;
hardly anything was saved of the best and most princely furniture that
any subject had in England. My lord and lady were both absent at the
Bath.” Buckingham House, which was built in 1703 on the same site for
the Duke of Buckingham, must have been very charming. Defoe describes
it as “one of the beauties of London, both by reason of its situation
and its building.... Behind it is a fine garden, a noble terrace (from
whence, as well as from the apartments, you have a most delicious
prospect), and a little park with a pretty canal.” The Duke of
Buckingham himself gives a full description of his garden in a letter
to a friend, telling him how he passed his time and what were his
enjoyments, when he resigned being Privy Seal to Queen Anne (1709). “To
the garden,” he writes, “we go down from the house by seven steps into
a gravel walk that reaches across the garden, with a |
584 | covered arbour at
each end. Another of thirty feet broad leads from the front of the
house, and lies between two groves of tall lime trees, planted on a
carpet of grass. The outsides of those groves are bordered with tubs
of bays and orange trees. At the end of the broad walk you go up to a
terrace 400 paces long, with a large semicircle in the middle, from
where are beheld the Queen’s (Anne’s) two parks and a great part of
Surrey: then, going down a few steps, you walk on the bank of a canal
600 yards long and 17 broad, with two rows of limes on either side. On
one side of this terrace a wall, covered with roses and jessamines, is
made low to admit the view of a meadow full of cattle just beneath (no
disagreeable object in the midst of a great city), and at each end is a
descent into parterres with fountains and waterworks. From the biggest
of these parterres we pass into a little square garden, that has a
fountain in the middle and two green-houses on the sides ... below this
a kitc |
585 | hen-garden ... and under the windows ... of this green-house is a
little wilderness full of blackbirds and nightingales.” This is truly
an entrancing picture of a town garden.
The waterworks, those elaborate fountains then in vogue, were supplied
by water pumped up from the Thames into a tank above the kitchen,
which held fifty tons of water. Buckingham House was then a red-brick
building, consisting of a central square structure, with stone pillars
and balustrade along the top, and two wings attached to the main
building by a colonnade. It was this style of house when King George
III. bought it, originally for a dower-house for Queen Charlotte,
instead of Somerset House, where the Queens-Dowager had previously
lived. These formal gardens were not suited to the taste of the time,
and George IV. had all the garden altered, as well as the house
rebuilt by Nash. The whole of the parterres, terraces and fountains
and canal were swept away, and most of the lime-trees cut down. A wide
lawn |
586 | and five acres of ornamental water, glades, walks and thickets
took their place. When first made the water was severely criticised by
a writer of the landscape school, the chief fault he found being that
too much was visible at once from the path which encircled it, so that
the limits were not well concealed. This seems to have been altered to
the satisfaction of later critics. Dennis, writing in 1835, gives a
plan in which the path has been made a little distance from the water’s
edge, and the outline broken by clumps of trees and a promontory, which
later on was turned into an island, on which a willow from Napoleon’s
tomb at St. Helena is said to have been planted, though no old willow
now exists. This writer gives great praise to Aiton, who superintended
all the execution of the plans. The pavilion in the grounds was added
in 1844, and decorated with paintings of scenes from Milton’s _Comus_
by Eastlake, Maclise, Landseer and other artists, with borders and gilt
ornaments by Gruner |
587 | .
During the last four years his Majesty has had a great deal done
to improve the grounds. His appreciation of what is beautiful in
gardening has led him to effect several changes, which, while keeping
the park-like character of the gardens, have added immensely to their
scenic beauty and horticultural interest. The dead and dying trees
and others of poor and stunted growth have been removed, giving air
and light to those remaining. Several good specimens of plane, lime,
elm, beech, ash, ailanthus and hawthorn have thus secured more
space to develop. A very large assortment of all the best flowering
shrubs which will flourish in London have taken the place of worn-out
evergreens. The best of the hollies, arbutus and healthy evergreens
have been encouraged by careful attention. The great object in laying
out the garden originally was naturally to obtain as much privacy as
possible, and the earth taken out of the lake was formed into a great
bank, which was thickly planted to screen the |
588 | stables and distant
houses. This bank, which was stiff and formal in appearance, has now
been artistically broken by planting and rock-work--not merely by a
few stones, which would seem small, unnatural, and out of place, but
by bold crags, over which roses climb, and where gorse, savin and
broom, and countless other suitable plants look perfectly at home. The
aspect of the lake is also greatly enhanced by the substitution of
rustic stone bridges for the iron structures, The water’s edge is well
furnished with iris and other water-loving plants--the finest Marliac
lilies brighten its surface--and the stiff, round island is now varied
by striking rocky promontories and is prettily adorned with broom and
cherries.
