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JOURNAL  OF  HORTICULTURE  AND  COTTAGE  GARDENER. 
May  7,  1898. 
at  the  Drill  Hall,  York,  Edinburgh,  travel  hundreds  of  miles  with  their 
products,  at  the  Palace  carry  off  the  highest  prizes,  and,  more  and 
better  still,  teach  some  of  the  older  stagers  in  the  delightful  craft, 
which  can  never  be  entirely  learned,  some  new  riches  in  taste  or 
practice.— D.  T.  Fish. 
LONDON’S  SPRING-  FLOWERS. 
Hampton  Court. 
The  name  of  Hampton  Court  is  a  household  word  with  every 
Englishman,  either  on  account  of  its  historical  connections,  its  big  Vine, 
or  may  be,  its  carpet  bedding,  while  to  the  Londoner  in  particular  it  holds 
a  high  reputation  as  being  an  ideal  spot  for  a  Bank  Holiday  trip  or  a 
picnic ;  but  to  speak  of  it  as  London  is  stretching  the  boundary 
somewhat,  as  it  lies  well  outside  the  veil  of  metropolitan  smoke. 
Correctly  speaking,  then,  it  may  appear  somewhat  out  of  order  to 
include  it  in  these  notes,  which  are  supposed  to  tell  only  of  the  spring 
flowers  in  the  great  city  ;  but  then  the  average  Londoner  looks  on 
Hampton  Court  as  being  as  much  his  own  property  as  Hyde  Park,  and 
for  this  reason  it  is  included  in  the  category. 
The  other  day,  when  taking  a  constitutional  walk  through  the 
suburbs,  1  happened  to  pass  some  remark  on  the  beauty  of  a  fine  Horse 
Chestnut,  just  coming  into  bloom,  to  a  friend  who  accompanied  me. 
“  Do  you  call  that  a  fine  Chestnut  ?  ”  he  replied.  “  Have  you  never  seen 
those  in  Bushey  Park  ?  ”  I  was  rather  loth  to  admit  it,  but  there  was 
no  help  for  it,  so  regretted  to  say  I  had  not.  He  looked  at  me  for  a 
moment  in  a  pitying  sort  of  manner  (bear  in  mind  he  was  a  Londoner), 
and  after  a  few  sarcastic  inquiries  as  to  where  I  had  been  brought  up, 
advised  me  to  go  and  see  them  without  fail,  at  the  same  time  adding, 
“  And  while  you’re  there  don’t  forget  to  go  and  look  at  the  Polyanthus 
at  Hampton  Court.”  I  of  course,  like  everyone  else,  had  heard  of  the 
carpet  bedding  at  the  famous  Palace,  but  of  its  spring  flowers  never  ; 
hence  my  visit,  hence  these  notes. 
“  Go  up  the  river,”  further  remarked  my  friend;  “it’s  a  delightful 
trip.”  I  followed  his  advice,  and  reciprocate  his  opinion — that  is,  if  you 
have  the  day  before  you,  and  are  not  particular  whether  you  see  Hampton 
Court  or  not  ;  but  if  you  are  at  all  anxious  on  that  score,  well  the  four 
or  five  hours’  slow — unquestionably  slow — steaming  becomes,  to  say  the 
least  of  it,  tedious  ;  and  then,  after  running  aground  several  times,  after 
sundry  small  collisions  with  various  river  crafc,  and  having  patiently 
awaited  the  convenience  of  the  men  in  charge  of  the  locks,  who 
apparently  make  it  a  rule  never  to  hurry  themselves,  you  notice,  on 
approaching  the  stately  pile  of  Hampton  Court,  a  board  slung  over  the 
bow  of  the  steamer,  which  reads,  “  This  vessel  will  return  in  half  an 
hour.”  Well,  then  I  say  it  becomes  positively  annoying,  and  in  my 
case  the  aid  of  the  iron  horse  was  enlisted  for  the  return  journey. 
