59. The "Poor Man's Earl": visit of Lord Shaftesbury in 1883

Early July 1883 brought to Manchester a man whose visit must have meant more to John and Alice and their daughters than any other event of the mayoral year.  This was the 82 year old Anthony Ashley Cooper, the 7th Earl of Shaftesbury – the "Poor Man's Earl".  

Burdened by age, frequently intense physical pain, a lifetime of depression and steadily increasing deafness, Shaftesbury drove himself on to meet all invitations.  

He had been asked to come to Manchester to speak to a mass meeting of children and, because of his enormous popularity among the working people, the engagements had multiplied. He had wished his reception to be "as private as possible", wrote the Manchester Times on 14 July.  But this was defeated by his popularity.

John met him on the afternoon of Saturday 7 July at the London Road Station (now Manchester Piccadilly) and drove him northwards to Francis Street in Strangeways, where he laid the corner stone for a major extension to the Central Refuge of the Manchester & Salford Boys' and Girls' Refuges [1].  The building was being enlarged with a swimming bath, workshops and dormitories so that it could take 120 boys.  This was the headquarters of the organisation set up in 1870 by two philanthropist businessmen and Sunday School teachers to provide homes for destitute and homeless children – in 1883 they had 13 homes and looked after over 300 children.

Flags, streamers and a dense crowd met the party in Francis Street, and Lord Shaftesbury spoke to the assembly of how, when he first visited Manchester fifty years before, "there was little or nothing of this description being done".  But now he 

found the inhabitants of this great city more active perhaps than those of any other part of the world in every operation which was for the honour of God and for the welfare of man.

That evening there was a great meeting in the Free Trade Hall so that representatives of some 75,000 Lancashire workpeople could present him with an address in gratitude for his work for them.  It was an audience mostly of working men, and all but one of them were too young to have taken part in the early battles.  He spoke to them, reported the Manchester Courier of 9 July, of the progress that had been made in the 50 years since he had first come to Manchester.  He wouldn't dwell on the miseries of the past 

None of them knew what it was.  They might have heard of it in history, and by narrative, but it passed all description … He remembered the first thing he did when he came to Manchester to examine for himself, was to go to the gates of the mills and see the workpeople and children coming from their labour.  The children came along slowly, with eyes cast to the ground, and looking as if they had just been disinterred 

He had come back ten years later, when the Factory Act was in operation, and "out rushed the children in rivalry as to who could run the swiftest". 

He spoke with pride of one prediction which had been fulfilled, 

The Lancashire men of that day said to him:  "We have been called seditious and disaffected to the Government of the country.  We are not so.  We only seek our rights, and if the Government will only do justice to the operative classes loyalty will be as strong in Lancashire as in the palace at Windsor."  And so it had been.  (Applause)

Lord Shaftesbury stayed that night in the State Apartments of the Town Hall, and in the morning he and John went to the service in the Cathedral – Shaftesbury was an eminent Anglican Evangelical – and he was shown round the restoration work.  

That night he went with John to the poorest quarters of the city to see more evidence of Manchester's improvement, a subject so dear to John's heart.  As the Manchester Evening News of 9 July 1883 reported, John explained at the City Mission on the following afternoon that

For three Sunday nights he had been – and last night he took Lord Shaftesbury with him – on a journey of exploration.  His object was, on those three successive visitations to the humblest parts of Manchester, to see if he could find a drunken man, and he had not yet succeeded.  (Cheers)

On the afternoon of Monday 9 July, John and Alice went with Lord Shaftesbury to Newton Heath, north-east of the city centre.  The Anglican City Mission had arranged for Lord Shaftesbury to speak to the workmen of the Newton Heath carriage works of the Lancashire & Yorkshire Railway Company.  They held a weekly mission service there on Wednesdays with an average attendance of 700 but, while the works brass band played to fill the time before Lord Shaftesbury's arrival, it could be seen that there was a much larger crowd than usual and almost of them were workmen.  

John presided at the meeting, and after the service Lord Shaftesbury spoke to the workmen.  He told them that he did not hesitate to say that he had among the working men of England "some of the best, truest, and most beloved friends he had ever had in the whole course of his existence.  (Cheers)."  He praised the railwaymen "on whose sobriety, skill and good conduct the limbs and lives of thousands and hundreds of thousands of the people depended" and he hoped they would keep campaigning for "their perfect rights, times of recreation, the rights of mind and body.  He looked upon them as a most invaluable body of men." 

That evening, the Town Hall was filled with children.  Some 2,000 children from the ragged schools and the Barnes Home Industrial School filled the gallery of the Great Hall.  The bands from the Ardwick Green and Barnes Home Schools played.  There were 1,500 members of the Children's Humane Society in the body of the hall and the general public sat under the galleries and wherever there was space.  An organ recital filled the time before the meeting began.  There was a choir of 500 on the platform, ready to sing hymns.  John, Alice and Mary were all there to see Lord Shaftesbury presented with an address by "Four Little Children".   It was a demonstration of children's gratitude for all that he had done and the huge assembly was there to remember his work for the young chimney sweeps and factory hands and in the cause of the ragged schools.  As Lord Shaftesbury reminded them in his address, these ragged schools were needed to teach them "domestic habits and affections" so that children could reach the stage where they could benefit from the board schools, the schools provided by the state.

