so 
February  2,  1899. 
JOURNAL  OF  UuRTTCULTURF  A  NO  COTTAGE 
a  A  RDENEll. 
^uann— now  nnalliiinal)le — from  troughs  or  ])ans  ])lacod  in  liot  water 
pil)CM.  Tlio  lioest  I’ines  1  over  grew  wore  so  treated,  as  some  who 
may  read  these  remarks  know.  1  have  had  excellent  results  in  tlie 
(;asc  of  \’inea,  where  the  inside  borders  wore  s})rinkled  with  urine  and 
guano.  Out  cannot  (Uir  fellow  labourers  and  teachers,  the  scientists, 
put  us  on  a  better  method  of  feeding  more  through  the  atmosphere? 
—  0.  'I’llOMHON. 
[We  wish  all  our  young  men  were  as  alert  as  some  of  the  old 
ones.  Space  will  he  afforded  if  Mr.  Willis  can  See  his  way  to  deal 
with  the  subject  suggested.] 
l.ONDON  (lAlU)KNS  OYFAl  FIFTY  YEAUS. 
No.  3. 
Donirri.KSS  the  influence  of  ancestry  upon  character  and  tastes  is 
considerable,  and  often  ojierates  to  advantage,  as  in  the  case  of  the 
l'’n‘nch  refugees  who  came  to  Mngland  after  the  revocation  of  the 
Kdict  of  Nantes  in  1085.  '.riiese  emigrants,  many  of  whom  were  by 
trade  weavers,  are  said  to  have  (^stablislied  the  silk  industry  in  Britain; 
end  something  more  they  did,  which  was  to  develop  a  love  for  garden 
flowers  amongst  th()S(i  with  whom  they  lived  and  worked. 
About  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century,  all  over  Franco,  ])eople 
dev(jted  their  time  and  money  to  the  culture  of  flowers,  remarkable  for 
tlieir  size,  form,  or  colouring,  atid  itrominent  on  the  list  of  favourites 
were  Lilies,  'I'ulips,  y\nemones,  and  Ranttnculusos.  This  fact  must  ho 
added,  however,  that  the  Frenchman’s  enthusiasm  for  flowers  came  to 
him  from  I loiland,  which  is  another  feather  in  the  Dutchman’s  caj). 
But  Bpitalfields,  where  the  French  silk  weavers  clustered,  soon  became, 
famous  for  its  choice  flowers,  specially  Auriculas  and  Tulips,  winch 
figured  in  many  shows  of  (  Jeorgian  tintes.  Walking  thereabouts  fifty 
years  since,  amid  its  busy  population,  more  crowded  than  in  any  other 
part  of  London,  an  observer  noted  how  both  the  peo])le  and  their  pdants 
sufTered  from  imjnire  air  or  lack  of  light. 
Let  duo  hotiour  he  given  to  the  f'rench  flower  lovers  of  Spitalfields, 
and  to  th(i  (iarlicr  emigrants  who  came  in  the  sixteenth  century  from 
the  Low  Countries  to  teach  ottr  fellow  countrymen  many  lessons  in 
th(!  art  of  gardening.  The  silk  weaver  was  wise  in  his  day,  btit  an 
artisan  or  mechanic  who  at  the  close  of  this  century  gives  his  spare 
time  to  his  garden  ])lot  has  advantages  that  were  only  beginning  to 
appear  at  its  middle.  One  of  these  is,  perhaps,  more  to  his  benefit 
than  to  that  of  I  he  dealer  in  jdants — prices  have  fallen  all  round';  still, 
ir  may  be  said  that  if  tlie  profit  is  less  the  business  is  larger.  Both 
french  and  Flemings  had  a  liking  lor  bulbous  plants,  and  we  need 
•'Illy  look  round  T;ondon  gardens  or  parks  in  winter  and  sjiring  to  see 
how  their  inlhuaice  has  extended  itself  ;  for  there  never  has  been  a 
period  in  British  horticulture  when  bulbs  were  so  largely  ))lanted  as 
now,  not  even  iti  the  'I’ulip  mania,  and  the  varieties  our  catalogues 
show  would  have  amazed  the  gardeners  of  the  early  years  of  Victoria’s 
leigtn  'I'liey  would  have  been  delighted,  too,  at  the  spectacle  of  acres 
of  Narcissi  and  Daffodils  cultivated  for  the  market  in  some  cd'  the 
outlying  London  nuburbs  ;  a  satisfactory  proof  that  all  our  bulbs  do 
not  come  from  llollalnL  NJany  gardeners  of  the  ])ast  genei'ation  met 
with  disappointments  in  cahse(]uence  of  their  applying  various  manures 
tiint  did  harm  because  they  were  charged  with  ammonia,  which  bulbs 
dislike,  and  the  best  outdoor  manure  for  them  is  stated  to  bo  jilios- 
jihatic  basic  slag  ;  this,  however,  needs  some  precautions  in  use. 
