On the other hand, Studley College performed strongly throughout the war. Founded in 1898 by Daisy, Countess of Warwick, as the Warwick Hostel in Reading for women agriculture students, it had moved to Studley Castle in Warwickshire in 1903, and was renamed the Studley Horticultural and Agricultural College. In the early twentieth century there was steady demand for a women’s gardening college, since head gardeners of private establishments were not enthusiastic about training women – as much from the difficulties of providing suitable accommodation as from any ingrained misogyny. Studley College catered for both those who wanted to be workers and those who would be employers. The objects of the training were many and varied: to run or own a farm, obtain a post on one, prepare for colonial life (if your future husband was a tea planter, say), run a market garden or private garden, become a head or under-gardener, teach in a school or prepare for further scientific work at a university. The expressed aim was ‘to turn out capable, resourceful, intelligent, keen, reliable workers, physically fit and mentally alert, ready to make use of new knowledge and opportunities’.37 The training was a mixture of the theoretical and practical, and the only important subject that does not seem to have been taught was garden design. The sixty or so students studied for the RHS examinations, in which they were conspicuously successful. In June 1941, for example, Studley girls came top in each of the three types of RHS examination. About twenty Land Army girls were trained separately at Studley, receiving rather more practical than theoretical teaching.
Of all the training establishments open to women, however, Waterperry School of Horticulture for Women in Oxfordshire was probably the best-known and most distinctive. It had been founded by two women, Miss Beatrix Havergal and Miss Avice Sanders, when a gardening school that they ran at Pusey in Berkshire proved too small for the demand. In 1932 they leased from Magdalen College a large eighteenth-century mansion, Waterperry House, with fifty bedrooms and sixty-three acres of agricultural land, as well as an ornamental garden, several glasshouses and a walled kitchen garden. Here, in a small, picturesque village near Oxford, the two spinsters ran a two-year practical and theoretical gardening course for young upper-middle-class women. Thanks to the extraordinary personality of Miss Havergal38 – famous far and wide for her felt hats, collar and tie, stout shoes and masculine manner – and the rigorous, but kindly and Christian, regime which she and her partner, Miss Sanders, instituted, these girls were remarkably well taught. The 1937 prospectus included the following aspiration:
It is the object of the School to provide the theoretical foundation, the practical knowledge of Horticulture and the specialized skill required to make a first-class gardener, and in addition to this, the development of the qualities of organization necessary for the management of a small or large staff of under-gardeners . . .
There is, in these days, scope for the Jobbing gardener, the Market gardener, and for the highly qualified Landscape gardener, and the training at Waterperry includes all that is necessary to enable a girl to take up any of these careers, or any other specific branch of horticultural work.39
That was some aspiration, but Miss Havergal had high ambitions for her students. It is significant that in 1938 she wrote to Professor Osborn, Sherardian Professor of Botany and Agriculture at Oxford, encouraging him and the Oxford authorities to consider instituting a BSc in horticulture at the university, with the practical tuition to be provided at Waterperry, since university courses in horticulture were generally theoretical. Miss Havergal appreciated how mutually beneficial this would have been, and how it would have raised the status of women gardeners. But it was not to be.
Nevertheless, when war broke out, the Waterperry School was well placed to turn much of its land over to food production, while still providing training not only for its own students but for a number of Land Girls, the presence of whom undoubtedly expanded the social mix. This change of circumstances also alleviated the financial difficulties which were a leitmotif running through the life of Waterperry during the 1930s, at least partly because Miss Havergal was no businesswoman; the understanding and sympathy of the Magdalen bursar, Mark van Oss, was required at those times when the rent was not paid on time or in full.
Food production, especially of potatoes, onions, tomatoes and cabbages, turned out to be very successful at Waterperry, partly because there was good fertile ground in the fields surrounding the mansion and garden, but also because the girls were trained well and worked extremely hard. There was no such thing as overtime; they simply worked until the job was done. The county War Ag gave the school a Fordson tractor and a two-furrow plough – there were already two carthorses – as well as a machine that speeded up cabbage planting. After a visit to East Malling Research Station in Kent, Miss Havergal instituted a programme of fruit bush propagation, in particular of virus-free raspberry canes and strawberry plants. These, with much of the other produce, were sold at Oxford market (see Chapter Seven). All in all, it was a conspicuously successful operation.
