MUNICIPAL PARKS IN SOUTH LONDON
_No fresh’ning breeze--no trellised bower,
No bee to chase from flower to flower;
’Tis dimly close--in city pent--
But the hearts within it are well content._
--ELIZA COOK.
Of the South London Parks Battersea is the largest and most westerly,
and the best known to people outside its own district. Battersea is
entirely new, and has no history as a Park, for before the middle of
last century the greater part was nothing but a dismal marsh. The
ground had to be raised and entirely made before the planting of it as
a park could begin at all. The site was low-lying fields with reeds and
swamps near the water, and market-gardens famous for the asparagus,
sold as “Battersea bundles,” growing around it. In the eighteenth
century three windmills were conspicuous from the river. One ground
corn, another the colours, and the third served to grind the white lead
for the potteries. This was during the time when Battersea enamel was
at its height, and snuff-boxes were being turned out in quantities. On
the banks of the river stood a tavern and Tea Garden, known as the Red
House for many generations. It was much resorted to, but latterly its
reputation was none of the best. Games of all kinds took place in its
gardens, and pigeon-shooting was one of the greatest attractions there,
during the first half of the nineteenth century. Although for long,
crowds enjoyed harmless amusements there--“flounder breakfasts,” and
an annual “sucking-pig dinner,” and such-like--towards the end of the
time of its existence, it became the centre of such noisy and riotous
merrymakings that the grounds of the Red House became notorious.
The Sunday fairs, with the attendant evils of races, gambling, and
drinking, were crowded, and thousands of the less reputable sections
of the community landed every Sunday at the Red House to join in these
revellings. It was chiefly with a view to doing away with this state
of affairs, that the scheme was set on foot, for absorbing the grounds
of the Red House, and other less famous taverns and gardens that had
sprung up round it, and forming a Park.
Battersea, or “Patricesy,” as it is written in Domesday, was a manor
belonging to the Abbey of Westminster until the Dissolution of the
Monasteries. The name is most probably derived from the fact that
it was lands of St. Peter’s Abbey “by the water.” Later on it came
into the St. John family, and Henry St. John, Lord Bolingbroke, was
born and died in Battersea. After his death it was purchased by Earl
Spencer, in whose family it remains. Part of the fields were Lammas
Lands, for which the parish was duly compensated. The gloomy wildness
of the fields gave rise to superstitions, and a haunted house, from
which groans proceeded and mysterious lights were seen at night,
at one time scared the neighbourhood, and enticed the adventurous.
The only historical incident, connected with the fields, is the duel
fought there in 1829 between the Duke of Wellington and the Marquess
of Winchelsea; the latter having personally attacked the Duke during
the debates on the Catholic Emancipation Bill. The Duke aimed his shot
through his adversary’s hat, who then fired in the air, and the affair
of honour was thus settled. Battersea Fields were approached, in those
days, by the old wooden Battersea Bridge which had superseded the
ferry; the only means of communication till 1772. The present bridges
at either corner of the Park have both been built since the Park was
formed.
Like Victoria Park, Battersea was administered with the other Royal
Parks, in the first instance. The Act of Parliament giving powers
to the “Commissioners of Her Majesty’s Woods” to form the Park was
passed in 1846, but so much had to be done to the land, that the
actual planting did not begin until 1857. The ground had all to be
drained, and raised, and a proper embankment made to keep out the
river. Just at this time the Victoria Docks were being excavated,
and the earth dug out of them was conveyed to Battersea. Places were
left, to form the shallow artificial lake, mounds raised, to make the
ground round the water undulating, and the rest of the surface of
the Park levelled. Altogether about a million cubic yards of earth
were deposited in Battersea Park. The extent is 198 acres, and from
the nature of the ground, except the artificial elevations near the
lake, it is quite flat. The design was originally made by Sir James
Pennethorne, architect of the Office of Works, and the execution of
it completed by Mr. Farrow. The chief features, are the artificial
water (for the most part supplied by the Thames), and the avenue of
elms which traverses the Park from east to west, and cross walks, with
a band-stand and drinking-fountain at the converging points. Round the
Park runs a carriage drive, and, following a different line, a track
for riders--with the usual spaces for games between. The trees are
growing up well, so already any bareness has disappeared. The absolute
flatness, which makes the open spaces uninteresting, is relieved by the
avenue, which will some day be a fine one.
It is an object-lesson to show the advantage of avenues and shady
walks, too often ignored by modern park designers, or only carried
out in a feeble, half-hearted way. The chief variation in Battersea
Park was achieved by John Gibson, the Park Superintendent, who made
the sub-tropical garden in 1864. His experience, gained on a botanical
mission to India, which he undertook for the Duke of Devonshire, well
fitted him for the task. This garden has always been kept up and added
to, and specially improved in the Seventies, while the present Lord
Redesdale was at the Office of Works.
A sub-tropical garden was quite a novelty when first started here, and
caused much interest to horticulturalists and landscape gardeners.
