Sayes Court “candying in the snow”

snowy manor garden

Over at Deptford is… right now you can read a seasonal post about the frost fairs held on the Thames during the “little ice age” of the seventeenth century.  Given what we now understand about the severity of the weather  he was up against, Evelyn’s achievements in his garden at Sayes Court are even more remarkable.

Sayes Court park in the snow

But even the hardiest gardener needs a break, and I can’t think of a better way to give you the flavor of Christmas at Sayes Court at the height of its glory than this wonderful passage from a letter written by Evelyn’s wife Mary to her cousin the playwright Samuel Tuke in the depths of winter 1670:

“You will not expect an account in this season of the yeare, how the flowers and greens prosper in the garden, since they are candying in the snow to be preserved for the spring and our delights, confined to the little wooden Roome.”

The room in question was their snug little wooden-panelled parlour.  If we could look in, over the shoulder of her cousin, we would see by the fire there “a philosopher, a woman, and a child, heapes of books our food and entertainment, silence our law, soe strictly observed that neither Dog nor Cat dares transgresse it. The crackling of the Ice and whistling winds are our Musica, which if continued long in the same quarter may possibly freese our witts as well as our penns, though Apollo were himself amongst us.”

Mary felt, she said, like a hibernating tortoise. 

But in what a hibernaculum!  And with what delightful prospects of the spring!

Happy Christmas everyone.

Gathering echoes

Evelyn's plan of an artificial echo

I  gave a little talk two weekends back about the history of Sayes Court to a group of people who had gathered to air alternative, grass-root visions for the redevelopment of Convoys Wharf, including the restoration of John Evelyn’s seventeenth century garden

In it I tried to summarize Evelyn’s influence on some other contemporary gardens - though by no means all of the ones he had a hand in.  This is something I have already begun to explore here under the category “echoes of Evelyn”, starting with Groombridge Place.  When next spring comes, I’ll hopefully get the chance to get out and visit a few of these gardens, and post about them here in more depth

For now, though, here’s a snippet to whet the appetite!

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1653 view of Wotton -click to enlarge

Evelyn directly influenced the design of numerous important seventeenth century gardens, beginning with his family’s ancestral home at Wotton.

Albury Park Terrace

Today the best visible example of his work, inspired in particular by the huge terraces of Palestrina outside Rome, is Albury Park in Surrey, where from 1662 he redesigned the Italianate garden for Henry Howard, to include a Yew Walk and fine terraces a quarter of a mile long, with a tunnel through the hill under Silver Wood. 

Howard also received his advice in 1663/4 on the design of a riverside public “spring garden” in Norwich, with many walks, a bowling green, pond, and of course, a “wilderness”.

Euston Hall

Evelyn also took an active role at Euston Hall in Suffolk, where in 1671 he designed a garden with a canal, straight rides and long avenues of elms and limes, and at Groombridge Place in Kent, where the central avenue of clipped yews has survived as well as most of the basic seventeenth century layout.  He also advised many other leading garden-owners of his day.

Groombridge Place

Sayes Court was, however, his greatest horticultural achievement, where he demonstrated the benefits of tree planting as prescribed in his best-known book “Sylva”, and experimented with innovative designs, plants, and  techniques such as growing on hotbeds and in greenhouses.

Sayes Court Manor House misidentified

In an earlier post I showed how trial trenching that was meant to locate and evaluate the condition of Sayes Court Manor House actually seems to have been placed in the building’s exterior yard area.

A second stage of excavation has now been underway on the site since the summer, and last week the Museum of London archaeologists acting on behalf of the developers of Convoys Wharf stated on the MOL website that they had “unearthed the remains of Sayes Court, a building with rich historical associations”, and “identified the plan of Sayes Court, as modified in the course of its history”.  Note the slightly ambiguous wording of the latter phrase, to which I’ll return in a moment.

