The Lost Gardens of Rusthall

Based on an interview with Dr Ian Beavis, Curator of Tunbridge Wells Museum.

Ever sat on the decking at the Beacon and looked out over the fabulous panorama of Happy Valley? It’s easy to get distracted by the distant treetops of Broadwater Forest or the lush green belt of the High Rocks. But have you missed what’s right under your nose?

From the southern edge of Rusthall, follow the paths through the sloping grounds of the Beacon, or tread the roughly hewn One Hundred steps behind St Paul’s Church. It doesn’t matter which way you go. Sooner or later, you’ll come across three peaceful lakes, fringed by banks of rhododendrons. Many people don’t even know they’re there. If you go at dusk, you might catch the lazy plop of a tench rising for a fly or the spreading ripple of a roach cruising for water snails.

The largest of the lakes

So what’s it all about? Back in 1708, a local entrepreneur developed this beautiful area as a pleasure ground. The name probably came from the Samuel Johnson novel, ‘The History of Rasselas’, which featured an earthly paradise called Happy Valley, and which spawned many imitations around the country.

Why Rusthall? Before any formal development had grown up around the Chalybeate Spring and the Pantiles, Rusthall was actually the main destination for visitors. In fact, the original assembly rooms located close to the junction of Tea Garden Lane and Langton Road.

These days, there’s nothing more than a brambled-fill pit to indicate where the old cellar once lay, but early maps show the assembly rooms quite clearly.

The old pleasure gardens would have been spectacular in their day, with their ornamental pavilions and formal planting schemes. There were even cold baths on site for paying visitors. If you access Happy Valley via the Steps, you’ll see the remains of a brick way curving away from you on the left. This natural spring was the original site of the baths. Similar in scale to the baths at Fonthill on the edge of the Common, these would have fairly modest, but they would have been an added attraction to this peaceful area. Keep your wits about you though. Local legend has it that the cold baths are haunted by the ghosts of the Victorian bathers.

The remains of the cold baths

And what of the steps themselves? No one is quite sure of their origins, and even less of their exact number. The latest theory suggests that they were built to access the cold baths. A map from 1738 clearly shows the three lakes and the steps. Interestingly, however, a Victorian map shows no sign of them, although there are references to the fact that they became completely covered up by turf and had to be uncovered. Perhaps this explains another local theory that they were Roman steps.

The One Hundred Steps

At the top of the Steps, you’ll see the Sweeps’ Cave, also known as the Old Kitchen or, intriguingly, the Hermit’s Cave. Again, local folklore has provided many theories for its origins, but it’s likely that the caves were sheltered seats for people to enjoy the view over the valley. The only logical period for work on this scale to be undertaken would have been when Happy Valley was in its heyday. What’s more, the bigger cave features two projections on either side where a wooden plank could have been laid across to form a seat. But why one big cave and one small one? One local wag has ventured that the large cave was for the courting couple and the smaller for the chaperone!

Happy Valley has been the subject of more than one development in its times. In more recent history, Colonel Sladen, who owned The Beacon as a private residence, laid 23 acres of pleasure gardens on top of the original 1708 grounds.

What do we know about the moustachioed military man behind the pleasure gardens? Colonel Edward Sydney St Barbe Sladen was a prominent figure in Tunbridge Wells. Born in 1862 in Burma, where his father had served in the Madras Staff Corp, he was later educated at Wellington and Cambridge.  He then joined the Royal Montgomery Militia and went on to become mayor of Tunbridge Wells and a Chief Magistrate.

According to a 1911 article in the Argus: “His hobby is his garden. The fairy garden set on the hill, and from which the fair broad lands of Kent and Sussex can be seen. He has laid out there gardens with loving car and enthusiasm, and among his flowers, by his pretty lakes, he finds quiet happiness, and new zest for the tasks to which he has set his hands.”

Happy Valley, happy doggie

Sladen’s ornamental gardens were legendary and hosted many civic events. He even stocked the lakes with Loch Leven trout and built an aviary for his beloved birds. Close to the Beacon itself, Sladen installed the huge Burmese bell that his father had brought back from his adventures in the Diplomatic Service. The bell itself was suspended by cross-beams of Burmese teak and was believed to have come from a Buddhist temple. When he died of pneumonia in 1921, it was bequeathed to the Council and then went to the Calverley Grounds.

Following Sladen’s death, his gardens fell into a period of neglect that was to last many years. Paths became overgrown and impassable; the rhododendrons rambled away unchecked. Sladen’s legacy was fading away, but as luck would have it, these wilderness years helped create a haven for wildlife like dragonflies, frogs, badgers and, more recently, populations of a nationally important bee fly and hoverfly.

Rhododendrons

At Colonel Sladen’s funeral, these words were read out to the congregation: “The elements were so mixed up in him, that nature might stand up and say to all the world, ‘he was a man’.”

These days, the Cullen family – the present owners of the Beacon – have carried out some impressive improvements to the old pleasure gardens, with proper walkways making previously hard-to-reach areas accessible and even a wooden pavilion hidden amid the shrubbery.  But it’s still secluded enough to make you feel like you’re in a secret garden when you venture down there.

Sladen would have been proud.