The “Sub-tropical Garden,” by W. Robinson, and other writings on the
subject, have since made the effects which can be produced familiar
to all gardeners; but in 1864 to group hardy plants of a tropical
appearance, such as aralias, acanthus, eulalias, bamboos, or fan palms,
was a new idea. During the summer, cannas, tobacco, various palms,
bananas, and so on, were added to the collection, and caused quite an
excitement when they first appeared at Battersea. The garden is still
kept up, and looks pretty and cool in summer, and on a cold winter’s
day is sheltered and pleasant. But much of the charm and originality
of the early planting has been lost, in the present official idea of
what sub-tropical gardens should contain, which carries a certain
stereotyped stiffness with it.
In 1887 the Park, at the same time as Victoria and Kennington, was
given up to the Metropolitan Board of Works, and since then the control
has passed to its successor, the London County Council. The gardens are
kept up, more or less, as before, with a few additions. An aviary with
a restless raven, fat gold and silver pheasants, and contented pigeons,
delights the small children, who are as plentiful in Battersea as in
all the other London playgrounds. Like the other parks, Saturdays and
Sundays are the great days. The games of cricket are played as close
together as possible, until to the passer-by the elevens and even the
balls seem hopelessly mixed. The ground not devoted to games is thickly
strewn with prostrate forms, and certainly, in this, Battersea is by no
means singular! In autumn, one of the green-houses, in which the more
tender sub-tropical plants are housed is given up to chrysanthemums.
This flower is the one of all others for London. It will thrive in
the dingiest corners of the town, and display its colours long after
the fogs and frosts have deprived the parks and gardens of all other
colour. The shows in the East End testify to what can be achieved, even
by the poorest, with this friendly plant. Every year at Shoreditch
Town Hall the local exhibition takes place, and there are many similar
institutions, where monster blooms, grown on roofs or in small back
gardens, would compete creditably at a national show. The popularity
of the chrysanthemums in Battersea Park is so great, that on a fine
Sunday there is a string of people waiting their turn of walking
through, stretching for fifty yards at least from the green-house to
the entrance to the frame-ground. Certainly the arrangement of the
green-house is prettily done. The stages are removed, and a sanded path
with a double twist meanders among groups of plants sloping up to the
rafters, and a few long, lanky ones trained to arch under the roof.
The show is much looked forward to, and the colours and arrangements
compared with former years, praised or criticised, such is the eager
interest of those who crowd to take their turn for a peep. It is
delightful to watch the pleasure on all faces, as a whole family out
for their Sunday walk, press in together. It is only one more instance
of the joy the London Parks bring to millions of lives.
The world of fashion has only attacked Battersea Park spasmodically.
When it was new, and the sub-tropical garden a rarity, people drove out
from Mayfair or Belgravia to see it. Again Battersea became the fashion
when the cycling craze began. In the summer of 1895 it suddenly became
“the thing” to bicycle to breakfast in Battersea Park, and ladies
who had never before visited this South London Park flocked there
in the early mornings. It was away from the traffic that disturbed
the beginner in Hyde or St. James’s Park, and perhaps the daring
originality of cycling seemed to demand that conventions should further
be violated; and nothing so commonplace as Hyde Park would satisfy the
aspirations of the newly-emancipated lady cyclists. What would their
ancestors, who had paced the Mall in powder and crinolines, have said
to the short-skirted, energetic young or even elderly cyclist? No doubt
some of that language which shocks modern ears, used by the heroines in
“Sir Charles Grandison,” would have been found equal to the occasion.
The great cycling rage is over, and Battersea is again deserted by fair
beings, who now prefer to fly further afield in motors, but the Park
is just as crowded by those for whose benefit it was really made--the
ever-growing population of London south of the river.
VAUXHALL PARK
Going east from Battersea the next Park is Vauxhall, a small oasis of
green in a crowded district. Although only 8 acres in extent, it is a
great boon to the neighbourhood, and hundreds of children play there
every day. It has been open since 1891, the land, occupied by houses
with gardens, having been acquired and the houses demolished, and the
little Park is owned and kept up by Lambeth Borough Council.
It has nothing to do with the famous Vauxhall Gardens, to which the
rank and fashion of the town flocked for nearly two hundred years;
and the country visitor to Vauxhall Park could hardly speak of it in
such glowing terms as Farmer Colin to his wife in 1741 of the famous
Vauxhall Spring Gardens:--
“O Mary! soft in feature,
I’ve been at dear Vauxhall;
No paradise is sweeter,
Not that they Eden call.
“Methought, when first I entered,
Such splendours round me shone,
Into a world I ventured
Where rose another sun.”
The site of these Gardens, which covered some twelve acres with groves,
avenues, dining-halls, the famous Rotunda and caverns, cascades and
pavilions, is now all built over. It lay about as far to the south-east
of Vauxhall Bridge as the little Park is to the south-west. In name
Vauxhall sounds quaint and un-English. In earlier times it was known
as Foxhall, or more correctly Foukeshall, from Foukes de Breant, who
married a sister of Archbishop Baldwin in the latter half of the
twelfth century.
