The last week of March and Spring had arrived in England as suddenly and as unexpectedly as it does every single year.  People emerged, pale-skinned, from their houses, blinking in the sunlight like new-born rabbits, turning their faces to the warmth of the sun and casting off layers of clothing as they went. Strolling through the Royal Botanic Gardens in Kew it was momentarily easy to forget that I was in south-west London. Off Syon Vista the south-east Asian magnolias were in full bloom, their milk-white waxy petals stained pink and purple. The Japanese cherry trees scattered a frosting of blossom beneath their boughs. Emerald green parakeets flitted from tree to tree. And in the dripping steam of the great Victorian Palm House my footsteps disturbed an Australian water dragon from his meal of ripe papaya.

Despite the profusion of plants from climate zones ranging from the desert to the Alps there is something about Kew Gardens that is inescapably English. And by ‘English’ I mean the England of the mid-19th century as it marched off across the globe waving the flags of ‘science’ and ‘order’. For the grounds attached to the royal Kew Palace were to be the home of the botanic samples brought back from those foreign adventures, the flora of the furthest reaches of the Empire tamed into ornamental parterres and romantic thickets. It reminded me somewhat of the political scientist Walter Bagehot’s quote about the English constitution, that it needed to be both ‘dignified’ (‘to excite and preserve the reverence of the population’) and ‘efficient’ (to ‘employ that homage in the work of government’). And that dichotomy is reflected in the criteria under which Kew Gardens was inscribed as a World Heritage Site. Criteria (ii) and (iv): the grand landscape gardens and architectural features reflect artistic influences and ‘the beginning of movements which were to have international influence’. Criteria (ii) and (iii): a nod of the head to the ‘scientific and economic exchanges established throughout the world in the field of botany’ and the Gardens’ contributions to advances in botany and ecology. The visitor sees the dignified order of the gardens and the showpiece buildings they contain. But the efficient science aspect of the Gardens, the work done here to study and to classify and to protect is just as important.

So how does it hold up to other comparable sites? The quasi-natural ‘English Garden’ style certainly found huge favour across Europe in the 18th and 19th centuries but I haven’t visited enough sites to be able to compare and contrast. The most obvious comparison is the Orto Botanico of Padova in Italy. Maybe it is due to the scale of Kew or maybe it was just because I visited Kew in March when flowers were blooming rather than November when Padova’s plants were reduced to denuded twigs but I much preferred my experience of Kew Gardens. Certainly, I found more to catch the eye in Kew.

I found it thoroughly enjoyable to wander the beautifully maintained parkland. But Kew’s ‘big hitters’ form a rough spine along its eastern edge, away from the Thames. From south to north these are the ten story octagonal Great Pagoda (one of the oldest buildings here, dating as it does from 1762), the regular angles of the Temperate House  (the world’s largest surviving Victorian glass structure), the curvaceous Palm House, the low hedgehog-like Princess of Wales Conservatory and the bijou red-brick royal palace. Perhaps I have mass-market tastes, but the Palm House and Princess of Wales Conservatory were my highlights. The Palm House’s lattice of white-painted wrought iron and dripping and hissing pipework cannot have changed much in appearance since it was first erected in the 1840s. Taking my three-year-old son up the narrow spiral staircase to the balcony overlooking the riot of greenery below I couldn’t help but wonder how many other generations had done precisely the same (indeed, I know that my parents brought me to Kew Gardens when I was 9 years old and though I can’t remember anything of the day it’s highly likely that my own father climbed those steps with me). In comparison, the Conservatory is much more modern, with ten different climactic zones on display under its jagged glass roof, the temperature and humidity in each controlled by computer. I did experience a Narnia-like thrill from being able to step through a door and travel from a sweltering orchid-draped rainforest to a bone-dry agave-scented desert of king-size cacti.

Getting to Kew Gardens is a doddle from central London. It has been connected to the city by train almost as long as it has been open to the public: Kew Gardens station opened in 1869. It sits on both the London Underground District Line and the London Overground train routes and is located less than 500m from the Victoria Gate. In fact, it is probably easier to travel to Kew via public transport as car parking provision (by Brentford Gate) is limited and costs £7 for the day. There is free parking on the road and side streets around the Victoria Gate but parking restrictions apply until midday.

Entrance is pricey: £18.00 per adult (or £16.50 if you buy online in advance). I do have one weird money-saving tip, though it only works if you are visiting as part of a couple in April. Beforehand, try to find a newsagents selling the BBC Gardeners’ World magazine. Every Spring for the past few years the magazine has included a free card giving 2-for-1 entry to hundreds of gardens across the UK and Ireland. Ours saved us £18.00 on the day.

 

Ratings:

World Heritage-iness: 2.5

My Experience: 3

(Visited March 2019)