Category: Victoria Hinshaw

Preserved Kitchens from the Past

A few months ago, the Daily Mail reported on the discovery of a Victorian kitchen in the basement of a large home in Wales. The room, closed off for decades, will be preserved as an excellent example of how the servants once lived and worked.

Cefn Park, Wales

The entire article is here.  Imagine discovering such relics right down in the basement!

Which got us thinking about other historic  kitchens  we’ve visited in Britain.  There are many — send us your favorites!

The Hampton Court Palace kitchens are among the most popular parts of the oft-visited palace.  On many days, costumed works demonstrate Tudor cookery and prepare treats for the sightseers.  We remember imbibing chocolate drinks, far different than what we enjoy at Starbucks, but still delicious (when you get used to it!).

Above, the larder where the butcher received game and began to prepare the meat for feeding the hundreds of royal guests, court functionaries and palace staff.  Imagine keeping 600 people fed — 24/7.

The kitchen complex includes bakeries, breweries, larders, boiling and roasting rooms, pantries, confectories, spicery, and many more. Not to mention sculleries I suppose. For more on Henry VIII’s kitchens, click here.

Another wonderful kitchen that prepared royal meals is in the Brighton Pavilion, home of the Prince Regent, later George IV.  For a panoramic Tour, click here.  For more on the Brighton Pavilion, try this.

When it was constructed in the early 1800’s, it was the epitome of innovation with its high ceilings.  Our friend Ian Kelly wrote a book about Careme, the most famous chef who worked here, among other places. For details, click here.

 Below, the kitchens at Burghley House, home of Queen Elizabeth I’s trusted advisor William Cecil.

The kitchens at Burghley House are filled with copper pans (Kristine and Victoria and their companions almost swooned at the thought of keeping all of them so shiny!) On the right above, are the collected skulls of turtles, who were no doubt privileged to sacrifice their lives to the soup pot.  To see more on Burghley House, click here.
As a matter of fact, displays of gleaming copper pots are typical of the kitchens in stately homes.  Petworth has a wonderful collection.  Details on Petworth here.
 Petworth, National Trust
Harewood House, above, in Yorkshire also boasts shelf after shelf of bright copper utensils. This kitchen, too, is often the site of special events which include tasty treats.  Harewood’s excellent website is here.
Uppark, NT
 There’s a special twist to the downstairs facilities displayed at the National Trust’s Uppark House. The mother of the brilliant author H. G.Well
s (1866-1946) worked here as housekeeper in the 1880’s and the young Wells grew up in the servants quarters.  More on Uppark is here.
 The tunnels at Uppark were constructed to shield the delicate sensibilities of the owners from viewing the servants bustling about between the kitchens and the stables. But imagine how much fun it would be to play hide-and-seek here. Or chase the toads that often invade. Nevertheless, we should not try to romanticize the lives beneath the stairs — it was never easy and often brutal.

However, if you insist upon romanticizing the life of a servant, you can always try your hand at various below stairs tasks at the very interactive Lanhydrock House (above) in Cornwall, where they urge visitors to “have a go at napkin folding, laying a place setting and hat brushing on our touch and discover tables around the house.”

For an authentic look at the life of the country house staff, the National Trust has this and other volumes available at their bookstore, here. 
So what are you having for dinner?  I’m thinking carry-out!

More Reminiscences of Captain Gronow

To say that Captain Gronow is not politically correct by today’s standards would be an understatement indeed. However, his comments no doubt reflect the prevailing view of his readers, however offensive we find his prejudices today.

Here are Gronow’s observations on author Matthew Lewis (1775-1818), known as Monk after the name of his renowned Gothick novel.

Matthew “Monk” Lewis by Pickersgill, 1809
“MONK” LEWIS

One of the most agreeable men of the day was “Monk” Lewis.  As the author of the Monk and the Tales of Wonder, he not only found his way into the best circles, but had gained a high reputation in the literary world. His poetic talent was undoubted, and he was intimately connected with Walter Scott in his ballad researches.  His Alonzo the Brave and the Fair Imogene was recited at the theatres, and wherever he went he found a welcome reception.  His West Indian fortune and connections, and his seat in Parliament, gave him access to all the aristocratic circles; from which, however, he was banished upon the appearance of the fourth and last dialogue of the Pursuits of Literature.  Had a thunderbolt fallen upon him, he could not have been more astonished than he was by the onslaught of Mr. Matthias, which led to his ostracism from fashionable society.

