Call me an old fuddy-duddy, but I love the way this is written. I came across Mr. Love when the I learned that 19th century pansy mavin Peter Lyle was influenced by him.
This article was published in the Journal of Horticulture and Practical Gardening, Vol. 23.
I have had fun adding the illustrations. The only image originally with the article is a portrait of Mr. Love which I used above in a "collage".
While driving in September from Bridge of Weir to Kilbarchan (Renfrewshire) we had begun to descend the hill above the latter town, when turning our eyes to the left we saw a wonderful crop of Apples, and found that the place was called Mount Pleasant.
About the year 1840 the young couple came to reside there. With a large garden to keep in order the evening hours were spent at home. In spring time useless trees were regrafted with good bearing sorts, if possible several different kinds being put on each tree. The old Keswick Codlin, the more modern Stirling Castle, with the best of the purely local varieties as the Lochwinnoch Pippin and the Golden Leadington (a variety whose name was suggested by Dr. Hogg) were carefully inserted, and now this year are just loaded with fruit.
Here we see the old Caledonian Plum in fruit on its own roots. Some years it is so overloaded as to resemble the trees we see in the Vale of Evesham, but this is not a productive year apparently with it. In this old garden of an acre, or thereby, the trees arc thickly placed together, many now interwarped in their branches, while beneath them are Gooseberries and Currants galore.
The soil is a rich, red, vegetable mould, sloping to the south, but fully exposed to all the winds that blow. The Rose succeeds to perfection, and old-fashioned border flowers were beautiful, from the Snowdrops of January and February, till the blue autumn Crocus of September were buried beneath a whirling cover of bright October's leaves. All through the summer the busy bees of "friend John" were gathering honey from every flower and blossom, fertilizing the fruit trees, and largely adding to their production, as we all know who have fruit gardens and bees. The hives used were "the time-honoured "straw skeps of John's father and grandfather, and many a lovely "top" of pure honey our worthy friend has taken off here.'
"The Renfrewshire Bee-keeper" befriended Mr. Love, and many a hard question on their favourite subject has been discussed between them. Alas! for so many of us that he, who so well exemplified in his own life 'the grand old name of gentleman " is now gone for ever and ever, while of all who now mourn his loss John Love's sorrow for his kind friend is not the least. Not a doubt of it, for to a man of over eighty-five years new friends do not succeed quickly, and are never like the old ones.
In a sunny space the plot is still defined where Mr. Love grew and raised his celebrated race of laced Pinks. Year after year in this spot they were grown to such perfection as to carry off the honours at all the shows round, from Glasgow to Eilbarchan. At every digging new soil was turned up, and thus the situation continued to suit his favourite flower. What grand specimens of the dark "Pirate" and "John Love," were cut here.
Every year seedlings were watched for, and the advent of a pod of promise was an event for local florists to come and see. Altogether the garden is one, for soil, situation, and association, much to be desired still. Now, however, the old veteran still keeps to the Pinks, fruits, and the bees, in a less vigorous fashion than of old in a new garden farther "doon the toon." Hale and wiry, with eye bright and keen, active step, and toil-worn hand, we trust that he may long enjoy his garden joys. And though "down in the valley" the long shadows of life's sunset are falling around him, and the last bees are settling home with their store, he has but to look upward and see that Mount Pleasant is glowing in the light, to have the glory of far distant summers borne in upon him.
As we go homewards up through the narrow street the people are in crowds, while the flower show is attracting all the florists of the district. Time to gather honey, but not for themselves, so John Love's work was not for himself. He sowed, and today we wear his seedlings in our buttonhole. Younger men take up the love for flowers, but let them look with respect and gratitude on their horticultural ancestors into whose labours the have entered. A. SWEET
[We have also received the subjoined notes respecting Mr. Love's career.]
Every man, apart from the profession or employment by which he gains a livlihood, ought to have what is usually called a hobby. It matters little what that hobby is, provided it is innocent, and interests his mind and draws his attention away from the anxiety and worry which belong to the daily business of life.