The colossal vase by Westmacott, executed as a memento of the Battle of
Waterloo, has lately been placed on one of the lawns in an amphitheatre
of trees. It stands in front of his Majesty’s summer-house, which
is quaint in design, and was brought from the old Spring Gardens a |
589 | t
Whitehall. The views down the wide glades, with the groups of tall
trees, the bridges, the herbaceous borders, and the wealth of flowering
shrubs, make the garden altogether one of singular charm considering it
is even more truly “in the midst of a great city” than when the Duke
of Buckingham described the same spot nearly 200 years ago.
The Buckingham Palace Gardens show how much judicious planting can
do, and how much is lost in many of the parks as well as gardens by
not sufficiently considering the decorative value of plants. The old
landscape gardeners, in their desire to copy nature and depart from
all formality, forgot the horticultural part of their work in their
plans for the creation of landscapes. They had not studied the effects
which skilful planting will produce, and ignored flowers as a factor
in their scenery. They had not got the wealth of genera which the
twentieth century possesses, and of which, in many instances, full use
is made. But in a review of London Parks |
590 | and Gardens, it is impossible
not to notice effects missed as well as success achieved. The immense
advance gardening has made of late years, and the knowledge and wide
range of plants, makes it easier to garden now than ever before. The
enormous number of trees and flowers now in cultivation leaves a good
choice to select from, even among those suitable for the fog-begrimed
gardens of London. The carpets of spring flowering bulbs, the masses of
brilliant rhododendrons, the groups of choice blossoming trees, which
so greatly beautify many of the parks and gardens, are all the result
of modern developments. Experience, too, has pointed out the mistakes
in landscape gardening, which is for the most part the style followed
in London, and it should be easy to avoid the errors of earlier
generations. In formal designing, also, the recent introductions and
modern taste in flowers should have a marked influence. In all the
parks and gardens, public and private, the chief aim should be to mak |
591 | e
the best use of the existing material, to draw upon the vast resources
of horticulture, which have never been so great as at the present time,
and thus to maintain the position of superiority of London gardens
among the cities of the world.
APPENDIX TO PRIVATE GARDENS
CHARLTON
Owing to unavoidable circumstances it was not possible to include
Charlton in the foregoing chapter on private gardens, but some account
of this place of historic interest is necessary to complete this
book. Further from the centres of fashion, on the eastern limits of
London, it has not been the scene of such brilliant assemblies as
Holland House on the west; yet its early days share that speculative
fascination which gathers round the personality of Henry, Prince of
Wales, who figures for such a short time on the pages of English
history. Only two miles from Greenwich, in the hundred of Blackheath,
lies the manor of Charlton, which was bestowed by William the Conqueror
on his half-brother, Odo of Bayeu |
592 | x. Later on it passed by gift to
the Priory of Bermondsey, and so remained until the Dissolution of
the Monasteries, when it became crown land until James I. gave it to
Sir Adam Newton, “who built a goodly brave house” thereon. Born in
Scotland, Sir Adam had spent much of his life in France, and passing
himself off as a priest, had taught Greek at St. Maixant in Poitou.
On his return to Scotland in 1600, he was appointed tutor to Prince
Henry, and was in attendance on him as secretary when the Prince grew
up. In 1607 he commenced to build Charlton for him, Inigo Jones being
the architect, and after the Prince’s death in 1612, the King granted
Sir Adam the manor, in lieu of payment for the expenses he had incurred
in building the house. The owner of Charlton continued to enjoy
royal favour, became Treasurer of the Household to Prince Charles,
was created a baronet in 1620, and married a daughter of Sir John
Puckering, who had been Keeper of the Great Seal to Queen Elizabeth.