 It is not for me to appreciate the value of this satirical poem, which created such an extraordinary sensation, not only in the fashionable, but in the political world; I, however, remember that whilst at Canning’s, at the Bishop of London’s, and at Gifford’s, it was pronounced the most classical and spirited production that had ever issued from the press, it was held up at Lord Holland’s, at the Marquis of Lansdowne’s, and at Brookes’s, as one of the most spiteful and ill-natured satires that had ever disgraced the literary world; and one which no talent or classic lore could ever redeem.  Certain it is, that Matthias fell foul of poor “Monk” Lewis for his romance: obscenity and blasphemy were the charges laid at his door; he was acknowledged to be a man of genius and fancy, but this added only to his crime, to which was superadded that of being a very young man.  The charges brought against him cooled his friends and heated his enemies; the young ladies were forbidden to speak to him, matrons even feared him, and from being one of the idols of the world, he became one of the objects of its disdain. Even his father was led to believe that his son had abandoned the paths of virtue, and was on the high road to ruin.

 “Monk” Lewis, unable to stand against the outcry thus raised against him, determined to try the effects of absence, and took his departure for the island in which his property was; but unfortunately for those who dissented from the ferocious judgment that was passed upon him, and for those who had discrimination enough to know that after all there was nothing very objectionable in his romance, and felt assured that posterity would do him justice, this amiable and kind-hearted man died on his passage out; leaving a blank in one variety of literature which has never been filled up.

 The denunciation was not followed by any other severe criticism; but editors have, in compliance with the insinuations of Matthias, omitted the passages which he pointed out as objectionable, so that the original text is seldom met with.

“Monk” Lewis had a black servant, affectionately attached to his master; but so ridiculously did this servant repeat his master’s expressions, that he became the laughing-stock of all his master’s friends: Brummell used often to raise a hearty laugh at Carlton House by repeating witticisms which he pretended to have heard from Lewis’s servant.  Some of these were very stale; yet they were considered so good as to be repeated at the clubs, greatly adding to the reputation of the Beau as a teller of good things.  “On one occasion,” said Brummell, “I called to inquire after a young lady who had sprained her ancle; Lewis, on being asked how she was, had said in the black’s presence, ‘The doctor has seen her, put her legs straight, and the poor chicken is doing well.’ The servant, therefore, told me, with a mysterious and knowing look, ‘Oh, sir, the doctor has been here; she has laid eggs, and she and the chickens are doing well.'”

 Such extravagances in those days were received as the essence of wit, and to such stories did the public give a willing ear, repeating them with unwearying zest.  Even Sheridan’s wit partook of this character, making him the delight of the Prince, who ruled over the fashionable world, and whose approbation was sufficient to give currency to anything, however ludicrous and absurd.

More excerpts from Captain Gronow's Reminiscences

Captain Gronow knew and admired the Austrian dancer Fanny Elssler (1810-1884). Here, from his Reminiscences, is his commentary on her:

FANNY ELSSLER

In 1822 I saw this beautiful person for the first time.  She was originally one of the figurantes at the opera at Vienna, and was at this time about fourteen years of age, and of delicate and graceful proportions.  Her hair was auburn, her eyes blue and large, and her face wore an expression of great tenderness. Some years after the Duke of Reichstadt, the son of the great Napoleon, was captivated with her beauty; in a word, he became her acknowledged admirer, while her marvellous acting and dancing drew around her all the great men of the German court.  The year following she went to Naples, where a brother of the King fell desperately in love with her.  Mademoiselle Elssler went soon afterwards to Paris, where her wit electrified all the fashionable world, and her dancing and acting in the Diable Boiteux made the fortune of the entrepreneur. In London her success was not so striking; but her cachucha will long be remembered, as one of the most exquisite exhibitions of female grace and power ever seen at her Majesty’s Theatre, and in expressiveness, her pantomimic powers were unrivalled.
Fanny Elssler, 1836

Our Love Affair with Country Life

Intriguing concept?  Well, have to admit we are talking about a magazine here.  Country Life is a weekly slick publication in the UK to which a few privileged Americans (like Kristine) have subscriptions.

