Читать книгу Charmed Life: The Phenomenal World of Philip Sassoon - Damian Collins - Страница 6

At dawn, long before the guests arrive, a cavalcade of horse-drawn carts makes the 14-mile journey from the flower market at Covent Garden, to the edge of north London and the gates of the Trent Park estate. Legions of gardeners are waiting to receive its colourful potted cargo ready for immediate planting, while the staff collect enough azaleas, roses and lilies to fill every room in the house. By noon there is a new procession, of Rolls-Royces arriving and departing in rapid succession. Everywhere along the approach there are signs with arrows guiding the drivers ‘To Trent’. Children and their parents line the route, hoping to catch a glimpse of a royal prince or a Hollywood star. The house and gardens have been profiled by Country Life, and the society columns regularly highlight the comings and goings of weekend guests. The Trent Park garden parties each June and July are considered the last word in elegance and luxurious informality.

Trent Park nestles in the ancient royal hunting ground of the Enfield Chase, where a broad, gentle valley is watered by a stream, creating a lake which divides the estate in two. The mansion is a fine Georgian-looking building with rose-coloured bricks and honeystone cornicing. It is a fantasy of a perfect eighteenth-century country estate, but supported by every modern convenience. In the drawing room, paintings by Gainsborough and Zoffany hang alongside Flemish tapestries. The floors are decorated with silk carpets from Isfahan, and Chinese lacquerwork sits alongside Louis XV furniture. In the Blue Room with its pale walls and accents of hot red, the contemporary artist Rex Whistler has just finished creating a mural above the fireplace which perfectly brings together the colours and elements of its surroundings.

The guests gather on the terrace, which is the heart of the party, and from where you can see right across the estate. People come and go as they please and white-coated footmen wearing red cummerbunds serve endless courses created by the resident French chefs. There is a restless atmosphere of constant activity. Winston Churchill is at the centre of the conversation, arguing with George Bernard Shaw about socialism, discussing art with Kenneth Clark and painting with Rex Whistler.

Flamingos and peacocks have been released from cages and move effortlessly between the gardens, terrace and house, mingling with the guests while Noël Coward plays the piano. And the host, the millionaire government minister and aesthete Sir Philip Sassoon, is in the midst of it all. He is a touch under 6 foot, with a handsome face, dark aquiline features and a smooth olive skin which makes him appear younger than his mid-forties. He is the creator of this tableau, and with meticulous attention to detail obsesses over every part of his production. Sassoon has an idiosyncratic and infectious style, always on the move, and is seen mostly in profile as he flits from guest to guest like a bee in search of honey.

Queen Mary and Philip’s sister Sybil, the Marchioness of Cholmondeley, lead the party in the formal gardens adjacent to the swimming pool and the orangery. Wide borders, laid out to the last square inch by the fashionable garden designer Norah Lindsay, lie in pairs on a gentle slope with broad grass paths on either side so that the eye can rove easily up this glade of brilliance. The incandescent orange and scarlet of the furthest beds give way to rich purples and blues in the middle distance, and the soft assuaging creams and pastel shades in the foreground. After the long borders are pergolas of Italian marble covered with vines, wisteria and clematis, where Winston Churchill likes to sit and paint on quieter afternoons.

The Prince of Wales arrives by aeroplane, landing at the Trent airstrip, and heads to the terrace where the American golf champion Walter Hagen is waiting to play a round with him on Sir Philip’s private course. The Duke of York and Anthony Eden, dressed for tennis, stride off with the professional to Trent’s courts. There is an air display by pilots from the RAF’s 601 Auxiliary Squadron, swooping and flying low over the estate. In the late afternoon, after the Queen has departed, the airmen join guests at the blue swimming pool, cavorting in the walled garden that surrounds it, filled with delphiniums and lilies, which deliver an almost overpowering scent.

The overnight guests withdraw to change for dinner, finding cocktails and buttonhole flowers waiting on their dressing tables as they put on their black tie. Philip Sassoon invites them to dine on the terrace, where Richard Tauber sings later by moonlight, and at the end of the evening there is a display of fireworks over the lake.

For guests reminiscing in the years to come, Philip’s lavish hospitality would seem like a dream of a lost world, the like of which would never be seen again. Yet even on this 1930s summer evening, amid the elegance and luxury of Trent Park, there is concern for the future. Among the politicians there is hard talk about Mussolini, Baldwin’s government, Germany’s threat and British rearmament. And this was not unusual. Almost every major decision taken in Britain between the wars was debated by those at the heart of the action while they were guests of Philip Sassoon.

Their host was more than just a wealthy patron and creative connoisseur. From the First World War through to 1939, Philip worked alongside Britain’s leaders and brought them together with some of the most brilliant people in the world. He exerted influence by design, while surrounded by an air of personal mystery.