This weekend I learned a very important lesson: irrespective of the words of a noticeably frightened cab driver pulling over on 54th street, "Historic Bartram's Garden" is not the same thing as "Bartram's Village." One is a beautiful pre-revolutionary home and botanical garden set in 4 tranquil acres of Fairmount Park -- the other is a housing project, where nothing whatsoever could be described as "scenic," unless gutters full of syringes and empty 40s of Olde English appeal to you.
However, once inside the elusive gardens, set far back from the street, it is possible to forget entirely that you are in hot, West Philly 2003. The residence of John Bartram -- botanist, naturalist, explorer, intimate friend of Ben Franklin and shunned Quaker -- and its surrounding botanical gardens, the oldest in the country, have been painstakingly preserved and are eerily indicative of another time. Bartram purchased the property from Swedish settlers in the mid-1700s and renovated it. The resulting four buildings remain today, architecturally unique and virtually unchanged. For a mere $4 donation you can get a glimpse into Philadelphia at a time when anti-British sentiment was at a peak and scalpings by Indians were routine.
My tour guide, Betsy, clad in full 18th century Quaker garb, was a fountain of knowledge, spouting names and dates with the zeal of a true history buff. It was impossible not to be moved by her tales of the eccentric Bartram clan, not only the world's most famous gardeners, but intellectual giants of the American enlightenment, whose travels inspired the Lewis and Clark expedition. The gardens themselves, a favorite of Bartram family friends Washington and Jefferson, are romantically billed as "open from sunrise to sunset," and are understandably popular sites for picnics and weddings. (Apparently, Philly-area celebs often tie the knot here. I asked who, but Betsy was unforthcoming.) Bartram's Garden is worth a visit if only for the unsettling feeling of stillness, as if 250 years of history still linger between the flowerbeds.
