Saturday, 11 July 2026

47. "We want to teach them to go alone": Holidays in the 1860s

After that, John and Alice chose to go to North Wales.  They could usually be found at Llanfairfechan or nearby Penmaenmawr, favourite resorts of the Manchester middle and upper classes, with Liberal prime minister William Gladstone particularly favouring Penmaenmawr.  They were easy to reach by train and offered not just sandy beaches and clean air but mountains.  From this northerly tip of the Eryri (Snowdonia) National Park the boys could explore the mountain ranges of the Carneddau and Glyderau.  Alfred remembered 

As boys, first with my father and afterwards alone, we used to wander over the hills of Carnarvonshire, the Carnedds and Glyders, which were then very little known. [1]

They climbed Tryfan

and sought for traces of glacial action in Cym Tryfan and so knew what was meant by moraines and roches perchés before we had set eyes on an existing glacier. [2]

In July 1863 Johnnie was soon to be 14 years old and Alfred was 12.  Their parents believed in giving them freedom to explore on their own.  On 3 July Alice wrote to John from Penmaenmawr

The children are all good and tractable, the boys anxious to conform to your wishes.  I trust them a great deal, telling them I have the fullest confidence that they will follow out all your instructions, which I believe they wish to do [3]

and John replied the next day, having just come back from Liverpool where he had seen Isambard Kingdom Brunel's steamship 'Great Britain' – the first iron steamer to have crossed the Atlantic – come into dock.  She had been completed in 1845 and now took emigrants to Australia. 

We shall have a heavy and difficult piece of work there which will take a couple of months restoring the teeth of the great driving wheels, which have done very well for thirteen years regular work

commented John, and continued

I am very pleased to have your reports of the dear children.  I do think that a little of this sort of life is useful to their characters as well as to their health.  I think it strengthens their mind, develops their energies, awakens their powers of observation and, I trust too, that, surrounded as they are on every side by the proofs of the goodness and wisdom of the Creator, they are, in some degree at least, led up through nature to nature's God.  

I quite agree in wishing to trust them a good deal – we want to teach them to go alone – to think and act for themselves – in subordination to the wishes of their parents and to the will and law of their God.  And I believe that we shall be more successful in obtaining a ready compliance with those points on which we have to insist by conceding a fair amount of liberty in other and safer directions. [4]

Johnnie and Alfred had already learned a little about looking after themselves.  The year before, John had taken the two boys to London on the train to see the International Exhibition in South Kensington, the world fair held on the site where the Natural History Museum stands now.

The Palace of Art & Industry, 1862 Exhibition

Alice took baby Gertrude and little Mary to Skipton, while the other four children stayed behind with their nurse Anne Cookson.  John wrote from to Alice from the train on 25 June
We have had a lesson together as to what they would do if by any accident we should get separated and the rehearsal is quite satisfactory as I think they would use their wits rightly.  I trust that this journey will be of no small use to them as they are just at the age to take in readily by observation so much that is novel and instructive.  I mean to devote myself pretty much to them all this jaunt. [5]
Alfred remembered this first visit to London very well – it left two deep impressions.
One was the condition of the Underground Railway at Baker Street and Portland Road where the smoke was choking, and the other the contempt felt by visitors from the North for the two horse 'buses which slowly perambulated London in those days. [6]
Most of all he remembered the crinolines, which had grown larger and larger.
But nothing at the time left a stronger or more unpleasant memory than the dress of fashionable women at the Exhibition.  I remember one lady scowling at the young boy who was found to be standing on her dress though she must have been at least two yards away.  My poor brother had been suffering from an injured and inflamed leg due to a kick at football, and the horrible steels of the crinoline brushing by caused him acute pain, but he had his revenge by stooping down at a little distance, taking the metal hoop between his finger and thumb and breaking it.  We thoroughly enjoyed our attacks on those abominations. [7]
from The Railway Station (1862) by William Powell Frith

At this point the crinoline was beginning to change, becoming a sloping bustle at the back while the front was flattened, which must have proved useful for women who wanted to approach a display case without disturbing their dresses.  And the colour of any streetscape was changing and brightening with the discovery of the brilliant intensity of aniline dyes, which brought clear vivid mauves, pinks and magentas into women's clothes for the first time.  We have no idea when or whether Alice ventured into these colours!

The next year their cousins John Milne and Mary Tubbs holidayed with them in Llanfairfechan.  John was the eldest son of Alice's bright and sociable sister Ellen, who had married James Milne of the well-known Manchester retailers Kendal, Milne & Faulkner (later Kendal, Milne & Co) – it was at their house that John had met Alice for the first time.  The Milnes' country house near Cheadle in Cheshire was a very welcome country refuge for Alice, and her daughter Mary Hopkinson wrote of it gratefully
Belmont was a home to which we frequently went, enjoying the country surroundings and the company of our relations.  Aunt Milne was ever so good to us and we knew all our cousins well – Alice, John, Sydney, Herbert, Janey, Ellen and Clifford.  We had the opportunity of keeping in touch with them for many years and with some of their descendants.  [8]
In 1864 John Milne was 17 years old and Mary Tubbs, whose parents were Mary Hopkinson and the Plymouth dentist Charles Foulger Tubbs, was a few months younger.  John and Alfred were now 15 and 13 years old.  Alice wrote to John on 6 July
Poor Nellie is a little bit troubled with the boys' attentions to Mary and feels herself at times neglected.  I think it may be a useful lesson to her. [9]
But the main focus of the boys' attention was their expeditions.  We can see from other instances that Alice wasn't averse to girls and women walking – she enjoyed long walks herself, and we have seen her sister-in-law Alice Wills joining in the nine-mile walk with the steep climb in the Lakes in 1857 – but the boys had more ambitious plans.  On 7 July 1864 Alice wrote to John  
They really are good lads.  Johnny listens with loving respectful attention to my little discourses.  Mary Tubbs is very ambitious to take some of their long walks; but I told Mary this morning that, without express leave from home, I would not consent to her undertaking them because I feel sure Charles would say we were made to let her undertake so much, for, with unformed girls, there is a risk in such stretches [10]
Nearly a week later, on 13 July, she wrote 
This morning I roused the boys at 3.40 for their long walk [11]
We know "the boys" included both Johns and Alfred; there may have been more cousins.  The boys  were out till night.  Alice wrote on 14 July
The boys arrived home about nine last night, pretty well tired out but the two Johns consumed a noble quantity of food … They are all lame this morning from swollen feet, sprains or blisters and disposed to loiter about and have dinner at home.  They had a grand walk, over thirty miles.  They saw the eagle again [12]
This must have been the day that Alfred remembered years later
Specially I remember crossing the mountains to Llyncwlyd [probably Llyn Cowlyd], and as we descended hearing the strange cry of the golden eagle, like a peewit speaking through a megaphone, and watching for an hour or more a flight of two of these great birds across the lake, circling above the mountains almost out of sight and then swooping down until we could feel the shadow of their outstretched wings and see their open beaks as they cried.[13]
The children were always proud of their father's courage.  He had told them the story, Alfred wrote, of
how the Chartists had marched into Manchester, stopping the mills and works by drawing the boiler plugs, and there was fear of serious riots; how a threatening mob was once dispersed by a tremendous thunder shower; and how, when a young man alone in charge of engineering works, he refused to open the closed gates in spite of threats, and the crowd passed on [14]
and Alfred knew this for himself, remembering an anecdote about his elder brother
My father, I believe, was naturally rather a nervous man, but I cannot imagine him refraining from any course of action from want of courage, either physical or mental.  I have seen him in the old days, when drunkenness was much more common than it is now, stopping two or three fights on one day merely in passing down the street towards his works.  