The land of the present Park was purchased in May 1889.[8] Then it
was covered by houses standing in their own grounds. The largest of
these was Carroun or Caroone House, which had been built by Sir Noel
de Caron, who was Ambassador of the Netherlands for thirty-three
years, during the reigns of Elizabeth and James I.--the others, a row
of eight with gardens, were known as “The Lawn.” In front of them was
a long pond, said to have been fed by the Effra River. This stream,
which rose in Norwood and flowed into the Thames at Vauxhall, has,
like most of the other streams of London, become a sewer, and the pond
is no more. In one of these houses (51 South Lambeth Road) Mr. Henry
Fawcett resided, and when the houses were pulled down to form the Park
his was left, the intention being to make it into some memorial of
him. It was found to be too much out of repair to retain, and had to
be pulled down. With the sum which the sale of materials from the old
house realised, it was proposed to erect a memorial drinking-fountain.
This idea bore fruit, as Sir Henry Doulton sold one to the vestry
for less than one-third of its value, and moreover gave a further
memorial to the courageous blind Postmaster-General of a portrait
statue by Tinworth, with appropriate allegorical figures. This fine
group recording the connection of Henry Fawcett with the place is
the most conspicuous feature of the Park. The trees are growing up,
and an abundance of seats and dry walks made it an enjoyable if not
beautiful garden. The swings and gymnasiums are numerous and large,
but what gives most pleasure is the sand-garden for little children.
For hours and hours these small mites are happily occupied digging
and making clean mud pies, while their elders sit by and work. It is
touching to see the miniature castles and carefully patted puddings
at the close of a busy baby’s day. In the summer, when the sand is
too dry to bind, some of the infants bring small bottles, which they
manage to get filled at the drinking-fountain, and water their little
handfuls of sand. These children’s sand-gardens, common in parks in
the United States, are a delightful invention for the safe amusement
of these small folk, and the delight caused by this one, which was
only made in 1905, shows how greatly they are appreciated. Many of the
parks and some of the commons now have their “sea-side” or “sand-pit,”
and probably not only do they give immense pleasure, but they act as
a safety-valve for small mischievous urchins, who otherwise could not
resist trespassing on flower-beds.
The grass in this, as in all the parks, has to be enclosed at times, to
let it recover, the tramp of many feet. The wattled hurdles which are
often used in the London Parks for this purpose, have quite a rustic
appearance. They are like those which appear in all the agricultural
scenes depicted in fifteenth century MSS. It is much to be hoped that
no modern invention in metal will be found to take their place.
KENNINGTON PARK
Not very far from Vauxhall, beyond the famous Oval, lies the larger and
more pretentious Kennington Park of 19½ acres. This has a long history
as Kennington Common. It formed part of the Duchy of Cornwall estates,
having been settled by James I. on Prince Henry, and has since belonged
to each succeeding Prince of Wales. In still earlier times there was a
Royal Palace at Kennington, which fell into decay after Henry VIII.’s
reign. Here as on all similar commons, the people had a right of
grazing cattle for six months of the year. But the moment it was open
to them in the spring such a number of beasts were turned on to the
ground, that in a very short time “the herbage” was “devoured, and it
remained entirely bare for the rest of the season.”
The Common was a great place for games of all sorts, particularly
cricket. When in 1852 it was turned into a Park, and play could not go
on to the same extent, by suggestion of the Prince Consort, a piece of
land, then market-gardens, was let by the Duchy to the Surrey Cricket
Club, which was formed for the purpose of maintaining it. This is the
ground that has since gained such notoriety as the Oval, the scene of
many a match historical in the annals of cricket. The Common, too, was
famous for the masses that collected there to hear Whitfield preach.
His congregations numbered from 10,000 to 40,000 persons, and his voice
would carry to the “extremest part of the audience.” He notes in his
diary, Sunday, May 6, 1731--“At six in the evening went and preached
at Kennington; but such a sight I never saw before. Some supposed
there were above 30,000 or 40,000 people, and near fourscore coaches,
besides great number of horses; and there was such an awful silence
amongst them, and the Word of God came with such power, that all seemed
pleasingly surprised. I continued my discourse for an hour and a half.”
The last time he preached there was a farewell sermon before he went to
America in August 1739.
Two other incidents are connected with Kennington Common, neither so
pleasant--the scenes of the execution for high treason, with all the
attendant horrors, of the “Manchester rebels” after the ’45; and the
great Chartist revolutionary meeting under Feargus O’Connor in 1848.
The precautions taken by the Duke of Wellington saved the situation,
and the 200,000 people who it had been proposed should march to
Westminster melted away, and the whole thing was a fiasco.
It was soon after this episode that the Common was converted into a
Park. The ground, including all the Common and the site of the Pound,
was handed over by the Duchy of Cornwall (by Act of Parliament), to be
laid out as “Pleasure grounds for the recreation of the public; but if
it cease to be so maintained” to “revert to the Duchy.”
The transformation has been very successful, and the design was
suitable and well conceived. The large greens are divided by wide
paths shaded by trees, and each section can be closed in turn to
preserve the grass. There is a sunk formal garden, bedded out with
bright flowers, which show up well on the green turf; and at one end
there are shrubberies with twisting walks in the style that is truly
characteristic of the English Park, and seems to appeal to so many
people. The whole space is not large, but the most is made of it, and
both the formal and the “natural” sections have their attractions. At
the “natural” end, near the church--which, by the way, was built as a
thank-offering after Waterloo--is a handsome granite drinking-fountain,
designed by Driver, and presented by Mr. Felix Slade; and in the centre
of the Park is a fountain, given by Sir Henry Doulton, with a group of
figures by Tinworth, emblematic of “The Pilgrimage of Life.” The Lodge
was the model lodging-house erected by the Prince Consort in the Great
Exhibition of 1851.