Given these claims, those who attended the long-overdue site visit on Saturday hoping to actually see any evidence of Sayes Court will have been, as I was, very disappointed.  Both of the trenches have been completely backfilled. Indeed, had a group of concerned visitors not spontaneously gathered on top of the nearby spoil heap to discuss Sayes Court after the end of the official tour, it would have received not a single mention.

 Why was no real opportunity given to the public to visit the site during the course of the actual excavations that supposedly uncovered the Manor House?  I say “real” opportunity, because I’ve since found out that one lucky person somehow heard of a chance to visit, and got to see the exposed building, in the company of Lewisham’s Archaeology officer.  Hardly a turn-out that reflects the level of concern and interest in the site.

Sketch of Sayes Court Manor House by John Evelyn.

Anyway, back to the claim that the Manor House has been located and excavated.  Take a look at this sketch by John Evelyn of the Manor house in the seventeenth century.  This is the only known extant drawing of the original Sayes Court, and was added by him (sometime between 1698 and 1706) to a 1623 map of the dockyards and town of Deptford “Strond”. It shows the front of the Manor House, with three gables and a central entrance porch which we know from his writing Evelyn modified to include fashionable Doric columns.  

Detail from 1753 plan of Deptford Dockyard.

To the right is a detail from Thomas Milton’s 1753 plan of the dockyard, which fortuitously also includes the footprint of the manor  house, proving that it must still have survived at that date, even though it was already being used as a poor house, as it was for almost a century afterwards.

Pension Office in 1869

Almshouses about 1900

Now take a look at this etching and photograph of the building that succeeded Sayes Court Manor House, used as the Pension Office, and then in 1869 after the dockyard closed and W J Evelyn managed to buy back the site, turned into almshouses.  This is obviously a completely different building, with a plan in no way resembling the original Manor House. 

We know where this pension office was located, because it appears on maps, including this 1938 one.  When this map is overlaid on Evelyn’s 1653 one, it is immediately obvious that the pension office does not occupy the same site as the earlier Sayes Court Manor House.

Manor house (shaded in pink) located north of pension offices. Click to view larger version.

Site of Sayes Court Manor House looking NE from spoil heap

Yet this is the building that the MOL website has implied (hence the odd wording referred to above) is what remains of the Manor House.  On what grounds?  The answer forthcoming on the site visit was that its foundations or cellars contain in-situ seventeenth century brickwork.  If so, two other explanations (or a combination of both) are possible for the presence of these bricks. They could be part of the ten foot high brick wall which ran through this area, between the Manor’s forecourt and the parterre to the west. Alternatively, they could be re-used bricks from the demolition of the original manor house, which I believe lay slightly to the north, and remains unexcavated under the modern concrete.

Sayes Court manor house is due to be “preserved in situ”, that is, covered over but not disturbed, in the current development proposals.  If what I fear is true, it is the nineteenth century pension office that will receive this barely charitable treatment, while who knows-what-damage will be wreaked on the unprotected and unexplored mediaeval, Tudor and Jacobean manor house.

As for the gardens, historically unmatched in their importance, they are not even worthy, it seems, of a mention, let alone the careful programme of excavation and restoration for which more and more people are now pressing.

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To check the locations of the two buildings for yourself, with Google Earth.

If you don’t have Google Earth, you will need to install it first. You can download this for free from earth.google.co.uk

Get the .kmz file of John Evelyn’s 1653 plan from bbs.keyhole.com/Plan_of_Sayes_Court_House_and_Garden.kmz. Open this in Google Earth; it will be overlaid onto the modern satellite view of the area.

Also get the 1938 War Department plan from bbs.keyhole.com/War Department plan detail 1938.kmz and open it too in Google Earth.

Tick the boxes to select both “Plan of Sayes Court House and Garden” and “War Department plan detail 1938? from the menu on the left. By dragging the slider on the left you can view the 1938 War Department plan superimposed on Evelyn’s 1653 plan, both together over the modern landscape, and all degrees of transparency in between.

