Atlas Page 18
By Francis Meyers

SYDNEY, with its suburbs, is gradually filling all the space between Port Jackson and Botany Bay, but more by accident than design, there is a belt of unalienated land —part of which is already devoted to pleasure grounds —running almost continuously from the shore-line on the north to the shore-line on the south. The beautiful Botanic Gardens touch the waters of Farm Cove. On their southern side they are divided only by the breadth of a street from Hyde Park, which latter stretches south as far as Liverpool Street. Here there is a break in the continuity of pleasant green reserve, for the suburb of Surry Hills is closely built, and unrelieved by any squares —too compact a mass of brick, mortar, and macadam for a city in this climate. But beyond this suburb begins the ample space of Moore Park, and that adjoins the Lachlan Swamp and the upper part of the city water reserve, and this, though partly private property, stretches down to the engine-pond, which is separated only by a dam from the waters of Botany Bay. The reservation of parks did not form a part of the plans of the early founders of the city. In their days acres were many and people were few, and the administrators had pressing troubles enough to exercise their minds without thinking of the wants of a densely populated city of the future. Had it occurred to any surveyor to lay out the plan of a large city and intersperse the building areas with suitable reserves, the site would have lent itself admirably to a design that could hardly have been surpassed. But the city was left to grow without a plan, and the: reserves as we now have them are happy accidents. As it is, the area reserved from building is large, but it might have been much better distributed, there being considerable blocks thickly built upon without any suitable open spaces to refresh the eye and sweeten the air.

By far the most beautiful and highly improved of all our public reserves is the Botanic Garden, which is devoted to the development of the floral beauties of the temperate and semitropical zones. It was chosen for cultivation purposes in the first instance as being the nearest suitable spot to the Governor’s canvas dwelling, but a better site for a permanent botanic garden could hardly have been selected had the country been scoured for a dozen miles around. It has a frontage to the beautiful Farm Cove, the curved line of which is a charm in itself. The ground lies open to the north, and slopes upwards to the other three points of the compass. The shelter is greatest on the western side where it is most wanted, for the wind from that quarter is at all times trying to delicate flowers, and it is also protected from the south and the east. Except in the hollow, the soil was not naturally rich, and in some places is very shallow, the sandstone protruding here and there. But art has turned these jutting blocks of stone to the best account, and the soil has been artificially improved by constant and elaborate culture. Nature furnished a happy opportunity, and the gardener’s skill has done the rest. It was first used as a farm —hence the name Farm Cove; but in the year 1816 it was dedicated as a reserve, and its ornamentation as a public garden then began. The old stone wall —which still remains pierced with its pillared gate —overgrown with ivy and faced with magnificent clumps of azaleas, separates the; upper from the lower garden, and was in the early days the boundary between the public grounds and some bush land that lay between them and the bay. When the lower garden was added to the upper, the roadway between the two was made a broad promenade. A further annexation from the Government House domain took place after the close of the International Exhibition in 1879. The Garden Palace was built in the Governor’s paddock, and after its destruction by fire the ground was never restored, but was added to the area of the public gardens. The Norfolk Island pines, which at once arrest the attention of the visitor as he enters by the original gateway in the valley of the Domain, are among the oldest specimens of arboriculture in the colony, and in their present condition are said to be finer than any that can be found in Norfolk Island itself. The two trees that face the visitor as lie enters were first planted at the entrance to the old Government House in Bridge Street, but in the year 1817, when twelve feet saplings, they were transplanted to their present position. These trees are not only attractive by their symmetry and abundant shade, but they have also an historic interest. They are of equal date with the surveying of the Domain road by Mrs. Macquarie, and indeed that energetic lady may have watched their transplanting even if she did not order it. Many capable men had the gardens in charge in early years, amongst whom were Allan Cunningham, the King’s botanist, Messrs. Fraser, Anderson, and others; and for forty years Mr. Charles Moore, the present director, has made it a labour of love to improve and beautify them. The broad grassed flat near the water was at one time a sandy beach. The tide rose to the point where Allan Cunningham’s monument now stands, and the walk round to the Governor’s bathing-house was a bit of rough rocky foreshore, thick with seaweed. All the present frontage for some distance back from the sea-wall has been reclaimed.