In  spite,  however,  of  these  little  drawbacks  a  trip  up  the  placid 
waters  of  Father  Thames  is  full  of  interest,  especially  after  a  lengthened 
sojourn  amongst  bricks  and  mortar.  It  has  been  said  that  the  most 
pleasing  pictures  of  England  are  found  on  the  rivers,  and  indeed  a 
spring  day  on  the  Thames  seems  to  verify  such  a  statement  ;  the  vivid 
green  of  the  bursting  vegetation,  the  well  kept  gardens,  gay  with  spring 
flowers,  sloping  down  to  the  river’s  brink,  with  here  and  there  a  peep 
at  an  Apple  orchard — a  perfect  mass  of  blossom  ;  and  further  on, 
apparently  unkempt  and  uncared  for  except  by  Nature’s  gentle  hand, 
the  banks  are  lined  with  golden  yellow  May  flowers,  and  modest  little 
“  Forget-me-nots  ”  are  seen  peeping  forth  from  under  the  protecting 
branches  of  the  Weeping  Willow.  These  and  a  hundred  other  features  all 
appeal  forcibly  to  the  lover  of  Nature,  who  readily  admits  that  she  has 
no  more  pleasing  aspects  than  that  seen  from  the  smiling  river. 
But  to  return  to  my  subject,  one  can  hardly  realise  that  Hampton 
Court  is  after  all  a  public  playground,  and  fails  to  strike  one  in  the  same 
light  as  any  of  the  London  parks.  It  may  be  its  romantic  history,  its 
delightful  situation,  or  its  rural  surroundings  that  give  it  a  charm 
•  so  peculiarly  its  own.  It  has  played  no  small  part  in  the  history  of 
our  country,  and  one  cannot  help  admiring  the  taste  of  that  great 
prelate  Cardinal  Wolsey,  its  original  founder,  in  choosing  a  site  so 
thoroughly  suitable  to  serve  his  purpose.  With  the  river  running  close 
by,  and  miles  of  rich  park  scenery,  undulating  and  well  wooded,  stretch¬ 
ing  away  on  every  side,  even  in  those  days  Hampton  Court  must  have 
been  beautiful,  and  to  think  of  it  as  the  pompous  Churchman’s  home 
seems  to  re-echo  the  words  of  the  old  song  : 
“He  who  leads  a  good  life  is  sure  to  live  well.” 
But  what  food  for  retrospection  can  be  found  when  lingering  in  that 
old-fashioned  courtyard  or  strolling  along  those  magnificent  avenues  of 
Limes  and  Chestnuts  ?  Think  of  that  haughty  prelate  who  could 
twist  a  king  round  his  little  finger,  so  to  speak,  and  as  the  Bard  of  Avon 
puts  it  : 
“Sounded  all  the  depths  and -shoals  of  honour.” 
Yet  as  he  drew  near  his  end,  charged  his  friend  Thomas  Cromwell  to 
“  Fling  away  ambition,  as  by  it  fell  the  Angels.” 
What  would  have  passed  through  his  mind  could  he  have  foreseen  his 
princely  domain  turned  into  a  public  pleasure  ground  of  the  masses, 
considered  in  his  day  of  no  consequence  but  to  pander  to  the  vanity  and 
satisfy  the  caprices  of  such  as  he. 
Our  business,  however,  lies  not  with  Hampton  Court  of  the  past,  but 
with  Hampton  Court  of  the  present,  and  as  such  I  will  speak  of  it.  The 
closing  day  of  April,  as  I  have  already  stated,  is  bright  and  pleasant; 
the  giant  Elms,  and  other  forest  trees,  are  just  assuming  their  bright 
mantle  of  verdure,  and  speaking  of  the  former  reminds  me  that  perhaps 
all  visitors  to  Hampton  Court  have  not  noticed  the  numerous  clumps  of 
Mistletoe  growing  on  even  the  tallest  branches,  the  seeds,  no  doubt, 
having  in  the  first  place  been  deposited  there  by  birds.  The  grass 
everywhere  is  green  and  refreshing,  and  the  flowers,  especially  the 
Polyanthuses,  well,  simply  beautiful. 
