Within the grounds of the present Park, near Lauderdale House, stood a small cottage in which Andrew Marvel lived, which was only pulled down in 1869. It was considered unsafe, and no National Trust Society was then in existence to make efforts for its preservation. In a “History of Highgate” in 1842 the connection between the place and this curious personage, political writer, poet, Member of Parliament, and friend of Milton is barely commented on. “Andrew Marvel, a writer of the seventeenth century, resided on the Bank at Highgate in the cottage now occupied by Mrs. Walker.” The reader of these lines is penetrated with a feeling that he ought to know all about Mrs. Walker, rather than the obscure writer!
The kitchen-garden is large, with charming herbaceous borders, and a long row of glass-houses and vineries, and the grapes produced have hitherto been given to hospitals. Let us hope that the same complaint will not arise here as in another Park, where out-door fruit was distributed, and caused such jealousies that the practice was discontinued.
With such a high standard set by the existing gardens, it is curious that the new bedding should be as much out of harmony as possible. The beds which call forth this remark are those round the band-stand. The shape of them it is impossible to describe, for they are of uncertain form and indistinct meaning. The flowers are in bold groups, and yet they look thoroughly out of place.
Wandering one summer’s day near the statue, erected to Sir Sydney Waterlow, the writer overheard some girls, who looked like shop-girls out for a holiday, discussing who it was. The most enterprising went up and read the inscription. “To Sir Sydney H. Waterlow, Bart., donor of the Park 1889, Lord Mayor of London 1872–73. Erected by public subscription 1900.” “Why, it’s to some chap that was once Lord Mayor,” was the remark to her friend, following a close scrutiny of this bald inscription. The impulse to explain the meaning of the word “donor” was irresistible; it was evidently quite Greek to these two Cockney young ladies. On learning the meaning they were very ready to join in a tribute of gratitude to the giver of such a princely present. Surely a few words expressing such a feeling would have been appropriate on the statue so rightly erected in memory of the gift! Profound feelings of thanks to the giver must indeed be experienced by every one who has the privilege of enjoying this lovely Park, one of the most charming spots within easy reach of the heart of the City.
Golder’s Hill Park joins the western end of Hampstead Heath, but its park-like appearance and house and garden are quite a contrast to the wilder scenery of the Heath, although Golder’s Hill seems more in the country than Hampstead, as the houses near are so well hidden from it. The mansion has a modern exterior, although parts of it are very old, and the fine trees in the grounds show that it has been a pleasant residence for some hundreds of years. The estate of 36 acres was bought in 1898 from the executors of Sir Spencer Wells, the money in the first instance being advanced by three public-spirited gentlemen, anxious to save the charming spot from the hands of the builder. The view from the terrace of the house, which now serves as a refreshment room, is very pretty, with a gently sloping lawn in front, park-like meadows, and fine trees beyond the dividing sunk fence, and distant peeps of the country towards Harrow. The approach from the Finchley Road is by an avenue of chestnuts, and a flat paddock on one side is a hockey and cricket-ground for ladies. There are some really fine oaks, good beeches, ash, sycamore, Spanish chestnuts, and Scotch firs; but the most remarkable tree is a very fine tulip, which flowers profusely nearly every year. At the bottom of the Park an undisturbed pond, with reedy margin, is much frequented by moor-hens. The valley above is railed off for some red deer, peacocks, and an emu, while three storks are to be seen prancing about under the oak trees in the open Park. The most attractive corner is the kitchen-garden, which, like the one in Brockwell, has been turned into an extremely pretty flower-garden. On one side is a range of hothouses, where plants are produced for bedding out, and a good supply of fruit is raised and sold to the refreshment-room contractor on the spot. Two sides have old red walls covered with pear trees, which produce but little fruit, and the fourth has a good holly hedge. The vines from one of the vineries have been planted out, and they cover a large rustic shelter, and have picturesque though not edible bunches of grapes every year. The way the planting of roses, herbaceous and rock plants, and spring bulbs is arranged is very good; but the same misleadingly-worded notice with regard to the plants of Shakespeare is placed here as in the Brockwell “old English garden.”7 There is a nice old quince and other fruit-tree standards in this really charming garden. In another part of the grounds there is an orchard, not “improved” in any way, but left as it might be in Herefordshire, with grass and wild flowers under the trees, which bear bushels of ruddy apples every year.
