non-fiction-authors-from-england

"The more I thought about it, the more obsessed I became with the idea of a swimming journey. I started to dream ever more exclusively of water. Swimming and dreaming were becoming indistinguishable. I grew convinced that following water, flowing with it, would be a way of getting under the skin of things, of learning something new."

"Waterlog (1999), Roger's now-classic account of swimming through Britain, published twenty years ago this year, opens during a rain-storm in the spring-fed moat that lies close to the house. In Wildwood (2007), his epic account of trees, woods and forest cultures around the world, Walnut Tree Farm is the fixed point to which Roger returns and from which he learns,even as he journeys out to the groves of Kazakhstan and the of Australia. And in Notes from Walnut Tree Farm (2008), extracts from Roger's copious journals record both the labour and wonder involved in living in twelve acres of meadow, and woodland; the night-time bark of foxes, the viper-bite of s as he cleared scrub or laid hedges, and the fallen stars of glow-worms in the long grass."

"In 1973, Roger Deakin, a British writer and environmental activist, acquired a tumbledown sixteenth-century farmhouse outside the ancient village of , in , and began a restoration, repairing stone walls and replacing roof tiles. Among the attributes of Walnut Tree Farm, as the house was called, was a deep, spring-fed . It didn’t surround the house, as with a fortified castle, but was excavated into the land, in roughly parallel lines, at the front and the back of the property. The moat had served its original, Elizabethan owner as a water supply, a cooler, and a status symbol. Over the centuries, it fell into disrepair, becoming silted up from falling leaves and rotting tree roots. Deakin had the moat dredged to a depth of ten feet; staked a wooden ladder by the bank, near the spreading roots of a tree; and began regularly swimming in the cold, greenish water. He gained what he called a frog’s-eye view of the changing seasons, and an intimate familiarity with the creatures sharing the moat, from to s."

"From water level, I observed the mating joined in flight like refuelling aircraft, and the random progress of the clocks that drifted on the s over the moat."

"It is through trees that we see and hear the wind: woodland people can tell the species of a tree from the sound it makes in the wind. If Waterlog was about the element of water, Wildwood is about the element of wood, as it exists in nature, in our souls, in our culture and in our lives. To enter a wood is to pass into a different world in which we ourselves are transformed. It is no accident that in the of Shakespeare, people go into the greenwood to grow, learn and change. It is where you travel to find yourself, often, paradoxically, by getting lost. sends the future as a boy into the greenwood to fend for himself in . There, he falls asleep and dreams himself, like a chameleon, into the lives of the animals and the trees."

"Many argue that the is inhumane, that meat is expensive, that it contains uric acid, that it may be tubercular, and so on. All this is too true; but I do not think that the scientific case for meat is sufficiently explained, or given its due as a body-builder and repairer, as a stimulant and appetizer, which is why, when most people go without it, they must have a substitute."

"Besides the darkness of the night, many minor shadows cross our paths, making the hues of Life obscure. These are not always caused by sorrow. There are clouds brought by misunderstanding, sharp words and thoughtless speeches. Want of thought throws many shadows."

"Hallie Eustace Miles ... The daughter of the of , Hallie Killick married the sportsman and writer in 1906. Together with her husband, she ran a vegetarian restaurant and pioneering health food centre, and counted AC Benson, among other literary luminaries, as customers and friends. As the centenary of the first world war approaches, her diary of their life during the , originally published in 1930, is definitely worth seeking out."

"Florists' flowers, especially s and tulips, were already popular in the , and a book on the subject, The Florist's Vade Mecum, by the Rev. , son-in-law of the great gardener and gardening writer, , was published on 1683."

"The distinguished nurserywoman Beth Chatto, who has died aged 94, was one of the most influential horticulturists of the past 50 years. Well known and respected for the she started in in 1967, she was also an inspirational writer and lecturer whose great theme was the importance of providing garden plants with an environment as close as possible to their native . During the 1970s, she won 10 successive gold medals at the , where she introduced ecological ideas into , demonstrating the possibilities of natural plant groupings, while also achieving the highest aesthetic standards. In those days nurseries arranged their plants for maximum visual impact regardless of differing plant needs. Chatto’s approach was a revelation and immediately established her significance as a guide to better and more environmentally friendly gardening techniques. She stressed the importance of looking at the whole plant, foliage as well as , and judging the quality of a plant by observing it throughout the seasons."

