Private Life in Britain's Stately Homes (26 page)

The lady’s maid travelled with her employer and thus had the chance to visit other country houses, and to go abroad. She would probably have the ability to sew, so as to carry out urgent repairs and run up basic garments. Those who aspired to be lady’s maids would often train in dressmaking and millinery for a few years before they entered service. In a small household they might then go straight into a position with a lady. In a larger house they could well be employed as an assistant to the existing lady’s maid, or be put into service with one of the daughters of the house as a sort of probation. Foreign maids were sometimes in fashion, though they must be able to speak fluent English and to adjust to life in Britain. Those of French origin were expected to be well up on fashion, though the Swiss were also popular as both male and female servants.

A lady’s maid was ultimately responsible for every aspect of the appearance of her mistress, with all the complex and intricate tasks that this required. These even included expertise in cosmetics, for she must keep her mistress not only well dressed but as young-looking as possible. A good maid would have a host of useful tips and remedies with which to help her employer. She would have her own recipes for skin lotions and even for shoe polish, and would have an expert knowledge of how to mix the potions necessary to remove stains from clothing. Throughout the whole of this era her most important function, as Mrs Beeton declared, was her ability to act as hairdresser. Because no one woman – especially one in her twenties, as so many lady’s maids were – could be expected to have a working knowledge of all the latest hairstyles, a lady’s maid was often sent on courses to learn them. One thing she did not have to spend much time on, however, was washing hair, for Edwardian ladies did not believe in this. Thinking that the process would do damage by coarsening hair and leaving split ends, it was seen as preferable instead for it to be brushed regularly, and for long periods, by a maid using a clean brush. This was considered as effective a means of avoiding dandruff as any shampoo. The hair would of course also be scented.

Though qualified by her position to dine in the ‘Pugs’ Parlour’ and have tea brought to her in the mornings by a more junior servant, the life of a lady’s maid was not necessarily an easy one. She would have to accompany her mistress everywhere, keeping very long hours during social events. Throughout the Season, for instance, she would have to sit up until her lady returned from a ball in the early hours of the morning and be ready to undress her, brush her hair and put her to bed, before taking the cast-off clothing away to be cleaned or mended. Through the day and night, at all times of the year, she must be able to be at her mistress’ side at once, and therefore usually slept in an adjoining bedroom. Like many servants, however, she might not see her own bed until all her tasks were completed, and she must accustom herself to getting by on very little sleep.

A lady’s maid was always addressed as ‘Miss’, whether or not she was married – though in practice this would have been an extremely difficult life for any woman who was living with a husband and it is likely, given the comparative youth of many of these maids, that if they married at all, they put it off until they had left service.

The gentleman’s valet had an equivalent knowledge of masculine dress, and would undoubtedly be capable of basic sewing. He could put on a shirt button or mend a tear, though he would certainly not run up entire garments the way a lady’s maid would do. He would be able to brush and sponge clothes, press them, remove all manner of stains, pack and unpack for his master, strop a razor and shave him, clean his shoes and boots (though in most houses this was the job of a junior servant) and even select the flower for his buttonhole. He would often have his own recipes for shaving-soap and shoe polish, and might blend his own cologne. If he were really skilful he could perhaps cut his employer’s hair as well. Since he accompanied his master on his travels he would need to be well versed in reading railway timetables, in booking tickets, in dealing with foreign customs and hotel staff, and in finding his way around the United Kingdom and other countries. It is from this that the notion of the ultra-capable, Jeeves-like servant derives. He could sometimes speak the main continental languages and interpret for his master. Some valets, because they tended to be men of resourcefulness and ability, took courses in French or German to increase their usefulness and enhance their position. As well as this, a valet often acted as assistant for his master in various sporting capacities. He would frequently serve as loader during shoots, standing behind his master with the pair to his shotgun and waiting to reload the one just fired. He might even act as caddy during golf matches, or know how to re-string a tennis racket.

A paragon like this did not come cheap. He was well paid for the services he provided and he could make handsome tips as well. There was considerable scope to expand on his basic duties and to make himself indispensable to his employer. Some valets therefore became possessive of those for whom they worked, controlling access to them, running their lives, and putting off those – including old friends and relations – they did not like. On the whole, however, these were efficient men who gained a great deal of satisfaction from the work they did. In the series
Downton Abbey
, the young solicitor who finds himself in the position of having the services of a valet thrust upon him is initially resentful. In the opening years of the twentieth century, he sees such a man as unnecessary and even as a hindrance. He gives his valet nothing to do because he is able to dress himself and look after his own clothes. Only when it is pointed out to him how unfair this is to his valet does it dawn on him that the master-servant relationship is a two-way one. It is a matter of professional pride to a good manservant that he should work hard in his apparently servile position. It is unkind and thoughtless, as well as wasteful, to ignore the professional expertise of a skilled servant.

Though one might expect a valet to be appreciated by his master, life could be extremely difficult if the man were cantankerous or demanding, and it was not unheard of for a put-upon servant to retaliate. In 1840, the irascible Lord William Russell, uncle of the Prime Minister, was murdered one night by his Swiss valet, François Courvoisier. Public opinion was strongly against the valet. He was seen not as having finally snapped after innumerable provocations but as having betrayed the trust of someone who was entirely at his mercy, sleeping unprotected in the same house. He was hanged in public, a spectacle witnessed by Charles Dickens whose own grandfather had worked as a footman in a grand household.

Footmen were known by their Christian names, although these would commonly be changed by their employers. There might be a tradition of using certain names in a household, and this practice offered continuity. In the series
Upstairs, Downstairs
the Scottish butler was named Angus Hudson. When he had begun his career in service as a footman to the Earl of Southwold, he had been told that he would henceforth be addressed as Charles. Not only would this have been the traditional name for such servants, it was also important that it should be short and uncomplicated, easy for visitors – including foreign ones – to remember and to pronounce. Once he became a butler, he was of course never again addressed by his Christian name.

