Wheelbarrows and Woe: The Day Peter the Great Trampled John Evelyn’s Dreams
This botanical history post was featured on The Daily Gardener podcast:
June 8, 1698
On this day, our esteemed gardener and diarist, John Evelyn, ventured to Deptford to witness the lamentable state in which the Czar had left his beloved estate after a three-month sojourn.
One can only imagine the profound dismay that must have gripped our dear John's heart upon beholding the wreckage of his once-glorious domain.
Let us, dear readers, immerse ourselves in this tale of horticultural tragedy, keeping in mind John's deep appreciation for the toil and devotion a garden demands.
For four decades, John Evelyn had nurtured his estate into a paragon of beauty and refinement. His garden, in particular, was a source of immense pride, a living testament to his horticultural prowess. Alas, fate had other plans for this earthly paradise.
In the year of our Lord 1698, the Russian Czar, Peter the Great, descended upon England with an entourage two hundred strong. In a gesture of hospitality that would prove most ill-fated, William III offered John Evelyn's home as lodgings for the Czar and his retinue.
With grace befitting his station, John and his wife vacated their home to afford the Czar privacy. However, it wasn't long before John's servants began dispatching urgent missives, imploring their master's return.
Upon his homecoming, John was confronted with a scene of utter devastation. The estate lay in ruins, priceless paintings reduced to impromptu targets for darts, floors marred beyond recognition, windows shattered, and most grievously, his beloved garden lay in tatters.
Picture, if you will, the colossal Czar, standing at a towering six feet and eight inches, engaging in a reckless game with his companions. They had the audacity to place him in one of John's wheelbarrows, careening through meticulously tended garden beds, colliding with walls, trees, and hedges with reckless abandon. One might liken the scene to a boisterous revelry more suited to a tavern than a gentleman's estate.
Can you not feel the ache in your very soul, fellow gardeners, at the thought of such wanton destruction?
The Czar had shown a blatant disregard for the sanctity of John's horticultural sanctuary, a transgression that cuts deep into the heart of any true gardening enthusiast.
For two decades, John had lovingly nurtured a hedge of holly, coaxing it into a glorious living wall. As an authority on arboreal matters, John took particular pride in this verdant creation.
He once wrote:
Is there under heaven a more glorious and refreshing object of the kind than an impregnable hedge of about 480 feet length, 9 feet high, and 5 feet in diameter
Alas, even this majestic hedge fell victim to the Czar's revelry. The very stone walls that embraced the garden, stalwart guardians of John's horticultural realm, crumbled under the onslaught of such unbridled merrymaking.
Post-haste, John dispatched word to the king, relaying the calamity that had befallen his estate. With all due urgency, arrangements were made to relocate the Czar to more suitable lodgings. King William, in a gesture of royal contrition, ordered the complete restoration of the Evelyn home - a task that required nothing short of gutting and rebuilding from the very foundations.
At the venerable age of 78, John Evelyn endured this ordeal. One can scarcely imagine any form of recompense that could truly restore the years of love he had invested in his garden. He lived for eight more years, departing this earthly realm in 1706.
Today, we remember John Evelyn for his meticulous diary, a treasure trove of horticultural wisdom spanning 66 years.
As a passionate gardener, many of his entries pertain to the verdant world of plants, landscaping, and related botanical pursuits. John firmly believed that gardening was a year-round endeavor, offering immeasurable benefits to both body and soul.
He sagely observed:
The gardener's work is never at an end, it begins with the year and continues to the next.
Gardening is a labor full of tranquility and satisfaction; natural and instructive, and [aids the] most serious contemplation, experience, health, and longevity.
And so, dear readers, let us take heed of John Evelyn's wisdom.
As we tend to our own gardens, be they grand estates or modest window boxes, let us remember the timeless joy and tranquility that comes from nurturing the earth. For in cultivating our gardens, we cultivate our very souls.