Wickham Place is the London home of Lord and Lady Southgate, their children and staff. Located in fashionable Belgravia it is a fine Georgian terrace house.
Today we are below stairs in the Wickham Place kitchen. The Wickham Place kitchens are situated on the ground floor of Wickham Place, adjoining the Butler’s Pantry. It is dominated by big black leaded range, and next to it stands a heavy dark wood dresser that has been there for as long as anyone can remember. In the middle of the kitchen stands Cook’s preserve, the pine deal table on which she does most of her preparation for both the meals served to the family upstairs and those for the downstairs staff.
Tomorrow is Empire Day*, and Mrs. Bradley, fondly known as Cook by most of the Wickham Place family and staff, has been given instructions by Lady Southgate to come up with a suitably themed afternoon tea for the Southgate children, Piers and Sarah. The deal table is covered in ingredients to make something memorable for the occasion.
“Well,” Mrs. Bradley asks Agnes. “Have you finished with pouring out the jellies to set, Agnes?”
“Oh, yes Mrs. Bradley!” Agnes enthuses, indicating to the copper moulds filled with hot red water which is still steaming. “They’s all set!”
“’They are’, is what you mean to say my girl!” she corrects her.
“Oh, yes Mrs. Bradley. They are all set.”
“That’s better.” Mrs. Bradley replies, satisfied. “Well back to making that cupcake icing then, my girl! We have no time to waste today with Her Ladyship’s orders for this Empire Day afternoon tea!”
“Yes, Mrs Bradley.” Agnes moves around the end of the table and resumes beating the half-finished creamy icing.
“I’m only grateful that they,” Mrs. Bradley raises her wooden spoon coated in Victoria sponge cake mix and points it to the ceiling above her head. “Are at one of the King’s Levées for Empire Day tomorrow evening. Otherwise, I don’t know how we’d get all this done.”
“No, Mrs. Bradley.”
The older woman goes back to combining beaten eggs and vanilla into her big bowl of creamed butter and sugar. She looks at the brightly coloured jars of plum and apple and gooseberry jam in front of her as she does and a distant look drifts across her face. “Tell me Agnes,”
“What Mrs. Bradley?”
“Between all that praying, atonement and fasting of your dour chapel life, did you ever celebrate Empire Day?”
“Oh yes Mrs. Bradley!” Agnes smiles. “It was always a special day at school! I’d wear my best white pinny, what Mum would of,” She stops, her face falling slightly after catching sight of the cook’s stern glance at her linguistic faux pas. “Would have, bleached and starched. I’d get to wear a pretty ribbon in my hair.”
“And what did you do, at school I mean?”
“Well of course we’d all salute the flag in the morning when we stood in our class rows for assembly. Our headmaster would give us a speech about the fact that we were part of the biggest and best empire what… that, has ever been known in the world, and we’d all have to declare our loyalty to the King. Miss Laycock was the most musical teacher that we had at our school, and she’d dust off the old upright in the gymnasium we used for calisthenics, and we’d all sing songs like ‘God Save the King’ and ‘Jerusalem’, and then, if she was in the mood, we’d have dancing whilst she played tunes.”
“That all sounds rather jolly.” Mrs. Bradly remarks, folding scoops of flour through her beaten egg and creamed butter mixture.
“Oh, that wasn’t the best of it, Mrs. Bradley!” Agnes exclaims, momentarily resting her whipping arm.
“No, Agnes?”
“No! The best part was that in the afternoon we all got to leave school early, but not before we had a lovely big tea set out for us!”
“Now that does sound grand, Agnes.”
“It was Mrs. Bradley! There were cakes and slices, not as fine as what we made here, but still, very nice for what our families could all afford.”
“I didn’t think your mother would contribute to such a lavish display of food wastage, since she used to pinch your boiled Easter Eggs complaining of the extravagance and waste.”
“Who said she did, Mrs. Bradley?” Agnes scoffs. “Nah, my brothers and sisters liked Empire Day because we’d get food we never got at home. Mum and Dad couldn’t afford to give anything to the tea, but we were still allowed to eat some of the cakes and slices. If we were lucky, we might even get some fruit from one of the local orchards and we could take an apple or a pear away with us as an afternoon treat as we went to play on our afternoon off school.”
“I still say that it doesn’t sound like you had much fun as a child, Agnes, even with your grand Empire Day celebrations.” Mrs. Bradley remarks.
“It mightn’t have been a life like Master Piers and Miss Sarah, but broken biscuits and the occasional stolen fruit didn’t do us no harm, Mrs. Bradley,” Agnes remarks with a false steeliness to her voice. “Anyway, Mum might have been a Tarter, but Dad was a good man and loved us all. He wasn’t a drunk like some of my school chums’ dads was… were, and he never laid a hand on us, ‘less we deserved it of course, which we did sometimes.”
“I could well imagine.” Mrs. Bradley chuckled, pouring the Victoria sponge mix into two separate baking tins. Placing them in the hot oven of the range behind her, she turns back and remarks, “Now! Her ladyship wants ‘something suitably patriotic’, so how about I teach you how to make marzipan Union Jacks, Agnes!”
“Oh yes Mrs. Bradley!” Agnes claps with delight. “That would be wonderful!”