MYATT’S FIELDS
Myatt’s Fields or Camberwell Park is but a short distance to the
south-west of Kennington. This Park of 14½ acres was one of those
princely gifts which have been showered on the inhabitants of London.
It was presented by Mr. William Minet, in whose family the land has
been since 1770. His ancestors were Huguenots who had come to England
at the time of the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes.
[Illustration: FOUNTAIN BY TINWORTH, KENNINGTON PARK]
It was handed over to the newly-formed County Council in 1889,
having been previously laid out. The way in which this was done with
an avenue, which will some day be one of the great beauties of the
neighbourhood, and which is in the meantime a pleasant shady walk, has
already been commented on. For its size, Myatt’s Fields is one of the
most tasteful of the new parks. Its quaint name is a survival of the
time when the ground was a market-garden leased by a certain Myatt from
1818–69. The excellent qualities of the strawberries and rhubarb raised
there, gave the Fields such a good reputation in the district, and the
name became so familiar, that it was retained for the Park.
Camberwell Green is a distinct place, not far distant, and is noticed
among the village greens of London.
RUSKIN PARK
Ruskin Park, the newest of all the parks, is not very far from
Camberwell, and has been formed of a cluster of houses, with grounds
of their own, on Denmark Hill, known as the Sanders’ Estate. The name,
which has an “Art Nouveau” sound about it, and raises an expectation
of something beautiful, was given to it because John Ruskin for many
years lived in the neighbourhood. From 1823, when he was four, to 1843,
his home was 28 Herne Hill, and there he wrote “Modern Painters.” From
then until 1871 he lived even nearer the present Park, at 163 Denmark
Hill. Describing the house, Ruskin wrote of it: “It stood in command
of seven acres of healthy ground ... half of it meadow sloping to the
sunrise, the rest prudently and pleasantly divided into an upper and
lower kitchen-garden; a fruitful bit of orchard, and chance inlets and
outlets of wood walk, opening to the sunny path by the field, which
was gladdened on its other side in springtime by flushes of almond
and double peach blossom.” Such might have been the description of
the houses and grounds now turned into a park. Some of the lines of
the villa gardens have been retained, and some wise and necessary
additions and changes have been made to bring the whole together; but
even the inspiration of Ruskin has not kept out the inevitable edges
and backbones of uninteresting evergreens. Some of the green-houses
have been kept, but six dwellings have been demolished, and one of
the two retained will be used as a refreshment room. The outside wall
of the garden front of one, covered with wistaria, has been left,
facing its own little terrace and lawn and cedars, and soon after the
opening, in February 1907, many people found it was possible to get
sun and shelter and enjoy the prospect from the seats in front of the
ruined drawing-room windows. The dividing wall of two houses has been
cleverly turned into what will be a charming pergola, and below, the
ground has been levelled to form a bowling-green. The terraces and
steps from one level to another are a pleasing feature in the design.
The ground is not yet finished, and it is greatly to be hoped that
the usual clumps of evergreens will not be multiplied, but Ruskin’s
description borne in mind, and let there be almonds and double peaches
to gladden the spring, and not drooping, smutty evergreens, or “ever
blacks,” as they might be more fittingly called, to jar on the picture
of fresh young growth. The pond, a stiff oval, has had to have the
necessary iron railings, and the trees near it have been substantially
barricaded with rustic seats--a most important addition. The avenue of
chestnuts which crosses the open part of the ground has been left; and
there are other good young trees growing up, and a fine old ilex and
mulberry. There is already a question of adding a further 12 acres to
this Park, which is 24 acres at present, but the scheme is still under
consideration.
BROCKWELL PARK
Those who want a change, from the roar and bustle of streets, can
attain their object very quickly by the expenditure of a few pence
and fifteen minutes in the train. Getting out at Herne Hill Station,
in a few seconds the gates of Brockwell Park are reached. The old
trees and undulating ground are all that could be desired, but the
chief attraction, and the object that well repays a visit, is the
old walled garden. It is a high brick enclosure, with fine old trees
peeping above, and festoons of climbing plants brightening the dull red
walls. The narrow paths, running in straight lines round and across,
are here and there, spanned by rustic arches covered with roses, or
clematis, or gourds, from which hang glowing orange fruit in autumn.
In the centre of the garden a small fountain plays on to moss-grown
stones, and on a hot summer’s day the seats, shaded by the luxuriant
Traveller’s Joy, make a cool resting-place, though not so sequestered
as the arbours in the angles of the wall, darkened by other climbers.
The rest of the garden is a delightful tangle of herbaceous plants.