February 1, 2012 issue

The website is here. It give a wonderful summary of what is in the magazine — but to be honest, holding a heavy copy in your hands and turning the glossy pages provides a particular thrill.  You will find lots of information and pictures on the website, but give me a fresh issue, a cup of tea, and a hassock on which to rest my feet.  Picture a perfectly contented person, dreaming of that perfect house…or ideal estate…or a London pied a terre.  And every week, a new source for those dreams.

I assume that the lavish property ads give the magazine its primary income as well as its fantasy factor for those of us who spend hours pretending…would I prefer a townhouse…or an estate on the coast…or in the Yorkshire Dales?   A recent issue concentrating on the Cotswolds  absolutely gave me palpitations.  I simply couldn’t choose which one  I would focus my dayreams on. I had to read it over and over.

The covers are wonderful, from the Queen to the noble hen above. Or the antique airplane (a Sopwith Camel, c. 1917, I think)  below.

Not only are there  wonderful property ads — you will also find art and antiques, clothing and jewelry, all for the upper crust crowd.  But, as I say, we can dream.

The magazine’s editorial content is devoted to all the topics that might interest a country gentleman or gentlewoman.  They are sometimes unabashedly involved in political issues, taking a rather traditional approach in defending the interests of the countryside in issues such as land use, development, and agricultural and coastline policies. 

Cornish Coast, NT

Other articles describe notable gardens and give hints on growing various kinds of plants, both decorative and edible.  Or raising dogs, especially sporting and working dogs. Hunting and fishing are often discussed, as is fox-hunting.

Every issue carries a picture of a lovely young lady, sometimes about to be married, other times in business.  This has been a feature for many years.   I remember reading an Alexander McCall Smith story about a young lady who had been the “girl of the week” and was embarrassed to admit it to her university friends.

Among my favorite features are the stories of stately homes, their preservation and their presentation to the public.  It is not hard to imagine what a financial burden these piles are for the families who own them; that is why so many are English Heritage or National Trust.

After I finish my reveries (delusions?) about property, I usually flip to the back page to look at the wonderful cartoon in Tottering -by-Gently, the work of Annie Hurst.  For more views, click here.

Among my other regular favoites are the columns of the Country Mouse and the Town Mouse, for random observations on life, always amusing and/or thought-provoking.
They even have recipes and restaurant reviews. Below, a suggestion for your next Tea Party.
carrot relish recipe

 Whatever your favorite magazine feature, you will be entertained and amused by Country Life.  We love to read the magazine in an aspirational mood — for almost everything here is beyond our reach, however much we admire it.  It’s delicious for wishing!! 

Kristine h
ere, who just finished reading the issue above – the piece on coaching inns was marvelous. My subscription to Country Life is an annual gift that I make to myself and I look forward to its arrival each week. Like Victoria, my favourite bits of the magazine are the real estate ads at the front, some of which I’ve posted here on the blog. Stately home articles, historic tidbits, recipes, gardening, architectural stories and, of course, the husbandry of various animals all make for a weird yet satisfying combination. Where else would find such articles as “Why the English love their chimneys” and “The quintessential gourmet experience in London” in the same issue?
Victoria – I’ve a new batch of Country Life issues to give you when next we meet.

