From an article in the Cambrian Newspaper on the 2nd May 1884
Note – this article didn’t really seem to fit anywhere else on the website. It is too long for the main timeline, but maybe lacks the details of the other horticultural articles.
“Singleton House,” said Sir Hussey Vivian, Bart, on one occasion, “is not Singleton Abbey, as it is sometimes mistakenly called. It never was an Abbey. No monk or priest has ever crossed the threshold since it has been Singleton, and none ever shall.” The hon. Baronet is fearlessly outspoken in his dislike of priestly pretensions and Jesuitry. Quite recently he publicly endorsed the saying that of all the crafts with which this world has been cursed, priestcraft is the worst,” a dictum to which professedly Protestant England would do well to pay heed just now.
But if Singleton is not an Abbey it is a stately home,” whose apartments are rich in curiosities, where the privileged visitor may see old furniture which will remind him somewhat of the Hotel de Cluny at Paris. Nor should one omit to mention the fine collection of ancient Etruscan vases.
But Singleton House and its interesting contents were described in The Cambrian a couple of years ago, on the occasion of the royal visit; what one is now concerned with are the grounds, and especially the fine collection of Himalayan rhododendrons.
One of the preliminaries to the satisfactory inspection of any gardens is an introduction to the Head Gardener, who generally knows more about the place, and can better tell the history of the varied vegetation under his charge than anyone else. The Chief Gardener at Singleton is Mr. Harris, who, upon acquaintance, is found to be as able a botanist, as practical an horticulturist, and as genial and instructive a man as one could wish to meet in a garden.
Entering Singleton Park by the lodge-gate at the foot of Sketty Hill, one passes, on the left hand, the little log hut which stands at the corner of Brynmill-lane and on the right hand, one sees before him, through the fine old foliage, a high tower and a wall, stretching away over the ridge that forms the south-western horizon. A water-wheel in the dingle below suggests that the old mill, from which the adjacent Brynmill-lane takes its name, is still in existence and in active operation; but, no it is only a wheel used to pump water up to the tower top, said our guide, so that the estate shall always have plenty of water at sufficient pressure. Sir Hussey Vivian is a great believer in and user of water-power, which in this country is so generally wasted. At Park-le-Breos, the whole of the farmstead machinery is driven by a small turbine wheel by means of water from the Cefn Bryn range of hills. And the Hon. Baronet has prophesied the arrival of a time when the waterfalls and streams of the Swansea Valley shall be utilised to drive the dynamos which shall light the town with electricity.
When we reach the aforesaid tower, we find behind it a curious old building with dressed stone front and heavy arched stone verandah. The house is as old as it is roomy, and, whatever may have] been its original purpose, it now serves as a residence for the Head Gardener. A group of chubby youngsters inform us that that modern representative of the First Adam’s calling was not at home, but somewhere in the gardens, and so we set out to search for him. A hopeless task, however. As well search for the proverbial needle in the proverbial bottle of hay. There are many under-gardeners at work here and there, one of them planting out violets but their information as to the whereabouts of their chief is vague and so we wander on along the half-mile of high brick wall, against which the peach and pear and apple trees are trained mall the approved styles of fruit culture past the splendid camellia bushes, laden with blossoms; beside long stretches of rose-trees and cuttings, every one of which appears to have struck; then away to the hyacinth and tulip beds, where there are some beautiful varieties to look at.
A long row of sheds and bothies serve as store-rooms, seed-rooms, and dwellings for some of the garden labourers and here also is the center of the heating arrangements for the acre or so of conservatories A peep into the furnace shed reminds one of the Copper works at the Hafod; there are “clinkers” here in abundance.
The arrival on the scene of Chief Gardener Harris is properly welcomed, because now we shall begin to see what we came to see the rhododendrons. A walk down the slopes, across the beautifully undulated park, evokes the remark that the grounds are far more varied in surface than a stranger passing along the Mumbles road would imagine. After a walk of some distance beneath the fine old trees with which Singleton House is surrounded, we begin to descend into a sheltered hollow, and now the watchful eye discerns, away among the tree-tops, a splendid mass of floral colours.
There are the rhododendrons, says our guide, and away we go with heightened expectations. At length we came face to face with half-a-dozen of the remarkable plants we had come to see, and certainly our expectations were more than fulfilled. Nay, ” the half had not been told us.”
From the midst of a densely wooded but pathwayed grove shoot up some dozen trees, of remarkable leafage, to a height of from 20 to 30 feet. They are studded all over with grand bosses of gay colour, and their summits are one nosegay of delicate bloom. Here are beautiful crimsons, and lovely shades of mauve and purple, and creamy whites merging into pinks. These rhododendrons are exotics. Their native habitat is on the Himalaya mountains in India, whence Sir Joseph Hooker, then Dr. Hooker, procured the seed some thirty years ago some of the varieties are more delicately susceptible to small atmospheric changes than others, but here they are all acclimatised at Singleton, flourishing and blooming in more than native luxuriance. It is apparent that they are finer than anything at Kew, and we are assured that there is nothing like them in Europe except in Belgium.” Some of them begin to bloom in February, and the latest do not lose their inflorescence until about July. After being for many years under the guardianship of one of the old Lodge-keepers, the rhododendrons are now under the careful supervision of Mr. Harris, who is wisely thinning down the surrounding and over-shadowing arborage, and is planting them out and extending their number and space with the happiest effect. Within recent years the ornamental plantations have been considerably enlarged, and the wonderful Himalayan rhododendrons may now be seen side by side with some of the very remarkable conifers and other trees which for so many years past have made Singleton and Parkwern the shrines of devout pilgrim arboriculturists.
We were glad to see that the oak sapling planted by the Prince of Wales and the lime tree planted by the Princess on the fine lawns on the occasion of their Royal Highnesses’ visit to Swansea are flourishing admirably, and that they bid fair to become handsome as well as historic trees. As one walked back across the park one could not help remarking that the good folk of Swansea had no notion of the natural beauties which are hidden within the boundaries of Singleton Park. The grounds used to be thrown open to the public many years ago,” said one, “but the public were as destructive as they always are. Not satisfied with seeing, they must touch and tear and destroy, and so the gates had to be shut.” This is the same old, old tale of vulgarian depredations. “The greatest happiness of the greatest number” is a grand, benevolent, fine-sounding phraze, but even this has its limits, and a limit is reached when ignorant enthusiasm threatens to extirpate all the rare ferns of Britain, and, more recently, to kill off the lovely and modest primrose. The exuberant destructiveness of ‘Arry and his congeners must be restrained in some way, or else we should soon have neither game nor wild flower in our right little tight little islands. These beautiful things are protected at Singleton, but though the thoughtless, ruthless crowd has to be refused admittance, we were glad to be informed that the intelligent undestroying visitor is not wholly excluded.