He did not talk about courage, but I remember one occasion when my brother was a small boy and had been boasting of the brave things he would do and that he was not afraid of deep water.  We went down to the dam near my grandfather's mill at a very deep place and were about to try bathing in the river when my father, remembering the boast, said:  "Are you afraid of the water now you see it?"  The boy, who could not swim a stroke, jumped head first into fifteen feet of water and my father had to follow him with his clothes on and drag him out. [15]
This boldness and physical daring from a young age was to lead to the Hopkinson brothers' passion for mountaineering, and we can see that it started young.  On those holidays in Wales – we know they went there in 1865 and 1866 – Alfred said
We took young cormorants from a ledge of the cliffs overhanging the sea and tried to reach the puffins in the holes of the rocks. [16]


Notes

[1] Sir Alfred Hopkinson, K.C., LL.D., Penultima (1930) pub. Martin Hopkinson Ltd, p. 109

[2] ibid., p. 226-7

[3] John and Alice Hopkinson 1824-1910 (1948) ed. Mary Hopkinson and her niece Lady Ewing, with a Preface by Sir Gerald Hurst, K.C., p. 37

[4] ibid., p. 37-8

[5] ibid., p. 34

[6] Penultima, p. 43

[7] ibid., p. 44

[8] John and Alice Hopkinson 1824-1910, p. XXV

[9] ibid., p. 40

[10] ibid., p. 41

[11] ibid.

[12] ibid.

[13] Penultima, p. 109

[14] ibid., p. 14

[15] ibid., p. 15

[16] ibid., p. 109

Wednesday, 8 July 2026

46. The near-disastrous holiday at Sunderland Point: 1862

 

Sunderland Point by Heather Bolton

The small village at Sunderland Point lies at the tip of a windswept peninsula where the River Lune comes out into the Irish Sea.  Here the Hopkinsons would find a wide horizon, a landscape of sea and river, salt marsh and mudflats, home to wading birds and wildfowl, with shingle beaches from which sandbanks could be reached farther out into the sea.  It had once been the port that gave Lancaster merchants access to the colonial trade – at the end of the 18th century, it had been the fourth largest port in England.  It had been a fashionable resort for sea bathing and had claimed to have the first bathing machine in North Lancashire.  By 1862 its glory days were over, but it was still popular for holidays.

One of its most notable things about Sunderland Point was – and is – that, though it is part of mainland Britain, it is reached by a causeway a mile and a quarter long across a tidal marsh and is cut off at high tides, when the causeway can be under several feet of water for up to four hours.  (My information comes from the excellent Sunderland Point website.  I recommend it strongly, it's full of information and beautiful, evocative photographs)

John with Gertrude and May in 1867 or 1868 
John noted in his logbook [1] that they left 12 York Place for their holiday lodgings in Sunderland Point on Monday 4 August 1862 in a large party of five adults and eight children.  

John was now 38 and Alice would be 38 in November.   Young John was just 13, Alfred 11, Ellen 8, Charles 6, Mary would soon be 5, Edward was 3, Lily nearly 2, and baby Gertrude was 3 months old.  Miss Maria Neild, the mother's help, came too, with 24 year old Annie Cookson the children's nurse and 25 year old Emma Wood.  While the family were by the sea, John would be at work and would come out to join them when he could.

Getting from Manchester to Sunderland Point was not straightforward – he would need to go by train and boat and then, if there was no conveyance for the last stretch, on foot.  He should have made a careful study of the tide tables.  

Somehow, he miscalculated.  

He set off from Manchester on the afternoon of Saturday 9 August 1862, arriving at the village of Overton on the Lune estuary quite late in the evening.  The family was expecting him, and his son Johnnie was out on the shore watching for his arrival.  John thought he had time to get to the house before the tide turned.

This is the record he made afterwards in his logbook, which Ellen Ewing abridged for the book [2]:
The Causeway by Andy Biggs
On Saturday Aug 9th I took train in afternoon to Lancaster and boat part way down the river, landed near Overton to walk to Sunderland – same road over the shore as our bus had taken on the Monday.  The tide was coming up … I walked as rapidly as I could towards Sunderland Point through the gradually rising water which covered all the road.  I saw a stake standing and, supposing that it might be to mark the road, made for it … 

I felt with my feet the ruts of the wheels and knew it must be on the road.  I called continuously:  "Boat ahoy.  Boat ahoy."   The water continued to rise above my hips so I unbuttoned my waistcoat and put the left flap over my shoulder to keep my watch dry and I felt the run of the tide past me and dare not leave the stake as I would have been carried off my feet … My voice failed with shouting but a handful of water restored it.   
And at last had the great relief of hearing the handling of the oars of a boat putting off.  I shouted to direct the boat where I was.  They rowed with a will, were soon alongside and seized hold to haul me in … The water was near my armpits and probably at the top of the tide … 

I learned that a woman, ironing her husband's shirt with the cottage window open, had heard my shouting and ran to tell the boatmen to get the boat out.  John was on the shore, knew my voice and that I was taking the shore-road from Lancaster, and knew that I must be in danger.  The boatmen were sure that the voice must come from the opposite shore.  My boy insisted on their going towards Lancaster.  And he was right as they soon found.  Each of the boatmen received a family Bible, inscribed: "To – in memory of [illeg] help in time of need" [3]


This is the 1840s Ordnance Survey map, with the route marked by Bill Morris.  The landing stage at Overton is marked in green and the causeway in red.

There is another version of the episode.  It appeared in the Lancaster Gazette on 16 August and was written by a 21 year old solicitor from Kendal called Joseph Swainson junior.  He was lodging with Richard and Jane Nicholson who ran the Maxwell Arms, the licensed hotel on Second Terrace, and farmed the 30 acres of  Point Farm.  This is young Joseph Swainson's dramatic letter, published under the heading 'Narrow Escape from Drowning'
Sir,
Perhaps you will allow me to trouble you with the following narrative of a very narrow escape from death by drowning which has just occurred here.

About ten o'clock on Saturday night last Mrs Nicholson, the wife of Mr Richard Nicholson, who farms this property, having occasion to go to a neighbour's house on the other Terrace, heard cries of distress which appeared to proceed from the direction of the road across the Sands to Overton.  She immediately gave the alarm to myself and her husband, and the nearest boatman having been at once roused, a boat was with all possible haste procured, and in the absence of a fourth experienced boatman, I most willingly accompanied them to pull the fourth oar.