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Ghost trains through Sayes Court

Light railway formerly in use at Deptford Dockyard

Recently an archaeologist contracted by the developer to excavate the Convoys wharf site claimed that the ground level around Sayes Court was lowered by a metre and a half when light railways were constructed during the First World War. This was described as “catastrophic” for the remains of  Evelyn’s gardens, of which “not a trace” was to be found.

Recreated 16th century garden at Kenilworth

If this were true, it would of course be very disappointing. However, even if few or no archaeological traces remained of the gardens, it would still be possible to restore them with a high level of authenticity using the detailed plans and planting lists that Evelyn has left us. If you look at the case of the Elizabethan garden at Kenilworth “restored” by English Heritage in 2009, this was achieved despite an almost total lack of archaeological remains.

The Kenilworth layout is based on only a verbal description, not an accurate plan, and the garden in question, a swift if lavish makeover for the queen’s visit, only existed for a very brief time – mere months. In comparison, Sayes Court garden, which existed for over half a century, holds a much stronger potential for actual restoration, rather than just “recreation” or “representation”. It is also far more significant in terms of its influence on garden design.

1938 plan overlaid on 1653 plan

On the other hand, I have yet to see any evidence to support this claim that no trace survives of the garden because of ground level reduction for railway lines. Take a look at this War Department plan from 1938. (Click on it to open up a larger version). The hachures show that the ground level is actually higher in the area of the light railway lines than the remnant adjoining eastern portions of the park, given to the public  by Evelyn’s descendant W J Evelyn in 1886. What’s more, the light railway lines themselves only skirt the western edges of the Grove and the parterre of the seventeenth century garden, so how can they possibly have obliterated all sign of it?

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The 1938 War Department plan for overlaying on Evelyn’s 1653 plan can be downloaded from http://bbs.keyhole.com/ubb/ubbthreads.php?ubb=download&Number=1024840&filename=War Department plan detail 1938.kmz It will take a moment or two to download, then double click on it to open it in Google Earth (which must already be installed).

Tick the boxes to select both “Plan of Sayes Court House and Garden” and “War Department plan detail 1938″ from the menu on the left. By dragging the slider on the left you can view the 1938 War Department plan superimposed on Evelyn’s 1653 plan,  both together over the modern landscape, and all degrees of transparency in between.

If you don’t have Google Earth, you can download it free at earth.google.co.uk

Say what you think – quick!

On 15th November local residents hereabouts received a letter from Lewisham Council informing us that we had barely a month in which to send in our comments on the development plans for Convoys Wharf.  Hutchison-Whampoa have also belatedly posted a mass of documentation on their PR website, including a report of the archaeological excavations carried out this spring, (on which see my earlier posts). 

Trenches 33 and 34 from the archaeology report.

The report states that two trenches (nos. 33 and 34) were aimed “to refine and fix the position of the mansion house of Sayes Court”, and yet it’s obvious even from their own overlay plans (part of one, fig.71, is shown on the left) that neither of them were positioned anywhere near the marked site of the house.  Small wonder, then, that they didn’t find it! 

As for the actual garden, the report says (p.80) that they “failed to reveal any significant evidence” for it, apart from a “possible terrace” and part of a ditch in trench 38.  Although not stated in the report, this appears to be situated over part of the Evelyn’s “grove” or thickly-wooded area, described in my second Garden Walk-through post.   There was a layer of dark soil up to two metres thick sealing these features, and just underlying the modern concrete surface.   Was this deep soil not likely to be connected with the woodland planted here? 

The scattergun siting of the trenches over the Sayes Court area bears very little apparent relation to the detailed plans of the garden and manor-house as they have come down us.  (See The key to the garden post)  How then can they accurately evaluate the potential for their survival?  Such evaluation was the stated purpose of the dig – and the outcome will be used to decide what further archaeology should be done (and supposedly taken into account in the detailed development design and construction).

