The long sad years of the war eventually ended, the school returned to Portsmouth, and I was once again living at Hinton. The first task in the garden was to reconvert the hayfield which lay below the windows into a lawn. Motor scythes did not at that time, I think, exist; at any rate we had none, nor indeed any petrol had we possessed a machine. Thus there was no alternative to cutting this rather large area by hand. Fortunately there were two men, an elderly gardener and a woodman, who were prepared to undertake this exhausting work. During the long summer evenings of July 1945 they would spend many hours in bringing back order to the rough and flowery meadow which the lawn had become.
They were expert scythers, and it was an extraordinary pleasure to watch the swaths of tall weeds falling before the rhythmical motions of the long blades. It was an occupation and an instrument which had not altered over the centuries. Now, with so many mechanical aids, the scythe is fast becoming an obsolete tool. Perhaps before long, Father Time will be portrayed with a mechanical apparatus to mow down his human harvest.
Thus the broad terrace was cleared of hay, but naturally several years passed before it became once again one of those lawns which are said to be the glory of English gardens. This work and the general tidying up of the more visible parts of the garden was all that it was possible to attempt during the first 12 months after V.E. Day. And indeed there was a great deal to do, for not only were there the weeds which nature had provided with generosity during the past few years, but there were also the ravages which a couple of hundred little feet careering about the garden had created.
Demobilization, however, was beginning, and first one, and then another man returned to the more congenial profession of gardening, and we were able to aim at restoring the place to a civilized appearance. The area which had perhaps suffered the most severely by unavoidable neglect was the Dell. It had always been so called, but it was in fact a small chalk-pit lying on the east side of the garden. It is impossible to say at what period it was excavated, and there are pits of this sort all about this area, but a large elm tree standing just within the entrance indicates that chalk must first have been dug here upwards of two centuries ago.
Originally the Dell lay outside the boundary of the garden, and a public footpath uniting the church of Hinton with that of Kilmeston a mile to the south, separated it from the garden. For many years it seems to have been used as a general rubbish dump, and all sorts of debris - broken china, bottle ends, and so forth - still makes its unwelcome appearance on the surface of the soil. My parents prudently arranged for the line of the footpath to be moved to the outside of the Dell, so that it was no longer a convenient place for disposal of rubbish from adjacent cottages. Instead it was used by the gardeners for the burning of weeds.
It had long seemed to me that the Dell had possibilities - capabilities Mr. Brown would have called them - and before the war we had begun to clear it of the saplings and nettles which choked it. A grass walk was carried into it leading to a small area of lawn covering the floor, and various shrubs were planted on the uncharitable slopes, uncharitable for in places they were sheer chalk. On the line of the former footpath we made a grass walk bordered by hedges of box which serpentines rather pleasantly following the lie of the land. Behind the hedges we planted Philadelphus Grandiflora, which although faint in scent grows tall, and now when in flower makes an impressive picture in the tranquil colouring of white and green. Behind the Philadelphia and so at the top of the slopes we planted sundry evergreens, yews, ilex, and so forth, with the intention that one day they would increase the apparent height of the slopes and so give a slight sense of drama to a site which in fact had very little.
Within a year of the beginning of the war, the Dell had to be abandoned to Nature, that most insensitive of gardeners when her activities are not severely controlled, and all the young shrubs and trees disappeared into a wilderness of nettles. The Dell, therefore, seemed a suitable place to begin rescue work as soon as labour was available. We soon found that all but the toughest plants had died from suffocation and lack of light, so, except for some of the evergreens at the top of the slopes, it was necessary to start the work of reclamation all over again.
We redesigned to some degree the floor of the Dell, making beds for shrubs and plants with casual, curving shapes on either side of the central area of lawn, planning it, on its small scale, rather in the way that Capability Brown would have designed a lake, so that from the entrance one does not immediately perceive the end. It is a modest little deception. On the chalky slopes we deposited good top-soil dug from the park, in order to give the new generation of shrubs a promising start in life.
In the choice of shrubs I made what was, I suppose, a very obvious mistake. Naturally they had to be lime-tolerant, but I foolishly supposed that, since the Dell was so perfectly sheltered, rather delicate shrubs such as cistuses of various sorts, and Veronica (Hebe) Headfortii which I had seen ramping in Sir Edward Stern's chalk garden at Highdown, would feel perfectly at home there. Alas, I knew nothing of the katabatic propensity of frost, which billows down into this enclosed area, where there is neither an exit nor wind to disturb, and effectively exterminates all tender shrubs. So we turned to more robust plants such as Juniperus Horizontalist the graceful fronds of which cover wide areas, Viburnum Davidii and Tomentosum, flowering cherries and deutzias; while at the bottom of the slopes where the soil is rather damp, astilbes, both pink and white, hostas, acanthus and so forth do well, and Meconopsis Baileyi, with some soil encouragement, makes a fair display. But the greatest summer effect is created by the Giant Hemlocks, which find the east-facing slope entirely to their liking, and push their huge leaves and tali stems topped by flat green flowers up amongst the shrubs and produce a scene almost suggestive of a tropical jungle.