"Beth Chatto, who died last year, was singularly forward-thinking and knowledgeable, and her near in have been a continual draw to enthusiasts for half a century. ’s authorised biography, Beth Chatto: A Life with Plants (Pimpernel, £30), based on diaries, notes and conversations, is a faithful, workmanlike account of a truly remarkable plantswoman and artistic gardener (as well as a very nice person) who emphasised the importance of understanding ecology in growing plants successfully, and whose naturalistic exhibits in the 1970s and 1980s were a revelation."

"Abbreviations are the wheels of language, the wings of Mercury. And though we might be dragged along without them, it would be with much difficulty, very heavily and tediously."

"It is in Henry V. that Shakespeare fashioned for us the true epic of England. The dramatic form sits very loosely upon it. It is epic in shape as in spirit. Splendid in eloquence, swift in narrative, it is a pæan sung in our country's praise. Its noble lines sound in our ears like a trumpet-call, and it has lost not a jot of its force and energy by the passage of three hundred years."

"Like most Radicals, he [Richard Cobden] lived in a fool's paradise where facts are of no account, and where, if principles prove fallacious, it is not the fault of the optimist who frames them, but of some vile conspirator against the common good."

"How far is patriotism necessary to the equipment of a statesman? Now patriotism, out of fashion though it be to-day, should be the first and plainest of the virtues. It is but an extension of the feeling for family, which is the foundation of all society. A man who insults his father and despises his mother is a bad son. He is a bad citizen, who despises and insults his country. And a bad citizen, though he has every right to exist, is not likely to prove the wisest ruler."

"The “Musings Without Method” which Whibley contributed once a month to Blackwood's for thirty years, excepting two months, one of which was the last, are the best sustained piece of literary journalism that I know in recent times."

"The political game, as it is played in England, bears this resemblance to the game of fives, that you must get your adversary out before you may begin to score yourself."

"A bare record of his work can give but little idea of Whibley's place in the estimation of his contemporaries, which is attributable at least as much to the effect of his personality on those who came into contact with him as to his literary eminence. The warmth of his human sympathies, his brilliant wit, his love of good cheer, of good talk, and of all that was vital and sincere made him the best of companions. He had his prejudices, to which he would sometimes give alarming expression; but his impeccable intellectual honesty and the courageous vigour of mind and spirit which shone out in his conversation made him an acknowledged leader among his intimates. In this, as in some of his other qualities, including his unbending toryism, he resembled Dr. Johnson; and it may well be that like Johnson he will rather live through the influence which he exerted on those who were privileged to know him than through the written word. Nevertheless, he was a great master of the written word. He maintained throughout his life the loftiest standards of his craft: his literary style was in the highest degree chaste and austere. His most ephemeral work—and much of it was ephemeral—was always that of a scholar; and although as a writer he was critical rather than constructive, he was a power in his time."

"He gives always the impression of fearless sincerity, and that is more important than being always right. One always feels that he is ready to say bluntly what every one else is afraid to say. Thus a feeling of apprehensiveness, conducive to attention, is aroused in the reader. And, in fact, he was, when he chose to be, a master of invective."

"Genius transcends the boundaries and frontiers of race, and makes its happy possessor an understanding citizen in whatever state he inhabits."

"Genius transcends the common rules of life and blood."

"For Shakespeare, as I have said, was above and before all things a lover of England. With how bitter a contempt would he have lashed those friends of every country but their own, who nowadays unpack what they have of souls to strangers, and believe that flat treason is a mark of superiority! And Shakespeare, being a patriot, was a Tory also. He loved not those who disturbed the peace of England. He believed firmly in the established order, and in the great traditions of his native land. He was a firm supporter of Church and State."

"Again Shakespeare proves himself a gentleman in his moderation. He does not insist. He harbours no inapposite desire to make us better. Some of his critics have been saddened by the thought that his plays solve no moral problems and preach no obvious sermons—that, in fact, he is content to be a mere master of the revels, a purveyor of joy and pleasure. His refusal to preach is but another title of honour."

"Her second marriage was to the war correspondent and broadcaster , with whom she had a son and a daughter. He liked sport and shooting, while she preferred the arts and literature. Hastings was very rightwing, she liberal in the tradition of . They had a tremendous row over , which she considered an act of barbarism, while he saw as a hero. His remark that "I've got the three things I wanted most, a Churchill gun, a and a beautiful wife" did not go down at all well. She strongly resented "being counted as a chattel with a gun and a rod". When divorce inevitably came, she said they had never shared a close relationship."