Why, as I’ve asked before, was no specialist in garden archaeology involved in the excavation?  The excavators claim to have been in close liason with English Heritage, and yet when a friend called EH this week, they made it clear that their garden archaeology consultant was completely unaware of the present situation.  How shocking!

It takes interest and motivation  as well as experience  to identify garden archaeology.

Yet, out of  a total of 52 trenches excavated across the site, only five were located on the Sayes Court garden area.  If you share my concern that this is a paltry way to treat the remains of one of the most important historic gardens in the country, please write to Lewisham Council and tell them so.  And if you would support the idea of restoring part of Evelyn’s garden, please mention this in your letter.  The deadline for them to receive comments that will be taken into account in considering the planning application is 20th December, so we have to be quick!  Here’s the address to write to: Emma Talbot, Planning Service, 5th floor Laurence House, 1 Catford Rd., Catford, London SE6 4SW.  Or email planning@lewisham.gov.uk

Here, in summary, is what I think:-

1) Sayes Court is a site of national historical importance.  Its archaeology has yet to be properly investigated and recorded.

2) Informed by a thorough archaeological excavation, the development proposals should include a historically-accurate restoration of a substantial part of the garden as a valuable local amenity,  an economically-significant visitor attraction, and  a worthy memorial to John Evelyn.

Lastly, if you like the idea of an exciting garden restoration project, and especially if you have experience of the planning process,  garden history or design expertise,  please do get in touch. My email address is on the “About” page.

In the Fountain or Private Garden

Our walk-through of Sayes Court garden in spring 1658 didn’t include Evelyn’s private garden “of choice flowers and simples”, (that is, plants with medicinal use) lying along the western side of the manor house. Although called “private”, we can be sure that Evelyn would welcome us, because he loved to show people around his garden. As his friend the poet Abraham Cowley wrote:

“I know no body that possesses more private Happiness than you do in your Garden; and yet no Man who makes his Happiness more publick, by a free communication of the Art and Knowledge of it to others”

Door through mount

So let’s go back to 1658, to early September, and take a brief look at the delights sheltered inside the Private Garden’s ten-foot high brick wall. Here we are at the entrance-door, with steps climbing to the top of the mount-walk that overlooks the oval garden parterre behind us, and a small door to a passageway through the mount and into the nursery on our left.

Amaranthus

As we push open the door, the rich tang of herbs and ripening fruits greets us. The near (southern) half of the garden is bathed in the afternoon sunshine. In the long rectangular beds that run down the centre of each of the four hexagonal grassed areas arranged around the central fountain there are vivid mounds of flowers, among them the dramatic dark red tails of amaranthus and vigorous violet clumps of stock gillyflowers, (the secret of their vigour is that they are sown on a hot-bed in February, and only planted out around now).

Old elm

Beckoning to us from the far north-western corner is a shady arbour underneath two tall elms, which have obviously been there for a very long time, as have the others that we can see towering over the other side of the garden wall beyond them – a row of seven ancient half-hollow elms in all.

Pigeons flap to and fro from a purpose-built pigeon house on top of Evelyn’s laboratory on our left. A new building that proclaims Evelyn’s scientific curiosity (what future member of the Royal Society could be without one?), the laboratory is fronted by a twenty-foot long colonnaded portico dotted with citrus, myrtle, and other prized plants in pots and cases.

The private or fountain garden

Opposite, in the area between the two main westward-facing wings of the house, and overlooked by the grand new gabled windows of the withdrawing room to the parlour, is an aviary stocked with colourful caged birds. Its parrots add the occasional exotic squawk to the cooing of the pigeons, the soft trickle of water in the fountain, and the murmur of bees coming and going from the intriguing ornamental glass apiary placed against the north wall, a prized gift from Dr Wilkins of Waddum in 1654.