The best entrance to the Gardens is now from Macquarie Street, opposite the Public Library, and in front of the fine bronze statue of Sir Richard Bourke flanked by cannon trophies captured in the Crimean war and presented to the colony. The gates open on broad lawns tastefully decorated with carpet bedding. This high ground was the site of the Garden Palace, and at the foot of a flight of steps the cemented basement of the foundations of the central dome is still to be seen, the only remaining relic of that palace of delight. Dome, courts, and galleries were all reduced to ashes in the fire, but where the ruins lay are now well-ordered terraces and lawns. They reach from the Domain on the one side to the Government House on the other, with open spaces, chiefly of soft and shining green here and there a clump of blossoming shrubs, or brilliant-tinted flowers and leaves, giving colour and variety to the landscape, while below the dense foliage of the lower garden rises in beautiful contrast.

Bordering the path leading down are some pieces of statuary, —copies of celebrated works, Canova’s "Boxers" and the "Apollo Belvidere" being conspicuous amongst them; while farther on a Venus di Medici gleams white amongst the glossy leaves. Below the terraces, and within the ample shade which covers all the walks of the western slope of the old garden, are the larger beauties of the lordlier zones; palms rise in clumps, small-fruiting cocoa-nuts and sago trees from Brazil lift their feathery plumes high towards the sky, and giants of the yucca tribe put out their flower-spikes. In the thickets close by are rare plants from New Zealand and richly-foliaged shrubs culled from the gullies and ravines of our eastern shores. By the side of the creek a great variety of Australian ferns have been planted; they grow to perfection in the rich soil and undisturbed shade of the higher trees. In little groves beneath them wild duck and teal sport in happy security, and just beyond the rustic bridge that spans the creek is the giant pine which is seen from this point to great advantage. Indeed, as the tree of a foreign forest, towering over all those of native growth, it stands symbolical of the established supremacy of immigrants of foreign sap over the old native race. Since it was planted many men of colonial fame have sat and moralised beneath its cool shade, looking up through its latticed roof to the distant glimpses of the soft blue sky. Surrounding this celebrated pine are many gorgeous trees —hibiscus with crimson trumpet-shaped blooms, flame-trees with flowers as scarlet as feathers from a flamingo’s breast, tulip-trees and magnolias from China and Japan, lovely Jacarandas from South America; and by the side of these droop graceful English willows, the whole group giving a perpetually varying contrast of colour and form of foliage. Nearer to the harbour waters are shaded knolls commanding lovely views of the Cove, its waters flecked on summer holidays with countless white sails; in the near distance Government House rises behind its well-grown and tastefully grouped trees like a baronial castle set in some English park.

Close to the sea-wall which sweeps in a bold curve from Mrs. Macquarie’s Chair to the men-of-war steps at Fort, Macquarie, is a continuous soft carpet of buffalo grass —a great promenade of green, which despite the tread of innumerable feet maintains its freshness and elasticity.

To the botanist the great range of vegetation represented in these gardens is exceedingly interesting. The coffee-plant is seen growing side by side with the mango, the elm, and the lime-tree, and our own kurrajongs by the palms of the Islands. Dammaras and araucarias are as luxuriant and grand as in their native homes. The great majority of English flowers come to perfection, though some that love the damp thickets and six months winters of the old world cannot withstand the too abundant sunshine. Rhododendrons manage to flower, but azaleas seem to revel in the richness of their genial surroundings. Of English trees, poplars and elms thrive well, the horse chestnut and hornbeam but poorly and the beech and ash barely exist. Oaks annually throw out good foliage, but do not seem likely to produce anything worthy the name of timber. The hearts of oak so famed in song and story will never be truly Australian on the low land, for the trunks tend to become pipey in twenty years. The trees indigenous to high altitudes and excessively moist localities fall to display the vigour and beauty to their proper habitats. Some trees native to Australia also object to the cool sea breezes and the rays of a semi-tropical sun. Sassafras struggles, as do also the sun and drought-proof scrubs of the western plains, with the exception of salt-bush, the great fodder plant of the interior, which does well, as do also the fragrant myall and the vast tribe of acacias. Lime-trees resist the humid heat and coffee plants from Ceylon and palms from Brazil withstand the cold of the Sydney winter.

