A Walk from London to Fulham

by Thomas Crofton Croker

In a privately printed description of this cottage, when the residence of Mr. Croker, of which but a very few copies were distributed to his friends, Mr. Croker himself writes:—

“In what, it may be asked, originates the romantic name of ‘Rosamond’s Bower?’ A question I shall endeavour to answer. The curious reader will find from Lysons’ ‘Environs of London’ (II. 359), that the manor of Rosamonds is an estate near Parson’s Green, in the

parish of Fulham. Lysons adds, ‘the site of the mansion belonging to this estate, now (1795) rented by a gardener, is said, by tradition, to have been a palace of Fair Rosamond.’ There seems to be, however, no foundation beyond the name for this tradition, and it is unnoticed by Faulkner in his ‘History of Fulham,’ published in 1813. He merely mentions, adjoining High Elms, or Park House, an old dwelling, which ‘ancient house,’ continues Faulkner, ‘appears to be of the age of Elizabeth, and is commonly called Rosamond’s Bower.’ This ‘ancient house’ was taken down by Mr. Powell, in the year 1826, and the present stables of Park House are built upon the site. But I have recently learned that the name of ‘Rosamond’s Dairy’ is still attached to an old house probably built between two and three hundred years, which stands a little way back from the high-road at the north-west corner of Parson’s Green.

“I have always felt with Dr. Johnson that relics are venerable things, and are only not to be worshipped. When, therefore, I took my cottage, in 1837, and was told that the oak staircase in it had belonged to the veritable ‘Rosamond’s Bower,’ and was the only relic of it that existed; and when I found that the name had no longer a precise ‘local habitation’ in Fulham, I ventured, purely from motives of respect for the memory of the past, and not from any affectation of romance, to revive an ancient parochial name which had been suffered to die out, ‘like the snuff of a candle.’ In changing its precise situation, in transferring it from one side of Parson’s Green Lane to the other, a distance, however, not fifty yards from the original site, I trust when called upon to show cause for the transfer, to be reasonably supported by the history of the old oak staircase. Indeed I may here venture to assert that the change of name from ‘Brunswick Cottage,’—so was ‘Rosamond’s Bower’ called when I took it,—and the assumption of that name, if contrasted with the name changing and name travelling fashion of the district, is a proceeding in which I am fully borne out by numerous precedents.

“Miss Edgeworth, in her reply, dated 31st January, 1840, to the letter of a juvenile correspondent (then nine years of age) inquires, ‘Is Rosamond’s Bower a real name?’ And I well remember the gestures and even some of the jests which the omnibus passengers made when ‘Rosamond’s Bower’ was first painted upon the stone caps of the gate piers, such as Father Prout’s ‘Rosy-man’s Bower near the White Sheaf’ (Wheatsheaf). But the novelty wore off in a week or two, and the name has long since ceased to be an object of speculation to any but the inquisitive. For their information I may state, that in the time of Elizabeth all the gardeners’ cottages in this neighbourhood were called bowers. It was the Saxon term for a room, and, therefore, applied to the dwelling occupied by the labouring class. And Rosamond, or Rosaman, is said to have been the name of a family of gardeners bestowed upon the district which they had long cultivated—possibly a sobriquet derived from the fame of their roses in times when that flower was a badge of party distinction. . . . It only remains for me to add, that ‘Rosamond’s Bower’ stands 22 feet back from the high road, and has a small garden or court before it, measuring, exclusive of the stable-yard, 63 feet. The garden behind the house is of that form called a gore, gradually narrowing from 63 to 22 feet, in a distance of 550 feet or 183 yards—five turns up and down which ‘long walk’ may be reckoned, by exercise meters, ‘a full mile,’ it being 73 yards over and above the distance, an ample allowance for ten short turnings. Of the old ‘Rosamond’s Bower’ three representations have been preserved; two of these are pen-and-ink sketches by Mr. Doherty, made about the middle of the last century, one of which is an authority for the name of Pershouse Cross. The third view appears in a well-executed aquatint plate of ‘Fulham Park School taken from the Play Ground.’