There was another section of Manchester society that wanted to express gratitude to the Earl.   William Aronsberg, optician and instrument maker, born in the Russian Empire and Manchester's first Jewish magistrate, had written to Lord Shaftesbury after the visit.  In his letter, printed in the Manchester Courier of 11 July, he wrote of his gratitude for Shaftesbury's "great influence and indomitable perseverance along with the late Archbishop of Canterbury" in relief of suffering Jews in Russia: "it was mainly by your lordship's instrumentality that I was enabled to send such opportune relief to my persecuted brethren".  They owed to Lord Shaftesbury the Saturday half-holiday for Jewish factory operatives.  

Workers in factories, members of co-operative bodies, children whose lot has been rendered more endurable by your foresight and kindness, all assemble to testify what they owe to you. 

The newspapers do not record when Lord Shaftesbury left Manchester for London but before he left we know, from Gerald Hurst's Preface to Ellen Ewing's book, that he presented two of John and Alice's daughters with Bibles [2].  His experience of deafness must have struck such a chord of familiarity in Alice, and perhaps she could discern his tendency to serious depression.  Age and infirmity did not prevent him driving himself on, and on the afternoon of Wednesday 11 July he was to be found hard at work again, presiding over the second annual meeting of the International Arbitration and Peace Society in the Westminster Palace Hotel in London.  

Shaftesbury died two years later, on 1 October 1885.  The nation insisted on his burial in Westminster Abbey and for hours the pavements on the route were filled with the poor, with costermongers, flower-girls, boot-blacks, crossing-sweepers and factory hands, waiting to see his coffin go by.

Notes

[1] For more on the Refuges see 

the Children's Homes website

Architects of Greater Manchester 1800-1940

[2] 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

58. Mayor Hopkinson in 1883: Malagasy Envoys and Sir Garnet Wolseley

The New Year opened with a grand and rather exotic occasion, at which John was supported by his sons John, Alfred, Charles and Albert.

This was the visit of the Malagasy Envoys, to which the Manchester Courier devoted a full page of detail on 3 January 1883.  The envoys were the ambassadors of the reforming and Christian Queen Ranavalona II of Madagascar.  (By the way, this is not the Queen Ranavalona of George Macdonald Fraser's Flashman's Lady).  In a vain attempt to keep their country free from European intervention, they had already paid visits to the French and British governments, and would next go on to the USA.

Ranavalona II of Madagascar (1829-1883)

The diplomatic mission consisted of His Excellency Ravoninahitriniarivo, Principal Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, and His Excellency Ramaniraka of the Privy Council "both cultivated men of high rank in the State of Madagascar, and the latter an accomplished scholar, who speaks English with considerable fluency".   

They had come to Lancashire with two native secretaries, an English secretary and interpreter, the Madagascar consul in London Samuel Procter, the US consul at Madagascar Colonel Robinson and the missionary the Revd W C Pickersgill.  (Photographs of the envoys can easily be found online by searching for the name Ravoninahitriniarivo, but unfortunately none of them are in the public domain and free to use here).  

The London Missionary Society, whose first mission in Madagascar had begun in 1818, was a largely Congregationalist body and had an East Lancashire Auxiliary in Manchester.  From the 1830s, Mancunian Congregationalists had been hearing from visiting missionaries about their work on the island and in 1840 Malagasy Christian refugees had come to the town.

On the first day of their visit, the envoys came in by train from Alderley Edge where they had stayed the night with Mr F J Jackson, a merchant in the Africa trade, and were driven round the city by John and other officials on a tour of mills and warehouses.  Their second night was spent with Mr Henry Lee, Manchester cotton manufacturer and Liberal MP for Southampton, at Sedgley New Hall (St Gabriel's, Church, Prestwich now stands more or less on the site of Mr Lee's house).  They then attended the reception for 1,500 people that John gave in their honour at the Town Hall.  Bands played, refreshments were offered and speeches were made.  John gave the welcoming address:

You have come hither, ambassadors of the Queen of Madagascar, across the seas, thousands of miles from your own shores upon a message of peace, to make friends with European peoples, and to know more of their arts, commerce, and manufactures. (Applause)  

They had visited Queen Victoria in her own home, met the Royal Princes, inspected the arsenals

You now come to these northern towns of England, the homes of peaceful and highly-organised industries.  (Applause)  We can show you how our sons of labour make calicoes and guns, locomotives, and machines, ships, and railways.  Beyond all these we can show you a people who for years have taken a deep interest in the civilisation and well-being of Madagascar.  (Applause).  

We remember that you are of the same Christian faith with ourselves; that long ago men from our midst, of our own townsfolk, went out in the fervour of a holy zeal, for the conversion of Madagascar from heathendom, and found their graves there.  We remember the terrible persecution that ensued upon the death of your King Radama, when hundreds of your and our fellow Christians sealed their testimony with their blood.  We have seen your fellow countrymen and countrywomen who had escaped with their lives in their hands stand up in our city and thank God that they had found in England, this land of freedom, an asylum from the bitterness and malice of their persecutors.  (Applause)  

Now a better day has dawned upon your land; religious liberty is the law of your country as of our own.  Instead of destitute refugees – driven from their homes by the relentless cruelty of your former rulers, you have come, the accredited and honoured representatives of your enlightened and Christian Queen.  (Applause)  In the name of the citizens of Manchester I offer to you a respectful, sincere, and hearty welcome. 

