The Gin Palace

 

Picture Palaces may have offered my mother and her sisters a taste of the kind of luxury that was totally absent from their impecunious lives in the 1920s and 1930s but for the previous generation or two, for the women of the late Victorian era that degree of lavish opulence was only to be easily found in the rather more socially challenging Gin Palace.   Whilst her daughters were to fantasise about unlikely encounters with the stars of the silver screen, Old Nan Constant considered such notions as Silly as Cats’ Lights and had always found her own solace and consolation by getting up close to the sumptuous interiors offered by purveyors of alcoholic beverages.   

Day to day life lived of necessity in surroundings that could at best be described as neglected, at worst as squalid, confidently led to a degree of alcohol dependence for some.   My maternal grandparents Margaret and Edgar Constant were definitely in that category, my grandmother at the forefront.   The little Constants were accustomed to being regularly left to their own devices whilst their parents drank in the nearest place that proffered mirrored walls and etched windows along with the tipple of their choice.   Their largely uncomplaining offspring were quite familiar with feelings of hunger.  The oldest two, Maggie and my mother, Nellie, frequently talked among themselves about food and how once they were grown-up they were going to learn to cook and would do so on a regular basis.   For their parents the sole place of relaxation over a decade or more was to be the gin palace or what passed for it in the local neighbourhood.   To step from the grimy pavements of North Kent onto gleaming tiles and into often quite exotic interiors was to leave life’s tribulations behind.  This the couple did on a regular basis.   Excusable perhaps for my grandmother who had spent large periods of her young life in the East End of London where her own mother, another Margaret grew to adulthood completely at ease among such places together with the Music Halls of the mid-Victorian era.

It is not completely clear when the Public-Houses of London, as distinguished from hotels, inns, chop houses and coffee rooms underwent the change necessary to transform from dingy abodes with sawdust strewn floors into something lofty and splendid.   There is no clear point when painted deal was lifted to polished mahogany, when small crooked panes of glass became magnificent crystal sheets, when basic, useful fittings were exchanged for luxurious adornments.  But along with these sensational conversions the middle aged, white aproned, overweight bartender also vanished and made way for smart young women, well dressed and smiling behind the bar.  These women were much envied by many of the female clientele and my grandmother longed to stand alongside them.  Just imagine working in a place where even the potboys were all at once handsome and dashing with cleaner aprons and more purposeful gaits than previously.

The very first purpose-built premises for the sale of gin had emerged in the late 1820s and before that the gin shops were quite small, often originally chemist shops as gin previously had medicinal associations.   Legislation had to change in order for purveyors of ale and wine to include it in their repertoire. The resultant and greatly anticipated saloons were based upon and emulated the smart new shops also being built at the time and fitted out at great expense with gas lights which a great many people considered to be vulgar.  Nevertheless this new-fangled lighting became hugely popular and Charles Dickens described it as perfectly dazzling when contrasted with the previous darkness that had prevailed for decades.  Little wonder then that Old Nan would later recall that her own mother and grandmother rushed hell for leather into the places that demonstrated it when it at last reached Bethnal Green.  But of course, as always the stories from the lips of our predecessors are half lost because they are never told at a time when we are most interested.  

Whatever the range of initial reactions from our antecedents, the newly created and ultra-smart habitations of gin vendors were central to ensuring that young women like Maggie Rearden and her future daughter were destined for a more exciting life or that is the way they came to view it.   Old Nan when in extreme old age still spoke glowingly of the most prominent of these bastions of alcohol.  Her most favoured still stand today and it is hard to know how much their magnificence has diminished over the years.   The Argyll Arms remains at Oxford Circus, originally built in 1742, parts of the place are scarcely changed from late Victorian times.  The mirrors which miraculously survived the Blitz are impressively massive.  The separated drinking areas still speak of the social divides of long ago when the upper and lower classes must not cross paths.   The place boasts spectacular wood and glasswork and rare surviving original fittings.  Maggie and Edgar, regularly frequented the place when en route to the races.

The Flying Horse that was once upon a time The Tottenham stands on the Oxford Street, Tottenham Court Road corner.   Fondly recalled by my grandmother as also a Music Hall, the influence can still be seen in its design.  The Flemish Renaissance style of the exterior leads to a highly ornate interior with fine painted ceiling and elaborate murals of voluptuous nymphs by the celebrated Felix de Jong the leading Music Hall decorative artist of the times.   Old Nan recalled seeing the great Vesta Tilley there and sat alongside her mother as a small girl being as good and quiet as possible.

It is said that pub enthusiasts travel far and wide to see the stunning Viaduct Tavern in Holborn.   It was a favourite drinking place for special occasions for my Great Grandparents from soon after it first opened in 1869 and was conveniently situated by St Paul’s and therefore easily reached from Bethnal Green for a special night out.  Remodelling was carried out thirty years later and presided over by Arthur Dixon, a leading light in the Arts & Crafts Movement.  The exterior curves elegantly around a now frenetically busy corner and the interior is packed full with etched glass panels and large portraits that represent agriculture, banking and the arts.  There is an original Lincrusta ceiling, much admired at the time and a cashier’s booth where tokens were exchanged in days gone by to purchase gin or ale because the staff were not trusted to handle cash. 

My own feeling is that The Princess Louise in Holborn is still the most beautiful pub in London and a stunning example of what Victorian extremes could deliver.    It was built in the 1870s by the top craftsmen of the day and has more recently been recreated with outstanding authenticity.   Within there is an astonishing abundance of bright, fruit shaped tiles, glasswork and gilt mirrors.   For gentlemen a visit to the basement lavatory is a must to see the original tiled walls and fittings.

And still from London and still one of its most dazzling drinking places, The Punch Tavern in Fleet Street cannot be overlooked.   It was rebuilt in all its opulent glory in the 1890s by architects Saville and Martin and its extravagance is immediately apparent with the glazed tiled entrance and barrel-vaulted skylights leading to a bar that largely retains the original design.   A profusion of features survive from the mosaic floor and cut glass mirrors to the sumptuous tile work, ornate painted panels and pink marble bar.   A series of original Punch & Judy themed paintings from 1897 celebrate the fact that Punch magazine was founded nearby in 1841.

In the most forward thinking of the Gin Palaces special bars were often reserved for the use of ladies although it was understood that what were seen to be the more common and vulgar females of the city would not be permitted to enter and must stand alongside the men.   This my grandmother was happy to do on most occasions but when her Edgar had a win at the races and she was as a result wearing a new hat something inside her rebelled and she was apt to saunter into the forbidden areas, generally not being challenged.

 Many years later when the memory of the Gin Palaces was diminishing she would smile when speaking of them because they were magical places, allowing those at the very bottom of the social heap to effortlessly enter into dream worlds where anything was possible.  Even in the 1950s she maintained that you could keep your Picture Palaces because they were not a patch on the Gin Palaces from way back.   Anyone who disagreed was as Silly as Cats’ Lights.    Now I wish I had asked more questions!