Again,  the  number  of  garden  annuals  which  will  thrive  about  large 
towns  has  been  considerably  increased,  and  seeds  of  such  ])lant8  may 
be  bought  cheaidy  everywhere,  and  if  the  cultural  directions  are 
followc<l,  a  nice  .show  may  be  made  during  the  summer,  afterwards 
the  seeds  can  be  saved  for  another  sowing.  Then  the  bedding  out 
method,  which,  with  all  its  defects,  has  held  its  jiosition  a  good  while 
now,  made  a  great  iipprovoment  in  flower  bed.s,  and  the  ])lants 
re(juired  for  this  juirpose  are  obtainable  at  a  much  lower  figure  than 
they  were  sold  at  in  1818.  Also,  for  several  years,  the  working 
elas.ses  of  London  have  been  benefited  by  a  free  distribution  of  surplus 
bedding  idaiits  during  the  summer,  which  is  carried  out  annually  in 
.'•everal  iiarks  and  public  gardens  :  besides,  there  are  private  gifts  of 
similar  kind  that  wo  seldom  hearof  through  the  Press.  It  is  also  widely 
known  now,  and  acted  upon,  that  the  ordinary  soil  of  a  London  garden 
will  not  produce  much  worth  looking  at  unless  there  be  a  judicious 
a])])lication  of  manure.  I’ifty  years  ago  wo  did  not  see  what  is  a 
familiar  sight  along  suburban  streets  or  roads  in  this  day,  people  out 
early  with  spades  and  baskets  gathering  up  horse  drojipings  and  other 
.substances  which  may  hel])  to  fertilise  the  unpromising  London  clay. 
Some  of  the  gardeners  who  were  accustomed  to  take  water  for 
tl'oir  grounds  from  the  streamlets  which  flowed  deviously  into  the 
Thames  might  occasionally  have  found  this  a  fertilising  fluid,  since, 
when  houses  increased,  many  of  them  drained  into  these  streamlets, 
which  were  finally  turned  into  sewers,  or  have  dried  up.  In  con- 
iH'ction  with  London’s  short  water  supply  of  last  autumn  alarming 
reports  were  iirojiagatcd  about  the  state  of  the  Thames,  which  of  late 
has,  no  doubt,  undergone  a  reduction  in  the  average  flow,  ])artly 
through  the  largo  demands  on  it  by  water  companies,  partly  because 
it  is  not  fed  as  once  it  was,  the  springs  and  rivulets  along  its  coarse 
having  greatly  decreased  in  pumber. 
Wlien  a  lad  I  well  remember  seeing  the  Westbourne,  though 
l>ollnted,  still  running  as  an  open  stream  across  I’imlico  or  Belgravia, 
and  ending  in  the  Thames  near  Ranelagh  Gardens,  llising  at  Hamp¬ 
stead  Heath,  it  afterwards  received  the  waters  of  the  Coldbourno 
(Kilhurn)  and  other  brooks,  and  did  indeed  at  one  time  supply  chiefly 
the  Serpentine  lake  in,  Hyde  Park,  through  which  it  reached  Knights- 
bridge.  Actually  in  its  best  days,  we  are  told,  famous  for  its  trout, 
the  Westbourne’s  usual  ppeed  was  notable,  causing  some  people  to  call 
it  tl)o  “rapid  Phone.”  Hence*  after  aheavy  rainfall,  it  had  the  unpleasant 
peculiarity  of  overflowing  and, sending  torrentsof  water  over  gardens  and 
into  houses  adjacent.  It  reached  the  Thames  near  where  Chelsea  Barracks 
stand,  after  finally  skirting  the  meadovvs  and  gardens  of  Panelagh. 
Then  the  old  Grosvenor  canal  was  not  interfered  with  until  some 
years  after  1848,  and  between  this  and  the  Thames  much  of  the  land 
was  oiien,  and  upon  it  they  raised  Cabbages,  Lettuces,  and  Potatoes 
for  market.  It  was  really  a  remnant  of  the  ground  belonging  to  the 
“  Neathonses,”  celebrated  for  its  rich  crops  as  far  back  as  the  reign 
of  Charles  II.  For  some  distance  along  the  canal  a  sloping  bank 
covered  with  nettles  divided  it  from  the  gardens,  and  I  remember  a 
Pimlico  entomologist  years  ago  getting  the  labourers  to  hunt  on  these 
nettles  for  the  caterpillars  of  tortoiseshell  butterflies.  Not  one  in  a 
thousand  of  the  travellers  to  or  from  the  busy  Victoria  Station 
recalls  the  fact  that  just  there  was  the  basin  of  the  Grosvenor  canal. 