On the whole, women who worked in market gardens, nurseries or mansion gardens appear to have been content with their lot. They worked hard and long hours40 for less money than their factory contemporaries, and sometimes in very isolated places, but they were at least in the fresh air, mainly away from the bombing – except in the coastal regions of the south of England – and were often able to mix with servicemen socially, especially after the Americans arrived in the countryside in 1942. They were also spared the kind of rigid discipline expected of women who went into the women’s services yet were able to say truthfully that their efforts made a real difference. For some women, their wartime experience was the beginning of a lifelong fascination with gardening, and for still more it was a strange, almost dream-like interlude that they would remember with gratitude and a brisk nostalgia all their lives.
CHAPTER FIVE
GROUNDWORK
WITHOUT CEREMONY, ORDINARY people were pitched into the business of growing edible produce. Almost overnight, gardening had become a patriotic duty, to add to all the others that must not be shirked if the war was to be won. There was no question of gardeners being gently persuaded, even wooed, as would have been the case in peacetime. They were given leaflets, sold booklets, shown films as a captive audience in cinemas, and lectured earnestly and incessantly in newspapers and on the wireless. With exhortations ringing in their ears, they had somehow to muddle their way into proficiency.
It was to the credit of the Ministry of Agriculture that the bulletins, leaflets and notes produced were, with the possible exception of the first, of high quality, even on matters about which experts might disagree, such as how to make a compost heap. They were clearly illustrated and carefully written, their authors obviously sensitive to the difficulties caused to novices by lack of education, resources, money or time. In fact, they were models of their kind, for they managed to avoid burdening the beginner with a lot of knowledge that he or she might not need but addressed all the important issues: how to plan for optimum cropping, how to feed the garden, what seeds to sow, how to perform the important practical operations, and how to protect growing crops from pests and diseases. That said, they must still have made dull reading for the disengaged.1
The modern reader cannot help but be forcibly struck by how familiar is so much of the information on offer. Descriptions of how to rotate crops, take out drills, sow seed, thin seedlings, weed beds and harvest produce all ring true today. Although fashions in kitchen gardening change, and technological and scientific advances eventually find their way into the cultivation of private plots, there were still the eternal verities of plant biology, growth dynamic, weather, soil profile, nutrients and pest attack. Even the tools used were much the same.
The types of vegetables and fruits that were available for the home gardener to grow as seeds or plants in wartime were surprisingly extensive and even included ‘luxury’ produce such as mushrooms, asparagus and melons. Of course, available varieties of each type decreased as the
war wore on, since imports of seeds declined markedly, but early on there was reasonable choice. ‘Food from the Garden’, ‘Growmore’ Bulletin No. 1, contained, as an appendix, a list of suitable varieties of vegetables for cropping which could be generally obtained – or so its authors hoped. In this list were a number that had been in continuous cultivation since Victorian times, having proved their value in a variety of soils and regions of the country. Amongst them were ‘Egyptian Turnip-rooted’ beetroot, ‘Painted Lady’ runner beans, ‘Flower of Spring’ cabbage, ‘Arctic King’ lettuce, ‘Musselburgh’ leeks, ‘Kelvedon Wonder’ peas and ‘White Lisbon’ onions. These are varieties that can still be found in seed catalogues today.
Anyone who faithfully followed the bulletin’s instructions should have produced enough for a family of five for two thirds of the year. In order to achieve that, however, they would need to concentrate on growing the brassica family and root vegetables, together with lettuce, spinach, beans and peas to give variety to meals in the summer.