Idleness, whether of body or mind, besides being morally dangerous, is not rest. It is better to have a hobby which, by giving an agreeable change of employment, will refresh and improve both body and mind without adding anything perceptibly to their exhaustion. As to the kind of hobby to be chosen everyone must consult his own taste and circumstances. It may he music, or some department of science, or literature, or floriculture, or bee-keeping. This depends very much on the taste of the individual, the nature of his daily employment, and the circumstances in which he is placed.
Floriculture and bee-keeping, two thirgs very much akin, formed the special hobby of the person of whom notice is here to be taken. John Love, the eldest son of a father bearing the same name, was born at Kilbarchan, Renfrewshire, on April 10th, 1806. So healthy has he been that during more than fourscore years he has only on one occasion required medical advice. Much of this, doubtless, is to be attributed ti the simplicity of his life, and to his regular and temperate habits.
There he is: of medium height and agile frame; a fine head, once covered with fair hair, but now bald with the exception of a few thin white locks; mild and meditative in expression ; the bloom still on his cheek, although eighty-five years of age by next birthday; for many years a happy "Benedict," but now a widower and the father of a numerous family; a good Christian man, and for a considerable time an esteemed elder in a Presbyterian church.
Like his father, and like the inhabitants of Kilbarchan generally, John Love became in youth a handloom weaver, and diligently plied the shuttle till beyond the age of threescore and ten. But while busy at his trade during the time he resided under his father's roof, he had parts of meal hours, and frequently half or whole days, occasioned by the change of one web for another, when he could gratify his taste for flowers by cultivating them, and acquire also a knowledge of the habits and requirements of bees by watching and attending to those kept by his father—who was an enthusiastic bee-keeper, as was also his grandfather before him.
In his love for flowers John Love was by no means singular amongst his fellow tradesmen, the handloom weavers of Kilbarchan having, in most cases, a garden attached to their dwelling house.
John Love is a man of this stamp. Having by-and-by persuaded one of the other sex to cast in her lot with him as his wife, and got a house of his own, he could, now that he was his own master, follow out more freely the innocent and interesting hobby towards which his heart was drawn. He soon became acquainted with many plants, and not a few of them has he to some extent grown, such as Tulips, Pansies, Roses, Carnations, Auriculas, &c.; but his favourite flower, his piece de resistance, has ever been the Pink.
His bed of Pinks, when in its glory, has been generally a noteworthy sight. Looking at it over his garden wall at Mount Pleasant the bed at first glance may seem somewhat strange, and almost comical—short stakes at almost every plant, holding broken bowls and plates, and glass, and other ungainly contrivances; shading and sheltering some plants from a scorching sun or possible rain, holding hack others from a too early maturity, and stimulating some to a more forward growth.
It may be added that during all his long and active life John Love has been conversant, theoretically and practically, with bee-keeping; but as the present writer is not very well acquainted with the plans and processes he followed in this kindred hobby he leaves it to some other, who is abundantly competent to write on the subject with intelligence and authority.
Source
This article was published in the Journal of Horticulture and Practical Gardening, Vol. 23.
I have had fun adding the illustrations. The only image originally with the article is a portrait of Mr. Love which I used above in a "collage".
JOHN LOVE AND HIS GARDEN.
While driving in September from Bridge of Weir to Kilbarchan (Renfrewshire) we had begun to descend the hill above the latter town, when turning our eyes to the left we saw a wonderful crop of Apples, and found that the place was called Mount Pleasant.
The present owner most obligingly escorted us around this fruitful orchard, and we soon found that what was to be seen from the highway was but a sample of the whole stock.
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| Scottish orchard near Renfrewshire. |
In making inquiry we found that about sixty years since the substantial house had been built by one John Tarbet, an old soldier who had in his time been a bombardier at the taking of Martinique. He had an eye for a fine Bite anyhow, and we can fancy him, while the days were declining, looking over the beautiful country around him and thinking how he could command with his artillery any radical rising which his keen political townsmen might be tempted to undertake. He planted fruit trees instead of batteries of cannon, and after his decease the place came to a relative, Mr. Climie, who continued the garden in cultivation, and his daughter married Mr. Love, the subject of our sketch.