His second |
593 | son, Sir Henry Newton, who succeeded him at Charlton, and
took the name of Puckering from estates inherited from his uncle, was
an ardent supporter of Charles I. He sold the property to Sir William
Ducie, Viscount Downe, at whose death it was again sold. The purchaser,
Sir William Langhorne, was a wealthy East India merchant, who was, from
1670 to 1677, Governor of Madras. On his death it passed by entail to
his cousin Mrs. Maryon, and eventually to her great-granddaughter,
the wife of Sir Thomas Spencer Wilson, in whose family Charlton still
remains.
The gardens show traces of all the many owners, and in spite of the
growth of London and its attendant drawbacks, they are still charming.
The house stands in about 150 acres of undulating deer park, with some
fine old trees, an avenue of English elms on the east, and one of
horse-chestnuts, forming the approach on the west. Perhaps the planting
of the tulip tree near the present lodge was due to John Evelyn, the
friend of Sir Henry Puck |
594 | ering. Evelyn’s liking for tulip trees is well
known, and this specimen looks old enough to claim his acquaintance.
The two shattered but grand old mulberry trees probably date from the
year 1609, when James I. encouraged all his subjects to plant them,
and tradition points to one as the first brought to England. There is
an immense horse-chestnut on the lawn, with a wide spread of branches
which are rooted in the ground all round, and among the evergreen oaks
and other attractive trees in the “Wilderness,” a Judas of great age
is remarkable. The small house standing near the road which passes
the parish church, known as the “Guard House,” recalls the time when
Prince Henry was living there, and his guard of honour kept watch near
the entrance. The stables are just as they were built by Inigo Jones,
and the little “Dutch” walled garden which adjoins them on one side is
also a pretty relic of those days, and the “Gooseberry Garden” near
it is a survival of the same period. A walk oversh |
595 | adowed by tall yew
trees stretches across and along the main part of the grounds, and
hidden away near its southern end is a delightful rose garden. The
beautiful lead fountain in the centre must have been put there by Sir
William Langhorne. His initials appear on the leaden tank, and the
spray rises from a basin held up by a charming little cupid standing
on a pedestal surrounded by swans. The same group appears without
the tank in another part of the garden, and there are lead vases and
figures, and a cistern dated 1777, which add greatly to the old-world
charm which still lingers. Chemical works and sulphurous fumes now work
deadly havoc among the old trees, but everything that modern science
can recommend is done to preserve them, and young ones planted to keep
up the traditions, and bridge over the centuries dividing the present
from the days of Prince Henry and his learned and courtly tutor.
LIST OF SOME OF THE WORKS CONSULTED.
(_The date does not always refer to the first e |
596 | dition, but to the one
consulted._)
Ambulator. A Pocket Companion in a Tour Round London. 1792.
Amusements of Old London. Boulton. 1900.
Argyll, Autobiography of George Douglas, Eighth Duke of. Ed. by the
Dowager Duchess of Argyll. 1907.
Baker, T. H. Records of Seasons and Prices.
Battersea, All About. H. S. Simmonds. 1882.
Birds in London. W. H. Hudson. 1898.
„ of London. H. K. Swann. 1893.
Bloomsbury. Chronicle of Blemundsbury. W. Blott. 1892.
„ and St. Giles. George Cluich. 1890.
Bradley, Richard. New Improvements of Planting and Gardening. 1717.
Burial Grounds, London. Mrs. Basil Holmes. 1896.
Butler, Samuel. Hudibras. Notes by Grey and Nash. 1847.
Calendar of State Papers. 1557, &c. Ed. J. Redington.
Camberwell. Parish of All Saints. T. J. Gaster. 1896.
„ Ye Parish of Camerwell. W. H. Blanch. 1875.
Catesby, Mark. Natural History of Carolina. 1731–43.
„ „ Hortus Europæ Americanus. 1767.
C |
597 | helsea. Memoirs of the Botanic Garden. Henry Field. 1820.
„ „ „ „ Ed. by R. H. Semple. 1878.
„ An Account of Chelsea Hospital. 1805.
„ Historical Notes. Isabella Burt. 1871.
„ Hospital. Thomas Faulkener. 1805.
„ Thomas Faulkener. 1810.
Cleveland. Character of a London Diurnal. 1647.