As it turned out, however, there was considerable popular resistance to growing brassicas, since they were prone to clubroot on acidic soils, were miserably affected by a range of dispiriting pests, from caterpillars to wood pigeons, and were traditionally cooked so badly that they were scarcely edible, let alone nutritious. And even the experts did not bother to promote the cauliflower, since it is notoriously difficult to grow successfully, needing both good soil and a benign climate to thrive.
The two Ministries, of Agriculture and Food, were not in the business of changing tastes, but rather making sure that the population had a basic understanding of what well-known vegetables could provide in the way of minerals and vitamins, and that there should be a steady and regular supply of these. Particularly valuable, in their opinion, were crops that would survive winter weather, such as leeks and brussels sprouts, and those that could be stored, such as potatoes, parsnips and carrots. Emphasis was laid on the importance of these throughout the war, until sensitive people must have been ready to scream.
The types of vegetable recommended for sowing were almost without exception long-established elements of the British diet. Continental influences were practically non-existent. Kitchen gardeners, except possibly in mansion gardens, were most unlikely to grow courgettes, aubergines, salsify, kohlrabi or chillies, while garlic was uncommon and widely viewed with suspicion because it was thought to taint the breath. The most generally grown herbs were mint, parsley, rosemary and thyme; dill, coriander, basil and tarragon were uncommon.
The scarcity of imported onions meant that these were high on the government’s recommended list, despite the fact that novices were thought to find them difficult to grow, especially if working newly dug land. ‘Bedfordshire Champion’ was the variety for storing, while ‘White Lisbon’ was the popular spring onion. Onions were grown from seed; ‘sets’, that is small onion bulbs, which take much of the guesswork out of onion cultivation, were not readily available in those days. The experts very sensibly promoted shallots, which were easier to grow and could be stored for a long time without spoiling. Winter-hardy leeks, like ‘The Lyon’, were recommended as a substitute for onions, partly because they kept well.
Gardeners had always liked growing peas, such as ‘Onward’ and ‘Kelvedon Wonder’, together with broad beans, like ‘Seville Long Pod’ and ‘Broad Windsor’. Runner beans (‘Scarlet Emperor’) enjoyed considerable success during the war since they were relatively simple to cultivate, produced good crops, and were amenable to being grown up pergolas or fences. Gardeners could also put the beans in jars with salt to preserve them through the winter, although few people remember the result with much sentimental feeling.
At the beginning, the government did not encourage the growing of large quantities of potatoes, but that changed from 1940, after it was discovered that people found them simple to grow, and easy and versatile to cook. Potatoes were both a source of vitamin C and also what Lord Woolton called a ‘filler’. Moreover, they have to be lifted and stored before the winter, so there was no risk of bad weather destroying them. Popular varieties included a number with the prefix ‘Arran’, as well as the blight-prone ‘King Edward VII’ and the patriotically-named ‘Home Guard’. The other important root vegetables were beetroot, like ‘Crimson Globe’, turnips, such as ‘Early Milan’, carrots (‘Chantenay’), and parsnips (‘Tender and True’). These could all be easily stored.
Much emphasis was placed on these in the campaigns, although gardeners themselves undoubtedly preferred to grow the tastier summer vegetables, like early carrots (‘Early Horn’), lettuces (‘Tom Thumb’ and ‘Wonderful’), tomatoes (‘Sutton’s Abundance’), rhubarb (‘Timperley Early’), marrows (‘Green Bush’) and even cucumbers (‘Telegraph’).2
Everyone agreed that the frost-tender tomato had an important part to play in replacing scarce fruit, since it was high in vitamins A, B1, B2 and C, as well as being versatile in cookery.3 Those amateur gardeners who owned greenhouses usually grew tomatoes, such as ‘Ailsa Craig’, in them. People without the means to heat glass, however, bought plants from nurserymen, hardened them off in frames and then planted them against a south-facing wall or fence. Varieties such as ‘Evesham Wonder’ and ‘Best of All’ were specifically recommended for growing outdoors, but they required hot, dry summers to do well, otherwise they were prone to the same blight that could strike potatoes in wet summers.
