London in Flowers.

Timaru Herald, Volume XIIC, Issue 13661, 1 August 1908, Page 3 (Supplement)

London in Flowers.

SOME SUXSmXE GLIMPSES. TIR-re is a touch of irony in the fact that just in these Whitsuntide days (June) when everyone is talking of a "record exodus" to the country, London should be at its loveliest—should be, both literally and metaphorically, in flower. How manv, one wonders, of the crowd thatsurges through its streets recognise of how beautiful a picture they themselves form a part? In the sunshine of the past fortnight, perhaps, the consciousness of the beauty even of ordinary work-a-day

•London may have come to some among tbe tube-brought thousands for -whom "the Bank" and " the Bush"' represent all they know on earth and all they need to know. Take the grey old towers and steeples of the City iteslf. Never have they seemed so curiously at one with the manycoloured life between them as they have done these last days, set-against the pale blue of the London sky, the storied walls veiled here and there with the still tender green of the few precious City trees. There is, after all, no necessary gloom about the Citv—so cruelly labelled " im-

pressive"—on a- surshine June day. There is only the mellowness and romance of', age. echoing the light-hearted-ness of eternal vonth.

RIVER AND STREET. , The river—in spite of the absent steamboats—seems to twinkle defiantly as it flows beneath the great stone bridges, no longer dank and dark, and past the Tower keep, that has terrors for no one now. The ships that lie at rest in tlw Pool seem in the lazy sunshine) to be imbued with nothing ■ woiise than a mediaeval air of happy adventure. The early clerk, as he hurries over to the office, finds himself unaccountably inspired with momentary dreams of leaving drudgery and the desk behind, and sailing out and away—out through the gates of England to the broad seas, to greet-

the sun in his rising. What, then, is the reason of all this trans-guration? Is it only the sunshine? Is it only the grey stone and the green trees? Is it not partly that we-ourselves have onlv lately wok© up to the fact that London is beautiful—the most, beautiful city in the world? We are, indeed, in our little way doing our individual best to further that fancy. Thus it is quite wonderful-

even in comparison for the. past twenty vears or so—how the veriest Cockney has "learned to blcssom with the flowers, and make himself part of the pageant of summer. He is. doubtless, not altogether his own teacher in the matter. There is, perhaps, a feminine influence. At any rate, it so happens that it is since the prettr tvpewriters invaded the City, and' brought" with them not" only some, foolishness, but very much "sweetness and light," accompanied with bright • blouses and garden hats, and other elements of charm-it is since that time that male colleagues also have determined to flout the old walls all around. them and all needless traditions of: gloom. They have apparelled themselves' in purple ties and Teen, hats and pink shirts and made.the world gav even on working-days.' And sure enough the old walls,' so far from providing a discord, have proved the most svmpathetic background imaginable ! THE WEST END..

Bub the secret of London's new business of.beaulv is a . good deal deeper than ties -and "hats. . One cannot help feeling that- it has something to do with thatgreat national .renaissance, that awakening to' happier gospels, brighter hopes, - and more natural ideals, for which -Dickens prepared-our hearts and Ruskin our minds. Let us stroll round the West-end—which is,, so. to speak, London's prize bloom. One cannot get away from the fact that the whole' aspect is brighter, gayer than ever before. The life of the ..streets, with their motor-buses, taxi-cab's, and what:not, fa brisker, lighter, and mor£ full of colour and activity than we have ever known .. Our young folk flaunt it harmlessly in exhibitions and round bandstands in a way that the previous generation could nob imagine possible. 'lhey say that this June the theatres .have been positively emptied by the sheer rivalry in spectacle of the world outside. So far as architecture is concerned, we may assure ourselves that, there never. was a'time in the history of London Svhen so fair a prospect- spread beneatb the June sky as the parks, and squares offer'todaV. However much people - may groan the entailed paralysis of traffic, we found London of stucco, and we are leav-. ing it of stone. This is: bub one fruit of 1 a genuine and growing appreciation of beauty in almost every department of London life. In the mere matter of gardening, for instance, Hyde Park to-day is,a fairyland compared with what it'.used to ; be. There are banks of flowers .'and; wilderness nowadays, the simple beauty of which no rural garden could-well excel. : v

From the social point of view the change is most charmingly significant. The old exclusive rites of Rotten Row

are merged now in a bright and varied conversazions of all classes aroiind the

famous—and modern—rhododendrons. One may see the philosophic tramp from no-

where, the bougeois folk from everywhere, and the adorable people from Mayfair and Belgravia gazing -with-equal delight at. vistas of tufted trees and sunlit lawns than which no Watteau background could be more softly joyous. Then it is only lately that Kensington Gardens grew worthy of "Peter Pan," and the world became aware that over the heads of inattentive nursemaids " birds fly, with music on their wings." "Where else, either, in the whole country, shall one find lilac and laburnum blossoming in richer profusion than in Kensington Gardens these. last weeks, or elm- and chestnut clothing themselves with lovelier majesty? A well-known traveller recently averred that there .was no view in. any, capital' in Europe more beautiful thani that. from the bridge over the Serpentine. So, too, with St. ■ James's - Park— a.melancholy desert, for years. . . .Is it' not- al'ready" showing ;forth 'a ■ supremely: dignified .and' beautiful- urban ; to x be- nobler: still? We .owe : nothing of it .to ' the = supposedly ■" great '• days ""of ; St. I;James. The "old . prints 'betray - nothing .'else > but .'straight,., muddy yavenues rarid a swampy .'paddock.

| -.•■' \. SUBURBIA., ... /-.Let us: go'. farther" still, • and-we' shall makes-.theiWest-ii

end at the height of the season a dream not only of mere fashion but of real beauty "is bearing more and more fruit even "in the despised suburbs. Sneer as people mav, the modem suburban road, with its little villas and nosegay gardens, its avenue, of stripling planes, its lilacs and its mav-trees, its smutted roses and struggling ivV. in a far better place, than the row of" square-fronted boxes from which our mothers and fathers emerged. As for the County Council parks, who shall praise them too much? True, the flat has wrought what havoc it could, but the suburban flat is doomed already. The London child has demanded a garden, and will have one. So much, then, for London in flower. How about its roots away in the barren darkness of the East-end? The Westend has learnt the lesson of gaiety in the sunslnne; how are Rbtherhithe and Bethnalgreeh' to throw back a smile to the June sky There—alas I—it. is no mere question ..of an instinctive outburst, but a baffling practical problem. Still, it is being solved little by little, and if flowers'and trees and spacious ways cannot be brought to. the people.' the people can —as we 'have seen—be brought to them. Anyhow, the fact is here that the part of London which can soonest be made beautiful is" beautiful already. For the rest, it is an old proverb that fools should not' see half-doiie things, and one may still hope that when London is finished no «cre of it need be forgotten in the boaH that we are citizens ,of "no mean citv."