The Revd Pickersgill then spoke very frankly to the assembled guests, describing the situation in Madagascar – the reforms that the Queen and her government were carrying out, their fears of intervention by European powers and their problems with the British Treaty.  He said

If the representatives of England and France, and if other European countries had done their duty as they ought to have done it, the duty which enlightened people are bound to do to countries like Madagascar, the present difficulties would never have assumed the formidable aspect which they bore at the present moment … 

These people had been willing to make certain reforms; they had been willing to make certain concessions to foreigners.  The foreigners, on the other hand, had not been willing to make reasonable concessions to these people … 

The more the real state of the case was known the more it appeared that a great injustice would be done if any European Power were to take possession of the island at the present time.  (Applause)

He hoped the ambassadors would be able to go home "believing that England practised what she professed".  

In the event, the French and British governments came to an agreement that France could establish a protectorate in Madagascar in exchange for France recognising British claims to Zanzibar.  The Queen and her niece and successor Queen Ravanalona III objected in vain, and in 1897 Ravanalona III, the last monarch of Madagascar, was sent by the French into exile.  

But at the beginning of July, John must have been pleased to get a letter from the envoys who were in London and preparing to go home.  They had reported to their Queen the "hospitable reception we received at your hands" and were sending him, as well as her best thanks, a Malagasy lamba – the traditional scarf, heavy with cultural significance and worn by both men and women – as a souvenir.  I wonder what became of it; the lamba presented by Queen Ranavalona III to President Grover Cleveland are in the Smithsonian.

The next excitement was the visit in March of the celebrated soldier Garnet Wolseley (1833-1913).  Most famous at the time for his service in the Crimea and the Siege of Lucknow, he was a favourite with public and press and was now a General and a viscount.  He had been invited to Manchester to open a new Temperance Lodge of Freemasons which was to be named in his honour, but people felt that an appearance by such a distinguished servant of the Empire to a city as important to the Empire as Manchester should not go unnoticed.  It was made a civic occasion and he was to be the guest of the mayor.

Garnet Wolseley

It was a flying visit packed with incident.  He took the 7.30am express from London on Wednesday 28 March, was greeted by a cheering crowd, driven to the consecration ceremony at the new Wolseley Lodge and attended a masons' banquet afterwards at the Free Trade Hall.  (This was built in the 1850s on the site of the Peterloo Massacre; its facade remains, fronting the Edwardian Manchester Hotel).  He stayed in the state apartments of the Town Hall and at 10 o'clock the following morning two carriages arrived to take him for a tour of Sir Joseph Whitworth's engineering, ordnance and ammunition works at Openshaw.  John travelled with the General in the first carriage and his sons Charles and Edward were with the gentlemen in the second carriage.

Whitworths' directors showed them round the works, where the General was able to examine gun barrels, crank shafts for ships and breechloader guns and see the forging of a 100-ton gun being turned out for an Italian ship.  John Hopkinson will have taken pleasure in the precision engineering on display but we know his views on weaponry – that part of the visit will have been a dismal experience for him.  When he visited Sir William Armstrong's armaments works on Tyneside in September 1878, he had written to Alice, "It cuts me to the heart to see so much ingenuity applied to destroying human life."  [1]

As the party left the Whitworth works, the loud cheering of the crowd spooked the horses, which plunged and kicked, damaging the leading carriage so badly that John, the General and the other gentlemen sitting inside – luckily unhurt and apparently not too shaken – had to abandon it for another.  On to the Royal Exchange so that the men of commerce could pay their respects to the General, and then to an evening reception or conversazione hosted by the Mayor and Mayoress.  

This was a full-scale event for people involved in education in Manchester – a subject dear to John's heart and about which he had spoken in his inaugural speech.  He and Alice had sent out a thousand invitations to governors and professors from Owens College, from Manchester Grammar School, the Manchester School Board and, the Manchester Courier said, "all classes of educationists", to meet the Vice-Chancellor and members of the Victoria University Court.  A "spacious awning" was put up over the pavement at the front entrance to the Town Hall, the staircases and lobbies were decorated with plants and flowers, the Police Band was playing for the guests in the Sculpture Hall, and there was tea and coffee in the council chamber and refreshments in the Banqueting Hall.  

John and Alice received their guests for an hour and then the band of the Queen's Bays played for them in the Great Hall, with an interval for short addresses about education, beginning with a speech by John and ending with Lord Wolseley.  There is no report of the speeches themselves.  Wolseley had been forced to leave school at 14 because of family finances.  When he spoke in public on education he used to call for more emphasis on the importance of physical education and fitness, less emphasis on mastering specific subjects and more on encouraging common sense, endurance, courage and manliness.  He may not have felt entirely at home among the professors.

Among the many guests listed in the press reports were Professor Alfred and Mrs Hopkinson, Dr John and Mrs Hopkinson, Dr Edward Hopkinson, and Mr Charles Hopkinson and lady.  John and Evelyn's presence makes me wonder whether this event had been planned long before Lord Wolseley's visit became official and he was an addition to the programme.

The conversazione ended at 10.30pm and Lord Wolseley took the 11pm train back to London.

The next year he would be sent – following public and press outcry and the intervention of Queen Victoria – out to the Sudan in the hope of rescuing the doomed General Gordon, besieged in Khartoum, from the forces of the Mahdi.

On 1 May 1883 John was in London, giving his evidence on the proposed Ship Canal to a Committee of the House of Commons.