“  Old-fashioned,”  do  you  say.  Granted  ;  but  yet  charming,  and 
quite  in  character,  for  are  not  the  gardens  and  the  whole  surroundibgs 
old-fashioned.  To  my  mind  the  Polyanthus  is  not  used  for  spring 
bedding  nearly  so  much  as  it  ought  to  be,  but  perhaps  this  may  be  due 
to  the  monopoly  of  poor  strains  and  inattention  in  cultivation.  In 
order  to  have  a  really  effective  display  of  Polyanthuses,  the  first  point 
is  to  obtain  a  good  strain,  and  the  second  is  to  stick  to  it ;  this  done, 
satisfaction  is  the  result. 
It  was  a  happy  inspiration  that  led  Mr.  A.  Graham,  the  able  superin¬ 
tendent  of  the  grounds,  to  make  a  specialty  of  PoljanthuseB  for  spring 
bedding.  It  requires  but  a  few  minutes  of  his  company  to  prove  that  he 
is  a  true  florist,  and  a  walk  with  him  round  the  beds  is  as  interesting  as 
it  is  instructive.  Here  is  a  bright  mass  of  whites  and  yellows  ;  how 
pleasingly  they  blend,  with  their  white,  cream,  yellow,  and  orange  tints. 
“  That’s  the  kind  of  thing  to  aim  at,”  said  Mr.  Graham,  pointing  to  a 
fine  sturdy  plant  with  numerous  stout  footstalks,  standing  prominently 
above  the  foliage;  “that  plant  is  a  picture,”  continued  he,  standing 
back  to  survey  it  with  a  critical  air. 
I  agreed,  and  inquired  how  long  he  had  made  a  specialty  of 
Polyanthuses.  “  Well,  it’s  about  four  years  since  I  started  with  the 
white  and  yellow  strains,  which  I  have  now  got  to  a  good  pitch.  Last 
year  was  my  first  with  the  coloured  ones,  and  you  see  there  is  room  yet 
for  improvement.”  Closer  examination  proves  this,  though  the  latter 
would  satisfy  many  people  less  critical.  The  mixtures  of  whites  and 
yellows  occupy  beds  to  themselves,  as  also  do  the  coloured  varieties. 
“  But  how  do  you  get  such  fine  plants  ?  Do  you  split  the  old  roots 
after  flowering  ?  ” 
“Oh!  no,”  replied  Mr.  Graham  ;  “not  one  of  the  plants  you  see  is 
above  a  year  old  ;  they  are  all  raised  from  seeds  sown  in  the  spring.” 
“  Then  you  save  your  own  seeds  for  the  purpose  ?  ” 
“Certainly,”  was  the  answer,  “and  sow  on  prepared  beds  outdoors, 
fiom  which  the  seedlings  are  tiansplanted.  The  Polyanthus  appreciates 
good  treatment,  and  to  obtain  fine  plants  there  should  be  no  stint  of 
well-decomposed  manure,  as  they  fairly  revel  in  it.”  “  And  what  about 
water?”  I  asked,  noticing  a  bose-pipe.  “Well,  here  they  require  plenty, 
as  the  soil  is  light  and  shallow,”  and  the  refreshed  appearance  of  a  bed 
that  had  just  been  soaked  re-echoed  the  truth  of  the  statement. 