The cries of distress which were borne along the water to us were truly pitiable, and such as to call forth the most strenuous efforts on the part of the men.  We proceeded as rapidly as possible in the direction from which the cries came, and when approaching the post which indicates the first small bridge on the road to Overton, we found a gentleman up to the chest in water clinging to the post in an all but exhausted state.

On our return, after drawing the gentleman in safety into the boat, we found that he was a Mr Hopkinson, from Manchester, whose wife and children, are staying down here for a few weeks, and who were all, with the exception of his eldest boy, in happy ignorance of the occurrence.

He was on his way from Lancaster, having arrived by the evening train, with the intention of spending Sunday at this place.  The tides at this time rise very rapidly, and the boatmen all say, that there cannot be the slightest doubt as to the fate of this gentleman had the boat been longer than five or ten minutes in reaching him, for, in addition to the great increase which that period would have made to the water (it still being an hour and a half from high water) it would have been impossible for Mr Hopkinson, judging from the weak state in which we found him, much longer to have retained his hold.

James Spencer
The rescue of this gentleman from a death gradually but certainly approaching, was no doubt due, under Providence, primarily to the mere accident of Mr and Mrs Nicholson's not having gone to bed at their usual early hour, and also to the strenuous efforts of Thomas Dickenson, James Spencer, and John Bagot, with whatever assistance I may have afforded.  The persons who live in the cottages which are nearest to the place where this occurrence happened, were not aware of it until next morning.

The road between this place and Overton, when the tide is out, is almost as safe and hard as any turnpike, but when covered with water it is of the most dangerous description, from the many and deep pools which abound near to it.

My reasons for troubling you with this narrative is that a warning may not be lost to strangers of the extreme imprudence of venturing across the sands without first ascertaining the state of the tide, especially at night time.  And, also, that I may redeem a promise made to the men that I would do my best that the great anxiety to do their utmost and the strenuous exertions they made should not be lost sight of.

I enclose my card, and I am,
Yours very obediently,
Jos Swainson, Jr.
Mr Nicholson's, Maxwell's Terrace, Sunderland Point, 12th August 1862

PS - The boatmen here have often before been instrumental in saving lives
John thought it was "probably at the top of the tide" when he had been rescued; young Swainson thought it was still 1½ hours to the full.  Who was right?  Unless Joseph Swainson misheard comments about the height of the tide, he was in a better position to know than John.

And there's another oddity.  Joseph Swainson describes John being rescued by three highly experienced fishermen who were probably also river pilots, plus himself.  Bill Morris, editor of the website of the Sunderland Point Community Association (and to whom I am deeply indebted), tells me that the fishermen of the time generally worked in pairs, one to use the oars and the other to work the net.  The boats could take two fishermen using two sets of oars.  Two men to row and another man to help John into the boat would be swift and efficient.  Bill's comment is that
Given the urgency, having four in the boat, with each taking a single oar and one being inexperienced, is highly unlikely
However, that is what Joseph Swainson wrote, so we leave it there for readers to make their own minds.   

The story doesn't end there.  Alice, whose first realisation of the near catastrophe must have been when John was brought in amid excited scenes, soaked, chilled and weary, wrote to him on the Monday when he had gone back to work
I feel intensely lonely today and such a weight of oppression, I suppose the reaction after the excitement.  The crowning mercy of Saturday night seemed to fill all my thoughts … When I think of what might have been!  But I must banish that thought; it quite overpowers me [4]
Joseph Swainson wrote to the Lancaster Gazette the next day, and it appeared in Saturday's paper.  Alice was very cross and wrote to John
It is just a worked up tale.  Had I seen that letter I should have kept at a more convenient distance from Mr Swanson and deemed him a young puppy who wished to appear in print … Do not forget the Bible for the boatmen; I fancy they look for some reward. [5]
Perhaps she felt rather more kindly towards Mr Swainson after the next development.  Somebody had told the other Lancaster newspaper that John had not given the boatmen any reward.  Mr Swainson wrote again to the Lancaster Gazette saying that they had in fact been rewarded most handsomely:
A paragraph in last Saturday's Lancaster Observer having been pointed out to me, stating that Mr Hopkinson had not thought fit to reward the men for their exertions, I venture to trouble you again to contradict a report that John Hopkinson had not rewarded the boatmen.

So far from being the case, Mr Hopkinson has rewarded each of the men most handsomely, in a much more suitable manner than by a pecuniary recompense, and, moreover, in a way which will afford a lasting memorial of his appreciation of their prompt and efficient exertions.
He means the inscribed Family Bible.  

The causeway was notoriously dangerous.  A man from Overton drowned in 1869; the innkeeper of Sunderland Point's Temperance Hotel drowned in 1877.  There were numerous rescues.  In 1870 fishermen rescued a farm boy from Sunderland Brows and went back into the water up to their necks to rescue his two horses.  In 1897 a char-à-banc from Morecambe carrying twenty people slipped off the road into a rapidly rising tide; all were rescued.  

We don't know if the boatmen felt a Family Bible was sufficient reward for their speed and expertise and chancing their own safety to save John; we can only hope that John thought to give these working men a cash reward as well.  

As far as I know, the family did not return to Sunderland Point.  If any readers would like to visit this uniquely beautiful place, make sure to check https://www.sunderlandpoint.net/ for the tides first.  

Rescue of Visitors by Alan Smith



Notes

[1] John and Alice Hopkinson 1824-1910 (1948) ed. Mary Hopkinson and her niece Lady Ewing, with a Preface by Sir Gerald Hurst, K.C., p. 35

[2] ibid.

[3] ibid., p. 35-6

[4] ibid., p. 36

[5] ibid., p. 36







Saturday, 4 July 2026

45. "Intense love of the hills": 1850s

The Hopkinson boys' earliest experience of hills and fells was on visits to Skipton.  In the summer of 1856 Alice wrote to John that she was taking long walks with the eldest three – John, who was 7 at the end of July, Alfred who had recently had his fifth birthday and Ellen aged nearly 3 – and their nursemaid

Nelly requires a good deal of carrying and Alfred a helping hand.  Johnny bounds away like a wild one. [1]

In old age Alfred remembered

As early as the age of five I recall going up the River Aire to Gordale Scar, than which there is no more impressive scene in the country.  To a young child the grandeur of it was almost overpowering.  And then came the delight of climbing up the rocks at the side of the falls and crossing the moor to the great Cove above Malham. [2]

William Cecil Slingsby on Vesle Skagastølstind
with Storen in the background 1908
It was when they were in Skipton that the boys first went out on the moors with one of their future mountaineering companions, William Cecil Slingsby (1849-1929), always known as Cecil.  He was their second cousin, part of the Skipton cousinage – his grandfather Isaac Dewhurst and the Hopkinsons' grandfather John Dewhurst were brothers.  