"He was intolerant of fools and humbugs, and did not conceal his opinions; he had a real hatred of whiggery and indeed of liberalism in any form; and his unmeasured denunciation of all that he considered vulgar and insincere doubtless made him enemies. But he was fond of the society of his intellectual equals, whether at University dining societies or the Beefsteak Club, and his death removes a forceful and forthright character from the English literary world. Both he and his opinions would perhaps have been more at home in London somewhere between the Restoration and the French Revolution; but we may be glad that there was at least one of his sort among us in the late 19th and early 20th centuries."

"The Great Parterre at , planted by , was abolished by , a priceless piece of history lost."

"Wherever she went, Vita collected seeds and roots and s, and always travelled with a and a few potatoes into which she would put cuttings to keep them moist and fresh."

"The poet of England, he gave to the love of country, to patriotism as nowadays we call it, a voice which never shall be stilled. His histories are, and will ever be, the epic of our race."

"Long before it was a fancy , was famous for its . Designed by the hallowed Rosemary Verey, its vistas of purple , avenues of trees, walls and emerald lawns still cause gardeners to gasp with pleasure."

"Rosemary Verey, who has died aged 82, was the doyenne of the gardening world. A pioneer gardener, designer and writer, she made "good" gardening popular, and by her example — both in the aesthetic and practical horticulture so admired at her home at , , and through her serious, but highly readable, books - she also made it achievable by a whole new generation. ... Verey's work as a designer established her particular style throughout Britain and in north America, with the Prince of Wales, Sir Elton John and among her clients. In the United States, she designed for many private individuals, as well as creating a large plan for a new (still to be implemented) at the ."

"Be favourable and gracious O Lord to this thy English Sion, behold in the bowels of thy mercy our Navy on Sea, guard, guide, protect and defend the right honourable the Lord high Admiral of England, the Vice-Admiral, with all honourable and worshipful personages, Captains, Masters, Officers, Sailors, and Soldiers now employed, whether on the Western or South Seas...let not furious storms, winds, or tempests hurt them, nor surging Seas harm them, let not Papists amaze them, nor foreign enemies fear them [i.e. make them afraid]: but thou Lord of hosts encourage their hearts, enable their hands, indue them with valour, grant them safely to return with glorious victory...Also O Lord we thy Servants humbly beseech thee, to bless and prosper not only our Sea causes, but also all our land service, her Majesty's most honourable General, Marshal, Captains, Officers, and English soldiers whatsoever, strengthen them with courage and manliness, that they may suppress the slights of Antichrist, with all the force and power of foreign enemies, and papistical practices, that dare pre­sume to attempt any harm or hurt to her royal Majesty, their honours, her English people, or to this noble Realm of England."

"s are undoubtedly among the garden aristocrats and every garden should have one, somewhow, but not on an east-facing exposure. They are and their oval shiny leaves are a joy at all times of the year, but they come into full glory when covered in flowers. The sheer number of varieties and is bewildering. For years I only admired them from afar, put off from growing them, by my very limey soil and by the successful growers who made me fell too ignorant to own them"

"orientale can produce a lush effect under trees—it is much too coarse for small gardens but can be splendid where something elephantine is needed. The flowers come before the leaves; rather naked-looking pink stems of blue -like flowers in early spring are followed by huge hairy leaves, handsome in the right setting."

"I will boldly say, that England...hath more fallow dear than all Europe that I have seen. No kingdom in the world hath so many dove-houses...The English husbandmen eat barley and rye brown bread, and prefer it to white bread as abiding longer in the stomach, and not so soon disgested with their labour; but citizens and gentlemen care eat most pure white bread, England yielding...all kinds of corn in plenty...The English have abundance of white meats, of all kinds of flesh, fowl and fish and of all things good for food...The oysters of England were of old carried as far as Rome, being more plentiful and savoury than in any other part...In the seasons of the year the English eat fallow deer plentifully, as bucks in summer and does in winter, which they bake in pasties, and this venison pasty is a dainty, rarely found in any other kingdom. Likewise brawn is a proper meat to the English, not known to others...In general, the English cooks, in comparison with other nations, are most commended for roasted meats...But the Italian Sansovine is much deceived, writing, that in general the English eat and cover the table at least four times in the day; for howsoever those that journey, and some sickly men staying at home, may perhaps take a small breakfast, yet in general the English eat but two meals (of dinner and supper) each day, and I could never see him that useth to eat four times in the day."