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. 73

57. Mayor Hopkinson in 1882: A fire & a soirée

There are no details of John's year as Mayor in Ellen Ewing's book because it is a purely personal account of a marriage.  But I will deal with it here at some length because in the newspaper reports of John's activities we see the world outside their home, great names of the age – General Wolseley, the Earl of Shaftesbury – and not only the acute problems of the time but also its great optimism and belief in progress.  How could the Councillors think otherwise, when the Council had already achieved so much?  And we can imagine John and Alice, austere and dignified, in the unlikely and lavish setting of Manchester Town Hall.

The first thing that I notice as I look through the digitised newspapers for John's activities in his year as mayor, is a report of a serious fire in a new building in Princess Street, about five minutes' walk from the Town Hall.  Princess Street had been widened by the corporation only about five years earlier, and between St James's Street and Faulkner Street a fine five-storey building with large cellars had been built, today's Number 34.  The fire broke out on the top floor in the warehouses of Messrs G Hodgkinson and Sons, makers-up and packers, who had let the lower floors to offices.  

Round the corner in Faulkner Street were the Central Telephone Offices of the Lancashire Telephonic Exchange Company.  Alexander Graham Bell had demonstrated his new invention to Queen Victoria on 14 January 1878 and the Faulkner Street telephone exchange had opened the following year.  This amazing new method of talking in complete privacy from your own office had rapidly caught on and on 6 October 1879 the Manchester Courier reported they already had 82 subscribers.  

In the middle of Hodgkinsons' roof was a pole carrying telephone wires – 300 wires converged on this one building, reported the Manchester Courier of 18 November 1882.  There were people who were campaigning for the city's electric wires to be laid underground and this fire will only have fixed them in their belief.  The flames spread from the warehouse floor to the roof and burned through the pole.  The flaming wires all fell onto the roof, the roof fell in, and the fire not only spread to the lower storeys but also destroyed all the telegraphic and telephonic communications for the most important part of the city.

All the fire brigade turned out, two steam fire-engines were soon on the spot, hosepipes were attached to street hydrants and jets of water played on the burning building.  Enormous crowds gathered to watch – but they behaved, according to the newspaper report, in the most orderly fashion.  Among them was their mayor John Hopkinson, completely absorbed in the work of the corporation's Fire Brigade and paying no attention to the fact that his hat and "suit of black" were getting saturated with water:

This anxious interest on the part of the mayor, however, was noticed by many people and called forth numerous expressions favourable to his worship, who will have increased his popularity by his fearless conduct on this occasion

On Tuesday 12 December 1882 John and Alice held a Soirée for some 600 to 700 people in the Town Hall.  It was a gathering of people who cared for others and it was one of John's main aims for his mayoralty; he had spoken of it his inaugural speech.  The Manchester Courier of 16 December 1882 reported it in detail.

The guests made their way up staircases laid with red cloth and decorated with plants to be received by John and Alice in the Mayor's reception room.  From there they moved on to the refreshments set out for them in Banqueting Room and in the corridors.  Meanwhile, below in the Sculpture Hall the Police Band was providing music for the guests.

Manchester Town Hall banqueting room by Michael D Beckwith

At half past eight the guests – council members, corporation department heads, city officials and voluntary workers – took their seats in the Great Hall at half past eight and four men made speeches.  John was in the chair and he was the first.  

He explained that he and his wife had asked their guests to come in the hope that with mutual encouragement and sympathy they might feel their power and unity, and that the voluntary workers might more fully understand the work of the Town Hall.  He wished he had not been limited by numbers.  Outside there were thousands of people working along the same lines, but invitations could only be sent to the staffs of institutions and the committee members of the medical charities.

What were the objects of their numberless committees and officers?  Justice between man and man; just weights, just measures, pure water, pure food, pure drinks, clean streets, clean houses, clean persons.  Nor were their cares confined to those things and the physical condition of the people, for their schools and free libraries provided intellectual culture and their parks furnished some means of recreation.  Outside those walls there were bands of men and women linked together in a multitude of voluntary associations, sometimes on a religious basis, sometimes simply on a secular basis, with the common object of finding out "Who is my neighbour," and doing a neighbour's part; relieving the destitute, ministering to all forms of affliction, and striving to diminish the ills that flesh was heir to. (Applause.)

The Bishop of Manchester was the next to speak.  The Mayor had consulted him some weeks ago and he "had not a moment's hesitation in according his heartiest good wishes that the experiment might be a success."  His suggestion was a system of dividing the city into districts, with volunteers visiting every family to discover their habits and needs

they would then be in a position to deal effectively with the great social problems which were causing so much anxiety, and in which there lay the seeds of so much national peril; and let them organise their philanthropy, and bring it to bear more reasonably.  (Applause.)

(There was a system very like this in operation in a town in Germany, which was being advocated by the Liverpool shipping magnate and philanthropist Alexander Balfour)

Mr John Slagg, a Liberal MP for Manchester, and Dr Thomson spoke in warm support of this hope.  They all listened to a recital on the great organ and then they went home.  The Liberal evening paper, the Manchester Evening News, looking back on 29 December 1882 on the year's events, wrote approvingly

The recently held conference of philanthropic workers summoned by the Mayor may be said to mark a new departure in social reunions.