“The foundation of the present ‘Rosamond’s Bower,’ judging from the brickwork on the south side, and the thickness of the walls, is probably as old as the time of Elizabeth—I mean the original building which consisted of two rooms, one above the other, 12 feet square, and 7 feet in height. On the north side of this primitive dwelling was a deep draw-well. Subsequently two similar rooms were attached, one of which (the present hall) was built over the well, and two attics were raised upon this very simple structure, thus increasing the number of rooms from two to six. Then a kitchen was built (the present dining-room), and another room over it (the present drawing-room), at the back of the original building, which thus from a labourer’s hut assumed the air of an eight-roomed cottage. It was then discovered that the rooms were of very small dimensions, and it was considered necessary to enlarge four of them by the additional space to be gained from bay windows in the dining-room, drawing-room, blue bedchamber, and dressing-room. But the spirit of improvement seldom rests content, and when it was found that the kitchen, which looked upon the garden, was a more agreeable sitting-room, both as to aspect and quiet, than the more ancient and smaller room which looked upon the road, it was determined to create another attachment on the north side, by building a kitchen of still larger dimensions, with a scullery and storeroom behind, to replace the old scullery and out-offices by a spacious staircase, and over this new kitchen to place a room of corresponding size, or equal to that of the two bedrooms upon the same line of building. Thus in 1826 did ‘Rosamond’s Bower’ become a cottage of ten rooms; and as it was soon afterwards presumed from the march of luxury that no one could live in a decade cottage without requiring a coachhouse and stable, an excellent one was built not far from the north side, making the third, though not the last, addition in that direction.

“Parva domus! nemorosa quies,
Sis tu quoque nostris hospitium laribus
Subsidium diu: postes tuas Flora ornet
Pomonaque mensas.”

THE GARDEN.

“It is much more difficult to describe the garden of Rosamond’s Bower than its shape. I may, however, mention that by means of a sunk fence [159] and a wen-like excrescence upon the original gore, made in the Spring of 1842, the extensive meadow of Park House, with the piece of water which adorns it, appear to belong to my residence so completely, that so far as the eye questions the matter, ‘I am monarch of all I survey.’

The first lawn of the garden rejoices in two very remarkable trees, one a standard Ayrshire rose, rising ten feet in height from a stem ten inches in circumference, and from which, during sunny June, ‘every breeze, of red rose leaves brings down a crimson rain.’ [160] The other a weeping ash of singularly beautiful proportions. It has been trained, or rather restrained, to the measurement of fifty-six feet in circumference, the stem being two feet round, and the branches shooting out at the height of five feet with incredible luxuriance. Under its branches I had the pleasure of seeing no less than thirty-eight friends sit down to breakfast on the 22nd June, 1842; and Gunter, who laid covers for forty-four, assured me, that another arrangement with circular tables, made for the purpose, would have comfortably accommodated sixty. A miniature shrubbery, not in height, but in breadth, intervenes between the first lawn and the flower garden, where, in the centre of beds, stands the ‘Baylis Vase’—a memorial, I sincerely trust, of a more enduring friendship. Miss Aikin’s question—but a very long acquaintance with that lady’s fame warrants me here writing ‘Lucy Aikin’s question—to me, one evening while walking down the garden, whether that urn had been placed over the remains of any favourite, was the occasion of the following lines being painted on it:—

Think not that here was placed this urn
To mark a spot o’er which to mourn.
Should tender thoughts awake a tear
For fading flowers or waning year,
Remember that another spring,
Fresh flowers and brighter hopes will bring.

Two elevated strawberry beds, facetiously termed ‘twin strawberry hills,’ rear themselves between the vase and the back lawn, the further corners of which are respectively protected from wheelbarrow intrusion by an Irish Quern and a Capsular Stone, venerated in Irish tradition—the former a remarkably perfect, the latter an exceedingly compact specimen, having on one side a double, and on the other a single hollow. . . . The remaining points of interest in my garden may be noticed in a very few words. It gradually decreases in breadth, and is fenced off on one side from the garden of a very kind neighbour (which contains two of the finest walnut trees in the parish) by an oak paling partially covered with broad, or Irish, and embellished by the picturesque narrow-leaved ivy.