As can be seen, there is nothing here of particular interest in itself, all the plants are commonplace and hardy, and the only virtue I can claim for the Dell is that full advantage has been taken of its unexpected contours, and that it forms an agreeable contrast to other parts of the garden.
The initial post-war work on the Dell represented to some degree rehabilitation, but as the years passed it became possible to carry out actual improvements. The shrub beds which, as I have already mentioned, were made during the winter of 1939/40, were still far from fully planted. It is an area which receives the full force of the south-west gales so that the beds on the windward side had to be treated primarily as wind-breaks. Osmanthus Armatus, the taller growing escallonias such as langleyensis and edinensis, berberis and so forth fulfil this function successfully, so that on either side of the main walk which leads down towards the old avenue we have been able to grow rather more interesting shrubs. Kolkwitzias flower well when the birds leave their buds alone, Buddleia Alternifolia grows into huge bushes, Cotinus, Philadelphus Beauclerk and Belle Etoile seem indifferent to the thin, poor soil. For smaller shrubs I find the evergreen Daphnes, neapolitana and collina, are successful and in addition to their neat growth have the happy habit of flowering twice a year.
At the point where the walk leads over a cattle-grid into the park we planted a pair of broad-leaved hollies, which have now grown into quite noble sentinels and form tall pyramids of shining, viridian foliage. Towards the front of the beds there are many low-growing plants: Pulmonarias of various varieties, Dicentras, the dwarf Polygonum and also P. Campanulatum, but a list of names becomes tedious, and I will here mention only one other ground-cover which is one I greatly regret having introduced. It is the yellow flowered creeping nettle, Lamium Galeobdolon Luteum Variegatum, which in this position spreads so luxuriantly that left to its own devices it would submerge all small plants and would even, I believe, throttle shrubs. It is difficult to eradicate, but every winter we treat it with the utmost violence digging it up and cutting it back ruthlessly and so prevent it from becoming too grave a menace. The pink-flowered Lamium is far better behaved, and also much more attractive with its neat, variegated leaves.
Now that the shrubs have reached maturity the eye is well guided down the walk and the avenue beyond. To provide a classical note to the scene a few years ago I erected at the end of the avenue a stone obelisk about 12 feet in height, while at the top, on the north side of the long walk, I built a small temple with a pillared front supporting a pediment. Within the temple I placed a porphyry bust of Poppaea, Nero's second wife, who like his first, Octavia, came to an unhappy end. The difference in the axes of the Tudor and the Georgian house here becomes very apparent. The path continuing the line of the old avenue joins the long walk at an oblique angle, so that the little temple, which had of course to be set at the upper end of the former and also parallel to the latter, seems to look away slightly to the west in rather a haughty manner instead of gazing directly at the obelisk. Fortunately slight irregularities in a garden seem to matter very little.
Adjacent to the temple grows a large bush of Cotinus Atropurpureus, which in this chalky soil colours well, and its deep crimson leaves contrast attractively with the stone pillars and grey and white paint of the little building. Further east along the walk is a large bed of grey-leaved Cotoneaster. It was grown from seed sent from Wisley many years ago and is, I think, Franchettii, and now forms a rather striking group with its graceful, pendulous branches. Further along again, beyond the steps leading up to the former rose garden, is a semicircular bed of a different style. It is presided over by a large specimen of Pyrus Salicifolia Pendula which stands in front of a tall copper beech. In spring round the foot of the Pyrus grow wallflowers which scent the whole of this part of the garden, and for the summer and autumn pale yellow dahlias take their place. The russet-crimson of the tree, the silver of the Pyrus and the lemon-coloured flowers of the dahlias make a harmonious and effective colour scheme.