"Concerning whether to or not, of course I do not disapproved of all watering. That would be hypocritical, since we must irrigate the nursery crops and do water parts of the garden, such as the Wood Garden, in very dry times. But my thinking on the subject is based on the assumption that water is our most precious commodity as the world population continues to explode, and modern demands for water are often in excess of actual need. Combine this with the , then surely we must be prepared to reconsider some of our gardening practices."

"Make a list of herbs you want to grow. Begin with the s and greys, as these will make the framework of the garden and be most apparent in the winter. These plants include , , , , , and ."

"Moryson is a sober and truthful writer, without imagination or much literary skill. He delights in statistics respecting the mileage of his daily journeys and the varieties in the values of the coins he encountered. His descriptions of the inns in which he lodged, of the costume and the food of the countries visited, render his work invaluable to the social historian."

"s make a blaze of rose-pink, both ' and , while ’Blackthorn Apricot' is an orange-pink, , perhaps. It now looks well beside the grey-leafed ' with its spires of pea-green hiding tiny lemon-yellow flowers, or with the distinctive ' ’Euphorbioides', a plant I much admire."

"Chrysanthemum parthenium aureum, the golden feverfew — now known as aureum, is the golden variety of the old physic herb grown widely an antidote to fever and headache. it is native to Europe and reliably hardy."

"Fysshe may be sode, rosted, bruled & baken euery one after theyr kynde, & vse a fasshyon of the countre, as the coke and the phisicion wyll agre & deuyse. For a good coke is halfe a phisicion. For the chefe phisicke (the councell of a phisecion except) dothe come from the kytchyn, wherfore the phisicion and the coke for sicke men must consult togyther for the preparacion of meate for sicke men."

"Beefe is good meate for & Englyssh man so be it the beest be yonge, & that it be nat cowe flesshe. For olde befe & cowe flesshe dothe ingēdre melancoly and leprouse bumours: yf it be moderatly poudered that the groose bloude by salte may be exaustyd, it doth make an Englysshe man strōge."

"For the safeguard of your country, if you be called to the wars, grutch [complain] not nor groan at it. Go with good wills and lusty courages to meet them in the field rather than to tarry till they come home to you and hang you at your own gates. Play not the milksops in making curtsy who shall go first, but Show yourselves true Englishmen in readiness, courage, and boldness. And be ashamed to be the last. Fear neither French nor Scot. For first you have God and all his army of angels on your side [a marginal note observes "God is English"]. You have right and truth, and seek not to do them wrong but to defend your own right. Think not that God will suffer you to be foiled at their hands, for your fall is his dishonor. If you lose the victory, he must lose the glory. For you fight not only in the quarrel of your country but also and chiefly in defense of his true religion and of his dear son Christ....What people be they with whom we shall match. Are they giants? Are they conquerors or monarchs of the world? No, good Englishman, they be effeminate Frenchmen, stout in brag but nothing in deed. They be such as you have always made to take to their heels..., saving that William of Normandy crept in among us through the civil war of two brethren, Harold and Tostig. And yet, what did he? He left his posterity to reign which were rather by time turned to be English than the noble English to become French, as our tongue and manners at this day declareth, which differeth very little from our ancestors the Saxons....Thus have we nothing to dismay us but all things to encourage us. God to fight for us, the strength of our land, the courage of our men, the goodness of our soil....Now, therefore, it is our duties to be in every wise obedient....Do you not hear how lamentably your natural mother, your country of England, calleth upon you for obedience?...I have been and am glad of you. I delight and rejoice in you above all over nations. In declaration whereof I have always spued out and cast from me Danes, French, Norwegians, and Scots. I could brook none of them for the tender love that I bare unto you, of whom I have my name. I never denied to minister to you by my singular commodities which God hath lent me for you, as corn and cattle, land and pasture, wool and cloth, lead and tin, flesh and fish, gold and silver, and all my other treasures. I have poured them out among you and enriched you above all your neighbors....Besides this, God hath brought forth in me the greatest and excellentest treasure that he hath for your comfort and all the world’s. He would that out of my womb should come that servant of his, your brother John Wyclif, who begat [John] Hus, who begat [Martin] Luther, who begat truth. What greater honor could you or I have than it pleased Christ, as it were in a second birth, to be born again of me among you? [A marginal note comments: "Christ's second birth in England"]. And will you now suffer me, or rather by your disobedience purchase me, to be a mother without my children?...Stick to your mother as she sticketh to you. Let me keep in quiet and feed, as I have done, your wives, your children, and your kinsfolks. Obey your mistress and mine which God hath made lady [queen] over us, both by nature and law. You cannot be my children, if you be not her subjects....?Thus good, truehearted Englishmen, speaketh your country unto you, not in word but in deed. Wherefore give no dull ear to hear, nor hearken to any vain blasts or voices which may draw you from the love of your country and the defense of your sovereign...."