The garden’s basic layout, an intimate enclosed space arranged in four geometric beds around the central fountain, with intersecting and surrounding gravel paths, owes, we
suspect, quite a bit to Evelyn’s father-in-law, Richard Browne, and to his Elizabethan and medieval predecessors.

Espalier fruit tree

But Evelyn himself has planted and tended it since he moved to Sayes Court in 1652. It is he, we feel sure, who has planted the six cypresses that circle the fountain area, and has lined the walls with peach trees, vines, cherries and grapes.

He has edged the beds not with box, (because of its tendency to drain the goodness from the soil and out-compete the choice flowers), but with wooden boards as well as with shrubs of lavender cotton, kept carefully clipped to about a foot high. We also spot rosemary, which he distils to make “Hungary water,” the first alcohol-based perfume to be widely-used in Europe, which was also thought to be medicinal.

Flower bed

As we stroll towards the elm arbour we pass a wealth of herbs, shrubs and flowers – among them thyme, sedum, tragacantha, night-scented pelargoniums, Martagon lily, marvel of Peru, snapdragons, Canterbury bells, sunflowers, nasturtium, and too many others to name.

Martagon lily

We take a curious peek into the tool shed and fruit store at the end of the laboratory, from where potent ripening scents are emanating. Spades, shovels, mattocks we are familiar with, but there are also wooden tubs, cases, and boxes, pottery watering “cans”, scythes, woven baskets, metal, stone and wooden rollers, bundles of stakes, and many other mysterious objects. And then, our eyes light on the enticing stacks of apples, pears and plums on the shelves…

Most tantalizingly of all, there is a notebook lying on one shelf in which everything that is planted, when and where, and how it prospers, is meticulously recorded. Unfortunately, this precious document is too humble to have been preserved up to our own time. Which is where we must now think about returning – after one last moment of quiet enjoyment and reflection in the beautiful arbour of thickly-intertwining elm boughs.

Arbour

Abraham Cowley’s preface-poem to Evelyn’s “Sylva” comes to mind:

“Oh! who would change these soft, yet solid Joys,
For empty Shows and senseless Noise;
And all which rank Ambition breeds,
Which seem such beauteous Flowers, and are such poisonous Weeds?”

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Main sources: Evelyn’s gardening Calendar (“Calendarium hortense”) under the month of September; his “Directions for the Gardiner at Says Court” (list of fruit trees planted in the Fountaine-Garden; notes for rarer simples and exotics; notes for the coronary garden; notes for coronary flowers rarer; tools and instruments necessary for a gardiner); Evelyn’s 1653 map of Sayes Court (see earlier posts); Prudence Leith-Ross, “The Garden of John Evelyn at Deptford” (Garden History vol. 25, no.2).; Mark Laird, “Parterre, grove and flower garden” in “John Evelyn’s Elysium Britannicum and European Gardening”. Abraham Cowley’s poem can be read in full in the Project Gutenberg ebook of Sylva. The garden photos are from Groombridge Place, Ham House, and the Restoration House at Rochester.

Postscript:
So far, the only reference to the actual fountain I have come across in Evelyn’s writing is a warning to others to be sure to lag their water pipes in cold weather, or suffer, as he did,  the expense of repairing the damage when they burst!  However, my guess is the basin might have looked something like the one at Drummond Castle, shown below (the central pillar-fountain has been edited out).

Fountain base, Drummond Castle

Save Sayes Court!

Overlay of part of new plans on Evelyn's plan

Having brushed aside the archaeology, Hutchison-Whampoa have now come up with a new “masterplan” for their proposed development of Convoys Wharf.  If you take a look at part of their plan (on the left – easier to read if you click to enlarge it) you can see that they want to build right on top of the historic seventeenth century parterre, completely obliterating at least three-quarters of whatever remains of it below ground.  In addition, an east-west avenue would cover the manor house itself, as well as Evelyn’s private garden that adjoined it (which I hope to finally get around to describing here soon).  The foundations of the long building block to the avenue’s south side also look like they’d be liable to damage or destroy the remains of the entrance porch and front facade of the manor house.  Instead of just a bland, windswept alleyway, why couldn’t the remaining walls of the manor house be on display?  Why not restore Evelyn’s ”private garden of choice flowers and simples”?