56. "One of the noblest buildings of its kind": Manchester Town Hall

We might think, now that major projects take so very long to achieve, that not the least of the achievements of the council in its first forty years was the building of a stupendous new town hall.  Asa Briggs, writing in 1963, wrote disparagingly that the new town hall was begun "in what has been called 'the Victorian dark ages'" and that "it could hardly be called the crowning glory of Manchester" [1].  In the 1940s planners suggested demolishing it.  How taste has changed.  The Town Hall, newly restored, is one of the city's biggest tourist attractions, an iconic landmark, and is considered a High Victorian Gothic civic masterpiece.  There couldn't be a more unlikely setting for that austere and plain-living couple John and Alice Hopkinson.

Manchester Town Hall by Matt Harrop

Discussion about a new town hall had begun in 1863 when John had been a councillor for a couple of years and it had become clear that the business of the council was expanding and would need much larger premises.  More space was wanted, but councillors felt that the new town hall would need to be noble and stupendous to do justice to their city.  A site was found but it was triangular and there was a good deal of argument about whether this would be at all suitable.  Argument was cut short by launching a design competition which was won by Alfred Waterhouse (1830-1905) Liverpool-born son of a Quaker cotton broker.  He had built the Manchester Assize Courts and Strangeways prison and was already at work on London's Natural History Museum.  Building began; it would take nine years.

A few days before the grand opening the Manchester Courier of 10 September 1877 carried a description of the new town hall – "one of the noblest buildings of its kind that the world has ever seen, and one of the finest examples of Gothic architecture adapted to civic uses."

The brick structure was faced with Spinkwell stone from a Bradford quarry because it was supposed to withstand "the evil influences of the peculiar climate of Manchester" particularly well but, noted the reporter, the sooty, polluted air had begun to darken the stonework before the building had even opened. The roofs were covered in dark slate from Lord Burlington's quarries with a pattern of light grey slates from the Lake District; the pattern is now invisible.  It was impossible to use polychrome brick in Manchester for decoration so Alfred Waterhouse concentrated all the visual interest into statuary and stone carving and above all into the skyline with its clock tower, spire and pinnacles.  The statues reflect Manchester's past and its long tradition of radicalism – there is a statue of General Worsley, the Parliamentarian general who was Manchester's first MP.  And there is no statue of King Charles I, as suggested by Waterhouse, or indeed of Queen Victoria, who apparently would not come to the opening.

The central tower in the grand and imposing frontage soared 286 feet above the ground and was equipped with a belfry with ten ringing bells and carillon chimes.  The Courier's reporter climbed to the top of the tower and reported that on a clear day one could see for two or three miles

but it is said that on a Sunday morning, when the air is not charged with smoke, a more extended stretch of country is discernible.

He commented 

Walking round the balcony one cannot help being struck by the remarkable absence of open breathing spaces in the heart of the town.  Street after street of warehouses seem to have absorbed every available yard of land, and it is only here and there that a few thoroughfares can be distinguished from the vast expanse of roof and chimney

Manchester Town Hall staircase
by Michael D Beckwith

Inside, Waterhouse could not use dark colours in the glass of the windows because the light level outside was too low, so the stained glass was of subtle and delicate shades.  But the grandeur and splendour of the interior was bright with vivid colour in the mosaic ceilings, the marble flooring and the rib-vaulted vestibule.  Breathtaking views and vistas were to be glimpsed through columns of carved stone and polished granite.  There were two grand staircases lit by tall windows and open arcading leading from the Sculpture Hall, and three smaller spiral staircases with paired columns of polished granite from England, Scotland and Ireland.  

They led to the official staterooms on the first floor.  In the splendid Great Hall, hung with tapestries embroidered by the Royal School of Needlework while Ford Madox Ford's series of murals was being painted, there was a magnificent organ; the cathedral organist had been appointed to play it.  There was the Council Chamber with its delicate oak gallery, the Mayor's Parlour, high-ceilinged and dignified, the Reception Room with its alabaster fireplace, and the Banqueting Hall with its musicians' gallery. "Marvellous beauty characterises the chief portions of the interior" wrote the reporter.  It was Gothic and it was modern.  It was built to be fireproof, with beams of iron, and fitted with the latest designs in hot-water heating, gas lighting and communications arrangements.  And through the beautiful bannisters on the staircases ran the gas pipes.

On the afternoon of Thursday 13 September 1877 it was opened.  Flags and banners flew, the bells rang and it poured with rain.  The members of the council in evening dress processed three abreast from the old town hall in order of seniority, and presumably Alderman John Hopkinson was among them.  Each wore on his breast an identifying badge in the form of a small scroll with a silver tassel attached.  The Manchester Courier's reporter thought it a poor show.  There weren't even any red aldermanic robes to brighten the scene and if it hadn't been for the dragoons and infantry in the procession, and the trumpeters of the Dragoon Guards announcing the opening of the great doors, it would have been a tame affair.

This would be the scene of John's working civic life from mid-November 1882 and where he would host receptions, with Alice at his side.  The mayoral apartment in the splendid new Town Hall was also technically theirs, but it seems to me from newspaper reports that this was often used as a suite for visiting dignitaries.   

John Hopkinson

We have photographs of them from this mayoral year.  (Unfortunately I have had to photograph the illustrations from Ellen Ewing's book, as I don't have the originals).  John is wearing his chain of office, which looks far more humdrum in black and white.  We can see what he would have looked like in the glory of his aldermanic robes and bling of the mayoral livery collar from the portrait shown earlier of Alderman Philip Goldschmidt.  

