B is for Bar Worker: Victorian England's Most Dangerous Jobs
B is for Bar
Worker
In Victorian England, the pub was more than just a place to
buy a drink. It was the social heart of its community; a place for business and
leisure that came to life every evening. As such, we might idealise those who
worked behind the bar but, in reality, those employed in this industry were at
risk from a number of serious ailments. After conducting a number of interviews
and visits, the report of the Dangerous Trades Committee painted a rather bleak
view of the health of publicans and barmen:
Without any exercise in the open air, his
long day is too often spent in an atmosphere reeking with the odour of spirits
and tobacco smoke, and emanations from the men and women who lounge at the bar;
and this, coupled with the numerous temptations to drink, and his irregular
meals, sooner or later, induces structural alterations in the liver, lungs and
heart, that life to a premature close.[i]
The “temptation to drink” was especially problematic. The
Committee estimated that these men suffered the highest rate of mortality from
alcoholism than any other occupation in the 19th century. In fact, it was
between five and seven times higher than the average. Part of the problem lay
in “nipping,” the practice of taking small but regular sips of spirits
throughout the day. Begun early in the day and continued until late at night,
nipping was a contributing factor to the high prevalence of cirrhosis of the
liver among bar workers.
Barmaids were just as prone to nipping as barmen. In some
cases, drinking spirits was encouraged, as shown in the following description
of one busy railway bar in London:
Each girl is allowed
to consume 10d. a day in spirits, or 5s. 10d.a week. This money must be spent
in drink, not food; but if the girl is a teetotaller, she is allowed
ginger-beer or lemonade. The manageress, or her assistant, serves the 10d.
allowances, and the girls are not supposed to help themselves. Nevertheless,
they do it.[ii]
In addition, it was a common practice among the young
barmaids to spend their wages on stout, a drink of some substance, because the
food they received for lunch and dinner was so bad:
The meat they receive
is generally tough, and the butter rancid, to say nothing of the stale
vegetables and bread.[iii]
With a working day of around eleven hours (generally spent
standing up), it is hardly surprising that barmaids needed something
substantial to keep them going. In some cases, they even drank the “waste” from
a customer’s glass or swapped the customer’s measure of spirit from the waste
of another glass. As with barmen and publicans, this constant exposure to
alcohol had a hazardous effect on their health.
Working in a bar, however, could often be short-lived. For
rather obvious reasons, some managers only hired young and attractive girls.
Some practiced the policy of regular dismissal as a means of preventing male
customers from growing weary of seeing the same faces behind the bar. As for
their customers, many barmaids were actively encouraged to flirt with them but
were discouraged from forming romantic attachments. This sort of behaviour
could result in dismissal and a reputation for being “fast.” Thus, the role of
the Victorian barmaid was filled with contradictions: she was expected to be
lively and friendly but faced serious consequences if she flirted too often or
drank too much.
Of course, there were many occasions in which barmaids and
their customers developed romantic feelings towards each other. In 1881, for
example, Minnie Hewson, a barmaid at the Gaiety Restaurant in London, began a
relationship with Henry Truefitt, one of her regular customers. After six
months together, Henry took Minnie to the Theatre Royal in Haymarket where he
hired a private box in which he proposed marriage to her. Minnie was initially
reluctant to accept his proposal since she was only a “poor girl” but the pair
met again the next day to discuss a possible marriage. It was here that Minnie
confessed to being the daughter of a tradesman – a publican with an inn “in the
country” – and Henry claimed that his father was also a tradesman – a perfumer
working in Bond Street. As the pair seemed to be equals, Minnie accepted his
proposal and Henry wrote a letter to her father to ask for his consent.
Unsurprisingly, Minnie’s father consented to the marriage.
After all, Henry was an architect with a decent salary (£100 per annum) which
would more than cover the couple’s expenses. Henry had even given Minnie £50 to
cover the cost of her trousseau (the
clothes and personal items collected by a bride for her marriage), a cost
usually borne by the bride’s father. Henry then organised the ceremony (to take
place in King’s Lynn) and a set of furnished apartments to move into with his
new bride.
Everything seemed to be going perfectly. That is, until
Minnie received a letter from Henry a few weeks later in which he told her to
consider the engagement finished. He claimed that the “governor,” Minnie’s
father, had suddenly withdrawn his consent to the marriage and refused to give
Henry a “shilling” if he went ahead with the marriage. Minnie was furious:
Henry had breached his promise to marry her and she took her case to the Court
of the Queen’s Bench.
In court, it emerged that Minnie’s father had never
withdrawn his consent to the marriage; it was, in fact, Henry who had changed
his mind. It also emerged that Henry was a gambler who had squandered over
£2000 on horseracing and was at present living with another woman. The Under-Sheriff
criticised Henry for leading Minnie on: he claimed that Henry had “held out to
her a prize which was one to her advantage”[iv]
and that she ought to be compensated accordingly. The jury agreed and awarded
Minnie £150 in damages. But with such a love of gambling, we are left to wonder
if Minnie ever received a penny from Henry or if she was forced to spend the
rest of her life behind the bar.
[i] Report of the Dangerous
Trades Committee, pp. 800-801
[ii] Toilers in London, p. 207
[iii] Ibid, p. 208.
[iv] The Times, 18 November, 1881.