The only non-traditional vegetable to be heavily promoted by Ministry publicists, and backed up by gardening journalists, was the haricot bean. It had never before enjoyed popularity, probably because it was thought to be ‘foreign’. But the Ministry considered it very useful because the seed could be dried and stored for use in the winter. Cultivars included ‘Dutch Brown’, ‘Comtesse de Chambord’ and ‘White Leviathan’. As it turned out, haricot beans were often a failure in gardens and on allotments, unless gardeners recognised that they needed a lot of sun, space, and plenty of sulphate of ammonia and phosphates. Their popularity never took off in the way that the experts hoped.
Because of the increasing shortage of imported vegetable seed, gardeners were urged to save their own, which was possible to do in those days, before the advent of F1 hybrid seeds.4 The seed of peas, beans, tomatoes, onions, lettuce and marrows could all be stored for the following year, if a few plants were left to grow on and set seed. It might make the kitchen garden look scruffy, and hold up the autumn digging, but gardeners found it a useful stratagem, especially in the case of seed that became very scarce, such as onion.
In the publicity campaigns, far less emphasis was placed on tree fruits than on vegetables, since it was considered that these were very wasteful of space, and took some years to come into good bearing after planting. The government did not go so far as to advise gardeners to grub up existing orchards, but it certainly expected them to grow vegetable crops between the rows. Gardening writers advocated that apples be grown on small ‘cordons’; these trees were grafted on to ‘dwarfing’ East Malling-selected ‘Paradise’ rootstocks and came into fruit in only two or three years, taking up much less space than traditional ‘standard’ trees. Pears could be grown this way too, if they were grafted on to quince ‘A’ and ‘C’ rootstocks.
More enthusiastically encouraged was the growing of soft bush fruit, particularly blackcurrants, since they were productive and easy to grow, even if the fruits did require sugar to make them palatable. Recommended varieties included ‘Baldwin’ and ‘Boskoop Giant’, which were both good for making jam. Strawberries were viewed as an unnecessary luxury and the growing of them was rarely actively encouraged, although ‘Dig for Victory’ Leaflet No. 22 does give some cultivation details and mentions suitable varieties, such as ‘Royal Sovereign’ and ‘Cambridge Early’, both still grown today. More emphasis was placed on redcurrants (‘Laxton’s No. 1’), gooseberries (‘Careless’, ‘Whinham’s Industry’ and ‘Leveller’), summer-fruiting raspberries like ‘Brockett Hall’ – autumn-fruiting varieties
did not exist – and blackberries, such as ‘Himalayan Giant’ and ‘Merton Early’. The leaflet advised that brambles be grown in odd corners, against sheds or trained over a pergola as a productive alternative to rambling roses.
The real problem for a new gardener lay not in choosing the right varieties but in learning a wide assortment of practical techniques, some of which had fallen out of fashion in the years before the war. For example, they had to learn how to store vegetables through the ‘hungry gap’ in winter using outdoor ‘clamps’. The instructional leaflets were heavy with detail. Gardeners were told to pile up root vegetables no higher than two and a half feet, and cover them with straw to keep them in the dark and protect them against frost. If the clamp was built outside, it needed four inches of soil placed over the straw, with ventilation holes every five inches, located by tufts of straw. Ideally, the clamps were to be four feet wide and as long as necessary.
Other storage stratagems would be more familiar to us: onions were to be laid on wooden slats or hung, plaited on strings, in dry sheds, while parsnips and late carrots were to be left in the ground in winter until needed.5
Even Mrs Clara Milburn, a well-to-do middle-class housewife living in Balsall, near Coventry, who was a very keen and accomplished home gardener, had problems with her potato clamp. On 8 June 1942 she wrote in her diary:
A really chilly wind has persisted all day . . . This is too great a change to be pleasant, but it was nice for hard work in the garden and I managed to get in a row of purple sprouting broccoli, which was a great satisfaction. Jack stuck peas. Later we had a great blow when we found our potato clamp was growing great sprouts, great shoots pushing forth. Will they be eatable now, we wonder?6
A Green and Pleasant Land Page 13