I think Alice is wearing a new dress bought for the mayoral year, a fashionable close-fitting gown with ruched sleeves, beading, a deep lace frill and a high collar with a pie crust frill.  I wonder if it had a bustle – the sloping bustle of the 1870s went briefly out of fashion at about this time, before the high shelf of the 1880s bustle became the mode.  The dense black colour of the dress in the photograph suggests it was of black silk with a high sheen – black wasn’t limited to mourning because a black gown was so endlessly useful and elegant, and could be easily varied with accessories and shawls.  Here she is wearing a cameo brooch at her throat.

She is wearing her hair in the style of her youth in the 1840s, with the corkscrew curls either side of her

Alice Hopkinson

 face.  I wonder why.  Perhaps it was because this was the style she was wearing when she first met John.  When other women abandoned the time and bother of creating these little ringlets and simply drew their hair back from a centre parting into a bun or chignon at the back, Alice carried on.  In the 1870s, when the young and fashionable were piling their hair up into elaborately intricate hairdos, and older women kept the plain style of sleek hair drawn into a bun, Alice kept the curls – and she kept the curls for the rest of her life.  

On top of her hair she wears – as she does in all her photographs – a cap.  She favoured small caps, apparently of lace and sometimes decorated with ribbon, not the larger caps with long streamers that were often worn.

Naturally John and Alice’s children were involved in the mayoral year, attending the important functions in support of their parents, while 26 year old Mary acted as her father’s secretary. 

Next:  57. Mayor Hopkinson in 1882: A fire & a soirée

Notes

[1] Asa Briggs, Victorian Cities (1963), pub. Odhams Press, p. 138 of 1990 Penguin edition

55. "Evils to remedy": John becomes Mayor of Manchester in 1882

Coat of Arms of
Manchester Corporation

John was proposed for mayor to the council on 9 November 1882 by Alderman Curtis and the Manchester Courier of 10 November reported it in full.  Alderman Curtis detailed John's many achievements for the council.  He spoke of John's connection with Owens College and described how, only days earlier – in "one of the proudest moments" of John's life – his sons John, Alfred, Charles and Edward had been awarded degrees by the Victoria University.  (In 1880 Owens had been the first affiliate college of this new, federal university).  Alderman Heywood seconded the proposal, saying that John had exhibited 

an intellectual character, an amount of ability, a modesty, and a respect for the rights and opinions of others which had won for him general and cordial esteem.  (Applause)

The proposal was carried "with acclamation".  John was invested with the chain of office and took his seat amid more applause and the firing (the simultaneous ringing) of the Town Hall bells.  

John addressed the Council, with a brief review of what the Council had achieved in the 44 years since it had elected its first mayor.  He spoke of the organisation of the police – the building of a gaol – the establishment of the fire brigade –

The primary material wants of large communities – water and light – have been satisfactorily met. The persistent labours of the gas committee have maintained, over an area of 45 square miles, a supply of artificial light of high quality, at moderate cost, and resulting in an annual profit of many thousands of pounds, applied to the improvement of our streets

(In 1884, in his turn, John Harwood would speak when he became Mayor of the "legacy of confusion, mistakes, and arrears" left by the commissioners in 1838.  Of the "narrow, dirty and dark" streets and of how in 1842 the building of back-to-back houses was banned.  Of the thousands of people who were living in cellars when the borough council was established, and how by 1854 their number had been reduced to 16,400 people living in 4,673 "cellar dwellings", and that in 1868 the number of inhabited cellars had fallen to 2,658, in which lived 9,548 people.  In 1867 bye-laws had been passed making it compulsory that all ashpits (privies) should be covered in, ventilated, and flagged.  And now, John Harwood reminded the councillors, 1,000 men and 275 horses were employed to clean the 475 miles of streets, 900 miles of footpaths and 350 miles of courts and passages, and they were collecting "241,215 tons of animal and vegetable matter, cinders, and other refuse" every year.)  

Asa Briggs wrote that in Manchester "efforts were made, quite inadequately and much too slowly, to develop necessary civic policies and to create necessary public administration." [1] I think nowadays we'd be far more inclined to look with amazement at what they achieved.

John went on with his list.  Streets had been widened, paved and cleaned – there was an efficient system of tramways and "street locomotion" – the waterworks, "overcoming enormous material difficulties", brought in water at continuous high pressure to homes and businesses – rubbish was collected – acres of cesspools had been removed – infections were now properly reported and life expectancy had been lengthened – flooding prevention work had begun – baths and washhouses had been built – parks and playgrounds had been provided – there were free libraries, spaced short distances apart across the city – there were board schools, grammar schools, colleges, there was Victoria University 

The admirable system of grading and exhibitions [awards] renders it within the possibility of the child of a working man to rise step by step to the highest point of culture, and to reach the most distinguished position in any profession.

John's cogent and direct style of speaking seems to have appealed to the newspaper reporters, who seem often to report him verbatim. 