About the year 1840 the young couple came to reside there. With a large garden to keep in order the evening hours were spent at home. In spring time useless trees were regrafted with good bearing sorts, if possible several different kinds being put on each tree. The old Keswick Codlin, the more modern Stirling Castle, with the best of the purely local varieties as the Lochwinnoch Pippin and the Golden Leadington (a variety whose name was suggested by Dr. Hogg) were carefully inserted, and now this year are just loaded with fruit.
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| Thanks to http://www.nationalfruitcollection.org.uk/ ! The other two were not found. |
A curious feature in grafting we observed, and which Mr. Love rejoices over yet, is his successful experiment of placing a Pear on a Hawthorn stock. The thorn is one of many stems, gnarled and twisted most curiously, while the Pear scion is inserted about 5 feet from the ground. To graft Plums on Thorn trees is not uncommon, but in another garden in Kilbarchan there is a Rowan Tree (Mountain Ash) with a Pear graft on it yielding even better results than this experiment at Mount Pleasant.
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| The Vale of Evesham was lovely! |
The soil is a rich, red, vegetable mould, sloping to the south, but fully exposed to all the winds that blow. The Rose succeeds to perfection, and old-fashioned border flowers were beautiful, from the Snowdrops of January and February, till the blue autumn Crocus of September were buried beneath a whirling cover of bright October's leaves. All through the summer the busy bees of "friend John" were gathering honey from every flower and blossom, fertilizing the fruit trees, and largely adding to their production, as we all know who have fruit gardens and bees. The hives used were "the time-honoured "straw skeps of John's father and grandfather, and many a lovely "top" of pure honey our worthy friend has taken off here.'
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| Google Street View image on the Bridge of Weir Road. |
"The Renfrewshire Bee-keeper" was a gentleman who wrote a column for the British Bee Journal & Bee-keepers Adviser, and signed his name as such.
In a sunny space the plot is still defined where Mr. Love grew and raised his celebrated race of laced Pinks. Year after year in this spot they were grown to such perfection as to carry off the honours at all the shows round, from Glasgow to Eilbarchan. At every digging new soil was turned up, and thus the situation continued to suit his favourite flower. What grand specimens of the dark "Pirate" and "John Love," were cut here.
Every year seedlings were watched for, and the advent of a pod of promise was an event for local florists to come and see. Altogether the garden is one, for soil, situation, and association, much to be desired still. Now, however, the old veteran still keeps to the Pinks, fruits, and the bees, in a less vigorous fashion than of old in a new garden farther "doon the toon." Hale and wiry, with eye bright and keen, active step, and toil-worn hand, we trust that he may long enjoy his garden joys. And though "down in the valley" the long shadows of life's sunset are falling around him, and the last bees are settling home with their store, he has but to look upward and see that Mount Pleasant is glowing in the light, to have the glory of far distant summers borne in upon him.
As we go homewards up through the narrow street the people are in crowds, while the flower show is attracting all the florists of the district. Time to gather honey, but not for themselves, so John Love's work was not for himself. He sowed, and today we wear his seedlings in our buttonhole. Younger men take up the love for flowers, but let them look with respect and gratitude on their horticultural ancestors into whose labours the have entered. A. SWEET
[We have also received the subjoined notes respecting Mr. Love's career.]
Idleness, whether of body or mind, besides being morally dangerous, is not rest. It is better to have a hobby which, by giving an agreeable change of employment, will refresh and improve both body and mind without adding anything perceptibly to their exhaustion. As to the kind of hobby to be chosen everyone must consult his own taste and circumstances. It may he music, or some department of science, or literature, or floriculture, or bee-keeping. This depends very much on the taste of the individual, the nature of his daily employment, and the circumstances in which he is placed.
Floriculture and bee-keeping, two thirgs very much akin, formed the special hobby of the person of whom notice is here to be taken. John Love, the eldest son of a father bearing the same name, was born at Kilbarchan, Renfrewshire, on April 10th, 1806. So healthy has he been that during more than fourscore years he has only on one occasion required medical advice. Much of this, doubtless, is to be attributed ti the simplicity of his life, and to his regular and temperate habits.
