Taste of the Cotswolds
On the foodie trail in England's most delicious region
SWEET PIE as
Take a gourmet tour of the Cotswolds and discover a thriving food and wine culture in country pubs, ancient market towns and vibrant farmers’ markets
HOUSE TREASURES of
Burghley is England’s greatest Elizabethan house, whose priceless works of art were collected by extravagant earls on lavish grand tours. But its latest treasure came from a more unexpected source
The Royal Collection might include Old Masters the size of a whole wall, toweringly tall sculptures, and dining tables long enough to seat a small army, but one of its best-known and best-loved treasures is a masterpiece on a miniature scale: Queen Mary’s Dolls’ House, which celebrates its centenary this year.
Complete with everything from a grand saloon to a wine cellar and scullery, and filled with a thousand tiny but incredibly realistic fixtures and fittings, the Dolls’ House was the brainchild of Princess Marie Louise. A childhood friend of Queen Mary, cousin of her husband, King George V, and very much at home in artistic circles, it was she who, in 1921, convinced the most eminent British architect of her age, Sir Edwin Lutyens, creator of London’s Cenotaph, to oversee its design, decoration and furnishing as a gift to the Queen from a grateful nation – a gift whose playfulness might bring a smile to the faces of a people scarred by the horrors of the First World War.
Always known as a dolls’ house despite the fact that no dolls ever took up residence in its grand rooms, the project gained momentum when it was decided that it
should go on show at 1924’s Empire Exhibition – a sort of postwar successor to the Great Exhibition of 1851, held at Wembley Park and intended to promote international trade and boost economic growth. “It became a literal showcase for British manufacturing,” says Kathryn Jones, senior curator at the Royal Collection Trust, who cares for the dolls’ house and its contents, and has overseen a special centenary display at Windsor Castle, its home since 1925. “I believe it’s for this reason that so much attention was lavished on each individual piece to produce an exact miniature replica of a full-scale work,” she explains.
And lavished is the word. Working to a scale of 1:12, over 1,500 craftsmen – everyone from Royal Warrant holders like Cartier, to veterans of the war – laboured for three years with love and astonishing skill to recreate miniature versions of everything a house for the Queen might require. There is a red velvet throne, and a despatch box, overflowing with tiny sealed letters for the sovereign’s attention; champagne bottles filled with real fizz using tiny pipettes, glittering chandeliers modelled on those in great stately homes and fully monogrammed bedlinen.
“Every room contains a new delight or something of interest,” enthuses Kathryn, who has examined the contents up close in a way that few have been able to –until now, that is. For the Royal Collection Trust have shot a series of videos of the house from ‘a dolls’ eye view’ for the centenary, showcasing the incredible artistry like never before. And for those able to visit Windsor Castle in person this year, a selection of the house’s contents have gone on display in the splendour of the Castle’s Waterloo Chamber. Pieces like a tiny Singer sewing machine and scissors that really cut, a grand piano with functioning keys, and a scaled-down version of the Crown Jewels, studded with real diamonds, are all too easily underappreciated in situ, but shine under a spotlight.
hosts scrambled to tuck their most treasured trinkets out of sight, to avoid being obliged by her profuse admiration to offer them up as gifts. She naturally declared the house “the most perfect present that anyone could receive”.
The Queen’s passion for collecting diminutive items of decorative art, from fans to Fabergé, was legendary
They were certainly just the things to enchant a Queen whose passion for collecting diminutive items of decorative art, from fans to Fabergé, was legendary – so legendary, in fact, that it spawned the unjust rumour that whenever she paid a visit to an aristocratic house, her
But there was not simply charm in the project’s miniature proportions. From the start, it was viewed as a valuable opportunity to leave ‘a memorial for future times’ of British domestic and cultural life in the 1920s – albeit life in the sort of home where the inhabitants had inherited suits of armour and antique furniture, had scores of servants, and could afford cutting-edge modern conveniences. The house not only has electricity and an operational lift, but a Hoover and a functioning lawnmower; and is crammed full of goods from the era’s most venerated brands: tea from Twinings, jams from Tiptree, sweets from Rowntree’s and biscuits from McVitie’s.
In many ways it is a house rooted in the Edwardian era rather than the Roaring Twenties, when Art Deco was gaining ground in design, and the servants who appear
On the TRAIL CAS TLE
Sitting on the long-contested Welsh border, Monmouthshire was once a place of violent turmoil. Now it’s all scenic landscapes and bustling market towns – but nine fortresses remain to tell the story
HEROES
OF THE SEA
The Royal National Lifeboat Institution was founded 200 years ago in a London tavern, and has gone on to save nearly 150,000 lives at sea