"If any tongues more malicious, then discreet, will disable our martialists, and defame our souldiours, and then make a false conclusion, against the profession it selfe: let those malignant spirites confesse the renowmed value of our nation in the olde time, and grant (in spight of their beards) that we are the sonnes of those our Fathers, whose strength and courage in martiall actiuitie, neither Scots, French, nor Spanyards, were able to resist...And as all Souldiers of worthinesse and knowledge are to bee highly estéemed and mainteined, so are the gentlemen, and worthie people of our nation that haue pursued the defensory warres in the lowe Countrie, specially to be praised: for they haue approued that the olde English valiancy is not so extinguished in the English nation through long securitie, and corrupt idlenesse, but it is soone stirred vp to a double force, when it hath a while acquainted it selfe with the exercise of the fielde."

"Those your wyne after thys sorte, it must be fyne, fayre & clere to the eye, it muste be fragraunte and redolent hauynge a good odour and flauour in the nose, it muste spryncle in the cup whan it is drawne or put out of the pot in to the cup, it must be colde & pleasaunt in the mouth, and it must be stronge and subtyll of substaunce. And than moderatly dronken it doth acuate and doth quycken a mans wyttes, it doth cōfort the hert, it doth scowre ye lyuer, specyally if it be whyte wine it doth reioyce al the powers of man, and dothe nuryshe them, it dothe ingendre good bloude, it doth comforte and doth nurysshe the brayne and all the body, and it resolueth fleume, it ingendreth heate, and it is good agaynst heuynes and pencyfulnes, it is full of agylyte, wherfore it is medsonable, specyally whyte wyne, for it doth mundyfye and clense woūdes & sores."

"... Jane, 72, who in the mid-1960s worked as the first secretary of ’s fan club, and her husband, Rob, 76, a retired advertising executive, are far from being stereotypical old buffers. In fact, they were trend-setters in their day — among the first of the “down-shifting” young professionals who had the chutzpah to get off the corporate conveyor belt, sell up in London and go in search of a better quality of life in the sticks. ‘There was a time when people said to , “you must be Jane’s son”, she says wistfully. ‘Then suddenly I was Hugh’s mother’. Their decision to swap the security of a regular salary cheque for life in the freelance lane took considerable courage in 1971, with unemployment hovering at the 7% mark. “We did it for the children, really,” Jane recalls. “Both Rob and I were brought up in the countryside, and we wanted the same for Sophy and Hugh. We were living in at the time, but this was before it became posh. It was lively and multi-ethnic, with around the corner. It was lots of fun, but it was not the best place to bring up children."

"I'm on a mission to get more of us to grow British wild flowers in our gardens. As ever-increasing numbers of these plants vanish from the countryside, our own private spaces become more important – and genuinely useful. Between us, our gardens cover more than a million acres, which far exceeds the total area of all our nature reserves. We need to think of our gardens as little reservoirs in which British biodiversity can survive. In time, it will spread out from there, but if we make our gardens wild flower hot spots, then at least we know things aren't disappearing at quite such a rate. There's plenty of evidence from the work of etymologists such as Dr (see her brilliant book Wildlife Of A Garden: A Thirty-Year Study) that gardens can provide rich s, with flowers the key part of that ."

"The rose colours of madder have justly been considered as supplying a desideratum, and as the most valuable acquisition of the palette in modern times, since perfectly permanent transparent reds and rose-colours were previously unknown to the art of painting."

"'Madame Alfred Carrière' This was the first rose planted by Vita at in 1930, before the deeds were even signed, and it quickly covered most of the south face of the South Cottage and in Vita and Harold's day was left to 'render invisible' most of the front of the house and trained around her bedroom window to pour scent into the house for months at a stretch. It is still there, and now has a huge trunk wider than my husband's thigh."

"I remember more the atmosphere than specific memories — being in the garden and hanging out with both my parents while they were doing things, walking through, smelling the flowers. I was very keen on s from a young age – that very much formed the basis of my love of gardening. Wild collecting dictated what we had in the gardens. On holidays in the Mediterranean, my parents collected plants such as and s – we had them long before they were fashionable. s, too."

"Jane Fearnley-Whittingstall cooked and ate a root while researching her book Peonies: The Imperial Flower (1999). She described the flavour as 'reminiscent of turnips soaked in wallpaper paste mixed with '."