Scientific botany has not been neglected in the gardens. There is a small museum containing a good and well-arranged collection, while for the benefit of students plants and trees are described by their botanic titles, as well as wherever practicable by their common and familiar names.

South and east of the gardens lies the general public domain. A pleasant carriage drive leads round by Mrs. Macquarie’s Chair —a favourite rendezvous on holidays, as it is a commanding position from which to view the harbour. On regatta days, or when a ship-of-war is leaving, this is practically a grandstand. From the Chair the drive returns past the public baths to the Director’s residence, from which point there are three exits —one into the valley of Woolloomooloo, another past the Art Gallery to St. Mary’s gate, and a third into Macquarie Street, the road connecting the two latter passing at the rear of the Houses of Parliament and the Infirmary. The entire drive is beautiful throughout, in some parts strikingly picturesque, and naturally much appreciated.

Hyde Park is practically a continuation of the Outer Domain, being cut off from it only by an intervening road. At the northern entrance of the broad promenade which runs down its centre, stands a fine bronze statue of the late Prince Consort. Near to it, in a railed space fronting St. James’ Church, is the granite pedestal intended to bear the statue of the Queen. The pedestal is at present bare, because the statue was destroyed in the Garden Palace fire. Hyde Park was reserved in the first instance as a racecourse for the amusement of the citizens of the early days. It was dedicated by Governor Macquarie, and cleared as a course by the officers of the regiment then located in the colony, but when the noble sport moved farther afield the ground was retained as a pleasure reserve. It is now vested in the hands of trustees, who have done much by judicious planting and careful gardening to make it a very delightful resort.

The citizens of Sydney owe Moore Park to the action of a few of their predecessors, who, in the early days, secured from the Government a grant of the land. But it was not for themselves, or their children, or their children’s children, that they asked for the land; it was for their cows. There was no commonage attached to the young settlement; the petitioners asked for one, and so the Governor apportioned off a large area of what was then a waste of wind-driven sandhills. It is fortunate that the land was poor, or some influential person would have got it as a grant; but because it was poor, it was little used, and the citizens themselves in time forgot all about it. The officials in the Lands Office had no better memory, and in spite of the dedication it was treated as Crown land. The new barracks were built upon it, and bit by bit the land was sold. But in a happy moment some one rummaging amongst old papers discovered the forgotten grant. The Corporation immediately laid claim to the land; the Government, having poached on the domain, was at first inclined to treat the grant as having lapsed, but at last conceded the title so far as the unsold portion was concerned. The city was put in possession; an Act was passed enabling the Corporation to sell a portion and to borrow money for the improvement of the estate. Since then the appearance of the property has undergone a great change. The road to Randwick runs through It; the western side has been levelled and grassed, and is largely used for football and cricket practice. A portion, once a swampy piece of ground, is devoted to the purposes of a zoological garden; the pit of the old morass is now a little lake with an island in its centre, on which palms willows and ferns display their graceful foliage. Animals from various climes are suitably housed and provided for. Young broods of lions and tigers are here; elephants, with their howdahs frequently packed with many children; and, in addition to camels bears, leopards and the other ordinary occupants of a menagerie, there is a fine collection of the birds and beasts of Australasia —marsupials of every kind, from the six-feet "old man" to the tiny and dainty rock wallaby, –wombats, Tasmanian devils, opossums, tiger-cats, and all the denizens of the forests and plains. A good idea of the varied form and plumage of the different Australian birds may be obtained by a visit to these gardens for nearly all are to be found here, from the emu and cassowary to the little silver-eye and blue robin; from the native companion to the diminutive teal and water-hen.