It is clear that the proposed general layout of buildings takes virtually no account of the historic character of the site.  The areas marked in green between the buildings apparently bear no relation to any of the main features of the gardens.  Why could they not be sited so that they at least spare them, if not actually restoring some of them for posterity?

For example, the proposed new school, shown in the bottom left of the plan, has its main wing located so as to destroy the western part of the (innovative and very influential for its time) parterre.  Couldn’t its plan be reversed so that the main wing is moved further west, over part of the former orchard?  I can’t think of a nicer neighbour for a new school than a restored historic garden of national importance – what an educational resource and delight it could be!  (But the developers would have to reduce the footprint of the residential blocks to the east of it, too)

There’s an exhibition and ”consultation” taking place tomorrow and Saturday, (Deptford Methodist Church & Mission, 1 Creek Road, SE8 3BT – Friday 9th July, 12pm – 8pm; Saturday 10th July, 10.30am – 2pm).
So if you want to voice your opinions on these plans, please go along and let them know that there are people who DO care about Deptford’s heritage, and the quality of its future.

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The  new 2010 plan for Convoys Wharf overlaid on Google Earth.

The new 2010 plan for Convoys Wharf overlaid on the modern landscape can be downloaded from http://bbs.keyhole.com/ubb/ubbthreads.php?ubb=download&Number=920228&filename=New Convoys plan.kmz

It will take a moment or two to download, then double click on it to open it in Google Earth (which must already be installed). This will open up the image overlaid onto the modern aerial view of the area. Select (by clicking once on it) “New Convoys plan″ in the places panel on the left, then by dragging the slider below (the one that says “the slider sets the transparency of the overlay”) you can adjust the degree of transparency.

If you already have the Plan_of_Sayes_Court_House_and_Garden.kmz file from http://bbs.keyhole.com/ubb/ubbthreads.php?ubb=showflat&Number=1346889&#Post1346889 the location of the various buildings can be compared to John Evelyn’s 1653 plan.

Google Earth can be downloaded for free from earth.google.co.uk

“Explore everything; keep the best”

John Evelyn’s motto was “Explore everything; keep the best”. (Omnia explorate, meliora retinete) This says so much about the man and his epoch – the excitement of the seventeenth century’s expanding intellectual horizons, along with the confidence that the totality of knowledge could still be encompassed and meaningfully evaluated by an educated person. Such an attitude, in our age of exponential change and information overload, might seem at best infeasible, and at worst dangerously naive. While honestly acknowledging our limitations, however, it seems to me that we owe it to ourselves not to simply give up on the quest for the best – otherwise there’s a risk of just allowing our intelligence to gradually atrophy and our judgement to wither away under the blight of relativity and indecision.

Now, personally, I feel sure that since Evelyn’s time, Sayes Court has gone into a steep downward spiral, and that the current plans to build high-density housing over it are the absolute nadir for the site.

However, to those whose baseline for evaluation is the present appearance and condition of the place, or even its state in any recent decade back to about the 1950s, it might seem that any development would be preferable to the closed-off, creeping dereliction of what I suspect developers and planners alike both regard as a mere “brownfield”, with some awkward scraps of archaeology that have been given a token treatment (on which, see my earlier posts) to meet legal requirements.

View towards Deptford Strand 1620 to 1630

But I, and I hope the regular readers of this blog, now realise how different – how much more vital, diverse, stimulating and beautiful – this place has been in the past. How much better  than what we see today, and what is threatening to happen to it in the future. Our baseline doesn’t have to be the sterile and semi- derelict present – we can see how it looked in Evelyn’s time, and even get an idea of what baseline he himself encountered, as shown in landscape paintings such as the above, and as I intend to post more about soon.