Regency Reflections: Ashton on 1812, Part II

John Ashton, in Social England Under the Regency, told of the convoluted eforts of the Prince Regent to reward his assistant, Colonel McMahon, and how various others in government circles tried to thwart the PR’s wishes. From Chapter 6, 1812:

But, be his (McMahon’s) origin whatever it might have been, he was a tool well fitted for the use of his august master, who, it must be owned, endeavoured to repay him; but, also, at the public expense. In 1811 General Fox died, and at his death, the office of Paymaster of the Widows’ Pensions became vacant. It was a perfect sinecure, the duties being done by others, and the salary attached to the office was over £2,000 per annum. The Commissioners of 1783, and of 1808, both reported and recommended the abolition of the Paymaster and Deputy-Paymaster of Widows’ Pensions, as being unnecessary, the one having very little to do, the other, nothing at all. The office of Paymaster had, in particular, been recommended to be done away with, on the demise of General Fox; but it was given to Colonel McMahon.
             On January 9, 1812, on a Motion for Supply, Mr. Creevey spoke decidedly against this appointment, and moved as an Amendment, ‘That the House would, to-morrow se’nnight resolve itself into a Committee of Supply, in order to give an opportunity, in the interim, for the consideration which he had suggested,’ namely, that they would take into their earliest consideration, the various offices of emolument recently granted by the Crown to several of their members. This amendment was lost.
Thomas Creevey (1768-1838), MP
 
            On the 22nd of February, the question of the Army Estimates being on, Mr. Bankes moved as an Amendment, ‘That the amount of the sum expected to be paid to the Paymaster of Widows’ Pensions, being 12d. in the pound on the said Pensions (£2,790 1s) be deducted from the said sum.’ This amendment was lost by a majority of sixteen.

            But on the next night, Mr. Bankes brought the matter up again, and moved the virtual abolition of the office by omitting the sum necessary to pay it–and this was carried by a majority of three.

            There was consternation among the Regent’s party at the temerity of the House in thus thwarting the Royal wishes, and, of course, the recalcitrated Commons must be taught a lesson, so McMahon was appointed Keeper of the Privy Purse, and Private Secretary to the Prince Regent; and in the caricature of ‘The Privy Purse and Political Beggars’ we find McMahon installed in his new position. Sheridan says, ‘Dear, good worthy Countryman, thou Pine Apple of Erin! consider I was burnt out,* not a penny in my purse, my credit very low–do–dear Mac, for the love of St. Patrick, give me a handful.’ Buckingham: ‘I have not above a Hundred Thousand a year, these hard times. Pray remember the Poor!’ Temple: ‘With my wife’s fortune and my own I have not above Forty Thousand a year. Pray remember the Poor! Grenville: ‘I have not above Fifty Thousand a year, a slender pittance. Pray remember the Poor!’ Mac Mahon replies: ‘Paws Off! no Blarney will do with me! I’m up to all your Gammon! and so is my dear Master. I’m cosy at last, in spite of all your speeches and paragraphs, and you may all go to the Devil, your Master!!!’

            And doubtless, he thought he was cosy, but the Commons would not stand the job, and on the 23rd of March, his appointment was brought before Parliament, and the Hon. J.W. Ward asked whether it was a fact, and, if so, what salary was he to have? Mr. Perceval, as Chancellor of the Exchequer, admitted the appointment, and pointed out that Colonel Taylor had occupied the same position towards the King for many years, and the same salary that was given to that gentleman had been continued to Colonel McMahon. Mr. Whitbread pointed out that Colonel Taylor’s appointment was owing to the infirmities of the King, and that previously there had been no such post.

McMahon, by Lawrence, Vancouver Art Gallery
            On the 14th of April, Mr. C.W. Wynn, in the House of Commons, moved for the Production of the Appointment of Colonel McMahon to the new Office of Private Secretary to his Royal Highness the Prince Regent. A very long discussion took place, and on a division, the motion was negatived by a majority of seventy-six. But the Ministry felt that the House was decidedly against them, and the appointment was not persisted in–McMahon afterwards became a pensioner on the Privy Purse.
Note from Victoria: Sir John McMahon (c.1754-1817), formerly a colonel in the foot guards, was a Privy Counselor from 1812 to his death in 1817. He was made a baronet by the Prince Regent.  Several of his bothers also occupied important government positions in England and Ireland.  In Georgette Heyer’s  1935 novel, Regency Buck, he is a minor character in Brighton and facilitates Judith’s first invitation to the Royal Pavilion.
I guess this is a sneaky way to insert one of my favorite authors, Georgette Heyer.   Regency Buck was the first of her many Regency-set novels; her research was brilliant and her accuracy meticulous, setting a high standard for the rest of us authors.