“On the other side a trim hedge, kept breast high, which runs beside ‘the long walk,’ separates it from the extensive meadow of Park House, and at the termination the following inscription from one of Herrick’s poems has been placed—

Thine own dear grounds,
Not envying others larger bounds,
For well thou knowest ’tis not the extent
Of land makes life, but sweet content.

“The garden produces plenty of strawberries, an abundance of raspberries, and generally a good crop of apples and pears, but few vegetables; the cultivation, except of asparagus (of which there are two excellent beds), having been abandoned, as the bird monopoly of peas, caused every shilling’s worth that came to table to cost five, and the ingenuity of the slugs and snails having completely baffled all amateur gardening schemes of defence against their slimy invasions.

Among many experiments I may mention one. Some vegetables were protected by a circumvallum of salt; but, notwithstanding, the slugs and snails contrived to pass this supposed deadly line of demarcation by fixing themselves on dry leaves which they could easily lift, and thus they wriggled safely over it. My greatest enjoyment in the garden has been derived from a rustic bench at the north side of the shrubbery, through the back and arms of which a honeysuckle has luxuriantly interlaced itself; there, particularly when recovering from illness, I have sat, and have found, or fancied, that pain was soothed, and depressed spirits greatly elevated, by the monotonous tone of the bees around me.”

The pamphlet from which the above has been taken then enters into a minute description of the curiosities, pictures, &c., collected by Mr. Croker at ‘Rosamond’s Bower,’ which it is unnecessary further to refer to; indeed, although intended for private circulation only, it was not completed, as Mr. Croker was led to believe it might appear but an egotistical description of an unimportant house.

The following particulars, connected with Thomas

Moore’s visit to ‘Rosamond’s Bower,’ may prove interesting:—

On the 6th October, 1838, Moore wrote to Mr. Crofton Croker as follows:—

“Many thanks for your wish to have me at Rosamond’s Bower, even though I was unlucky enough not to profit by that wish—some other time, however, you must, for my sake, try again; and I shall then be most ready for a rummage of your Irish treasures. Already, indeed, I have been drawing a little upon your ‘Researches in the South of Ireland;’ and should be very glad to have more books of yours to pilfer.

“Yours, my dear Mr. Croker,
“Very truly,
“Thomas Moore.”

On the 18th November, 1841, Major-General (then Colonel) Sir Charles O’Donnell lunched at Rosamond’s Bower; before luncheon Mr. Croker happened to point out to him the passage in the preface of the fourth volume of Moore’s Works, p. xxxv, in which the poet says—

“With the melody entitled, ‘Love, Valour, and Wit,’ an incident is connected, which awakened feelings in me of proud, but sad pleasure, to think that my songs had reached the hearts of some of the descendants of those great Irish families, who found themselves forced, in the dark days of persecution, to seek in other lands a refuge from the shame and ruin of their own;—those whose story I have associated with one of their country’s most characteristic airs:—

‘Ye Blakes and O’Donnells, whose fathers resign’d
The green hills of their youth, among strangers to find
That repose which at home they had sigh’d for in vain.’

“From a foreign lady, of this ancient extraction,—whose names, could I venture to mention them, would lend to the incident an additional Irish charm,—I received about two years since, through the hands of a gentleman to whom it had been intrusted, a large portfolio, adorned inside with a beautiful drawing representing Love, Wit, and Valour, as described in the song. In the border that surrounds the drawing are introduced the favourite emblems of Erin, the harp, the shamrock, the mitred head of St. Patrick, together with scrolls containing each, inscribed in letters of gold, the name of some favourite melody of the fair artist.

“This present was accompanied by the following letter from the lady herself—”

It is unnecessary to quote this letter, but the gentleman alluded to was Sir Charles O’Donnell, who had brought the parcel from the Continent, and being about to proceed to Canada, and personally unacquainted with Moore, requested Mr. Croker to get it safely delivered; who took the present opportunity of pointing out to Sir Charles this public acknowledgment that his commission had been executed.