Manchester has become not only a seat of commerce and manufactures, but a seat of learning.  Every day I am more deeply impressed with the sense of duty which growingly pervaded all classes, high and low, rich and poor.  Hospitals, refuges, orphanages, industrial and Sunday schools, engaged the sympathies of an army of unselfish workers for the public good, in constant ministration to the wants of the sick, the poor, and the ignorant.  I hope during my year of office to gather in those halls some of these, your co-workers, of varied station, men and women who care for others, to meet with you, for mutual encouragement and friendly union, for I think this building ought to be the home of the wholesomest social life of the city

And he described his idea of central and local government:

When I think of what has thus been accomplished through the medium of our municipal organisation, or in collaboration with it, I am proud of being a citizen of Manchester, for I know not where in England, or elsewhere, a finer or more effective exhibition has been presented of provincial self-government.  The scope of imperial government I take to be, the doing for the people what they cannot do for themselves.  Within the legitimate objects of local self-government I include all the people localised in a community can do better when acting together than they can do separately. … First, the maintenance of order, with security for the persons and property of the citizens, and the correction of abuses; second, the provision of the necessaries of decent and healthy life; third, the satisfaction of intellectual needs and the encouragement and gratification of the love of beauty.  

But gentlemen, much yet remains to be done.  We have a future of work set before us; defects and blots to remove from our civilisation; evils to remedy; wants to be supplied. 

Work was needed to provide enough gas and water for future needs, to distribute and control the electric light, to purify the rivers ("the south side of the city looks longingly and patiently for the extension of baths in that direction") and for 

the yet more difficult task of removing the clouds of smoke and sulphurous vapour which pollute our atmosphere and deaden our energies

Lastly, if possible, to realise the Manchester Ship Canal, "that splendid engineering dream of bringing the ships of all lands to our own doors, removing thus the disability of our inland position, and placing our city in proximity to the ocean, that highway of the nations".  He ended, as the Courier reported, with an exhortation

All these, besides your daily administrative work, will engage your thoughts and labours.  Many of our city fathers are laid at rest, but their spirit still survives here.  For our younger men there are triumphs yet to be won, if they are animated with that spirit, and will follow in the footsteps of those who have gone before.  Gentlemen, let us bring to our work new zeal and energy, mingled with mutual forbearance and courtesy.  Let us leave our city better than we found it.  Let us do what we can to lighten the lot of the sons of toil, and render all the conditions of city life not only endurable but enjoyable.  The bells of time are ringing changes fast.  Grant, O Lord, that each fresh peal may usher in an era of advancement, each change prove an effectual lasting happy gain.  (Loud applause)

Young John wrote to Alice

Morrison, of Leeds, was expressing his admiration of Father's speech when he became Mayor.  He considered it the best he had ever seen and had preserved it to show their own mayors of how they ought to do that duty.  I like Morrison; he seems to have a lively appreciation of Father as an ideal local public man. [2]

Next:  56. "One of the noblest buildings of its kind": Manchester Town Hall

Notes

[1] Asa Briggs, Victorian Cities (1963), pub. Odhams Press, p. 135 of 1990 Penguin edition

[2] 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. 82

54. "A brilliant success"? Juvenile balls & the ratepayers

I wonder whether the Children's Balls held by the last two mayors played a part in the decision to turn to John.

Of course there had always been children's balls.  Children had to learn to dance, and dancing academies often used to mark the end of term with a ball – a reward for hard work, a gratification for the parents and a useful advertisement for teachers.  In the late 1850s and 1860s, Doctor Mark and his Little Men held a series of balls in Manchester for children under sixteen, advertising: 

Dr Mark, professedly and most affectionately attached to all the little maids and little men of this country, and consequently always thinking and contriving how to please them and make them happy, begs most respectfully to propose to all parents and guardians the novel idea of giving a Grand Juvenile Ball, on the evening of St Valentine's Day, at the New Free-trade Hall  

He charged two shillings and sixpence per child, refreshments not included, with parents and guardians paying a shilling, and spectators paying two shillings for a seat at the front of the gallery, one shilling at the back.

This advertisement of 1857 in the Manchester Times might seem rather nauseating and highly dubious to us but Dr Mark was actually an idealist raising money to fund his programme of musical education for working-class boys.  Music would give them a start in life, a future career, an escape from poverty and crime. 

Dr Charles Bertram van der Mark (1816-68) was a remarkable and public-spirited musician.  He had developed a simple method of teaching which produced rapid progess and his "Little Men" were his youth orchestra.  He had established a conservatoire in Cheetham which he called the Royal College of Music and he toured his orchestra round the country to fund the project.  He never could raise enough money, no matter how hard he and his wife worked.  The children were given a home and a general and musical education – he charged a very low fee which he often waived.  The reminiscences of the children years later show that they were well looked after and happy – and so loyal, that after his untimely death, his Little Men tried to provide for his widow by carrying on giving concerts.[1]

The Manchester mayoral balls were not like that.  Ever since the 35 year old Queen Victoria had given a ball for the juvenile nobility on little Prince Arthur's fifth birthday in 1854, children's balls had become increasingly popular.  The Lord Mayor and Mayoress of London held a fancy dress ball for children every year in the Mansion House.  The Mayor of Liverpool gave a grand juvenile fancy dress ball for nearly 600 children in 1877.  The Mayor of Bootle held one in 1879.

