| Notes |
--- Goddaughter of Lady Elizabeth Cornwallis. Received 5,000 pounds in her will.
--- "Wells Journal" 18 Apr 1857, page 8:
BIRTHS. April 8, at Canford Vicarage, the Lady Louisa Ponsonby, a daughter.
--- "The Times" 24 Jun 1940, page 9:
We have to announce the death of the Dowager Lady Raglan, which occurred in London on June 22. The funeral will take place at Llandenny, Mon., on June 26, at 3.15. No mourning, by her request. Instead of flowers, donations may be sent to the Alexandra Day Fund, Eccleston Square, London, or to the Royal National Life-boat Institution, Grosvenor Gardens, London.
--- "The Times" 28 Jun 1940, page 9:
FUNERAL.
The Dowager Lady Raglan
The funeral of the Dowager Lady Raglan took place at Llandenny Church, Monmouthshire, on Wednesday. The Rev. A.D. Smith officiated. Those present included:---
Lord Raglan (son) and Lady Raglan, Major the Hon. Wellesley Somerset (son), Mr. and Mrs. Raglan Somerset, and the Master of Belhaven.
--- "Memories of Three Reigns" by Lady Ethel Raglan, 1928, page 93-8:
What fun we used to have at Port Eliot, where we had our own large suite of nurseries in which to play!
I always remember the occasions when my grandfather gave one of his big dinner parties. We would creep down the back staircase to visit Mrs. Davis, the housekeeper; and once safely arrived in her comfortable sanctum, we had our secret suppers, for she would proceed to feed us with delicious roast turkey (stuffed from a special recipe of the cook, Mrs. Vaughan), succulent brown sausages, followed by pink-topped ices, hot-house grapes, and almonds and raisins!
. . . All of my grandfather's old servants were devoted to us. Another of my special treats was to be allowed to visit the head butler, Mr. Bailey, in his pantry, and to watch him cleaning the plate.
One day, when I was sitting there, perched on a high stool, watching him perform this task, I said to him: "What do you clean it with?"
He replied--- "Elbow grease, Miss!"
This made me very curious, the "commodity" being at that time unknown to me, and wishing to ascertain what it was, I enquired naively: "And were do you get that from?"
The old butler smiled at this innocent remark of mine, and tapped his elbows with a significant gesture.
. . . In my grandfather's time it was customary for servants to rise at a much earlier hour in the morning than they do now. At Port Eliot, the head housemaid, Sarah [Lavers], used to get up at five-thirty every day, her reason for doing this being, to use her own expression, that the work would not otherwise be done. She was the most cheery person, and I never remember seeing her look depressed.
It was the habit them to keep copper kettles in bedrooms, and nobody could clean these, or the brass fire-irons, as Sarah could. She could make them shine like mirrors, and I believe used to remove any stains by the application of a little lemon juice.
I remember on one occasion when I contracted some childish ailment and was ordered away to the seaside to recuperate, that Sarah was chosen to accompany and take charge of me, and so off we went together to Downderry. She proved to be the most delightful companion and, most important achievement in my eyes, a champion builder of sand castles!
My grandfather's cook, Mrs. Vaughan, was a great character. She had been with the family for so many years that she had grown stout in their service and identified herself entirely with their interests; and she possessed a marvellous memory, to the extent of even recollecting the favourite dish of each guest who had every stayed a night in the house!
Another characteristic of hers was her quint sense of humour. On one occasion when the domestic staff at Port Eliot were on the point of migrating for the season to the town house in Dover Street, they received the news that the old lady who acted as lodge-keeper had been taken ill and had suddenly died; and when the tidings were broken to Mrs. Vaughan, she said: "I haven't got time to cry now. I must keep my cry until I arrive in London."
Years ago, servants took a pride in doing their tasks thoroughly. I recollect one day, when I was staying with my grandfather, that I went into the dining-room and found the butler busily occupied in taking intricate measurements on the table cloth, with a yard measure.
After watching him in astonishment for few seconds I said: "What are you doing?"
"Measuring the distance between the knives and forks, Missy, so that they shall be quite exact!" was his surprising explanation.
. . . There was a very large staff at Port Eliot. The indoor servants included the butler, under butler, valet, two footmen, an odd man and a hall boy. There was the cook, and under her were two kitchen maids and a scullery maid. In addition there were three housemaids, two stillroom maids, two laundry maids and, to supervise them all, Mrs. Davis, the housekeeper, who was not really a married woman, but was given the courtesy title of Mrs. as were all head women-servants in those days.
--- "Memories of Three Reigns" by Lady Ethel Raglan, 1928, page 104-5:
I always remember what a great feature was made of the breakfasts at my grandfather's house parties at Port Eliot, and of the numerous courses that succeeded each other.
There would be a choice of fish, fried eggs and crisp bacon, a variety of egg dishes, omelettes and sizzling sausages and bacon. During the shooting parties, hot game and grilled pheasants always appeared on the breakfast menu but were served of course without any vegetables.
On a side table was always to be found a choice of cold viands; delicious home-smoked hams, pressed meats, on of the large raised pies for which Mrs. Vaughan (the cook) was justly famous, consisting of cold game and galantine, with aspic jelly.
The guests drank either tea or coffee, and there were the invariable accompaniments of home-made rolls, piping hot, and stillroom preserves of apple and quince jelly, and always piled bowls of rich Cornish cream.
The men usually finished with a fruit course of grapes or hothouse peaches and nectarines.
And that was how we breakfasted in my young days, before super-tax had eaten up our bank balances, or income tax demands had spoiled our digestions!
--- "Eggs in Cookery" edited by Richard Hosking, 2006, page 176:
. . . country house breakfasts, like this one of 1870 recalled by Lady Raglan, granddaughter of the Earl of St. Germans, in "Memories of Three Reigns":
'I always remember what a great feature was made of the breakfasts at my grandfather's house parties at Port Eliot, and of the numerous courses that succeeded each other. There would be a choice of fish, fried eggs and crisp bacon, a variety of egg dishes, omelettes and sizzling sausages and bacon. During the shooting parties, hot game and grilled pheasants always appeared on the breakfast menu but were served of course without any vegetables. On a side table was always to be found a choice of cold viands; delicious home-smoked hams, pressed meats, on of the large raised pies for which Mrs. Vaughan (the cook) was justly famous, consisting of cold game and galantine, with aspic jelly. The guests drank either tea or coffee, and there were the invariable accompaniments of home-made rolls, piping hot, and stillroom preserves of apple and quince jelly, and always piled bowls of rich Cornish cream. The meal usually finished with a fruit course of grapes or hothouse peaches and nectarines.
--- "I Don't Feel Old: The Experience of Later Life" Paul Richard Thompson & others, 1990, Oxford University Press, page 57-8:
For the grandchildren of the Cornish Earl of St. Germans, house and family memory combined to give an unforgettable magic to their long seaside summer and autumn visits to Port Eliot. 'We had our own large suite of nerseries in which to play,' wrote one of the earl's granddaughters, from which, when there were big evening dinners, the children would 'creep down the back staircase' to be fed with sausages, turkey, ice-cream, and nuts in the 'comfortable sanctum' of the housekeeper. The earl himself 'we children all loved,' remembering that their peculiar delight 'as a small child was to sit on his knee and inspect his watch, which could open and shut, and chief novelty of all in my eyes, could chime!' On these visits they would be joined by multiple cousins, and together 'we used to love to listen to stories about the past of the family:' stories which frame the opening of this granddaughter's own life.
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1857 - 1940 (83 years)
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