Some  have  6up])oaed  that  this  was  the  remnant  of  an  ancient  stream 
which  crossed  what  is  now  St.  James’  Park,  and  left  the  Thames  at 
Westminster,  bounding  what  was  called  the  Isle  of  Thorney.  Another 
rivulet  which  has  vanished^, from  West  London  rose  at  Wormholt 
Scrubs,  and  ran  into  the  Thames  opposite  Battersea  Church,  receiving 
near  the  end  of  its  course  the  contents  of  sundry  ditches  which 
intersected  the  old  market  gardens  between  Chelsea  and  Fulham. 
Along  a  part  of  its  bed  are  laid  the  lines  of  the  West  London 
Extension  Pail  way. 
It  seems  strange  to  u.s,  does  it  not  ?  to  think  of  the  vicinity  of 
Westminster  as  a  place  in  which  choice  vegetables  and  fruit  were  raised 
for  the  Court  and  aristocracy,  yet  such  was  the  fact;  but  long  before 
the  reign  of  our  ])resent  tjueen  the  increased  smokiness  of  London  had 
very  much  interfered  with  outdoor  culture,  and  so  the  land  was  by  degrees 
given  up  to  other  uses.  The  Neathouse  gardens  were  situate 
between  the  present  Vauxhall  Bridge  Poad  and  Chelsea;  as  a  place  of 
jiopular  resort,  they  are  often  referred  to  in  history.  Artichokes, 
Asjiaragus,  and  Melons  are  named  amongst  their  specialities  ;  these, 
and  also  other  vegetables,  were  grown  along  the  “  Five  Fields  ”  adjacent, 
now  occupied  by  Belgravia,  and  which  was  never  so  dreadful  a  locality 
as  the  authoress  of  a  poem  published  in  1851,  entitled  “Belgravia,” 
represents  it  to  have  been  at  one  time.  Part  of  this  Five  Fields 
remained  unenclosed  fifty  years  ago,  Eaton  Square  and  Ebury  Street 
not  being  completed,  much  of  it  is  still ''garden  ground,  forming  centres 
to  stylish  squares.  We  should  have  seen,  too,  that  some  nurseries  of 
small  extent  had  come  into  existence  about  this  part  of  Pimlico, 
owing  to  the  increased  demand  for  flowers,  though  before  long  most  of 
these  had  either  closed  or  removed  to  the  west. 
One  of  these  which  was  worthy  of  note  occupied  the  place  of  the 
small  public  garden  of  Ebury  Square,  stated  to  have  been  originally 
the  homestead  of  Ebury  or  Aybery  Farm,  the  fields  extending  many 
acres  round  in  the  times  of  the  Tudors.  A  handsome  row  of  Limes, 
planted  during  the  reign  of  William  ILL,  shaded  the  road  from 
Ebury  to  Panelagh  House;  these  were  felled  early  in  this  century, 
fl'iie  nursery  remained  oiieu  till  1884,  and  so  vanished  the  last  of  the 
Westminster  nurseries.  The  Duke  of  Westminster  opened  the  square 
as  a  public  garden.  Efforts  have  been  made  of  late  to  get  some  more 
important  and  larger  West-end  squares  made  free  to  all  during  at  least 
a  part  of  the  year,  but  with  no  success  as  yet.  Of  course  there  are 
difficulties  and  objections;  still  to  many,  both  young  and  old, access  to 
these  pleasant  gardens  would  be  a  boon. 
In  1848  the  centre  garden  of  Eaton  Siiuare  on  the  north  side  was 
the  nursery  of  Mr.  Tuck.  Subsequently  he  removed  to  Sloane  Street, 
where  he  continued  many  years,  occupying  the  ground  which  had 
belonged  to  Salisbury  of  Chelsea  and  Brompton,  author  of  several 
bonks  on  botany  and  gardening.  Then  Dennis  had  a  nurserj'  where 
St.  Barnabas  Schools  and  other  buildings  stand  now,  near  Old  Chelsea 
Bunhouse.,  He  went  towards  Cremorne  about  1850,  and  bad  some 
specialities  in  fruit  trees  ;  he  also,  raised  several  good  Pelargoniums. 
Extensive  changes  were  made  in  this  district,  as  also  in  Westminster, 
during  1851  and  after,  connected  with  the  formation  of  Victoria  Street, 
leading  to  the  Abbey,  which  crossed  the  remnant  of  Tothill  Fields 
and  the  green  apace  round  what  was  marked  even  on  recent  maps  as 
Palmer’s' Village,  Westminster.  This  street  cut  up  as  well  what 
jieople  called  Elliott’s  Park,  a  derpesue  attached  to  the  mansion  of  the 
pro]irietor  of  the  Stag  Brewer}',  trom  which  at  one  time  an  avenue 
of  old  trees  led  to  Palmer’s  Village  and  the  artillery  ground  of  historic 
fame.  The  grassy  centre  of  Vincent  Square  is  a  fragment  of  Tothill 
Fields  yet  extant. — J.  P.  S.  C. 