From this point one can ascend the flight of steps to the former rose garden where in the past, as I have already described, so many generations of hybrid teas spent their brief lives. I started alterations on this garden before the war. The ragged barricade of laurels which surrounded it was swept away, and in its place I planted a yew hedge to give this little garden architectural form. It is now rectangular except for the east side which ends in a wide curve. From the centre of the curve steps lead down towards the Dell, while the long flight southward to the long walk was rebuilt and widened. In a yew recess on the north side I placed a marble Roman bath, Roman in design that is to say, but probably eighteenth-century in execution. The expiring rose bushes were removed and in their place I indulge, contrary to the best contemporary taste, in bedding out-blue and pink polyanthus in spring and heliotrope in summer. Behind the surrounding hedge grow various varieties of philadelphus, tall-growing shrub roses, Crimson Bouquet, Fritz Nobis and Nevada for early summer, which are infinitely tougher than hybrid teas, with Buddleia Davidii for later in the season. I find it pleasant to see loose-growing plants appearing above the rigid lines of a well-clipped hedge.
I was very slow indeed in appreciating the charm of shrub roses, influenced perhaps by the failure of hybrid teas, and it was not until about 1950 when my friends Christopher and Betty Hussey took me in June to Sissinghurst Castle that their overwhelming beauty dawned on me. I was further encouraged by Miss Sackville-West assuring me that they were not fastidious about soil. That autumn I sent out a considerable order: it is a proceeding I have continued annually ever since.
There was what seemed to me an admirable situation for these roses. On the north side of the western section of the long walk was a wide slope which had been formed when the walk was levelled. It faced due south, which was propitious, and the fact that it was on one of the pockets of heavy clay was perhaps more promising than sheer chalk, which is apt to be the alternative in this difficult garden. In the event the strong roots of most shrub roses seem able to penetrate the clay, and after a year or two's growth they began to present a beautiful tumult of blossom. Rather lavish feeding, however, seems essential, and we find that in this cold clay they have a tendency to become woody and gaunt, so that annual cutting out of old wood is essential.
At the top of the slope we planted taller varieties, so that their flowers can be seen from the house above the yew hedge which borders the terrace. Fruhungsgold, William Lobb, Zephyrine Drouhin, and her near relative Kathleen Harrap, Madame Isaac Pereire, all look well in this position, while towards the bottom of the slope are Penelope, Felicia, Rosa Mundi, Cornelia, Tuscany, Konegin von Danemark, Alba Celestial... but the list is endless. Inevitably at the initial planting there were mistakes either in heights or juxtaposition of colours, so that a good deal of moving took place, while those varieties which are not successful we ruthlessly eliminate. We have added height to the border by erecting pyramids formed of larch poles, and on these we grow ramblers and climbers. After the first two years, during which the pyramids looked singularly gaunt, the effect is quite good, and the flowering season of the border is thus prolonged.
On the south side of the walk was a long bed filled with fairly tough shrubs designed to break the wind, but these have now in a large measure given way to more shrub roses, while the solid bushes serve as useful hosts for climbers. It cannot be said that the roses are as floriferous here as they are in the full sunshine across the path. Several years later, with unabated enthusiasm for roses, we decided to make a long, crescent-shaped bed on the south side of the sheltering shrubs where there was nothing to break the full force of the wind, but where also every ray of sunlight was obtained. This new venture has in fact been a success, but we find it prudent to train the roses over frames or on to low pyramids so that they are not unduly disturbed by a gale.
It is easy to ramble on about one's own garden supposing that one is transmitting the familiar scene to a reader, and that he will be forming a picture of the garden in his mind's eye. Probably, however, the only impression one is creating is one of boredom, so perhaps it will be wise to hasten past one or two features which are not of particular interest to describe, although they play an important part in the appearance of the garden and house.
I will, therefore, mention only briefly that there is a border which lies under the house and where sun-loving plants overflow on to the flagstones of the terrace. While below the low wall which retains this terrace is another long border which we have filled with small shrubs, interspersed with plants which need a sunny site, such as Mr. Lewis Palmer's hardy Agapanthus, Headbourne hybrids, both pale and dark blue, which here not only flourish but increase, Alstroemeria ligtu hybrids, which are slow starters but are worth waiting for, and Hyacinthus Candicans, and so on. The scenic advantage of these two borders is that together they form a leafy and mellow-coloured podium from which the house rises, its rigid lines softened by the double belt of foliage at its base.
Before the east end of the house extends a long formal pool, its stone surround centred on the middle of the five windows of the drawing-room. In order to give perfect symmetry to the surrounding lawn we made a long bed on the south side now filled with the floribunda rose Iceberg, encircled by a narrow sea of mauve violas. The whole of this layout takes the place of my father's croquet lawn, and I am inclined to doubt whether he would consider it an improvement.
From this cursory survey of the area close to the house, I would like to pass on to, and to describe a little more at length, that part of the garden lying to the north. I have always admired country houses where, in the proper eighteenth-century style, the park on the entrance side comes up to the very walls of the house, and the garden is kept in an exclusive manner out of sight of arriving strangers. At Hinton, unfortunately, there is none of this dignified reserve, and the garden surrounds the house as it might do at a modest villa. This may be partly due to the moving of the site of the house: in any case it is a limitation I must accept.