One of Cecil's earliest great expeditions to Norway was in 1874 with Algernon Dewhurst, Bonny Dewhurst's son, so we can probably assume that there was quite a small gang of Dewhurst cousins going out together on the uplands of Craven.  Alfred wrote Cecil's obituary for the Alpine Journal, explaining to readers 
I knew Slingsby for nearly 70 years, from the time when as boys we walked together over Pen-y-ghent and the hills of Craven.  [3]
Cecil had written the Alpine Journal obituaries for Alfred's brother John and for John's son Bertram, remembering 
Every member of my generation of my cousins, the Hopkinsons, has been endowed from earliest childhood with an intense love of the hills, a love which deepened naturally as years rolled on.  This was inherited from their father, as was the case with me and my father.  In boyhood days I had many a good walk with a few climbs thrown in amongst the fells of Craven
And when he wrote Charles Hopkinson's obituary for the Journal in 1920, he explained the intense love of the hills was inherited "from both of their parents".  [4]  Walking on the hills and fells of Craven, just as their mother Alice had done from childhood, was the beginning of the Hopkinson brothers' lives as mountaineers and their love of it was nurtured by both their parents.

John and Alice's habits were clearly frugal and their way of life struck Evelyn Oldenbourg as austere, but they certainly put a high value on their annual holidays, though the whole large family did not always holiday together.

In June 1857, John took the two oldest boys John and Alfred to the Lake District to join his sister Alice Wills, now a 30 year old mother of two little boys, and her husband Henry.  John wrote to his Alice on 18 June 1857 from Grasmere
We had yesterday another famous time on the mountains.  Alfred, Johnnie, Henry, Alice and myself set off to walk over the pass by Grisedale tarn between Helvellyn and Fairfield to Patterdale understanding the distance was six miles.  And so it is, but as the crow flies or a direct line on the map.  By the road it is certainly nine miles beside the ascent of some 1,600 feet – as it is one of the highest passes.  They all managed it comfortably.  Alfred coming in at a run. [5]
Alfred's memory was still vivid many years later
When I was six my father took us to the Lake District for the first time and we bathed in Easedale Tarn, climbed Helm Crag under his guidance, and another day reached the top of Fairfield with some friends.  A boy's whole spirit was filled with the joy of the first ascent of one of the higher mountains and the widespread view around.  [6]
At least two of Alice Wills' sons became mountaineers, and it seems likely that they climbed with the Hopkinson brothers.  Her third son Maitland was at Cambridge at the same time as Edward Hopkinson and his death must have been one of the Hopkinson family's earliest experiences of climbing fatalities.  Maitland died at the age of 27 in an accident in Wales in April 1885.  He had walked to Aber with a younger brother and a friend, and they were descending by the Aber waterfall when Maitland, who had been jumping from crag to crag, sprang, lost his balance and fell about 50 feet into a pool below.  He died instantly.  But this was not the first climbing tragedy in the Wills family.  His 14 year old cousin William Wills had been found dead on Newquay beach two years earlier; they thought he had been climbing the cliff.  

In 1859, two years after the holiday in the Lakes, John took Johnnie, now nearly 10, and Alfred, who would very soon be 8, to join his sister Elizabeth Rooker and her family at Llangollen in the valley of the River Dee.  John and Alice's entire holiday philosophy can be found in this little exchange:  Alice wrote to John on 19 June
I was quite grieved to find that your Bible was not put in the box. I understood, when I enquired, that the Bible and testaments were there.  I like the dear boys to hear or read some portion of God's word every day
while on the same day he was writing to her
The dear boys greatly enjoy the scenery and are learning something every step.  I like their companionship and am glad to have them find their best pleasures in their parents' society … We are just going to have a Bible lesson, having borrowed one from the landlady [7]
Very observant and knowledgeable himself, John had the rare ability of "finding little forms of life of all sorts", as his granddaughter Ellen Ewing later put it, and making them interesting for children without in any way making them feel they were being taught or lectured.  Alfred called this "having attention directed to anything of interest without any obtrusive attempt at giving lessons on any subject".  [8]

At Llangollen they had the Berwyn Range and the beautiful Clwydian Range of hills to explore, and their cousins, 12 year old Alice and Marian (whom John calls May), who was the same age as Alfred, to play with.  On 20 June John wrote
The cousins are very happy together.  May and Alfred are well matched and Alice and Johnnie equally distinguished by their own individuality.  [9]
The Parade, Llanfairfechan between 1890 & 1900

The following years saw seaside holidays.  In July 1861, when the children were recovering from whooping cough, we find the family at Abergele on the North Wales coast, easily reached by train from Manchester, and where there were shingle and sandy beaches and wooded hills.  Alice's letters home ask for old slippers to protect feet from the stones on the seashore.  But from 1863 they took their holidays at Penmaenmawr or nearby Llanfairfechan, where the younger children could play on the beach and John could take the older boys up into the hills and mountains.

In 1862, however, they had a holiday at Sunderland Point on the Lancashire coast.  It was to prove rather too memorable.


Notes

[1] John and Alice Hopkinson 1824-1910 (1948) ed. Mary Hopkinson and her niece Lady Ewing, with a Preface by Sir Gerald Hurst, K.C., p. 26

[2] Sir Alfred Hopkinson, K.C., LL.D., Penultima (1930) pub. Martin Hopkinson Ltd, p. 225



[5] John and Alice Hopkinson 1824-1910, p. 27

[6] Penultima, p. 226

[7] John and Alice Hopkinson 1824-1910, p. 30

[8] Penultima, p. 226

[9] John and Alice Hopkinson 1824-1910, p. 30

Wednesday, 1 July 2026

44. Visiting the Dewhursts in Skipton

Frequent visits were paid to family – these were bonds that were highly valued by them all.  For the first fifteen years of her marriage, Alice's main concern in her trips to Skipton was seeing her parents.  They died in 1864 and 1865, so that her younger children had no memory of them.

Alfred remembered his grandfather every time he voted.  John Dewhurst, a supporter of the Whigs (forerunners of the Liberals), boosted his party by creating more votes for them – he transferred to relatives undivided shares in two or three cottages in Skipton to create more "forty-shilling freeholder" votes.  Alfred benefited from this for years, and had a vote in Skipton as a "forty-shilling freeholder" until that property qualification was abolished in 1918.  (As Alfred thought "One man, one vote" was an absurd idea, this rather underhand scheme seemed entirely right to him [1])

Alfred's elder brother John was 15 when their grandfather died.  He talked of him to his own son Bertram, who wrote in his memoir of his father [2] 

As John knew him, he was a fine old Yorkshireman, impetuous, even fiery, but possessed of the kindest of hearts.  He was much troubled with rheumatism, but he fought his malady with the most indomitable courage and tenacity.  His grandson had a vivid recollection of his hobbling round his garden, determined not to give in to his infirmity.