Convoys Wharf in February 2010

Shifting baseline syndrome, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shifting_baseline where significant changes to a system are measured only against recent baselines (rather than against earlier or original baseline states) allows standards and expectations to progressively fall. For example, recent studies have shown that local people can lose all knowledge and memory of the wealth of species that once inhabited their neighbourhood ecosystems surprisingly fast, once they have gone. Similarly, once visible remains of an earlier landscape have totally gone, the public memory of what it was like can quickly fade, and the new status quo comes to seem normal.

Architects' model of proposed Convoys Wharf development

Such an unconscious loss of perspective can also help to explain why low-grade proposals for so-called “development”, such as those for Convoys Wharf, can be submitted without the kind of adverse reaction and protest that would have met them had they been measured against earlier baselines. I’m not arguing for no-change, or for “turning back the clock”, by the way, but for development that really responds to the unique spirit of place here and creates something in sympathy with it.

If we have the courage to try to apply Evelyn’s motto to our choices for the future, I’m convinced we can envision something far more enriching. In particular, I am not alone in wishing to see a historically-accurate restoration of at least part of Sayes Court gardens. As a recreational and educational amenity to residents and local people, a haven for wildlife and plants, not to mention a sure-fire magnet for tourists, it would bring back real character and significance to this place.

But can we persuade the planners and those who hold the purse-strings to back such an exciting restoration project?

Groombridge Place

Plaque mentioning Evelyn

Scots pine reputed to have been planted by Evelyn

Sayes Court was not the only garden that John Evelyn had a hand in. His advice was sought on garden design by numerous landowners, including his friend Philip Packer, who lived at Groombridge Place in Kent.

Fortunately, the gardens at Groombridge Place escaped both the ravages of the landscape movement, and the neglect that has afflicted Sayes Court. The original seventeenth century layout that Evelyn was consulted on is still visible, and although most of the actual planting has altered, there are still fascinating remnants of it here and there. This is a good place to visit to get a general feel for how Sayes Court might have been, and, feeling in need of a little inspiration, last Sunday I spent a very enjoyable afternoon there drinking in the atmosphere and taking photos.

House and gateway, Groombridge

As you approach the house, to the right of the bridge over the moat you see a soaring Scots pine, said to be the remaining one of a pair that Evelyn planted in the 1670s. Although the house itself is sadly not open to the public, the outside looks not too dissimilar to what we know from the few surviving depictions of Sayes Court – two main storeys, and classical columns in the porch. Perhaps it is a little grander, but not much – both places started off as mediaeval manor houses, after all.

Main axis looking south, Groombridge

The paths, walls, gateways and main divisions or rooms of the garden are still much as they were originally set out in the seventeenth century. The central axis pathway is called “The Apostle Walk”, because it is bordered on each side by twelve yews clipped into drum shapes, believed to have survived from the 1674 planting.

"Twelve Apostles" yew tree avenue

Another seventeenth century feature which Groombridge Place had in common with Sayes Court was a banqueting house in which the Packers and their guests would have enjoyed light refreshments, more like picnics than what we would call a banquet today, of cakes, fruit ,wine, or tea, still an exotic luxury then. This building, subsequently altered and enlarged into a cottage, leads onto a raised grass walk described in the guidebook as a bowling alley, although it seems rather narrow, and its position leads me to wonder if it might not originally have been a raised terrace perhaps for viewing a parterre below, as at Sayes Court?

The narrow canal that crosses the garden is also part of the original design, although the colourfully-planted “Knot Garden” was only laid out in 1994. I do suspect that (proper!) archaeological investigation might find very interesting evidence for the earlier planting layout in this area and in the adjacent “Draughtsman’s Lawn”, named after Peter Greenaway’s entrancing film “The Draughtsman’s Contract”, filmed here in 1982. A more recently-filmed version of “Pride and Prejudice” allows a tantalising view inside the house itself.

