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I have found a relative whose job on cencus's from 1841 is ' assistant librarian Bank of England' what would a librarian be doing at the Bank of England, in the 1871 census he is 64 and a messenger at the Bank, would that bve a semi retirement job? any info welcomed,
Lynne
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It's a cheap shot to say 'keeping the books'.
There is some information here which may help:
http://www.victorianlondon.org/finance/bankofengland.htm
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Specifically:
We feel quite relieved when we get down into the paved courtyard, where a living two-legged labourer walks by; and yet neither the place nor the man is very agreeable to look at. The yard has a neglected appearance, and the iron shutters which cover the place where the windows are supposed to be make it still more gloomy.
“That is the library of the Bank,” remarks our guide.
We are not likely to be astonished by anything. We just saw workshops without men; why should there not be a library without books? Let us have patience and wait. Perhaps some very clever machine will open the iron shutter from the inside, thrust forth its arm, and hand us a catalogue. No ? Well, for a wonder, our guide, who is very polite, though by no means over-communicative opens a small door, and motions us to enter.
A low, narrow, vaulted passage, which reminds us of the casemates or bomb-proof galleries of fortresses; a few rays of light straggling in through some grating somewhere; at the end of the passage a heavy iron door which opens into a small windowless room lighted up by the most consumptive-looking gas-jet imaginable. Our eyes are quite unused to the light; but, gradually as we get accustomed .to it, we can see the objects around us. We stand in front of a railing, and behind it stands a little man in a black dress coat, and with a white cravat.
“This gentleman is the librarian of the Bank ;“ says our guide. Still no trace of books.
The man in the black dress-coat opens a door in the railing, bids us enter, and shows us an enormous number of parcels and bundles of notes, ranged along the walls up to the very ceiling. They call this the library of the Bank ; but, in truth, it is its lumber room. It is an asylum for the notes which have been paid in at the Bank. They are valueless; for the Bank never issues the same note twice. They are kept and locked up in the library, I forget how many years, in order to be produced in the case of a theft or forgery, or any other matter of the kind. Afterwards they are burnt.
Every now and then clerks come in with fresh bundles. A few minutes ago these small papers were worth—Heaven knows how much money. “They are now mere waste paper. They have had their day. Many a note leads a long and honourable life; goes to the Continent, to India, or Port Adelaide ; and returns to the Bank much the worse for wear after all its journeys. Other notes have scarcely a day’s roving license in the world; to-day they are issued, and to-morrow they are paid in. It’s accident, or fate, or Providence.” Saying which the librarian makes his bow, turns round, and returns to his desk.
We leave the library. The way is frequently very short from the old bookshop where good books and bad books are alike given up to dust and moths, to the printing-office, from whence they are launched forth into the world. Thus it is in the Bank.
We have scarcely left the library, and we are already in the department where they print the notes.
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Thank you very much everyone, particularly Clive for the answers, sorry l havent got back to this earlier but been at work all day
Lynne
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