Possibly old John Dewhurst?
Mary was only seven when John Dewhurst died but she had
childish recollections of our Grandfather, with snow white hair, sitting in the chimney corner, smoking his long "church warden" [pipe] and our grandmother looking very old but very happy in a high backed rocking chair near the table, busy with her knitting. [3]
(I think this unnamed photograph from the Hopkinson album passed down in my part of the family may be old John Dewhurst)

They were cared for as they grew older and more infirm by Alice's unmarried sister Lizzie.  In 1864 their health grew more precarious.  In the early part of the year Alice went to Skipton to help nurse them, taking her turn to sit at their bedside at night.  That August John Dewhurst became very ill with bronchitis.  On 28 August 1864 Alice wrote to John
Our beloved father's suffering were ended sooner than we had any of us anticipated.  At a quarter past eleven he 'bowed his head and gave up the ghost.'  Literally this describes his departure, no struggle told the moment when the spirit departed, we scarcely knew when he breathed his last.  Poor Mother looks a wondering, wistful gaze at all of us; at times she realizes what has happened and then she weeps.[4]
John Dewhurst was 77 years old.  He was buried at the Zion Chapel in Newmarket Street.  The Cheshire Observer of 3 September 1864 reported his death, remarking
His name has for half a century been largely associated with the commercial prosperity of Skipton.   In politics Mr Dewhurst was a staunch Liberal.   By his liberality and judgment he earned a name which will long be remembered with sincere esteem.
And the Lancaster Gazette noted
His efforts have ever been to improve the social prosperity of the town.  His remains were interred yesterday (Friday) morning, when most of the shops of the town were closed, and many gentlemen and tradesmen joined in the funeral procession.
Alice's mother Alice Bonny had endured very poor health for years.  
I have heard our Mother speak with admiration of her uncomplaining patience and her great power of endurance
wrote her granddaughter Mary Hopkinson.[5]  By the time her husband died she was frail and confused and she did not long outlive him.  On 25 February 1865 at the age of 76 she died at home of "Decay of Nature".  

In the burial ground of the Zion Chapel was the stone in memory of their 15 year old son James, who had died in 1838.  Engraved below his name was a verse by the 18th century Baptist hymn-writer Anne Steele, which had been written 'To a friend, on the death of a child'

Hope looks beyond the bounds of time
When what we now deplore
Shall rise in full immortal prime
And bloom to fade no more

Gravestone of James, John & Alice Dewhurst 
Beneath the inscription John and Alice Dewhurst had left plenty of space for their own names.  Today the stone slab lies flat in the ground in front of the now disused St Andrew's Methodist & United Reform Church, which stands on the site of the old chapel.  (The congregation of St Andrew's has moved to Westmoreland Street)

Alice still had plenty of family to visit in Skipton after her parents had died, and so her children spent a great deal of time with their own multitude of cousins.  Alice's brothers Bonny and Tom carried on the family business and Bonny's three sons and two of Tom's boys followed in their footsteps.

Alice's daughter Mary seems to have known her uncle Tom's family best and she particularly remembered times at 'Whinfield', the new house on the Keighley Road built by Tom when Mary was in her early teens. Tom and family had been living at Number 6 Belle Vue Terrace, just to the east of the Belle Vue Mills, but he and his wife Maria Stevenson, who came from a local farming family, needed plenty of room for their growing family.  'Whinfield' was a spacious new villa which stood in extensive grounds to the south-west of the town, out of way of the smoke from the mill chimneys.  (Decades later it became the General Hospital).  

Eleven of Tom and Maria's thirteen children survived infancy:  Arthur, Alice, Ethel, Jack, Lilian, Edgar, Elizabeth, Maria, Nellie, William and Norman.  The eldest was born in 1861 and the youngest in 1878, so there was an overlap with the younger Hopkinson children and Mary Hopkinson remembered them with great affection.   
We all have the liveliest recollections of the generous hospitality at Whinfield, Skipton, the table groaning with good things in true Yorkshire fashion, and of our Uncle and Aunt's sympathetic forbearance with all the pranks which we, led by our cousins, indulged.  The younger members of our family each found a special companion of his or her own age, and the friendships so formed have been lifelong. [6]
John and Alice's granddaughter Katharine Chorley encountered a Yorkshireman in the late 1940s who reminded her how her uncle Bonny Dewhurst used to hold a conference every Saturday with the firm's travellers after their week's journeying.  Bonny heard their reports himself, kept up with successes and failures and listened out for comparisons with other firm's goods – then, if the Dewhursts were being beaten in something, the mill would set to work to outstrip their competitor. [7]

Bonny was deeply engaged in his business but he had a longing to be something of a country gentleman and do a bit of farming as well, so he took out a substantial mortgage and bought Aireville Hall and its estate.  This stood to the north-west of the town on the other side of the Leeds and Liverpool Canal from his mills.  It made a grand setting when Bonny and his wife Frances England celebrated their Golden Wedding with a day of amusement and entertainment for all the workpeople and their nearest relatives – some 2,000 people in all.  (The estate is now a public park, and the hall buildings are the town's comprehensive school, the Skipton Academy).  

Five of Bonny and Frances's children lived beyond the age of twelve.  Born between 1851 and 1864, Algernon, Frances, Lionel, Harold, and Hilda were the same ages as the Hopkinson children.  We don't know how often Bonny's family joined the Hopkinsons on holiday, but we are told that they were at Penmaenmawr in North Wales in 1863 at the same time as Alice's sister-in-law Alice Wills and her family – an example of the links between the three families that culminated in Gertrude Hopkinson being among the bridesmaids when Hilda Dewhurst married Arthur Stanley Wills in 1890.

Notes

[1] Sir Alfred Hopkinson, K.C., LL.D., Penultima (1930) pub. Martin Hopkinson Ltd, p. 40

[2] Original Papers by the late John Hopkinson, D.Sc., F.R.S. edited with a Memoir by B. Hopkinson, B.Sc (1901), Vol 1, pub. CUP, (available online at archive.org), p. xi

[3] John and Alice Hopkinson 1824-1910 (1948) ed. Mary Hopkinson and her niece Lady Ewing, with a Preface by Sir Gerald Hurst, K.C., p. XIII

[4] ibid., p. 42

[5] ibid. p. XXIV

[6] ibid., p. XXVI

[7] Katharine Chorley, Manchester Made Them, pub Faber & Faber Ltd (1950), p. 50



Saturday, 27 June 2026

43. "See what you can do without": John Hopkinson & money

During his twenties, when so much of a young man's habits of mind and practice are formed and his character is so often moulded by his occupation, John Hopkinson went through a great deal.

He started his twenties still in his apprenticeship.  A couple of times he was nearly wiped out in accidents at work.  One of the workmen suffered a hideous death by scalding.  He put all his inheritance into the partnership with Messrs Wren & Bennett at the beginning of the tumultuous year of revolutions across Europe, with all the economic anxiety that followed.  He married, and within months he was doing his utmost to support his lively, fun-loving, sensitive wife as she found herself plunged into a sort of despair during her first pregnancy.  The following year, just as Alice was hit by the death of her beloved sister Jane, the Brinksway Mill collapsed and thirteen people died; John found himself giving evidence at the inquest in the presence of their grieving families.  In 1851, the year after his firm became Wren & Hopkinson with the retirement of Mr Bennett, they suffered a disastrous fire.  In 1852 his mother, who had been his constant advisor and friend, died.  By the end of 1854, when he had reached 30, he had four children and his old friend and father-figure the Revd James Griffin had retired to the South Coast because of his health.

It was in those years that John Hopkinson became the responsible, conscientious, frugal, hard-working, enterprising man and loving husband and father that his family and friends remembered.

