THERE IS NEVER any litter at Rousham, even though the garden is open 365 days a year and 10,000 visitors buy a ticket. But then there are no litter bins either, nor a tea shop, nor even any signs, except a single painted board in the courtyard which points the way. Next to it are two coops for the booted bantams - Barbu dUccle Mille Fleur - which scratch about behind the hedges here. On a quiet day these fowl and the grazing English longhorn cattle are the only moving things in the landscape. 11 helps that William Kent, improver of the old Carolean house and author of its gardens from 1737 to 1741, signposted his walks with statues and laid out the paths so temptingly, luring you first down into Venuss Vale and then along a rill under trees to confront the tight lead buttocks of Antinous - sculpted by John Cheere - who turns away to survey the slope down to the banks of the rushing Cherwell and then on, where youre escorted by nymphs and satyrs back along the winding river and past the arcades of Praeneste, named after the site of a Roman oracle. Like Theseus following Ariadnes thread through the Minotaurs lair one is always half losing and then finding the way, and this sense of constant discovery is one of the things which makes Rousham probably the finest demesne in England. Kents client here was General James Dormer, a retired bachelor soldier cum failed diplomat who had inherited the place from his elder brother. The general was a clever, well - read Italophile who collected bronzes, statues, books and prints, and he peopled the ochre - washed loggias of Praeneste with a pantheon of heroes and heroines, a bust of Shakespeare, a young Cleopatra, an Alex - ander; Kents benches, painted dove blue and white, were set between them. His sexuality was probably broad - church too, and every naked Venus statue has an erotic male counterpart, an Apollo, a Bacchus or a faun. In the generals little parlour Kent painted Ceres, Bacchus, Venus and Cupid for him upon the ceiling, interpreting a line from Terence - Sine Cerere et Baccho frigit Venus. Kent naturalised the banks of the River Cherwell, where Charles Bridgeman, his predecessor at Rousham, had rigidly canalised them. In summer the sloping lawns are mown to within two or three metres of the bank, leaving a rustling margin of sedge, bulrush and water iris. Roushams head gardener is Ann Starling, who was born here and has worked for the Cottrell - Dormers for more than 30 years. Her family has been on the estate since 1880. Everywhere the garden bears testimony to her application and plants - manship, but her special love is for the flower gardens and herbaceous borders. Every October, however, her staff of three doubles for what is probably the most time - consuming of all her jobs, the herculean task of pruning the laurels, which provide these gardens with much of their buttressing green architecture. Each of us prunes every day for the entire month, all by hand, carrying a dustbin to fill with clippings, so that the garden never suffers in looks, she says.

ROUSHAM

Kent was big on views, and for those who tired of his sylvan arcadia, seats in the Temple of Echo command a view of the Cherwells humpbacked road bridge, where carriages and wagons and cattle drovers once made a modest diversion. To preserve his long south prospect from the house Mr and Mrs Cottrell - Dormer sold heirlooms some 20 years ago in order to buy the meadows on the rivers far bank outside the garden pale, and planted belts to screen out the railway line that runs close by. Charles and Angela Cottrell - Dormer took over the running of Rousham from Charless parents, who came back to the house in 1946 and opened the gardens. The sense of settled continuity here feels almost feudal, what with the husbandry and agriculture, the ancient longhorns grazing with their calves and the little 12th - century church just over the garden wall, filled with Jacobean box pews. Here Mr Cottrell - Dormer is patron of the living, Archbishop Cranmers is the prayer book of choice and Mrs Cottrell - Dormer acts as chatelaine, whisking inside to change an altar frontal for a funeral. The lilies scenting the chancel grew 15 paces away in her cutting garden. Inside the house Kents architectural work is stupendous, for the general was a crony of his patron Lord Burlington, and Kent in his assured middle age was pulling out all the stops for him. The depth and freshness of the Greek - key and guilloche carving in the Painted Parlour are miraculous, the more so because it remains unclogged with paint. The last time its pea - green colour was refreshed was in 1910, by a London decorating firm who recently returned for a celebratory works outing in order to admire its longevity. The rooms dim green gloom is intensified by the verdure seen through the windows, and the Venetian - style parchment lampshades that were bought, so Mrs Cottrell - Dormer avows, by her late parents - in - law in W oolworths. There are piles of books and hunting photographs and turkey carpets layered on top of one another. A gilded Kent table has a top designed with sea monsters and hairy satyrs who wade thigh - deep shouldering sheaves of corn. In the Great Parlour the sun has bleached the wide oak boards ash - white and brought out the grain; the velvet curtains, once some sort of vivid green, are now a peaceful sage; and germolene - pink paint has achieved a subtle smoky patina. This was once the generals library, but his place was usurped in 1760 with the arrival of a new bride at Rousham, Jane Caesar, who brought with her a set of Elizabethan and Jacobean portraits for which the walls were cleared and new Rococo plaster frames were devised. She added her own - insouciant in fashionable Turkish costume with a feathered turban - and the old generals books and prints were disposed of in a sale that lasted several days. The furniture designed for this room is all here though, in particular a set of magnificent scallop - carved chairs by Kent and a battered little table with a specimen marble top, its parcel gilt toned down by the subfusc - loving Victorians with a coat of flat brown paint. The room served for hunt balls, routs, music and entertaining, and is still used for such - also, according to Mrs Cottrell - Dormer, its a village hall. So life goes on. For the surprised garden visitor, instead of a postcard to buy, there is a box of giant marrows with a help yourself sign, and next, the walled gardens bumper crop of apples will be given away.
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