It was the footmen’s task to lay the cloth before meals and to put out the cutlery under the supervision of the butler. Sartorially, these men were the elite of the servant world. They were the most splendidly dressed, for even their superior, the butler, did not wear livery but a black tailcoat. Their other duties were often light, and the men themselves seemed primarily concerned with not doing anything that would dirty their livery, which was in any case the property of their employer. Standing posturing in hallways and corridors for hours each day, they were often seen as haughty, full of themselves and sexually predatory, and in spite of their lack of gallantry in refusing to assist with the heavy work, they often set hearts fluttering among the female staff. If they worked in a great house, footmen would have several liveries, or at least separate ones for morning and evening. While in daytime they might wear a cutaway tailcoat of some uniform colour with brass buttons and black trousers, they would have to look more elaborate on formal occasions, whether this were a ball or banquet or one of the outside visits with their mistress in her carriage. Their colourful ‘state livery’ would include a brightly coloured tailcoat with decorative lace and probably a gold aiguillette attached to one shoulder, They would have waistcoats and knee breeches of plush or silk, and buckled, patent-leather pumps. There would also be white cotton gloves and, for outdoor wear, a bicorne hat, perhaps with gold decoration.

Their hair had to be powdered for great occasions, covered in a mixture of baking soda, soap and water and left to stiffen. One cannot help feeling that a wig would have looked more impressive as well as being much more convenient. Hair powder took a long time to mix and put on. It made a considerable mess, smelled unpleasant, and because it had to be applied while damp, caused numerous head colds among those who had to stand about in draughty halls or on the backs of carriages in this state. Royal servants – for the Royal Household has tended to be the last place in which many of these aristocratic customs still persist – continued to powder their hair until the 1950s, when the Duke of Edinburgh had the practice discontinued.

Footmen were required to be tall. With a large pool of manpower to call upon, Victorians sought men for these posts who were over five feet six inches. This does not count as ‘tall’ by today’s standards, but it remained a benchmark for many years. Applicants for positions as footmen were paid significantly more if they were in excess of this height – in fact it was worth almost an additional £10 a year to be over five feet ten inches. It was also an advantage to be handsome. In the decades when large side-whiskers were habitual for men, footmen often grew theirs to impressive proportions, to add to the dignity of their appearance.

One reason for employers’ insistence on hiring men of a particular size was that livery was already made – it was passed down from one employee to another – and could not be cut down to fit a smaller figure without ruining the elaborate decoration. The man, therefore, had to fit the uniform rather than the other way round. In a historical novel set in Victorian times, Peter Carey’s
Jack Maggs
, a footman is required to wear not only the livery but the patent leather pumps of his smaller predecessor, which, as painful as it sounds, must also have happened in reality.

In the grandest houses, which were considered the most desirable places to work, footmen would commonly be well over six feet tall. Their employers would seek to match them in pairs, in much the same way as they did their carriage horses, for it was regarded as highly impressive to have two giants of exactly the same height – or half a dozen of them, for that matter. The impressive physique they were expected to display included shapely calves, which were especially noticeable because of the knee breeches they wore. Where nature had not been sufficiently kind, they wore false calves made from cork (this was also common practice among actors on stage), and it caused much ribaldry among small boys in the street if a hapless footman’s ‘calf’ slipped as he was walking along. Indeed the pompous footman was a figure of fun to music-hall audiences and the readers of the satirical press, for his overblown appearance and sneering expression simply invited ridicule when out in public he could expect to be subject to catcalls from urchins, and very possibly stones or other missiles intended to dirty his livery. This would, however, happen only in town, never in the country. The footman whose livery was recognized by passers-by and tradesmen in a local market town, and was known to be from the big house, could expect the same deference as was shown to his master.

Footmen had to wash the silver every day, a task that took up much of their time when they were not upstairs waiting in the hall. It was wiped with a cloth of soft leather, and had to be polished as well, about once a week, with a paste made from hartshorn powder.

These servants, like the grooms and coachman, accompanied their mistress on shopping trips, and were a common sight in Regent Street or Bond Street, standing in groups outside the stores, waiting to carry parcels out to the carriage. This was a rare opportunity for them to meet and spend time in conversation with their counterparts from other households, and the air of colour and dignity brought to the pavements by their liveries was much admired.

There was hierarchy even in the nursery, where the son and heir was looked after by the nanny and the other children by more junior nursery maids. The food in the nursery was plain but considered adequately wholesome, and walks were usually a form of outdoor play that enabled the children to let off steam. As we have seen, sometimes a child would have a footman assigned to them and this man would become their playmate or mentor.

Nannies were usually regarded with affection by their charges, both during childhood and afterwards, and might serve the family for several generations. They tended therefore to become repositories of family and general lore, and could comfort children with tales of how their parents had been equally mischievous. Traditionally the children would seek knowledge and even companionship from these nursery servants. They also had their lessons together until the age of eleven or so. The boys then went off to school, while their sisters remained at home.

Parlourmaids and chambermaids were separate entities, ‘tweenies’ or between-stairs maids were neither one nor the other, and carried out the functions of both. Parlour maids dealt exclusively with the ‘public’ rooms of the house – the drawing room, dining room, morning room, library. Their function was to clean carpets and grates, and to polish furniture. Chambermaids dealt with the bedrooms; as well as keeping these clean, they were the people who carried hot water up the backstairs to family and guests, as well as bringing their morning tea and opening the curtains. They were the most visible among the lower servants, and therefore the ones who most often received tips from visitors.