All the old favourites are there, and a small notice near the entrance
announces to those in search of knowledge that the garden contains all
herbs and garden plants mentioned in Shakespeare’s works. A little
knowledge is a dangerous thing, and the unwary might not realise that
the flowers of Shakespeare’s time, although undoubtedly there, only
form a small portion of the whole display. The board is literally
true, but visitors are apt to go away with the idea that brilliant
dahlias, and gaudy calceolarias, or even the most modern introduction,
_Kochia tricophila_, were friends of Shakespeare’s! A large number of
the plants, however, are truly of the Elizabethan age, that golden
time of progress in gardening as well as of other arts, when spirited
courtiers and hardened old sailors alike scoured the seas and brought
strange plants from new lands. Many of these now familiar treasures
from east and west flourish in this little enclosure, and recall the
romantic days of the sixteenth century: the Marvel of Peru--the very
name tells the delight that heralded its arrival from the West--the
quaint Egg-plant (_Solanum ovigerum_) brought from Africa, and the
bright-seeded Capsicums from India. Even the bush, with its wealth of
white or purple flowers, the _Hibiscus Syriacus_, was known in those
days, though not by that name. Gerard, in describing it, says it was
a stranger to England; “notwithstanding, I have sowen some seedes of
them in my garden, expecting successe.” That delightful confidence,
which is the great characteristic of all these old gardeners, was not
abused, apparently, in this case, for two years later, in the catalogue
of plants in his garden, 1599, this great tree mallow was flourishing.
Many of the gourds, which are grown to great advantage in this little
garden, were also known at an early date. Gerard says of them, “they
joy in a fruitful soil, and are common in England.” Were it not for
the conspicuous little notice-board, no fault could be found with the
selection of plants which, from early spring till late autumn, brighten
this romantic little garden. The _Solanum jasminoides_ is none the
less graceful because it has only found a home in sheltered corners in
England, for the last seventy years. _Cobæa scandens_, which festoons
very charmingly some of the arches, is certainly an old friend, having
been over a hundred years in this country; but it is a new-comer when
compared with the Passion Flower growing in profusion near it, and even
that did not appear until after Shakespeare’s death. It was unknown to
Gerard, but his editor, Thomas Johnson, illustrates it in the appendix
to the edition of 1633. It had then arrived from America, “whence it
hath been brought into our English gardens, where it growes very well,
but floures only in some few places, and in hot and seasonable yeares:
it is in good plenty growing with Mistresse Tuggy at Westminster,
where I have some years seene it beare a great many floures.” Mistress
Tuggy and her friend would have rejoiced at the sight of the house in
the centre of Brockwell Park on a warm October day, thickly covered
with the golden fruit as well as star-like flowers of their precious
“Maracoc or Passion-floure.”
[Illustration: OLD ENGLISH GARDEN, BROCKWELL PARK]
This delightful walled garden was the old kitchen-garden. Luckily,
the fashion for the gardens of a past generation was growing at the
time the Park was purchased, and the London County Council must be
congratulated on the good taste displayed in dealing with it. The
history of the acquisition of the ground is soon told. The desire for
a park in this neighbourhood led those interested to try and arrange
to buy Raleigh House in the Brixton Road, with some 10 acres of land,
for about £40,000. Having got an Act of Parliament to allow this,
Brockwell Park came into the market with a ready-made park of 78 acres.
The Act of 1888 was repealed, and eventually a sum of nearly £120,000
was spent on the purchase of Brockwell, which was opened to the public
in 1892. Near the entrance gates, close to Herne Hill Railway Station,
a drinking-fountain, with a graceful figure of “Perseverance” and
portrait bust, has been erected to Mr. Thomas Lynn Bristowe, M.P. for
Norwood, who was chiefly instrumental in obtaining the Park, and whose
death occurred with tragic suddenness at the opening ceremony. It is
quite a steep hill up to the house, which is of no great antiquity
or beauty, having been built at the beginning of last century, when
the older manor-house was pulled down, by Mr. Blades, the ancestor of
the last owner. The view on all sides is extensive, and the timber
is fine. There are good old oaks, as well as elms and limes; and it
is satisfactory to see that, in the recent planting, limes have been
given a place, and not only the overdone plane. As a contrast to the
delightful formal garden, some pretty wild grouping has been carried
out beside the artificial water. This series of ponds are an addition
to the Park as originally purchased. It now measures 84 acres, and
the extra piece contained water, which has been enlarged into a big
bathing-pool and a so-called “Japanese garden.” These ponds are well
arranged; and although there are various kinds of ducks and geese and
black swans, and concrete edges and wire netting are inevitable, they
are not so aggressive as in many parks. In places tall plants have been
put in behind the railings and allowed to hang over, to break the undue
stiffness. In the late autumn purple Michaelmas daisies nearly touched
the water, and the red berries of the Pyracantha overhung the ducks
without apparent disagreement.
The opening of Brockwell as a public Park has had the effect of
banishing most of the rooks. There was a large rookery, but year by
year the nests decrease. In 1896 there were thirty-five nests, the next
year twenty, while in 1898 there were only eight or ten. Thus every
season they are getting fewer, but still, in the spring of 1907, one
pair of rooks were bold enough to build.
