“All the black swans are mating, not only the father and mother, but both brothers and both sisters have paired off. The Ptolemys always did this and Cleopatra was the result. At any rate I have not thought it my duty to interfere.”  —Churchill to his wife, Chartwell, 21 January 1935.

Return of the swans

(Updated from 2009). Visiting Chartwell in 1935, Lady Diana Cooper observed its collection of birds. There were “five foolish geese, five furious black swans, two ruddy sheldrakes, two white swans—Mr. Juno and Mrs. Jupiter, so called because they got the sexes wrong to begin with, two Canada geese (‘Lord and Lady Beaverbrook’) and some miscellaneous ducks.”

Chartwell’s black swans were looked after as zealously as the apes on Gibraltar. But marauding foxes and mink had reduced the population to zero by 2008.

Happily in 2009, Chartwell head gardener Giles Palmer installed a new floating “swan island” to provide natural protection, and two new black swans (Cygnus atratus) were returned to the ponds designed by Churchill himself.

 Mr. Palmer told Kent News:

I have seen the swans on their island once or twice. I am confident they will be there as soon as the foliage grows up. For now, I’m simply thrilled that the swans are settling on so well. They’re getting so brave now that they venture all the way to the kitchen garden.

The floating island has allowed Palmer to remove ugly mesh screening set up against predators, returning the lakes to their appearance in Churchill’s time.

The first black swans

The original black swans were a gift to Churchill from Sir Phillip Sassoon in 1927. The population was frequently topped up by the government of Western Australia, where they are the state symbol. C. atratus is native also to Tasmania and has been introduced to New Zealand. It is the world’s only black swan, though its flight feathers, invisible at rest, are white.

Talking to the animals

Churchill was devoted to his swans and regularly engaged them in “swan-talk,” in which he claimed proficiency. But a postwar bodyguard, Ronald Golding, told me his skill was not exclusive. It was one of WSC’s little myths. In fact, the swans would cry out to anyone who approached within a certain distance. Ron said:

Some time after this discovery that I was walking down to the lake with Mr. Churchill. I was a little in front, and watched carefully for the critical spot. I then called out in “swan-talk” and the birds dutifully replied to me.

Mr. Churchill stopped dead. I turned round and he looked me full in the eye for a moment or two. Then the faintest suspicion of a smile appeared and he walked on in silence. No comment was ever made that this secret was shared.

Related reading

“‘Darling Monster’: Lady Diana Cooper and Her Remembrances of Churchill,” 2022.

“Lady Diana Cooper on Winston and Clementine,” 2018.

“Churchill’s Butterflies Continue to Flourish at Chartwell,” 2019.

David Riddle, a National Trust volunteer at Chartwell, gave me the background of the “Butterfly House” Churchill established to propagate the insects on the grounds of his home:

The Butterfly House was first used as a game larder between 1869 and 1889 by the Colquhoun family, who owned Chartwell between 1830 and 1922, when Churchill bought the estate. Two years later Philip Tilden, his architect, converted the larder to a summer house by removing the east wall. In 1946 it was converted to a Butterfly House. Churchill used it for raising caterpillars and chrysalises. He received advice from butterflies expert L. Hugh Newman, who owned a “butterfly farm” in nearby Sidcup. Lady Churchill planted buddleia, lavender and other nectar-rich flowers in order to encourage the butterflies. Sir Winston changed the walk from gravel to turf and stepping stones in 1950.

Butterflies: A Lifetime Interest

Churchill became fascinated with butterflies as a young officer stationed in India, where they were colorful and prolific. Years later, in 1939, and again after the war, he determined to propagate them at Chartwell. L. Hugh Newman, as David Riddle states, was his chief supplier.

Ronald Golding, Churchill’s Scotland Yard detective during 1946-47, told me an amusing episode involving Newman’s first visit to Churchill:

He took the breeder for a walk round the grounds and gave a general idea of his plans. The expert then gave advice and went into technical details. Mr. Churchill said very little. Rather like a penny dropping in the butterfly man’s mind, you could almost hear him thinking: “Ah, I’ve got the old boy. He’s not nearly as clever as I thought. This is one sphere in which I know a lot more than he does.”

Mr. Newman became just the slightest bit patronizing and boomf! Mr. Churchill came back at him with very lucid comments showing that he was fully acquainted with everything being said. Visibly shaken, the expert never tried to “talk down” again. It was a pattern of conversation I’d noticed with other experts. I can’t help feeling that Mr. Churchill pretended ignorance to a certain extent, then came down like a ton of bricks if there was any attempt to patronize him.

A very successful scheme was put in hand and some of the rarest butterflies and moths of the greatest beauty were hatched out. By careful provision of the right flowers and bushes, the butterflies were kept well fed.

“In Durance Vile”

Churchill’s daughter Lady Soames was not sure when he stopped raising butterflies, but it might have been after an event described by longtime Chartwell secretary and administrator Grace Hamblin, at a 1987 Churchill Conference:

He had a little hut in the garden, which is still there. In those days he had the front covered with gauze, with a gauze door opening into it. A nearby butterfly farm sent him chrysalises. which he liked to see develop. One morning, I was with him spreading out the chrysalises. Upon leaving the little hut, he left the door open. I said, “Did you want to leave the door open, or should I close it?” He said, “I can’t bear this captivity any longer!” Thus we no longer kept butterflies, but they are supposed to remain in the garden once you start. It’s a lovely occupation. When he knew that Chartwell would eventually go to the National Trust and be open to the public he said, “I hope the National Trust will grow plenty of buddleia for my butterflies.”

This charming story reminds us of Churchill’s hatred of imprisonment. In his autobiography, he writes of being jailed by the Boers in the Anglo-Boer War, in a chapter entitled, “In Durance Vile.” Ten years later as Home Secretary, he strove to avoid imprisoning people for trivial offenses and was ahead of his time in his ideas about rehabilitating inmates.