Like his father, and like the inhabitants of Kilbarchan generally, John Love became in youth a handloom weaver, and diligently plied the shuttle till beyond the age of threescore and ten. But while busy at his trade during the time he resided under his father's roof, he had parts of meal hours, and frequently half or whole days, occasioned by the change of one web for another, when he could gratify his taste for flowers by cultivating them, and acquire also a knowledge of the habits and requirements of bees by watching and attending to those kept by his father—who was an enthusiastic bee-keeper, as was also his grandfather before him.
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| Read the article here. |
There is found amongst them a common love for flowers, and no little skill and competition in their cultivation. This refined taste seems to be natural, and is possibly to be traced to the many exquisite patterns and fabrics on which they spend their daily labours, whereby they insensibly acquire a knowledge of the harmony of colours and a taste for the beautiful.
Certain it is many of them are keen and successful cultivators of plants, and even very good judges of the merits of flowers which they themselves have never grown and perhaps have seldom seen.
His bed of Pinks, when in its glory, has been generally a noteworthy sight. Looking at it over his garden wall at Mount Pleasant the bed at first glance may seem somewhat strange, and almost comical—short stakes at almost every plant, holding broken bowls and plates, and glass, and other ungainly contrivances; shading and sheltering some plants from a scorching sun or possible rain, holding hack others from a too early maturity, and stimulating some to a more forward growth.
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| To view beautiful pinks available now, go to the Alwoods site. What a lovely selection! Several pinks are from the 18th and 19th centuries. By the way, the common plant name "pinks" is not referring to the colors. It is referencing a jagged edge to the petal and blotches, like fabric cut with pinking shears. |
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| This photo is from Alwoods. |
But turn in and inquire for the master, and ask him to show you his Pinks; and he will cordially welcome you, and gladly, probably with head uncovered, lead you out, and with affectionate pride uncover, for your delighted inspection, his choice darlings.
Probably he will tell you, "These there are this year's seedlings. This one here I think will do; it is distinct from all others in the bed, and has qualities equal at least to any one of them. Here are also two or three which are very good, but before deciding what to do with them I must grow them another year. As for these other seedlings, they are below the mark and without promise, and must be cast out.
These tallied ones are the named Pinks. This one—' Black-eyed Susan '—is not a very large flower, but it is distinct, well laced, and pretty, and tells well in a stand, &c." Before leaving him it is not unlikely he will say to you, "If you grow Pinks I'll give you, if I can spare it, a little grass of any one of them for pipings" - for John Love is a generous man, and likes to encourage others in the cultivation of his favourite flower.
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| 1843 - Gardening for Ladies: And Companion to the Flower-garden By Mrs. Jane Loudon |
John Love's Pink stands at a competitive exhibition are worthy of remark. Each flower is so neatly fixed in the centre of a circular piece of white paper a little larger than itself, and the petals so deftly spread as to show to the best advantage the build, and markings, and lacings of the flower; and they are all so arranged on the stand, according to size and colour, as to present collectively to the eye a lovely and effective picture.
Besides, after the judges have done their work you will commonly find attached to the stand a ticket, bearing in conspicuous print "first prize," and underneath this, in legible penmanship, "John Love, Kilbarchan." This has been repeated so frequently as to earn for him the soubriquet of "Scottish Pink Champion". John Love's favour for the Pink has been a life-long one. It was cherished by him till his age extended beyond the threescore years and ten. It continued to be cherished by him even practically during his subsequent residence in Paisley for six years, and in Rothesay for five years more; and when, at the end of these eleven years, he returned to his native town happily there was attached to the premises in which he took up his abode an excellent garden, where he has given, and is still giving, abundant evidence that his love for his favourite flower has neither been extinguished or lessened by age nor superseded by a newer favourite, but is as enthusiastic as ever.
His life now extends beyond the half of its ninth decade, but he still appears so strong, Fo active, so healthy, so cheerful, so much in the possession of every faculty with the exception of hearing (whose gates are not now wide open) that he bids fair to see, if not the completion, at least the beginning of bis tenth decade.
It may be added that during all his long and active life John Love has been conversant, theoretically and practically, with bee-keeping; but as the present writer is not very well acquainted with the plans and processes he followed in this kindred hobby he leaves it to some other, who is abundantly competent to write on the subject with intelligence and authority.
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