DULWICH PARK
Dulwich Park is not very far from Brockwell, but its surroundings
are more open. A few of the roads near it have some feeling of the
country left. The houses that are springing up are of a cheerful villa
type, and have nothing of the monotony and dulness of most of the
suburbs. Fine old trees grow along many of the roads. The chestnuts,
for instance, in Half Moon Lane between Herne Hill and Dulwich
are charming, and also on the further side of the Park, where the
celebrated inn, the “Green Man,” was situated, there is a rural aspect
and a delightful walk between trees. It was within the grounds of the
“Green Man” that the Wells of chalybeate water were situated. The Wells
had been discovered in the reign of Charles II., and the water sold in
London, but the “Green Man” did not become a popular resort until after
1739. A story connected with this popular spa is recorded in the “Percy
Anecdotes” in 1823. A well-known literary man was invited to dinner
there, and wished to be directed. However, he inquired vainly for the
“Dull Man at Greenwich,” instead of the “Green Man at Dulwich.” One
of the entrances to the Park is close to the site of the once famous
Wells. The Park itself, which covers 72 acres, was the munificent gift
of Dulwich College. The gift was confirmed by an Act of Parliament
in 1885, and the Park opened to the public in 1890. The College was
founded by Edward Alleyn in 1614, who called it “The College of God’s
Gift.” Originally, there were besides the Master, Warden, and four
Fellows, six poor brethren and six sisters, and thirty out-members.
The value of the property has so enormously increased that the number
of scholars has been very greatly added to, and now hundreds of boys,
some quite free, and some for a very low fee, obtain a sound commercial
education. The founder was a friend of Shakespeare, and one of the best
actors of his plays in the poet’s lifetime. His early biographers go
out of their way to refute the alleged reason of his founding “God’s
Gift College,” namely, that when on one occasion he was personating the
devil, the original appeared, and so frightened him that he gave up the
stage to devote himself to good works. Were this story true, the vision
was certainly well timed, and has produced unexpected and far-reaching
results. The educational work, the picture gallery, and the well laid
out estate of Dulwich Manor, including the large public Park, are all
the direct result!
There are a few fine old trees in the Park, particularly a row of
gnarled oaks near the lake. This is a small sheet of water on the
side nearest the College. The carriage road, which encircles the
Park, crosses by a stone bridge the trickling stream, formed by the
overflow from the lake. On the south-east side of the Park there are
but few trees, but large masses of rhododendrons and azaleas have
been planted, which make a brilliant show in the summer. The most
distinctive feature is the rock gardening. There is a very large
collection of Alpine and rock plants, which are growing extremely well
and covering the stones with delicious soft green cushions, which turn
to pink, yellow, white, and purple, as the season advances. Even in
the cold, early spring, snowdrops, and the pretty little Chionodoxa,
the “Glory of the Snow,” begin to peep out amongst the rocks, and
these are the harbingers of a succession of bloom, through the spring
and summer months. On either side of one of the entrances, a long and
pleasing line of this rock-work extends, but the plants for the most
part are grown on mounds like rocky islands rising up from a sea of
gravel. There are several of these isolated patches in the middle of
the carriage drive. It is certainly fortunate, for those who only
drive round the Park, thus to have a full view of the charming rock
plants; but to compare such a display to the rock garden at Kew is
misleading. There may be nearly as many plants at Dulwich as at Kew,
but the arrangement of that charming little retired valley at Kew is
so infinitely superior that the comparison is unjustified. The small
stream which leaves the lake, and other places in the Park, offer,
just as good a foundation for a really effective rock garden as the
one at Kew. Such an arrangement would give a much better idea of the
plants, in their own homes, than the islands in the roadway, that
must suffer from dust, besides looking stiff and unnatural. It is,
however, delightful to see how well these plants are thriving. This is
hardly astonishing, as it is not in a crowded, smoky district, but in
one of the most favoured of suburbs. Dulwich Park adds greatly to the
advantages of the neighbourhood: it has not hitherto been crowded, and
is by no means a playground of the poorest classes, but now the advent
of electric trams and rapid communication may somewhat lessen its
exclusiveness.
HORNIMAN GARDENS
There are gardens of a very different character round the Horniman
Museum, not far distant. This collection, as well as the 9¼ acres of
ground adjoining it on Forest Hill, were the gift of the late Mr. J. F.
Horniman, M.P., and the garden, kept up by the London County Council,
was opened in June 1901. The situation is extremely attractive. A
steep walk up an avenue from London Road, Forest Hill, near Lordship
Lane Station, leads to a villa standing in its own grounds, which is
utilised for refreshment rooms and caretaker’s house, &c. The lawns
descend steeply on three sides, and on the western slope there is a
wide terrace, with a row of gnarled pollard oaks. From this walk there
is a wide and beautiful view, over the hills and parks, chimney-pots
and steeples of South London, with the lawns and pond of Horniman
Gardens in front. On this terrace a shelter and band-stand have been
put up, and no more favoured spot for enjoying the open-air town life,
so common on the Continent, but until lately so rare in England, can
well be imagined. The country round is still fairly open, between
Forest Hill and Brixton. Near the foot of Horniman Gardens lies Dulwich
Park, with the shady path known as “Cox’s Walk,” from the proprietor
of the “Green Man,” and the roads lined with trees connect Dulwich
with Brockwell Park, Herne Hill, so that this corner of London is well
supplied with trees.