On the eastern side of the Randwick Road, the reclaimed portion of the park is devoted to different purposes. A long strip lying at the back of the barracks forms the rifle range, the targets being backed by a high natural wall of rock. It was first turned to its present purpose by the English soldiers who were quartered in the barracks; so too, they were the First to level and lay out the present cricket-ground, This is now vested in trustees and managed by the Cricket Association. Twelve acres are enclosed, the playing ground measuring one hundred and seventy-six by one hundred and sixty-four yards. Two thousand people can be seated in the grand-stand and a thousand in the pavilion. Uncovered seats around the oval will accommodate two thousand, and on the sloping banks behind them is standing-room for fully twenty thousand people; on the occasion of great matches every inch of standing-room is occupied. Bicycle contests and athletic sports of all kinds also come off here, and tennis-courts, both grass and asphalt, are in the enclosure. Beyond the cricket-ground is the space granted to the Agricultural Society. Here, in addition to stalls for the display of every description of stock, is a good circular track for trotting matches and a large central enclosure round which the horses and cattle are paraded to be judged.

The Randwick Racecourse lies South of Moore Park, and is well enclosed and planted; there is a splendid grand-stand, and all the appliances suited to a first-class racecourse. The tramway from Sydney lands visitors at the gates of the Cricket Ground, the Agricultural Show Ground, and the Racecourse.

It is only the northern end of the sandy watercourse valley that has been improved; the southern part is still in a state of nature, and its future appropriation is uncertain. Part of it is private property, but more than a thousand acres constitute a public reserve. To the eastward of the village of Randwick, and on the shore, is Coogee Bay. The whole beach is reserved for the public from point to point, and on both rocky headlands there are liberal spaces in frequent use as picnic grounds. The beach is a popular promenade and a favourite bathing-place, the tramway running down to its edge bringing on holidays multitudes of the city folk to enjoy the freshness of the pure salt water and the Pacific breezes.

To the northward of Coogee is another reserved beach, skirting Bondi Bay, the tram-road reaching within half a mile of the water. To the southward lie other bays, especially Maroubra Bay and Low Bay, but these have not yet been made accessible by the tram, or even by good roads; but they are both available for future marine esplanades.

At the north headland of Botany there is also a large public reserve. The custom-house has a small station here, and here, too, starts the telegraph cable to New Zealand; a swingbridge leading to the fortifications of Bare Island. The northern beach of Botany Bay, which is mostly reserved, is cut off from the western by the mouth of Cook’s River, which debouches through a winding outlet between muddy banks into the north-west corner of the bay. The whole of the western beach, from the mouth of Cook’s River to the mouth of George’s River, has been reserved for the public for a hundred feet above high-water mark, and is vested in trustees; a public bathing reserve is projected at Doll’s Point. The whole line of the beach is admirably adapted for bathing purposes, as the sandy floor shelves gradually down, and only very seldom do the heavy easterly gales make any rough water on the shore. The Government has done but little as yet to improve this reserve, but private enterprise has already made a beginning in the work of turning to account its bathing facilities. The Illawarra railway, after crossing Cook’s River, runs within a mile of the shore, and from the Rockdale Station a private tram-line has been made to the water, where about an acre has been enclosed with piles to make the bathing-ground secure against sharks. This locality is so admirably fitted to be the bathing-ground for Sydney that the accommodation for it is sure to grow.

Parallel to the beach, and a few hundred yards from it, but connected with it by a boulevard three chains wide, is Scarborough Park, another recent dedication. It was originally a swamp, receiving the drainage of the land to the west, and described in old Government maps as of no value. But as the beach was opened tip to occupation, and its future importance became recognised by a few far-seeing men, it occurred to them that the swamp might be utilised and turned into ponds, islands and rich grassy banks. Application was therefore made to the Minister for Lands to have the whole area set apart for public use, and some adjoining private land was added. When the projected improvements are completed, this long narrow park, connected as it is by a broad boulevard with a nine-mile beach, will become one of the most beautiful and popular recreation grounds in the southern suburbs.

The other reserves within and close to the city are not might with advantage have been both very extensive bigger and better located. Belmore Park, though intersected by the tramway, and lying close to the Haymarket hollow, preserves ten acres, which are enclosed, but not much improved; the site is a favourite one for circus managers. Prince Alfred Park, adjoining the railway station, and therefore on the borders of Redfern and Surry Hills, contains eighteen acres. It is a part of the Cleveland Paddocks, the domain attached to the old Cleveland House —which still stands as a relic of past architecture the busy streets and closely-built terraces covering all the surrounding space. Part of the old paddocks was appropriated to the railway station, and the present park is simply a remnant. In one corner stands the Exhibition Building, originally built by the Corporation for the Agricultural Society, but now devoted to a variety of uses. Concerts, public meetings, bazaars, balls, minor exhibitions, all find it convenient, in the wool it is sometimes used as a store.

