Joseph Paxton’s Birkenhead Park: When Liverpool Outshone Venice

April 5, 1847

My dear fellow gardeners, one cannot help but notice the unseemly enthusiasm with which the masses descended upon Birkenhead Park upon its grand opening.

The Mercury reports—and I do assure you, dear reader, that I verified this intelligence personally—that the occasion was marked by "great rejoicing and festivity, and in the evening there was a gorgeous display of fireworks."

How positively vulgar and utterly delightful!

The day at Birkenhead, and indeed partly at Liverpool, was observed as a holiday, and the workmen at the Birkenhead Docks, 2,000 in number, each received a day's wage. Later in the evening, a ball and supper took place in the Dock warehouse—one can only imagine the raucous merriment that ensued when the laboring classes were given both wages and freedom in a single day.

Birkenhead stands as the first publicly funded civic park, designed by Joseph Paxton (yes, that Paxton, who would later give us the Crystal Palace). It would become the muse for New York's Central Park—though the Americans, being Americans, naturally felt compelled to make theirs considerably larger. One must applaud their predictable compensation.

The clippings from The Liverpool Mercury during that April reveal that Birkenhead was swiftly transforming into a bustling port city. In a rare moment of clarity, the powers that be recognized that the people of the community who were the "source of all wealth and power" might appreciate some "accommodation and recreation." How revolutionary!

What was once merely commons, "overgrown with fern, and rough with prickly gorse," had been "converted into a magnificent park, beautifully laid out, and planted with every variety of shrubs and flowers." The transformation was nothing short of miraculous—or at least as miraculous as human hands and considerable funding can manage.

This prickly gorse referenced in that breathless description—now known to be quite toxic—is a yellow-flowered shrub and member of the pea family. One wonders how many genteel visitors might have pricked themselves upon it in days gone by. The commons' reformation certainly saved many a fine glove from ruin.

On the day of the grand opening, Lord Viscount Morpeth gave the commemorating speech, in which he abandoned all restraint and declared:

"We have seen something this day beyond even the dreams of Venice. For instance, such an array of steamers as has today graced the Mersey, never could have been witnessed in Venice; and though perhaps a steamer may not be so picturesque an object as a gondola, I may yet remind you that… Venice never could have sent forth a message which in ten days might reach those harbors and roadsteads of the new world."

Venice, I'm certain, was utterly devastated by this pronouncement.

Imagine comparing a smoky, industrial Mersey to the Grand Canal! The audacity!

In the first four days following the grand opening, the paper reported—and one must trust it implicitly, of course—that Mr. Cooper had crossed the river and visited Birkenhead Park, and 58,000 persons had done the same. One can only presume Mr. Cooper was someone of note, though the Mercury seems to believe his crossing required special mention among the other 57,999 visitors. Such is fame—mysterious and selective.

For those who appreciate such modern affairs, on April 23rd of this year, a presentation will be hosted in conjunction with the Friends at Birkenhead Park. For over two years, plans have been developed to secure Birkenhead Park's listing as a World Heritage Site—quite the ambition for what was once merely a gorse-covered commons!

The evening's presentations are intended to provide an opportunity to learn more about this process. Presenters include Professor Robert Lee of the University of Liverpool's Department of History. One imagines the Professor will be positively riveting, as historians so often are when discussing urban planning applications.

As we reflect upon Birkenhead's journey from humble origins to potential World Heritage status, one cannot help but wonder what Lord Viscount Morpeth would make of it all. Perhaps Venice has been informed of this latest development and is, even now, trembling in its slowly sinking foundations.