On the Tithe Map of 1839 the site of the Tudor house is shown as an enclosure marked 'Old House Site', and perhaps it was used as a little meadow. For as long as I can remember, however, it has been an orchard, and as such it remains. When I was very young it was surrounded by a thorn hedge, but this was long ago removed and my mother planted quantities of daffodils under the fruit trees, which make a pretty show in spring as one arrives at the house. The apple trees, it must be owned, have never been highly successful, probably because their roots have to force their way amongst brickbats and the remains of the foundations of the old house. Nevertheless they made an exquisite display when in blossom - and what blossom is more lovely - but, alas, the bullfinches have, anyhow for the present, put an end to this, and 'Le vert retour du doux Floreal', as Verlaine puts it, is no longer celebrated with clouds of pink and white petals. As compensation we make the trees into useful hosts for Rosa Filipes, Kiftsgate var., whose flowers drip from the branches which rarely produce blossom of their own.
Across this orchard we have made two wide mown paths crossing at right angles. The east to west section is centred at one end on the tall iron gate into the kitchen garden, and on the other, by chance, on to a little Gothic door into the church vestry. On either side of this path we planted borders of Phlox, which should have looked pretty in the dappled light and shade of the fruit trees in late summer. But they were a failure, a dead failure, and we came to the conclusion that the soil must be so impregnated with eelworm that all attempts to eradicate it would continue to fail. Now low box hedges have taken the place of these herbaceous plants.
The south-north path is bordered with beds of irises. These are certainly more rewarding than the Phlox, but they do not make a luxuriant annual display in the way that I had hoped. But the principal purpose of this path is to lead across the orchard to an area of the garden where the soil is really good. Before the war I had planted here a grove of beech trees and acer platanoides with the intention that when they grew tall they would give added shelter to the house from the north. Having made our iris walk we decided to continue the path into the grove and curve it westward so as to emerge through the avenue of yews which extends the line of the north drive.
Having had the soil analysed, we found to our delight that it was almost lime-free, the chalk subsoil being covered with a very deep layer of good loam. Obviously it was worth while trying here plants which were reluctant to thrive in other parts of the garden. Having removed a number of the young trees to let in light, we started off with Magnolias, liliflora nigra, Wilsonii, and Highdownensis, and this gave an excuse for calling this new area, since all parts of a garden must have some designation, the Magnolia Garden. It is grandiose in name, but small in extent.
In the company of the magnolias we planted, with some apprehension, a few Exbury Hybrid Azaleas, pinks and yellow, but no orange, and these so far do well, as does a group of rhododendrons with glaucous leaves and small mauve flowers. Inevitably we had to try Camelias, one of the most beautiful of shrubs, but they grow very slowly and flower sparsely, and I feel ashamed of them when I see huge, noble bushes in localities that are really congenial to them. Hydrangeas of various sorts do well, and Primula Candelabra enjoy the rather damp soil and make a good spring show. Many other plants grow here with great exuberance, and I feel constantly how effortless gardening must be for the fortunate ones whose whole gardens are on soil such as this.
There is only one other feature which I propose to mention, and this is the shrub border lying between the drive and the kitchen garden. For many years there was here a herbaceous border, and with the high wall of mellow brick behind it, it was admirably placed. But it needed more attention than we could give it, and usually before the summer was half over it was almost submerged beneath a cloak of convolvulus and bindweed. The obvious solution was to abandon plants for shrubs, but in order properly to replace the herbaceous border it was necessary to have shrubs which flowered late in the summer, and this was not entirely easy, but on the whole we have been tolerably successful. At the back are tall-growing Hydrangeas, aspera macrophylla I think, and Velosa; Buddleia Davidii, of which we find Charming the most effective variety, throws out its mauve-pink spikes and contrasts well with the exquisite deep blue of Ceonothus Topaz - Escallonia Iveyi is useful in the back row, and Hibiscus Woodbridge and sinosyriacus are effective in a favourable summer. Indigoferas have a long but never very showy flowering season, and Fuchsias, par-particularly the sturdy Mrs. Popple, and Potentillas are invaluable in the front. In general the colouring tends towards mauves and blues and this effect is increased by the many Clematis entwined with the climbing roses on the wall behind the shrubs. On the whole it can be said that the garden is fairly easy of upkeep, although there are large areas of mowing to be done each week in summer, and very, very many yards of hedge to be clipped annually. But shrubs, supported by ground-cover, entail much less work than herbaceous borders, and repay generously the attentions of feeding and pruning.