19th century plan of 17th century Groombridge Place

On the wall in the visitors’ restaurant, and rather awkwardly situated to photo (my apologies for the poor quality shot) there is a picture of a nineteenth century plan that purports to show the gardens as they would have appeared in the seventeenth century. What this is based on, I don’t know – was there an earlier painting or drawing available to the artist? If anyone reading this can enlighten me about it, I’d be very grateful.

300 year old apple tree, Groombridge Place

There are three ancient apple trees in the “White rose garden” that remain from the orchard that existed there in the seventeenth century. The one in the photo still apparently produces fruit, despite its great age and the mistletoe growing on it! I wonder what variety it is?

Double speak on garden dig

In my last post I showed how the dig that has just finished managed to miss Sayes Court manor house, and so conclude that virtually nothing remained of it. What about their similar claim about the gardens?

First, a few words about garden archaeology in general. For a
long time, it was believed that the later developments of the
Landscape Movement had forever erased all traces of seventeenth century and
earlier garden layouts, hence Roy Strong’s poignant dedication in his “The
Renaissance Garden in England”, published in 1979: “In memory of all those
gardens destroyed by Capability Brown and his successors.”

Hampton Court parterre under excavation

Then, over the past couple of decades, along came the development of garden archaeology, thanks to which recovery and restoration were shown to be possible in many cases. Planting beds, pathways, garden buildings, tools and plant-pots, and even seeds and pollen can be found. Soil analysis can show what kind of plants were likely to have been grown in particular areas. Old parterres can survive just centimetres below the modern surface. Hampton
Court is an obvious example of such survival. Another is Castle Bromwich
Hall in the West Midlands, whose layout was remarkably well-preserved,
despite having been “double-dug” not long before, because it had been laid
down into a hard bed of compacted gravel. According to the Council for
British Archaeology’s Handbook on Garden Archaeology, this was “a common
technique in the construction of 17th and early eighteenth century parterres”.

Hampton Court Parterre after restoration

All of which would seem to imply that careful excavation that truly set out, as the briefing note for the excavation declared, to “establish the precise location and condition” of the features should have revealed at least SOME evidence of the gardens at Sayes Court. But, along with a lingering attitude that gardens are not “proper” archaeology, specialists in this sub-discipline are few and far between. It requires a different methodology to ordinary excavation. Most importantly, machines are only supposed to be used to remove topsoil and overburden, with hand-digging of the actual features themselves. But, as Chris Currie notes in his Council for British Archaeology-published guide to good practice, “what is usually considered “overburden” on many garden sites can often be significant garden horizons”. Put bluntly, unless supervised by experts in garden archaeology, garden features can easily end up being sliced through and removed in the buckets of JCBs.

What real reassurance do we have that this isn’t, in fact, what has been happening at Sayes Court? I wrote to English Heritage, who told me that as part of the planning for the work, they had recommended that a person with an expertise in garden archaeology should be made available by Museum of London Archaeology, who conducted the work under the consultancy of CgMS Consulting Ltd for the developer. However, the Museum of London failed to reply when I asked them to confirm whether they had actually followed this advice and involved a garden archaeology expert.

The PR firm for Hutchison Whampoa (Hardhat Communications) sent me a classic piece of condescending flim-flam in response to a similar specific enquiry as to whether a garden archaeology expert had actually been engaged: “the archaeological consultant, project manager and site supervisor have between them over 65 years of professional experience”. So, I take it that’s a “no”, then.

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References: Roy Strong, 1979 “The Renaissance Garden in England”, Thames & Hudson.
Chris Currie, 2005, “Garden Archaeology, a handbook”, CBA Practical Handbooks in Archaeology no.17, Council for British Archaeology.