Up and Down Stairs - Jeremy Musson [123]
Although they sound like some of the most comfortable servants’ rooms of the day, they were nevertheless shared, a custom that continued until the interwar period: ‘I was delighted to see we had an open fireplace, which would be cosy in the winter. The rooms were kept spotlessly clean by a housemaid assigned to the footman’s quarters,’ a comment that reminds us that in a great household a number of servants were still employed essentially to look after other servants. ‘There was a large bathroom which we all shared. Because we powdered our hair before the wide mirror and shelves, it was called the Powder Room.’ That evening he explored the house and played in the menservants’ billiards hall, in one of the many underground rooms below the lawn.6
As well as serving at meals (breakfast, lunch, tea and dinner, in rotation, with every fourth day off duty), Mr Gorst had to ‘attend’ the duke: ‘I sat in a comfortable leather chair behind a twelve foot screen which blocked off a corner of the room. I could not see the Duke nor could he see me.’ Despite bells being a part of domestic technology at least since the eighteenth century, ‘his Grace disliked ringing a bell for a footman when he wanted something, so the man on duty always sat ready within earshot to answer his “hello,” which was his way of summoning us.’7
Poor Mr Gorst found this pretty dull, but a touch of humanity enters the story at this point: ‘I must say I thought this was a boring assignment, but suddenly the Duchess appeared from behind the screen and handed me several newspapers and magazines. “Gorst,” she said, “move a lamp over to the chair and read if you like. There is no reason not be at ease. However, be sure not to fall asleep in case his Grace needs you.”’ The duchess was clearly considerate to her footmen, not least because at Welbeck they were rather well fed and she wanted them to keep in trim. To this end, as well as giving them each a bicycle and a bag of golf clubs, she decided that all four had to be instructed in ‘callisthenetics in the gymnasium at the specified hours and she engaged a Japanese ju-jitsu expert to train us.’8
Mr Gorst wore the royal livery, rather than the Portland livery of the footmen who served only at the house and not at royal functions. Breakfast and luncheon were served in an ordinary or off-duty livery: black trousers, a waistcoat of livery cut, knee-length boots, a white shirt and a white bow tie. For tea and dinner, they wore the small scarlet livery and powdered hair; ‘This consisted of a short scarlet coat, a scarlet waistcoat, purple knee breeches, white stockings, black pumps with bows, and a square, white bow tie.’9
Typically, liveries were matched to specific grades of occasion: ‘We wore formal luncheon and dinner liveries only when there were guests, and the full-state uniform was used only for state occasions.’ Unsurprisingly, ‘I soon found that I spent a good part of my time dressing, and undressing, and changing my uniforms,’ as many footmen serving in great aristocratic houses must have found.10
During a shooting-party, lunch was taken in the dining room: ‘We footmen served them from our stations at the sideboard which held roast game in season, leg of lamb, game pie, roast chicken, and roast ham. There were always platters of eggs Rochambeau, fish, a garnished entrée of chicken en gelee, and salad. The sweet was often rice pudding.’ In the evening, at seven-thirty the dressing gong sounded, and at eight-fifteen the guests assembled for dinner. No cocktails or sherry were offered because the duke thought they dulled the palate.11
For Mr Gorst, the perfection and attention to detail that characterised the great Edwardian country house were summed up in the menu card: ‘on the table before each place was a silver holder with a menu card of the dinner bearing the crest of