“Now,  that  is  my  idea  of  a  coloured  Polyanthus,”  remarked  my 
guide,  walking  straight  to  a  plant  that  he  had  evidently  seen  before.  It 
w»s  a  beautiful  rich  crimson  of  sturdy  habit,  so  striking  that  it  was 
easily  discerned.  Amongst  others  those  of  a  lilac  shade  appear  the  most 
floiiferoue,  but  it  is  difficult  in  the  varying  mass  of  colour  to  pick  out 
any  one  and  call  it  the  best.  Any  degree  of  sameness  that  might  arise 
from  the  large  beds  of  whites  or  yellows  is  done  away  with  by  the  bright 
flowers  of  Crimson  King  Tulips  planted  indiscriminately  in  betwei  n, 
while  the  coloured  beds  are  made  even  more  bright  by  Keizer’s  Kroon 
and  others.  As  here  as  in  other  Royal  Parks  the  bulbs  were  supplied 
by  Messrs.  Jas.  Carter  &  Co.  of  Hoi  born,  they  reflect  much  credit  on 
the  firm. 
“  I  suppose  you  want  to  know  the  meaning  of  that,”  said 
Mr.  Graham,  probably  noticing  my  looks  of  curiosity  on  passing  several 
beds  from  which  the  Polyanthuses  had  been  bodily  uprooted. 
“  Well,  a  friend  of  mine  sent  me  some  seeds  of  what  he  represented 
as  being  a  good  strain.  They,  however,  turned  out  very  inferior,  so  I 
pulled  them  up  lest  they  should  contaminate  the  whole.  Visitors  here 
wonder  why  I  did  so,  but  to  a  gardener  no  explanation  is  needed,”  he 
continued,  at  the  same  time  stooping  down  to  pick  the  flowers  off  a 
“  mongrel  ”  in  one  of  the  other  beds. 
One  is  rather  amused  at  the  remarks  passed  by  visitors,  who  pause  in 
crowds  to  examine  the  flowers.  I  overheard  one  lady  say  to  her 
companion,  “  Look,  dear,  isn’t  that  a  beauty,  it’s  just  like  a  Gloxinia.” 
Whether  this  was  intended  as  a  compliment  to  the  Gloxinia  or  the 
Polyanthus  I  cannot  say,  but  it  was  the  first  time  I  had  heard  of  such  a 
comparison,  so  appealed  to  the  longer  experience  of  Mr.  Graham, 
who  only  smiled  :  he  is  evidently  used  to  hearing  such  peculiar 
observations. 
“  I  cannot  think  why  Polyanthus  are  not  more  used  for  growing  in 
pots,”  said  Mr.  Graham.  “  A  plant  like  that,  for  instance,”  he  con¬ 
tinued,  pointing  to  a  floriferous  specimen  by  way  of  illustration,  “  what 
could  be  more  effective  for  the  adornment  of  conservatory  or  drawing- 
room  ?  besides,  they  lift  so  well,  and  if  watered  after  potting  do  not 
suffer  in  the  least.”  The  suggestion  is  a  good  one,  and  some  of  our 
readers  may  think  it  worthy  of  trial. 
Long  might  one  linger  amongst  the  flowers  admiring  respectively  or 
collectively,  but  my  pen  has  run  wildly  on,  so  just  a  peep  at  the  Bushey 
Park  Chestnuts  and  then  adieu.  On  the  way  the  somewhat  unique 
wording  of  one  of  the  notice  boards  attracts  attention,  which  reads  as 
follows  : — “  It  is  expected  that  the  public  will  protect  what  is  intended 
for  public  enjoyment,”  A  pleasing  deviation  certainly  from  the  stero- 
typed  “  Visitors  are  requested  to  keep  on  the  gravel  walks,”  or  “  Please 
do  not  touch  the  flowers,”  and  so  forth,  so  generally  seen  in  public 
resorts,  while  the  importance  of  protection  is  as  fully  represented  ;  and 
as  Mr.  Graham  makes  no  complaints  of  damage,  it  speaks  highly  for  the 
general  good  conduct  of  the  British  public. 
The  Chestnuts  are  not  yet  fully  in  flower,  but  here  and  there  is 