DEPTFORD PARK
Deptford Park is a complete contrast to the semi-rural Dulwich. It
is in one of the most densely-populated and poor districts, where
it is greatly needed, and has been open since 1897. The site was
market-gardens, and was sold by the owner, Mr. Evelyn, below its value,
to benefit the neighbourhood. It is merely a square, flat, open space
of 17 acres, with only a few young trees planted round the outskirts.
Near the principal entrance in Lower Road, the approach is by a short
walk between two walls. Along either side of the pathway, and for some
little distance to the right and left, after the open space is reached,
a nice border of herbaceous plants has been made along the wall, and
a few beds placed in the grass on either side, and ornamental trees
planted. Thus the entrance to this wide playground is made cheerful and
attractive, and a pleasant contrast to the grimy streets outside.
TELEGRAPH HILL
Between these two extremes lies a small Park known as Telegraph Hill.
It is only 9½ acres, and is cut in two by a road, but it is very
varied in surface. The origin of its name is from its having been a
station for a kind of telegraphy that was invented before the electric
telegraph had been discovered. Two brothers Chappé invented the
system, and were so successful in telegraphing the news of a victory
in 1793, that their plan was adopted in France, and soon throughout
Europe. In Russia a large sum was expended in establishing a line of
communication between the German frontier and St. Petersburg; but so
slow was the building that the stations were hardly at work before
they were superseded by electricity. The signals were made by opening
and shutting six shutters, arranged on two frames on the roofs of a
small house, and by various combinations sixty-three signals could
be formed. The Admiralty established the English line, of this form
of telegraphy between Dover and London in 1795, and the first public
news of the battle of Waterloo actually reached London by means of the
one on “Telegraph Hill.” The place was well chosen, for even now, all
surrounded by houses, the hill is so steep and conical, that a very
extensive view is still obtained. The site of the semaphore station is
now a level green for lawn tennis. On the other side of the roadway,
the descent is steep into the valley, and there are two small ponds at
the bottom. The cliffs are covered with turf, interspersed by the usual
meaningless clumps of bushes, and a few nice trees.
SOUTHWARK PARK
Southwark Park lies far away from Southwark, beyond Bermondsey, in
Rotherhithe. It was in the parliamentary borough of Southwark, hence
the misleading name. The Park is a gloomy enough place when compared
with the more distant or West End Parks, but a perfect paradise in
this crowded district. Between its creation in 1864 and its completion
in 1869, a great reformation was worked in the district. Close to the
docks, and intersected by streams and canals, with the poorest kind
of rickety houses so vividly described by Dickens in “Oliver Twist,”
the surroundings were among the most dismal imaginable. The actual
site of the Park was partly market-gardens, which had for long been
established in this locality owing to the fertility of the alluvial
soil. Vines were grown here for wine with success in the first half
of the eighteenth century, when there was a revival in grape-growing,
and vineyards were planted at Hoxton and elsewhere. Over 100 gallons of
wine were made in a year in Rotherhithe. Some of the earth excavated
from the Thames Tunnel was put on the ground covered by the Park before
the laying out commenced. When the land, 65 acres, was bought, only 45
were to be kept for the Park, and the rest were reserved for building.
But when the day of building arrived there was such an outcry that the
whole plan was remodelled, the drives which encircled it done away
with, and tar-paved paths substituted, only one driving road crossing
it being left, and the ponds added. It is more the want of design, than
any special style, that is conspicuous, and a good deal more could have
been done to make the Park less gloomy. An avenue is growing up, but
it will never have the charming effect of the one across Battersea, as
the line is neither straight nor a definite curve. The wild fowl on
the pond are such an attraction, that perhaps it may be that the wire
netting and asphalt edges they apparently require are not drawbacks,
but they are not beautiful. The gateway into the Park, near Deptford
Station, has rather the grim look of a prison, and yet, with the forest
of masts behind, all it requires is a climbing plant or two to make
a picture. On the opposite end of the Park runs Jamaica Road, which
perpetuates the name of a well-known Tea Garden, Jamaica House. Pepys
records a visit there, on a Sunday in April 1667. “Took out my wife,
and the two Mercers, and two of our maids, Barker and Jane, and over
the water to Jamaica House, where I never was before, and there the
girls did run for wagers over the bowling-green; and there, with much
pleasure, spent little and so home.” Pepys’ home in Seething Lane near
the Tower would be an easy distance from the Tea Gardens of Redriff, as
Rotherhithe was called then, and in the days when Swift made Gulliver
live there. There were other well-known Tea Gardens near, the “Cherry
Garden,” “Half-way House,” and at a much later date “St. Helena’s
Gardens,” which were only closed in 1881. The disappearance of all the
Tea Gardens and open spaces made the necessity of a Park very obvious,
and it was to meet this want that Southwark Park was made.
