About me:

NOBLESSE OBLIGE

'SO PRODIGAL WAS I OF YOUTH, FORGETTING I WAS YOUNG; I WORSHIPPED DEAD MEN FOR THEIR STRENGTH, FORGETTING I WAS STRONG.'

My name is Vita, actually Victoria Mary Sackville-West.

Born 1892, I was the only child of Lionel Edward, third Baron of Sackville, and Victoria Josepha Dolores Catalina Sackville-West, his first cousin and the illegitimate daughter of the diplomat Sir Lionel Sackville-West. We lived in Knole House. Oh how I love its many faces! It has a deep inward gaiety of some very old woman who has always been beautiful, who has had many lovers and seen many generations come and go, smiled wisely over their sorrows and their joys, and learnt an imperishable secret of tolerance and humour.

In my childhood I was educated privately and I already started to write poetry. My first ballads date back to the age of 11. My Mum considered me ugly - in fact I was bony, had long legs, straight hair, and wanted to be as boyish as possible!

I love to write. It is necessary to write, if the days are not to slip emptily by. How else, indeed, to clap the net over the butterfly of the moment? For the moment passes, it is forgotten; the mood is gone; life itself is gone. That is where the writer scores over his fellows: he catches the changes of his mind on the hop. Growth is exciting; growth is dynamic and alarming. Growth of the soul, growth of the mind.

Have you read my books? At least one? I wrote quite a few novels. And poetry. Around 50 books I wrote... But spare me books that talk about travelling! Travel is the most private of pleasures. There is no greater bore than the travel bore. We do not in the least want to hear what he has seen in Hong-Kong.

Lately they discovered four of my letters that Virginia wrote me. Where? In a secret drawer of my ancient oak writing table at Sissinghurst Castle. Virginia knows. In one of them Virginia talks about the Jewish refugees Mela Hartwig and Robert Spira, and the perils of traveling by automobile and airplane.

My long-time intimate correspondence with Virginia is my most precious writing. Oh Virginia, how I miss your beloved hand-written letters!

The land was originally owned by the De Saxingherstes until the family line died out in the 13th century. It was then owned by the De Berham family for more 200 years until Henry De Berham decided to move and sold it to Thomas Baker. It was his grandson John who made the first major developments. John who became known as 'bloody baker' for his part in the executions of hundreds of Protestants. He also came to be called 'the English Bluebeard'. With his increase in wealth and power he demolished the medieval house and had built a Tudor Courtyard House, it is known that Queen Mary once stayed there in 1557. This was then replaced by a once splendid mansion which was built in the 16th century for Sir Richard Baker John's son. It was one of the first houses in England to be constructed out of brick. In 1573 Queen Elizabeth I stayed there for three nights.

But by 1661 it had become neglected and remained so for the next 100 years. In 1756 the building was leased to the government for use a prison, during 'the seven year war' where the captured French were held. For a few years from 1794 it became a workhouse and not long after parts of the building were demolished leaving fragment of the former house which become barns, stables and cottages which labourers lived in.

Over the years Sissinghurst became more run down and if it was not for my husband Harold Nicolson and me rescuing it in 1930, it would of become a ruin. We brought it for our home and carefully restored the brick buildings and re opened the entrance archway. We also totally transformed the gardens between the old walls and buildings. Harold made the plans for the garden but I did all the work.

Now Sissinghurst is owned by the National Trust.

There are said to be a few ghosts at Sissinghurst including an apparition on the stairs and a peaceful looking monk who roams the gardens. Also footsteps and clicking noises are heard.

"These mild gentlemen and women who invade one's garden after putting their silver token into the bowl . . . are some of the people I most gladly welcome and salute. Between them and myself a particular form of courtesy survives, a gardener's courtesy, in a world where courtesy is giving place to rougher things."

I love gardens. And gardening. Sissinghurst was designed by me. OK my husband Harold gave a helping hand.. I simply fell in love with it when looking for an old house where I could make a new garden. I bought it plus 400 acres of farmland. I think every garden-maker should be an artist along his own lines. That is the only possible way to create a garden, irespective of size or wealth.

I also wrote articles on gardening that I contributed weekly for 16 years.

(Sissinghurst poppies)

The man who has planted a garden feels that he has done something for the good of the world.

The nuttery is a little grove of nut trees and said to be the only formal planting left from previous gardens. It is a beautiful place to visit, so peaceful and at the center you can see the Greek god, Dionysus forming a focal point.

The Tower! I love the isolation of this room. It's my sanctum, I hardly invite anyone up there.. I think I wrote about 20 books here: In this tiny little room are books, books and more books and pictures and the most unusual smell (history does smell right).