We don't know how much money John Hopkinson made – perhaps his log-book would have told us – but Gerald Hurst, who did see the log-book, wrote in the Preface 

The social historian will note how comfortably a middle-class provincial family could live in the 'fifties' on an expenditure of £300 a year; the bread-winner's income was about £700 [1]

£700 a year was, I think, a nicely comfortable income for a rising professional man.  But John's income wasn't assured and he knew very well that he couldn't take anything for granted.  He was doubtful about being able to take a holiday when he wrote to Alice on 4 April 1849, 
Our Easter work is unusually heavy and success in our business depends so much on personal attention, especially at such times. [2]
John aged 43 or 44
The themes of pressure of work and the need for his personal attention were a constant in his working life – in 1865 he wrote to Alice from Belfast
All day here has been occupied with details of the new sheds we have already in hand, and also a great deal of gearing for another already built.  There is plenty of work to be done; but, to be really effective here, one needs to be almost always on the ground. [3]
In 1850 he wrote to his mother
I am head over ears in engagements just now.  Most heartily do I wish I could be freer from them and have more time for higher objects, but really it is necessary nowadays to work hard to keep pace with the times and I feel that, in my position especially, I must achieve standing room in the world for myself.  The probabilities now are that trade will gradually revive and be more steady than formerly.  Unfortunately the cotton speculation in Liverpool has spoiled the prospects of this year. [4]
At that point the firm was hopeful and they were planning new buildings.  He explained to his mother 
Having been for long sadly hampered by our works being divided and nothing of our own we have determined to build new ones on a modern scale where we can have all together – Foundry and everything on the same spot so that, when the gates are closed, all is locked up.  The site is at the bottom of the Temple Street, Chorlton-upon-Medlock. [5]
(Temple Street disappeared, I believe, in the 1960s.  The works were in Lower Temple Street, that is, somewhere in the area of the Renold Building and Pariser Buildings of the University)

The new buildings were just finished when, at about 9.30 on the morning of Sunday 26 October 1851, a fire was discovered burning furiously in the three-storey building used as Wren & Hopkinson's pattern room on Altrincham Street.  Three fire engines turned out and four jets of water were poured into the building from the high pressure mains.  The fire was put out but the pattern room was completely destroyed with its contents.  Bell's New Weekly Messenger of 2 November 1851 reported that these were 
valuable patterns of machinery, which had been accumulated during a business of thirty years.  The damage altogether will be from £3,000 to £4,000.  The owners are insured in the Atlas, Sun, and Legal and Commercial Offices, to the amount of £2,300.  The origin of the fire is not ascertained.  The workmen were on the premises until about midnight on Saturday finishing some work, but not in the pattern-rooms, and the porter left all right when he locked up after them.
It must have reminded Alice of the fire at Skipton when she was a little girl that had nearly brought her father to disaster.  It certainly struck John Dewhurst that way.  He wrote on 28 October with his own inimitable spelling and style
My dear Son in Law,
I am in receipt of a note from dear Alice this morning informing me of your serious loss sustained by fire in your Moddle shops etc … Your loss no doubt will be great but not so much as to take away the whole of your business, which was the case with me or thereabouts when my Mill was burnt down in 1831.  I have great reason to think that the Almighty God and our Saviour was at that time in a peculiar manner my daily support in raising me kind friends and also in directing my steps in all my proceedings afterwards [6]
He ended his letter
I am, my dear Son in Law, your well wishing and affectionate Father in Law 
John Dewhurst
Excuse all my little blunders being written under excitement
When John wrote to his mother about the "disaster on Sunday" he described to her how, the day after the fire, the firm had put out a circular to most of the customers to say there would be no interruption of business, and that several men in the same line had offered them help with tools and so forth.  The fire had made the national press, and he didn't want his mother unnecessarily alarmed, writing to her
In regard to the loss, the amount will exceed our insurances, perhaps considerably – yet not so much as we expected at first – and if we obtain the amount we claim, upwards of £2,200, it will enable us to do a great deal in the way of restoration [7]
But of course it would take a good while to recoup the losses, and the following year he wrote to his mother on 2 March 1852 that, while they were managing the ongoing strikes quite well and the Manchester employers were determined to resist any attempt by the government to reimpose the Corn Laws
We are still feeling the effects of the fire and shall do so for many months; but we continue to do our best to get out of the mire which clogs our efforts.  It has been necessary to put down some very costly machinery to expedite the restoration of the patterns, and we have had a great deal of trouble in trying to bring it to perfection, to which we approach step by step slowly. [8]
The year 1853 saw the business worries continue.  John was travelling around the Northern towns by rail, coach, gig and on foot and occasionally going to London to make useful contacts and in search of orders.  He went abroad for the first time in his life, going by sea to Copenhagen and on to Karlshamn in Sweden.

On 21 January 1853 he described his sea voyage to Alice
A Danish mariner spoke fractional English so I fraternized with him and also with the Danish Engineer on board who could speak no English; but I became very good friends with him by entering into the construction of his engines and describing other sorts in chalk upon the wall of his room [9]
Wren & Hopkinson were ready to take a firm line at the beginning of strikes, but John was very conscious of his responsibilities to his workmen.  He didn't want to lay men off (unpaid) unless he had to – writing to Alice ahead of joining her on holiday, he told her that 
I, and some of the young men, are staying late to arrange some matters so that the men may have some employment in my absence – for I cannot bear to think of sending men off work while I go on pleasure.  Last night I was successful in obtaining an order for the Gearing of a small mill in Sweden, £1,500, which must be done in excessive haste – and happily gives work of a kind to spread over [10]
John Hopkinson, as Gerald Hurst wrote in the Preface, "lived through several business crises.  The failure of one of his companies was disastrous." [11]

This was the Chatterley Iron Company.  Both John and his son young John were involved in this company which at first was very promising.  John had become chairman in 1874 and he put in a great deal of time and effort in improvements to their collieries and to providing access by private lines to their sale yards.  But in 1879, when the coal trade was very slow and the Midland & Northern Coal & Iron Trades Gazette of 13 August was reporting that the "Chatterley Iron Company are putting out their last furnace", John's daughters were faced with the real possibility they would have to earn their own livings.  And, before John became chairman, the company had incurred excessive royalty obligations.  These became a heavy burden.  The company faltered on but by the end of the 1880s it went into liquidation.  To make matters worse, young John and his wife Evelyn Oldenbourg had invested their savings of about £7,000 in it; they lost them.  

John was also very much aware that the family income depended on his efforts.  He had put all his inheritance into Wren & Bennett.  It's clear that during the thirty odd years of their partnership, he and Henry Wren did not always see eye to eye and, as the strains finally led up to its dissolution on 19 December 1881, Alice wrote
My notion is that he will follow out this plan as likely to be the most inconvenient to you and that his idea will be to buy in the concern for he will be well assured that he has the money advantage.  Somehow my faith in his nobility is so small that I should give him credit for wishing to make it as awkward as possible for you.  It is best that the upset should come now than later on in life, and your coolness will give you a great advantage [12]
Henry Wren had inherited his father's business, so it's hardly surprising that when he died in 1902 he left a gross estate of £315,276-0s-10d, while the value of John's estate was £45,100-9s.  