MARYON PARK
There is one more small Park to complete the line of South London
Parks, for which the public is indebted to Sir Spencer Maryon-Wilson,
the lord of the manor of Charlton, in which parish it is situated. It
lies between Greenwich and Woolwich, and the South-Eastern Railway
skirts the northern side. The ground was chiefly large gravel pits, and
has a hill in the middle partly caused by the excavations. This hill
has some pretty brushwood still growing on its slope, showing it was
once joined to Hanging Wood, a well-known hiding-place of highwaymen.
It was conveniently thick, and there are many tales of pursuit from
Blackheath which ended by losing the thieves in Hanging Wood. The hill
in the Park is locally known as Cox’s Mount, having been rented by an
inhabitant of that name in 1838, who built a summer-house there and
planted poplars. The area of the Park is about 12 acres, and except
for one or two trees on the Mount and patches of brushwood, it is open
grass. The boys on the _Warspite_ training ship anchored near are
allowed to play cricket there, provision for this having been made by
the generous donor of the Park in the deed of gift to the London County
Council in 1891.
Quite outside these crowded districts, yet within the County of London,
lie three more Parks maintained by the County Council. The one nearest
the heart of London is Manor Park, or Manor House Gardens, between the
High Road, Lee, and Hither Green Station, opened in 1902. There are
8¾ acres here attached to the Lee Manor House, a substantial building
in the Adams style, now used as the Public Library. The Gardens slope
gently away from the house to a large pond--or lake as the Council
would prefer to call it--and beyond to a rapid little stream, the
Quaggy, a tributary of the Ravensbourne. Beyond the Quaggy’s steep
banks, well protected by spiked railings, is a flat green devoted
to games. The chief beauty of this little Park is four magnificent
old elms and a few other good trees--beech, chestnut, _Robinia
speudo acacia_, &c. In the spring of 1907 the pond was in process of
cleaning, so no rooks had ventured to build within the Park, but just
at the gates a large elm in a small garden had been favoured by these
capricious birds, and their hoarse voices were making a deliciously
countrified sound.
The other London County Council Parks are in what is still nearly open
country, although rows of villas are being rather rapidly reared in
the district. Eltham is one of these. It is at present not enclosed
with massive iron railings, but the wide, flat stretch of smooth
turf, studded with patriarchal trees, is left untouched, except that
a few spaces have been levelled for games. This Park of 41 acres
was bought in 1902, the Borough of Woolwich paying half the cost of
purchase--£9600--with the Council.
Still further into the country is Avery Hill, with the large house
and grounds, extending over 84 acres, built and laid out by Colonel
J. T. North. The London County Council were offered this estate in
1902, if purchased within a certain limit of time, for £25,000. Usually
the Council, in making a purchase, have ascertained beforehand what
contributions the local Boroughs were prepared to subscribe towards the
total cost, but, on this occasion, the Boroughs were invited to share
the expense after the purchase had been made, with the result that
all those concerned--Camberwell, Lewisham, Greenwich, Deptford, and
Woolwich--refused; so the whole of the purchase and upkeep devolved on
the London County Council. The large mansion is now used as a teachers’
training college for girls, but the greater part of the grounds, and
the immense winter gardens are open to the public. It is still so
far from the centres of population that the public who make use of
these spacious gardens is very limited. The nearest railway station,
New Eltham, is three-quarters of a mile distant from the Park, and
half-an-hour or more by train from Charing Cross. Although it is now
so far into the country, and some people would deprecate the purchase,
it is only fair to remember that most of the crowded districts were
also country not long ago, and that when land is dear and houses being
built is not a favourable moment to purchase. As a rule it is want of
foresight that is the complaint, and not excess of zeal, as in this
case. The garden is made use of to furnish supplies of plants to some
of the smaller parks, and a portion is being reserved for growing
specimens for demonstration in the Council Schools. On the west side
of the house there are three terraced gardens, prettily planted with
roses and fruit-trees. In front of the house a sloping lawn, with
a few large beds, touches the park-like meadows studded with trees.
Sheep feeding with their tinkling bells gives a rural appearance. To
the large, modern, very red brick house is attached a huge winter
garden. This is on a very large scale, with lofty palms, date, dom, and
cocoa-nut growing with tropical luxuriance in the central house, with a
large camellia house on one side and a fernery with rock-work, pools,
and goldfish on the other. All this requires a good deal of keeping
up--nearly £3000 a year--and although it has been open now some five
years, it has been enjoyed by few. It is greatly to be hoped that it
has a much-appreciated future before it.
Such is a slight sketch of some of London’s Parks. No doubt there
is much that could be changed for the better, both in design and
planting: less sameness and meaningless formality without true lines
of beauty in design would be an improvement. In planting, there might
be more variety of British trees--alder, oak, ash, and hawthorn; and a
wider range of foreign ones--limes, American or Turkey oaks, and many
others; more climbing plants, such as Virginian creepers, more simple
herbaceous borders and fewer clumps of unattractive bushes, and more
lilacs, laburnums, thorns, almonds, cherries, and medlars in groups
on the grass. If greater originality was displayed and a thorough
knowledge of horticulture were shown, especially by the authorities
that supervise the largest number of these parks, many improvements
in existing ones could be easily achieved, and in forming new parks
the same idea need not be so rigidly followed. But, in spite of small
defects, the Parks as a whole are extremely beautiful, and Londoners
may well be proud of them.