Part of the Park is actually outside London, but it is all kept up by the London County Council. The parish boundary of Hampstead and Hendon, which is also the limit of the County of London, is seen in the middle among the oak trees.
Ravenscourt is another of those parks the nucleus of which was an old Manor House, hence the existence of fine old trees, which at once lift from it the crudeness which is invariably associated with a brand-new Municipal Park. A bird’s-eye view of the ground is familiar to many who pass over the viaduct in the London and South-Western trains. These arches intersect one end of the Park, and cut across the beginning of the fine old elm avenue, one of its most beautiful features. A bright piece of garden, typical of every London Park, with raised borders in bays and promontories, jutting into grass and backed by bushes, lies to the south of the viaduct. Where two paths diverge there is a pleasing variation to the usual type—a sun-dial—erected by Sir William Bull to “a sunny memory.” The arches have been utilised so as to compensate for the intrusion of the railway. Asphalted underneath, they form shelters in wet weather—one is given over to an aviary, two to bars for the elder children to climb on, and one is fitted with swings for the babies. This arch is by far the most popular, and it requires all the vigilance of the park-keeper to see that only the really small children use the swings, or the bigger girls would monopolise them. Perhaps the indulgent and fatherly London County Council will provide swings for the elders, too, some day, and so remove the small jealousies.
To the west of the long avenue lies the orchard. A stretch of grass, devoted to tennis-courts and bowling-greens, separates the pear trees from the walk. These pears and the solitary apple tree are delightful in spring, and a temptation in autumn. Round the house, which is not by any means as picturesque as the date of its building (about 1649) would lead one to expect, are some good trees—planes that are really old, with massive stems, horse-chestnuts and limes, acacias that have seen their best days, cedars suffering from age and smoke, and a good catalpa. The Manor House which preceded the present building was of ancient origin. In early times it was known as the Manor House of Paddenswick, or Pallenswick, under the Manor of Fulham, and was the residence of Alice Perrers, the favourite of Edward III. It was seized in 1378, when she was banished by Richard II.; but after the reversion of her sentence, she returned to England as the wife of Lord Windsor, and the King, in 1380, granted the manor to him. It is not heard of again till Elizabeth’s time, when it belonged to the Payne family, and was sold by them in 1631 to Sir Richard Gurney, the Royalist Lord Mayor, who perished in the Tower. After his death it was bought by Maximilian Bard, who probably pulled down the old house and built the present one, which is now used as the Hammersmith Public Library. In the eighteenth century the name was changed from Paddenswick (a title preserved by a road of that name running near the Park) to Ravenscourt, an enduring recollection of the device of a black raven, the arms of Thomas Corbett, Secretary to the Admiralty, who owned the place for a few short years. Nearly every vestige of the surroundings of the old manor was obliterated and improved away by Humphrey Repton, the celebrated landscape gardener. He filled up most of the old moat, except a small piece, which was transformed into a lake, more in harmony with the landscape school to which he belonged. This piece of water is a pretty feature in the Park, and an attempt has been made to recall the older style, by introducing a little formal garden in an angle of the enclosing wall of the Park. The square has been completed with two hedges, one of them of holly, and good iron gates afford an entrance. The “old English garden,” from which dogs and young children, unless under proper supervision, are excluded, is laid out in good taste—a simple, suitable design, with appropriate masses of roses and herbaceous plants, arches with climbers, and an abundance of seats. It has the same misleading notice with regard to Shakespearian plants, as in Golder’s Hill and Brockwell, one of the South London Parks, which must now be looked at.