A Night at Ranelagh: Horace Walpole’s Garden Escapade
This botanical history post was featured on The Daily Gardener podcast:
May 26, 1742
On this day, dear readers, we find ourselves transported to the world of 18th century London, where the illustrious Horace Walpole penned a most intriguing letter to his friend Horace Mann.
The subject of his missive?
None other than the newly opened Ranelagh Gardens in Chelsea, a pleasure garden that had thrown wide its gates a mere two days prior.
Imagine, if you will, the excitement in the air as London's elite flocked to this new haven of entertainment.
Walpole, ever the keen observer of society, provides us with a delightful glimpse into this world of Georgian excess and horticultural spectacle.
Let us savor his words, shall we?
Today calls itself May the 26th, as you perceive by the date; but I am writing to you by the fireside, instead of going to Vauxhall.
If we have one warm day in seven, "we bless our stars, and think it luxury."
And yet we have as much waterworks and fresco diversions, as if we lay ten degrees nearer warmth.
Oh, how familiar this lament sounds to our modern ears!
Even in the midst of spring, it seems our dear Horace found himself huddled by the fire rather than frolicking in the gardens.
Yet, the English spirit perseveres, does it not?
Despite the chill, London society insisted on its outdoor amusements, come rain or shine.
Two nights ago Ranelagh-gardens were opened at Chelsea; the Prince, Princess, Duke, much nobility, and much mob besides, were there.
There is a vast amphitheatre, finely gilt, painted, and illuminated, into which everybody that loves eating, drinking, staring, or crowding, is admitted for twelvepence.
The building and... gardens cost sixteen thousand pounds.
Can you picture it, my fellow garden enthusiasts?
A vast amphitheatre, resplendent in gilt and paint, illuminated against the night sky. And all this spectacle for the modest sum of twelvepence!
Though, let us not forget, sixteen thousand pounds was no trifling amount in those days.
Ranelagh Gardens was clearly positioning itself as the new jewel in London's pleasure garden crown.
Twice a-week there are to be ridottos... [entertainment] for which you are to have a supper and music.
I was there last night, but did not find the joy of it.
Vauxhall is a little better; the garden is pleasanter, and [you arrive] by water...
Ah, but it seems our Horace was not immediately won over by Ranelagh's charms.
He found more pleasure in the rival Vauxhall Gardens, with its pleasant greenery and the romantic approach by water.
Yet, as with many matters of taste, opinions can change with time.
Indeed, Walpole later revised his assessment, declaring:
It has totally beat Vauxhall... You can't set your foot without treading on a Prince, or Duke of Cumberland.
One can almost hear the wry amusement in Walpole's tone as he describes the crush of nobility in Ranelagh.
What a sight it must have been, to see dukes and princes rubbing elbows with the common folk, all in pursuit of an evening's entertainment!
As we reflect on these pleasure gardens of old, let us not forget Walpole's sage advice on the importance of mental cultivation:
When people will not weed their own minds, they are apt to be overrun by nettles.
How true this rings, even in our modern age!
As we tend to our physical gardens, let us not neglect the gardens of our minds, lest they too become overgrown with the nettles of ignorance or prejudice.
In closing, my dear readers, let us raise a toast to Horace Walpole and the Ranelagh Gardens of yore.
Though these pleasure gardens may be lost to time, their memory lives on in the words of those who walked their paths and marveled at their splendor.
May we all find such joy in our own gardens, be they grand or humble, and may we always remember to tend to the gardens of our minds with equal care and devotion.