Story of The Athenaeum – Part 6

“Beyond the Green Baize Door”

A good deal of attention has been given to the “Big Names” of the Athenaeum and some work has been done on the social and economic status of the Proprietors.  Always lurking in the back ground are the shadowy figures of the staff but the Minutes do give us occasional glimpses of them. 

We know that the first Master of the Coffee Room, John Hughes, was appointed in December 1798 at a salary of £50 guineas and that in addition he was provided with residential accommodation in the cellars.  This does not sound very congenial, especially as it was declared that no man with a family could be appointed.  I think we can assume that the rooms would have been damp, ill-ventilated and with little daylight.  In 1844 this unsatisfactory cellar dwelling was replaced by rooms in an annexe at the rear of the building.  The furnishing of the accommodation was the responsibility of the Institution and it was agreed by the Committee that they “would provide  …. the necessary household furniture and all kitchen utensils”. The President took the responsibility for ensuring that this was done.

Hughes found that he was the general factotum of the Athenaeum.  It had been decided that the staff were to comprise a Librarian, a waiter and a “female servant”.  The intention seems to have been that the Librarian would be the senior member of staff but soon the duties and responsibilities of the Master became more defined.  Not only was he responsible for making and serving the coffee, with the help of the waiter but he also undertook a multiplicity of duties.  He was responsible for organising and ordering the newspapers, for ensuring that the subscribers comported themselves in a proper manner, that no outsiders usurped the facilities, and the conduct of youngsters who were admitted to use the library.   Hughes was also made responsible for the collection of arrears of subscriptions.  No wonder that when Hughes was forced to retire through ill-health, possibly brought on by poor living conditions and long hours of overwork, the advertisement for his replacement  in 1804 specified that “Each applicant is expected to bring written testimonials as to integrity and sobriety.”  The successful applicant for the post was Thomas Steele, who served until 1808 when Mr Thomas Williams replaced him on Steele’s appointment as Master of the Coffee Room in the new Exchange Buildings.  Evidently Hughes gave satisfaction, as when thirteen unclaimed bottles of wine were found in the cellar, they were given to him.  One thing can be gleaned about Williams is that he was married and when in 1809 he was subpoenaed to appear at the courts in London his wife was appointed to take his place on a temporary basis.

We know little or nothing of the other domestic staff, but one or two ghostly figures flit through the pages of the records.  There is “The Boy”, he sounds a rather Dickensian figure, who was initially promised for the Librarian at a wage £10 a year but of whom no more is ever heard.  We only know the names of two cleaners,  Catherine Foster, possibly a member of the architects extended family who was employed to clean the library at the conclusion of the building work and in 1802 a Catherine Caton who was paid for several years for cleaning the Library, and the Librarians apartments at an annual wage of £10.4s.6.  The accounts also mention that her duties included lighting fires, presumably both in the Coffee Room and the Library. The waiter only makes very fleeting and impersonal appearances. Apart from being listed in the staff the only other references are when Subscribers are invited to give any interesting intelligence, either  political of commercial, written on slips of paper to the waiter for delivery to the Master of the Room.  The only other mention of this servant is when in 1809 it is ordered that spare pieces of timber are to be used to build a cubby hole for the waiter in the cellar.  Presumably the waiter received some payment but there is no mention of wages for him in the various annual accounts, perhaps he got nothing more than his tips from members.   

The Newsroom (Church Street premises) 1928
The Newsroom (Church Street premises) 1928