Just outside the southern boundary of the city is a fortunate reservation —Grose Farm, a hundred and seventy-five acres of land originally devoted to one of the early agricultural experiments of the Government. The farming may not have been a particular success, but we owe to it the happy result that the land was not granted away. It is now subdivided, but only detached public buildings stand on it. The University, with the medical school, occupies a commanding position on the highest ground. The three affiliated colleges have each a good slice of land and the Prince Alfred Hospital stands between two of them. Another portion of twenty-four acres has been put in trust as the Victoria Park. The University cricket oval lies in the valley to the west. None of the ground is at present as highly improved as it should be, but every year something is done to ornament this valuable lung of the city and make it as beautiful as it is useful.

About a mile to the north of the University Reserve is Wentworth Park, originally a sea-swamp over which the high tide sluggishly flowed; it had become greatly befouled by the drainage from the early abattoirs, from the sugar refinery on the Blackfriars’ estate, and from the houses on the slopes of the surrounding hills. It was reclaimed by a deposit of silt raised by the harbour dredges, and this silt was covered with good soil. Instead of a nuisance it is now a promising park of about twenty acres, lying between the suburbs of Pyrmont and the Glebe; young trees are growing luxuriantly; a cricket oval has been formed in the centre, and a local bowling club has made an excellent ground in one corner.

Another instance of the reclamation of a spoilt foreshore is to be found on the east side of Sydney at Rushcutters’ Bay. As its name implies, it was originally a swampy area in which grew long coarse grass —very serviceable in making some of those early huts, which, if they did not adorn the streets of Sydney, at least accommodated the inhabitants. The reeds being easily got formed a cheap material, and reed huts answered well enough till slab or weatherboard houses were available. As the high ground surrounding the flat became occupied, the houses drainage poured down into the valley and made an offensive accumulation, while the silt from the streets filled tip the head of the bay. The portion to the north of the road has been reclaimed and walled in, and now forms a park in a rudimentary stage. The area on the other side of the road is private property, and remains in a neglected condition.

The reclamation of the heads of the numerous bays in Port Jackson is still a work to be accomplished, hut now that public attention has been strongly turned in that direction, there is every probability that the waterside parks of Sydney will be multiplied. Down the harbour there is a grand opportunity at Rose Bay, where the level ground reaches back to, the sand-hills on Bondi beach. Westward of the city, the head of Johnstone’s Bay, of White Bay, Hen and Chickens Bay, and the swampy flats of the upper part of the Parramatta River all invite attention. It is only a question of money; tide-covered mud can be transformed into lovely gardens.

Although the metropolis itself has by good luck a fair provision of park land, the suburbs are not so fortunate. The land outside Sydney was mostly granted or sold; each proprietor subdivided in his own interest, and very few cared to adorn their plans with squares or crescents. As the population has thickened in these suburbs, the people have felt the need of open spaces, and from them the movement originated for the purchase, while there was still time, of land not yet built upon. The Government has responded to this demand, and for each of the past four years a grant has been made for this purpose. As much as two hundred and seventy thousand pounds have already been spent in buying back parks for the people. A tenth part of this sum would have been sufficient twenty years ago; in public matters there is always a penalty to be paid for delay. What the people now feel is that it is better late than never, and in laying out new townships it has become a part of our public policy to make ample reservations.

At the South Head is a reserved area for defence works and lighthouses, and the greater part of the North Head is retained for quarantine. Manly has its long ocean-beach, with an esplanade overlooking it, and its harbour-beach backed by another esplanade and its park; there is also a reserve of a hundred feet in breadth round the adjoining headland which will some day be made into a beautiful waterside drive. On the peninsula between Middle Harbour and Port Jackson proper are the defence reserves of Middle Head, George’s Head and Bradley’s Head, and there are some though not sufficient reservations up Middle Harbour, the best known and most used being a public park at Balmoral, with a long strip of beautiful frontage of sandy beach.

