7€8 



HORTICULTURE 



May 29, 190» 



Boston Public Garden. 



ITS EARLY HISTORY AND THE BEAUTY OF ITS TREES 



EaKI.^ yi'KlXG r.EllUlM 

 llIK I.U.V PONU 



Forty years ago, what is now known 

 as the Public Garden was a halt- 

 inundated patch that was a very 

 small section of a great tract of 

 useless marshy land comprising much 

 of what is hnown as the South End 

 and Back Bay of Boston. The resi- 

 dents of the city in those days, still 

 living, delight in rehearsing their boy- 

 ish escapades in this section, and in 

 the light of its present populous condi- 

 tion a well-developed bump of faith ia 

 needed to accept the almost incredible 

 tales of adventure they tell. To be told 

 that where Commonwealth avenue 

 exists with its hundreds of palatial 

 residences, broad drives and velvety 

 lawns, was once an oozy waste of 

 mud seems like a choice fairy tale. But 

 the existence of pictures attest the fact 

 and truth of such conditions. Through 

 many vicissitudes which at times seri- 

 ously threatened its existence the Pub- 

 lic Garden has risen t'rom he ignominy 

 of marsh land to the dignity of being 

 one of the most noted examples of 

 formal gardens in the United States, 

 if not in the world. 



The Garden and Common in their 

 early history were one. and it was not 

 until about 1859 that it began to take 

 on its present character. It was In 

 this year that the pond was constructed 

 since which time the process of better- 



ment has gone steadily on. Shortly 

 following this, the walks and flower 

 beds were constructed under the then 

 superinteudent, John Galvin. In 

 quick succession came the fountains, 

 monuments, fences, etc., and despite 

 some severe criticisms of the work, it 

 can be safely said that the object of 

 utility was kept steadily in view, and 

 if the artistic was slighted in the lay- 

 ing out of the walks, and a few other 

 things, it was done with intent to best 

 serve a busy and hurrying public. The 

 objection to the manner of laying out 

 the walks has been very severe. It 

 has been contended that there are too 

 many, that they lead aimlessly to no- 

 where in some cases, while in others 

 they are objectionable because of their 

 straight lines. There may be too many 

 walks if the garden was to be treated 

 as a private place, but where the pub- 

 lic is concerned, walks straight and 

 In numbers are what must be supplied. 

 The bridge that spans the pond has 

 been very playfully called the Bridge 

 of Size. When one is bent on criticism 

 there is nothing but what can be made 

 to feel the lash. 



The facilities for handling plants at 

 the beginning were wholly inadequate, 

 and it was necessary to purchase most 

 of the stock in open market. A small 

 greenhouse that was situated in the 

 Public Garden proved almost useless 

 and it was removed. During his first 



A \ l.-l.v 

 I'HE BlilDUlC 



year in the office of superintendent, 

 William Doogue turned over his Floral 

 Place Greenhouses to the city, and 

 later, new greenhouses were built in 

 the South End of the city, and some 

 years after larger accommodations 

 were found in Dorchester, where the 

 greenhouses are at present, twenty-five 

 in number. 



While the garden has attracted at- 

 tention for its floral decorations, too 

 little attention has been given to that 

 upon which the success of the floral 

 has been dependent, namely, the trees. 

 Thirty years ago there were but few 

 trees on the Public Gardens, and those 

 of insignificant character. The place 

 at that time had a bare, flat look, and 

 from the main walk almost every walk 

 could be traced in its entirety, bare 

 and unbroken. The sky line was one 

 of chimney tops, brick walls, glaring 

 windows. 



To remedy this bareness, and to 

 cover as much as possible the worm- 

 like walks, trees were freely planted, 

 and today, in looking across the gar- 

 den, only glimpses of walks can be 

 seen, leading in and out through the 

 foliage of the trees, the chimney top 

 s^y line has been obliterated, and in 

 its stead are the waving tops of trees. 

 On the Arlington street side, on the 

 sidewalk, a row of elms serve as a 

 screen of green to hide from the view 

 of visitors the sight of the neighboring 