John certainly wanted to earn enough for his family, their needs, educations and futures – and he never neglected the Rusholme Road Chapel.  He wrote to Alice in January 1865 from Belfast
I wanted to give a help to the Sunday School Collection this time.  If I should not be home to Service on Sunday morning, will you see Mr Clayton and tell him how I am fixed here and ask him to add £25 which I will give him when I return. [13]
John was not interested in money for itself, nor particularly interested in honours and recognition.  His son Alfred wrote
It was characteristic of my father that he never grumbled at want of recognition or not gaining reward.  The work itself, something to be accomplished, was what he thought of, and if anyone was disposed to grumble at the way the world treated him, he would say:  "The world treats you as well as you can expect and probably rather better than you deserve."  [14]
The family lived, Alfred said, "very plainly"  
My father used to say that it was good to learn how many things there were people wanted which we would find we could do without. [15]
"See what you can do without" was one of John's favourite sayings.  Evelyn Oldenbourg, who married Alfred's brother John, wrote in her memoirs of how she met the Hopkinsons through their daughter Ellen when they were at school together, and how she loved to spend time with the family – though "their fine, almost austere, life sometimes almost frightened me." [16]

Alice sometimes felt rather conscious of the difference between her and her sister-in-law Alice Wills, whose husband was Henry Overton Wills, the third of his name in a Bristol tobacco dynasty – W.D. & H.O. Wills was the first British company to mass-produce cigarettes and it was to be one of the first in Britain to issue cigarette cards.  In early July 1863 she wrote to John, describing how Alice and Henry, with six children, two nurses, and their friends Mr and Mrs Duckham and their boy joined the family on holiday at Penmaenmawr
Their children are all so trim; I fancy they look at ours as if they were somewhat common.  For myself, I am struck with the look of earnestness and power about our own in comparison with most others and am well satisfied that their greater energy should defy the niceties of dress. [17]
It was an uncomfortable feeling and made her uneasy, as we can see from the letter she wrote to John on 30 October 1865.  She was staying with the Wills family in Bristol, and there were several young men of Henry's family about:
The young Wills's – Edward and William Henry – never know me, and Samuel very slightly acknowledges the acquaintance.  I suppose my externals are not imposing enough to claim their attention and possibly my own pride increases the distance.  This worship of externals!  How it prevails here!  Let us beware; it only needs to be fostered to make it flourish in ourselves.  I feel it is a plant indigenous in my own heart and only needs to be put into the hotbed of riches and worldly adulation to make it grow.  The Lord help me to watch and pray. [18]
But she never let the creeping feeling of inferiority interfere with her open hospitality in welcoming people to the family holiday and she was as careful with money as John.  From the 1864 holiday to Llanfairfechan, where she was in charge of a niece and nephew as well as her own children, she told John of a quiet conversation with young John
Then, as to taking conveyances, railway trips and the like, I told Johnnie privately I did not feel disposed to incur the extra expense, that I denied myself constantly, was happy in doing so and expected them to do the same. [19]
A major factor in the family's expenditure was, of course, the number of children.  There were an awful lot of mouths to feed.  No wonder Albert told his daughter Alice Bragg that "nothing less than a baron of beef" could feed the Hopkinson family [20].  When young John's five children spent Christmas 1883 with their grandparents they found a strange disconnection between the palatial Grove House and the household habits – Ellen Ewing remembered that it was "too grand, so they thought, for all the small economies that were enforced at table and elsewhere". [21]

On 29 September 1883, Alice wrote to John
In regard to our means, we have had a very varied experience.  It must be for some good end that we are tried in this particular.  I trust we shall not miss learning the lesson intended.  We must be slow scholars, needing recurring repetition … We have often said that our riches are in our children.  And, being in them so richly blessed, we must not expect uninterrupted prosperity in other matters.  Let us thank God for the higher gifts and seek to profit by the disappointments allotted to us in worldly things … I often think you are much nearer this mark than I.  There is less covetousness in you to struggle against. [22]

Notes 

[1] John and Alice Hopkinson 1824-1910 (1948) ed. Mary Hopkinson and her niece Lady Ewing, with a Preface by Sir Gerald Hurst, K.C., p. IX

[2] ibid., p. 13

[3] ibid., p. 43

[4] ibid., p. 18

[5] ibid.

[6] ibid., p. 19

[7] ibid., p. 19

[8] ibid., p. 20

[9] ibid., p. 22

[10] ibid., p. 23

[11] ibid., p. X

[12] ibid., p. 79

[13] ibid., p. 43

[14] Sir Alfred Hopkinson, K.C., LL.D., Penultima (1930) pub. Martin Hopkinson Ltd, p. 229

[15] ibid., p. 228

[16] John and Alice Hopkinson 1824-1910, p. 54

[17] ibid., p. 38

[18] ibid., p. 47

[19] ibid., p. 41

[20] Crystal Clear: The Autobiographies of Sir Lawrence and Lady Bragg, ed. A M Glazer and Patience Thomson (2015), pub. OUP

[21]  John and Alice Hopkinson 1824-1910, p. 84

[22] ibid., p. 83




Wednesday, 24 June 2026

42. A career ended by illness: Gertrude Hopkinson (1862-1895)

 
Gertrude (I think) aged about 5
Gertrude was the ninth child and fifth daughter, born on 9 May 1862.  We catch glimpses of her – as a poorly two year old, when her mother wrote from the holiday at Llanfairfechan that

Little Gertrude looks very languid, wants nursing altogether [1]

and as an 8 year old, being snubbed by her 10 year old sister – "Lily has a way of contradicting," wrote Esther Wells to Alice, "when Gerty says anything." [2]

In March 1877, after the death of little Harry, Gertrude received this sombre and unnerving reminder from her mother

Many solemn thoughts arise as we review the last sad weeks … Supposing the call had come to you, dear child, instead of to our precious little Harry, would it have found you ready?  Have you given your heart wholly to Jesus?  Have you sought and found forgiveness? [3]

Gertrude was fifteen at the time.  We don't know what she can have been doing to prompt this warning.  She seems to have been indefatigable in her voluntary work with the chapel later and her niece Lina wrote to Mary after Gertrude's death

Aunt Gertrude once told me that she did not need arguments to convince her of God's presence, He proved Himself to her [4]

In 1879 John's business hit problems and it looked as though his daughters would have to earn their own livings.  Mary wrote to her mother on 3 July 1879

With regard to Father's letter to Gertrude, she was distressed at first and disposed to take a gloomy view of the subject.  She would take no comfort for awhile.  Her first notion was this 'Mary will be wanted at home.  Lily will get married.  May is too young.  So I must be a charwoman, a dressmaker or a lady's companion.'  However, she did not long indulge in such melancholy reflections. [5]

But disaster was averted and Gertrude was still at home, helping her mother and active at the chapel when Alice wrote on 26 December the same year

We miss you all very much.  I miss the services of my loving little maid and well as herself [6]

At some point at the beginning of the 1880s Gertrude decided to train as a nurse in Liverpool.  Ellen Ewing does not specify where, but it can only have been at the Liverpool Training School and Home for Nurses [7] attached to the Royal Liverpool Infirmary, which had been established in 1862 by a wealthy Liverpool philanthropist and Florence Nightingale.  Nursing, it's clear from her parents' letters, was Gertrude's natural talent and we can see why it appealed so strongly to her from the introduction which Florence Nightingale wrote in 1865 for Organization of nursing: an account of the Liverpool Nurses' Training School [8]