„ Poems, annotated by J. M. Berden. 1903.
Cole, John. A Pleasant and Profitable Journey to London. 1828.
Commons. A Glance at the Commons and Open Spaces of London. 1867.
Curtis, William. Botanical Magazine. 1787–1906.
„ „ A Catalogue of the Plants Growing Wild in the Environs
of London. 1774.
„ „ Flora Londinensis. 1777–1828.
Dennis, John. The Landscape Gardener. 1835.
Domesday Book. Ed. 1812.
Draper, W. H. The Morning Walk; or, City Encompass’d. 1751.
Evelyn, John. Diary.
„ „ Sylva. 1664.
Fairchild, Thomas. The City Gardener. 1722.
Fiennes, |
598 | Celia. Through England on a Side-Saddle in the Time of
William and Mary. Ed. Hon. Mrs. Griffiths. 1888.
Foreign Visitors to England. Smith. 1889.
Fulham, Old and New. C. J. Feret. 1900.
„ and Hammersmith. Faulkener. 1813.
Gardeners’ Magazine. Conducted by J. C. Loudon. 1826–43.
Gardening. History of, in England. Alicia Amherst. 1896.
Gerard. Herbal. 1597.
„ „ Ed. by T. Johnson. 1633.
„ Catalogus. 1599.
Greenwich. W. Howarth. 1886.
„ and Blackheath. Half Holiday Hand-book Series. 1881.
„ Park: Its History and Associations. Angus D. Webster. 1902.
„ The Palace and Hospital. A. G. K. L’Estrange. 1886.
Grosley. A Tour to London. 1765.
Hackney. Magazine and Parish Reformer. 1833–38.
„ Collecteanea Geographica, &c. 1842.
„ History and Antiquities of. William Robinson. 1842.
Hawthorne, Nathaniel. Passages from English Note-Books. 1870.
Hazlitt, W. C. Gleanings in Old |
599 | Garden Literature. 1887.
Highgate, History of. Frederick Prickett. 1842.
Hook, Dean of Chichester. Lives of the Archbishops of Canterbury.
1875.
Hyde Park, from Domesday to Date. J. Ashton. 1900.
Index Kewensis. 1893, &c.
Inns of Court. Inner Temple Records, F. A. Inderwick. 1896.
„ „ Inner and Middle Temple. H. H. L. Bellot. 1902.
„ „ Lincoln’s Inn. Douthwaite. 1886.
„ „ Gray’s Inn. Douthwaite. 1886.
„ „ and Chancery. W.J. Loftée. Illustrations by Herbert
Railton. 1893.
Islington. History of the Parish of St. Mary. S. Lewis. 1842.
Issue Rolls. James I., &c.
Lamb, Charles, Life of. E. V. Lucas. 1905.
Lambeth, History of. Ducarel. 1785.
„ „ Thomas Allen. 1828.
„ Palace and its Associations. J. C. Browne. 1883.
Laud, Archbishop’s, Diary.
Loimographia: An Account of the Great Plague. W. Boghurst. 1894.
London, Ancient and Modern, from a Sani |
600 | tary Point of View. G. V.
Poore. 1889.
„ Birds and Insects. T. D. Pigott. 1892.
„ Botanic Gardens, Pierre E. F. Perrédès. Pub. by Wellcome
Chemical Research Laboratories. No. 62.
„ Bygone. F. Ross. 1892.
„ City Suburbs as they are To-Day. 1893.
„ City: Its History, &c. W. J. Loftie.
„ Curiosities of. Timbs. 1868.
„ Environs of. Daniel Lysons. 1790–96.
„ Familiar, J. C. L’Estrange. 1890.
„ Fascination of. Series ed. by Sir W. Besant.
„ Flora. Alexander Irvine. 1838.
„ Garland. W. E. Henley. 1895.
„ Greater. E. Walford. 1893–95.
„ Hand-book of. Peter Cunningham. 1850.
„ Highways and Byways in. Mrs. E. T. Cook. 1903.
„ History of. Noorthouck. 1773.
„ „ William Maitland. 1756.
„ „ Plantagenet, Tudor Times, &c. Sir W. Besant.
„ Illustrata. Wilkinson.
„ Its Neighbourhood, &c. Hugh |
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