*The very first Empire Day took place on the 24th of May 1902, Queen Victoria’s birthday. Although not officially recognised as an annual event until 1916, many schools across the British Empire were celebrating it before then. Each Empire Day, millions of school children from all walks of life across the length and breadth of the British Empire would typically salute the Union Jack and sing patriotic songs like ‘Jerusalem’ and ‘God Save the King’ (later ‘God Save the Queen’). They would hear inspirational speeches and listen to tales of ‘daring do’ from across the Empire, stories that included such heroes as Clive of India, Wolfe of Québec and ‘Chinese Gordon’ of Khartoum. But of course the real highlight of the day for the children was that they were let of school early in order to take part in the thousands of marches, maypole dances, concerts and parties that celebrated the event. Empire Day remained an essential part of the calendar for more than 50 years, celebrated by countless millions of children and adults alike, an opportunity to demonstrate pride in being part of the British Empire. By the 1950s, the Empire was in decline and Britain’s relationship with the other countries that formed the Empire had also changed, as they began to celebrate their own identity. In 1958 Empire Day was re-badged as British Commonwealth Day, and still later in 1966 when it became known as Commonwealth Day. The date of Commonwealth Day was also changed to 10th June, the official birthday of Queen Elizabeth. The date was again changed in 1977 to the second Monday in March, when each year The Queen still sends a special message to the youth of the Empire via a radio broadcast to all the various countries of the Commonwealth.
This tableau is made up of part of my 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures collection. Some pieces come from my own childhood like the ladderback chair in the background. Other items I acquired as an adult through specialist online dealers and artists who specialise in 1:12 miniatures.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
Cook’s yellow stoneware mixing bowl and wooden spoon I have had since I was a teenager. I bought it from a high street doll house miniature specialist. Also from the same shop is the mixing bowl containing eggs and the whisk. You can even see the egg yolks in the bowl. All these items are 1:12 artisan miniatures with amazing attention to detail so they match the life size equivalent.
To the left of the bowl, stands one of Cook's Cornishware cannisters. Cornishware is a striped kitchenware brand trademarked to and manufactured by T.G. Green & Co Ltd. Originally introduced in the 1920s and manufactured in Church Gresley, Derbyshire, it was a huge success for the company and in the succeeding 30 years it was exported around the world. The company ceased production in June 2007 when the factory closed under the ownership of parent company, The Tableshop Group. The range was revived in 2009 after T.G. Green was bought by a trio of British investors.
The Art Nouveau silver cup in front of the bowl and cannister is a dolls’ house miniature from Germany. Made in the first decade of the Twentieth Century it is a beautiful work of art as a stand alone item, and is remarkably heavy for its size.
The two jars of P.C. Flett and Company jam are 1:12 artisan miniature made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. One is plum jam and the other apple and gooseberry. P.C. Flett and Company was established in Kirkwall in the Orkney Islands by Peter Copeland Flett. He had inherited a small family owned ironmongers in Albert Street Kirkwall, which he inherited from his maternal family. He had a shed in the back of the shop where he made ginger ale, lemonade, jams and preserves from local produce. By the 1920s they had an office in Liverpool, and travelling representatives selling jams and preserves around Great Britain. I am not sure when the business ceased trading.
Behind Cook’s mixing bowl and the Cornishware cannister stands a bag of Dry Fork Four. The Dry Fork Milling Company was based in Dry Fork Virginia. They were well known for producing cornmeal. They were still producing cornmeal and flour into the 1950s. Today, part of the old mill buildings are used as a reception centre.
The box of Rowntree's Table Jelly is a 1:12 artisan miniature made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. Founded by Henry Isaac Rowntree in Castlegate in York in 1862, Rowntree's developed strong associations with Quaker philanthropy. Throughout much of the Nineteenth and Twentieth centuries, it was one of the big three confectionery manufacturers in the United Kingdom, alongside Cadbury and Fry, both also founded by Quakers. In 1981, Rowntree's received the Queen's Award for Enterprise for outstanding contribution to international trade. In 1988, when the company was acquired by Nestlé, it was the fourth-largest confectionery manufacturer in the world. The Rowntree brand continues to be used to market Nestlé's jelly sweet brands, such as Fruit Pastilles and Fruit Gums, and is still based in York.
The mixing bowl at the end of the table with the white cream icing and whisk, the jelly mould and jug of jelly have been made in England by hand by former chef turned miniature artisan, Frances Knight. Her work is incredibly detailed and realistic, and she says that she draws her inspiration from her years as a chef and her imagination.
In the foreground of the photo stands a miniature Blue Calico milk jug. Traditional dark blue Burleigh Calico made in Staffordshire, England by Burgess & Leigh since 1851. It was inspired by Nineteenth Century indigo fabrics. Blue Calico is still made today, and still uses the traditional print transfer process, which makes each piece unique.
The copper kettles on the range and the copperware in the dresser in the background are all made of real copper and come from various miniature stockists in England and America.
The large kitchen range in the background is a 1:12 miniature replica of the coal fed Phoenix Kitchen Range. A mid-Victorian model, it has hinged opening doors, hanging bars above the stove and a little bass hot water tap (used in the days before plumbed hot water).