At St. Leonards, on the heights of North Shore, there is a reserved area of forty-five acres —already well planted with trees of foreign and native growth, enclosing well-kept cricket and football grounds and broad well-shaded walks. The cable tram runs to its gate, making it accessible to the population living on the lower ground.

Farther to the west on the north side of the river, and stretching back from the western shore of Lane Cove, was a large reserve of over six thousand acres known as the Field of Mars. It received its title because it was the commonage attached to the free grants given in early days to the soldiers, who were planted in the district of Ryde in the hope that they would become industrious freeholders. The hope was not very largely realised, and the farms quickly changed hands, but the common remained. The inhabitants of the district, cut off from Sydney by the Parramatta River, thought, however, that a good road would be more valuable to them than a common, most of which was poor soil and thickly covered with inferior timber; so they bargained with the Government that it should take over the common, and give them in return a direct road to town, with two bridges, one over the Parramatta River and one over Iron Cove. The bridges have been built, the road has been opened and has proved a great convenience. The railway to Newcastle skirts the western edge of the Field of Mars, and makes it accessible in that direction. The land is being subdivided and sold, but some portions are reserved. The old Field of Mars will be in a few years a populous suburb. Farther to the west lies the beautiful reserve of Parramatta Park, the preservation of which for public enjoyment we owe to the fact that it was the domain attached to the old Government House, which still exists. Governors knew how to reserve land for themselves, if they were not always fore-thoughtful for the people, who however inherit what was once viceregal luxury. The old Government House is not worth much, but the reserve, which was meant as a run for the Governor’s horses and cows, is worth a great deal. It is now a fine park, with beautiful drives around and through it. Near the principal entrance still stands the tree against which Governor Fitzroy’s carriage was dashed when Lady Fitzroy was killed.

But the largest of all the metropolitan pleasure grounds is the great National Park lying to the south of Port Hacking —reserved by the Government of Sir John Robertson. The railway to Illawarra skirts it on the west, and makes it accessible at that edge; but the estate itself occupies nearly the whole area lying between the railway and the sea-coast, its northern boundary being the estuary of Port Hacking, and its southern a line drawn from Wattamola boat harbour on the coast to the head of Hacking River. Within these lines an area of about thirty-six thousand three hundred acres is enclosed —a territory of infinitely varied beauty, giving on its heights broad plateaux suitable for military camps and manoeuvres; on its beaches, in numerous little gullies and on open grassy plots, abundance of those situations experienced picnickers seek out; while on and about the upper reaches of the river are some of the most glorious examples of forest growth and semi-tropical luxuriance the colony affords. By the expenditure of a little money and some engineering skill, the waters of the upper river have been dammed back at a point eight miles from the cataract head of navigation; the tides no longer rise, the floods coming down have washed out the salt, and a long fresh water reach has been constructed, which, sheltered by the high hills and forests on either hand, is charmingly tranquil. A good carriage drive has been formed along the southern bank, following which the ferns, cabbage-tree palms, cedars and great Australian lilies, which form the most characteristic and beautiful features in Australian semi-tropical vegetation, are passed in abundance; vines and parasitic creepers make also a grand display, climbing a hundred feet aloft to the topmost boughs of the tallest gums, and dropping thence gigantic tassels.

Various other roads have also been made through the park —one striking across from the head waters of the river to the ocean beach, bringing the charming little boat harbour of Wattamola within reach of those who object to the ocean trip. Hitherto, however, there have not been any large efforts made to impart an aspect of civilisation to this park. Its management is in the hands of trustees, who get a grant of three thousand pounds a year to spend on its preservation and improvement, and with that they can do little more than open up roadways. The natural ruggedness and freedom have been largely and wisely preserved; it is a bit of original Australia kept to recall to us what the coast country was like in the earliest days; it is a bit of wild nature within easy reach of the civilisation of a great metropolis; it is a wilderness for those who like the change from hot and dusty streets; it is, and will probably long continue, a place where the labours and worries of town may be temporarily forgotten, and where on all holidays the multitude may get out and find scope for the free enjoyment of all innocent natural propensities. It is the great park of the future, and though it may remain a wild preserve, the railway will soon bring the long line of southern suburbs close up to its edge.