Bust of Florence Nightingale,
given by her to Nurses' School
An Institution for training Nurses in connection with the Infirmary has been built and organized.  This is a matter of necessity, because all who wish to nurse efficiently must learn how to nurse in a Hospital.  Nursing, especially that most important of all its branches – nursing of the sick poor at home – is no amateur work.  To do it as it ought to be done requires knowledge, practice, self-abnegation, and, as is so well said here, direct obedience to, and activity under, the highest of all Masters, and from the highest of all motives.  It is an essential part of the daily service of the Christian Church
It was one of the first training schools in the country and was a highly respected institution – famous enough for the Oxford Times of 1 June 1889, when reporting the notorious Maybrick poisoning trial, to include it in the description of a nurse who was one of the witnesses ("Ellen Anne Gore, certificated nurse, of the Liverpool Nurses' Training School").
 
Gertrude must have impressed the Lady Superintendent in charge, because she was only in her very early twenties and in Organization of nursing it is stated that "the age considered desirable for Probationers is from 25 to 35".  Her application had to supply a certificate of age, as well as a certificate of health and testimonials of character.  She was accepted and started her training – but in the spring of 1884, aged 22, she fell ill with scarlet fever.  Her elder sister Mary went to Liverpool to look after her, writing to their mother 
I feel so glad it is an illness I have had myself because I know better how to do for her and minister to her comfort [9]
Gertrude never fully recovered from the illness, which ended all her hopes and plans for her career.  And to add to the distress, the scarlet fever exacerbated the deafness which she had inherited from her mother.  

The next year, in August 1885 when she was only 23, she saw a Manchester specialist, Dr Leopold Larmuth.  Alice wrote to John
He hurt her very much.  She would bear anything with the hope of improvement.  As soon as she felt a little rested she went off to Rusholme Road to help Lily and Mabel for their Boys' tea party.  Mary will go after dinner to help to entertain.  I expect they will all come home thoroughly tired tonight [10]
In 1887 she went to stay with her aunt Ellen Tubbs in Reading while she endured what Ellen Ewing describes as "a searching medical examination and severe treatment of her throat".  Her younger brother Albert, who was training as a doctor, was with her, and reported back to their mother on the treatment and Gertrude's fortitude during it all.  Alice wrote to her
Never trouble about expense.  Could money be better used?  And what good is money if not used? … But, my precious child, though you may be shut out from the work you have chosen and love so well, you will not be debarred from that which your Father has appointed and for which, no doubt, He is preparing you. [11]
The result was only temporary relief.  Shut out from nursing, she threw herself into charitable work.  She must have been visiting the poor and sick in their homes, judging by this comment by Alice in August 1887 
I do think she ought to give it up or else choose her own days for going; the damp affects her throat and increases the deafness, yet one shrinks from hindering any good work [12]
Gertrude did have a life beyond the chapel work and sick visiting.  We get a glimpse of it in the spring of 1886 when she went to London to visit her brother John and his wife Evelyn and their five children at their pleasant modern villa at 3 Holland Villas Road.  Alice visited some time soon afterwards.  We can see from her letter to Gertrude on 8 May 1886, reporting her opinions of the exhibition at the Royal Academy, that Gertrude had been to the Exhibition before her – 
I was amused to find our notions coincided.  My remark on 'The death of Cain' was 'That's horrid,' and I found you had written 'horrid' [13]
Death of Cain by G F Watts
Watts Gallery - Artists' Village
In early 1888 the Whitworth Institute wanted to begin work on turning Grove House into an exhibition hall – today it is the Whitworth Art Gallery.  The family decided to move out of Manchester to the Cheshire countryside to live in the prosperous village of Bowdon.  Linked to Manchester by the railway and a favourite choice of the merchant princes for its peace and healthy situation, it was described by Kelly's Directory of 1877 as "studded with handsome villas and mansions".  Their new home, a fine detached villa built some twenty years earlier, was 'Inglewood' on St Margaret's Road.

On 30 July 1890 Gertrude was one of the bridesmaids at her cousins' wedding in Skipton.  She was a cousin of both bride and groom – Hilda, daughter of Gertrude's uncle Bonny Dewhurst, was marrying Stanley Wills, son of Gertrude's aunt, her father's sister Alice.  

The wedding of a daughter of one of Skipton's major employers to a barrister from a wealthy family in the tobacco industry created quite a stir in the town.  The Burnley Express reported that it was "celebrated with much pomp and ceremony".  Spectators crowded to watch, there was a canvas awning the whole length of the chapel grounds, the chapel was beautifully decorated inside with "choice plants and flowers" and there was a full choral service.  The bride "wore a lovely dress and train of white brocaded silk, with petticoat of muslin chiffon, trimmed with Brussels lace and orange blossom, and wore a tulle veil."  Gertrude and the other three bridesmaids wore "dresses of white muslin, with Valenciennes lace, trimmed with pale green ribbon, and hats trimmed with posies of La France roses".  

The list of guests shows that John and Alice's family was represented by their son Albert and their daughter-in-law Evelyn.  It's a pity we don't know John and Alice's opinions on this grand wedding – I think they would certainly have preferred something much more simple and restrained – but any letters mentioning it had not survived to be quoted in Ellen Ewing's book.

At the end of 1892, John fell very ill and Gertrude came into her own as a devoted nurse.  They grew very close as she nursed him over the following two years and there are several very loving letters between them.  Gertrude wrote to her father 
The joy of nursing you will always be a bright gleam to lighten future years.  That to have the opportunity of showing that I love you was something for which to thank God with my whole heart [14]
And on 8 May 1895 he told her
Well dearest Gertrude, I wish you were by my side that I might tell you some of the things that are in my heart about you.  How much do I owe you; that is one of the things I could not tell – it is beyond computation or narration [15]
The next day was her 33rd birthday.  Soon afterwards she fell ill with influenza and died of acute pneumonia at 'Inglewood' on the morning of 16 May 1895.  Only a few minutes' walk away, her sister May's second child was born that evening – a little daughter they called Gertrude.

Ellen, Gertrude, Harry and baby William Henry lie in the family vault with their parents at Southern Cemetery, Manchester.  

Gertrude & Ellen's names on family grave
(courtesy of Bob the Greenacre Cat @ findagrave.com)



Notes 

[1] John and Alice Hopkinson 1824-1910 (1948) ed. Mary Hopkinson and her niece Lady Ewing, with a Preface by Sir Gerald Hurst, K.C., p. 41

[2] ibid., p. 58

[3] ibid., p. 72

[4] ibid., p. 99

[5] ibid., p. 65

[6] ibid., p. 74


[8] which can be read online here Wellcome Collection

[9] John and Alice Hopkinson 1824-1910, p. 86

[10] ibid., p. 89

[11] ibid., p. 93

[12] ibid., p. 93

[13] ibid., p. 92

[14] ibid., p. 98

[15] ibid.