Bartram's Garden
A botanical bonanza
3 March 2024
By: James Lennox
As the Monty Python team didn't quite get round to asking: “What have the Quakers ever done for us?” That's an easy one. Not only did they contribute to the world's waistlines by inventing the chocolate bar, they've produced great actresses (take a bow, Dame Judi Dench) and misunderstood politicians (step forward, President Nixon) and, more importantly for present purposes, in the eighteenth century they facilitated the introduction into England of some of the finest North American plants.
Two Quakers in particular were responsible for this transatlantic trade: Peter Collinson in London and John Bartram just outside Philadelphia. During the course of a partnership that lasted for over thirty years, Bartram would collect seed from the wild (on travels ranging from Lake Ontario in the north to Florida in the south) and propagate plants on his ever-expanding nursery by the banks of the Schuylkill River. He was very much a pioneer of the “right plant, right place” school, a keen observer of the natural environment, writing detailed notes on where he found the plants and what conditions they preferred.
Seeds and notes would then be shipped to England and distributed by Collinson in so-called “five guinea boxes” to keen botanists and collectors. Customers included the Dukes of Richmond, Norfolk and Argyll, Lord Petre at Thorndon and Philip Miller at the Chelsea Physic Garden. Linnaeus studied the plants sent by the untrained Bartram and praised him as “the greatest natural botanist of his time”.
In total, over 200 plants were introduced to England this way, including Chionanthus virginicus, Collinsonia canadensis (another Linnaean seal of approval on the enterprise), Cornus amomum, Dodecatheon maedia, Kalmia latifolia, Liatris spicata, Magnolia acuminata and tripetala, Rhododendron maximum and Veratrum viride. The influx of so many woody plants into England through this partnership, and their subsequent adoption by high society, has even been credited with the gradual shift from formal to informal seen in landscape design at the time.
All of which means that Bartram's Garden is a place of pilgrimage for those of us with a keen interest in eighteenth century gardens (cf. Castle Howard and Harewood House) and an entirely healthy obsession with North American trees.
It's truly remarkable that the handsomely proportioned house (built with local stone quarried by the Bartrams), adjacent seed house and 14 acre garden have survived everything that a growing city has thrown their way. Railways, cement works, housing estates, industrial pollution - this garden has seen it all.
Somehow, it still shelters the oldest ginkgo in North America, an ancient yellowwood (Cladrastris kentukea), stately tulip trees, shagbark hickories and bald cypresses (Taxodium distichum), and a pawpaw (Asimina triloba) suckering for all it's worth.
And of course, there's a young Franklinia alatamaha, a species discovered by John and his son William in 1765 and named by the latter in honour of his father's good friend, Ben. It’s just as well they spotted it when they did - it hasn't been seen in the wild since 1803. All franklinias now growing, including the one at La Corolla, are descended from seed collected by William and propagated in this very spot. A bit like the giant panda, they don't exactly make it easy for humans to lend a helping hand. They can be pernickety customers, although so far my sunny well-drained hillside seems to suit it just fine.
Surrounding the house there are flower gardens. The one at the front is filled with a lively cottage garden-style mix of local favourites and exotic species flanking semi-circular paths designed to welcome visitors to the house and allow them to examine more unusual specimens up close. The profusion of flowers recalls how this part of the garden would have looked when John's granddaughter, Ann, lived here and ran the nursery.
At the back of the house on the slope down to the river is a small productive patch, handy for the kitchen and fenced off from marauding wildlife.
The rest of this area is dedicated to growing a display of native plants discovered by the Bartrams on their travels and brought back to Philadelphia for sale through the nursery. Both father and son must have had a good eye for an indestructible plant. Physostegia virginiana, Euphorbia marginata, Hibiscus grandiflorus and coccineus were all performing nicely, with not a single one showing signs of wilting in the sun. Unlike me.
Further from the house, the minimal formal areas give way to a more ruggedly naturalistic approach. A small pond amongst the trees adds an extra dimension to the garden - a setting for pitcher plants and Venus fly traps (Dionaea muscipula), introduced into cultivation by the Bartrams.
It also happened to be the setting for my very first encounter with a hummingbird. That special, fleeting moment just helped to confirm that gardens, even ones tasked with preserving a sense of past achievements as well as botanically important specimens, can never really be dismissed as mere plant museums.
There's simply too much life pulsing all around: iridescent flashes of light from feeding birds; flowers determined to put on a show for parched English visitors; or locals simply taking time out from city cares in a green oasis. And who can resist a rustic swing hanging from high up in an American sycamore (Platanus occidentalis)?
With its relaxed atmosphere, its imaginative and well-maintained planting, its emphasis on education and commitment to the local community, Bartram's Garden manages to strike that fine balance between being a memorial to the past and an engaging place to visit now. The historic buildings, the venerable trees, the plants associated with the Bartrams, all create a real sense of walking on hallowed botanical ground in a garden fully engaged with the modern world around it. It's a special combination that takes some beating.
More information here: https://www.bartramsgarden.org/