Gertrude Thomson's illustration for
William Allingham's The Fairies (1878)

It was Alderman Henry Patteson, a marble and stone merchant, who gave the first children's ball in his mayoralty.  He was a family man in his early forties – probably the youngest man to become mayor of Manchester so far – whose eldest children were daughters aged 10, 13 and 14.  The newly-built Town Hall in all its grandeur and glory was a very tempting venue and Henry Patteson announced the ball soon after becoming mayor in November 1879.  Beautiful invitations, designed by the well-known Manchester artist Miss Gertrude Thomson, who was an illustrator for Lewis Carroll, went out to the well-to-do families of Manchester.  

The dancing master who had the good fortune to be appointed Master of Ceremonies for the evening announced special lessons in the Manchester press.  The drapers put out "Mayor's Juvenile Ball" advertisements.  Jewsbury, Crux & Gething of Deansgate ("Young Ladies' and Little Girls' Dresses after the Latest Fashion and Exquisitely Fitted.  Estimates given") engaged extra dressmakers for the late rush.  Macbeths, the boys' tailors in King Street, advertised costumes from 20 shillings.  

The arrangements for Alderman Patteson's ball were "exceedingly numerous and difficult" said the Manchester Courier on 10 January 1880, but the result was "a brilliant success".  The curator of Alexandra Park, the park which acted as a nursery garden for the other parks and provided flowers for the town hall, filled the grand staircase, the corridors and the refreshment buffet with "an admirable selection of palms, crotons, dracaenas, and various other ornamental and foliage plants" and a nurseryman from Sale provided decorations for the orchestra in the public hall.  Some 500 children of Manchester's wealthier citizens were brought to the Town Hall by their parents (who weren't allowed in the ballroom), and the first floor suite of apartments was thrown open for the guests.  Dancing began with the polonaise at 7 o'clock, there was a magic lantern entertainment, picture books were laid out on tables for the children to read, and Mr Whaite, who ran the German Fair in Bridge Street ("One hundred thousand penny toys, Presents and Toys suitable for Christmas") gave the children a show with Professor Whatman's famous Marionettes.  

The next mayor was Alderman Thomas Baker, a solicitor, eminent in civic life and pillar of the Unitarian church – the Unitarians, later wrote Alfred Hopkinson, were the "intellectual aristocracy of South Lancashire" [2].  Trustee and historian of the Cross Street Unitarian Chapel where Elizabeth Gaskell's husband was minister, he was the uncle of Edward White Benson, who would soon become Archbishop of Canterbury.  Thomas Baker was 70 when he became mayor and, though he and his wife Helen had no children, was quick to follow Alderman Patteson's example in announcing a children's ball.  Advertisements for dancing classes and ball costumes began to appear in the newspapers.  R Micheson of Oldham Street had children's ball dresses in the newest styles and Thomas Peel of The Great Outfit Establishment in Oldham Street added the warning that "Ladies are respectfully requested to place their orders early, as they will be executed in rotation" to his usual advertisements.

Manchester Town Hall:  Great Hall Foyer by anpalacios

The invitations went out and about 600 children aged between 10 and 15 were expected.  They arrived, wrote the Manchester Courier of 18 January 1881 in closed carriages warmly wrapped up against the frost and snow, and were taken into the cloakrooms on the ground floor of the "bright and cheerful town hall", then up the grand staircase "which was laid with diaper cloth" to the banqueting room for tea.  The master of ceremonies organised them into pairs and they processed to the large hall, where they were received by the mayor and mayoress and their guests.  Again the conservatories of Alexandra Park had filled the staircase, hall and corridors with plants "and the brilliant dresses of the guests were rendered all the more beautiful in appearance by contrast with the dark-green leaves and branches of dracaenas, palms, aloes, crotons, and azaleas".  Again the  "splendid suite of rooms" was theirs for the evening.  There were marionettes, there were refreshments.  The mayor, meanwhile, was entertaining members of Parliament, clergymen, Salford's mayor and mayoress, and various aldermen and councillors and their wives.  John and Alice do not appear in the list. 

Thomas Baker served a second year as Mayor – and was afterwards knighted – and he gave a second children's ball.  This was held on 20 February 1882 and was just as grand.  Mr W B Wood of Urmston gave the children a magic lantern show (scenes in the life of Dick Whittington and comic slides) in the council chamber.  In the mayor's parlour, Mr Whaite put on another show of Professor Whatman's celebrated marionettes (an Indian juggler, a great contortionist, Old Mother Shipton and others).  And this time the Children's Ball attracted the attention of the Illustrated London News.  Its writer thought 

The Townhall is well suited to such a purpose.  The large room, when not crowded, is well adapted for dancing, while the richly furnished state apartments afford all other accommodation needed. 

Among the adult guests were the Greek Archbishop of Corfu and his suite, who were visiting Manchester.  The 600 or so children were not all – in spite of the instructions that been issued – under 15 and over 10 years old, which seems to have been a problem with all children's balls.  But, thought the Illustrated London News, there were fewer under-tens than there had been in earlier years and the girls' dresses showed "the improvements which have of late years been introduced into the attire of children of the female sex".  They were mostly dressed in light colours and in white. 

The front page of the Illustrated London News' edition of 4 February 1882 consisted entirely of "Sketches at the Mayor's Juvenile Ball at the Manchester Townhall" drawn by illustrator Henry Stephen ("Hal") Ludlow.  The text on page 102 described them as "scenes at this pleasant gathering of happy young people"; this is not what Hal Ludlow depicts.  In fact, his illustrations seem comically subversive.  

Alderman Thomas Baker
Manchester Art Gallery

Ludlow's sketches of the Lord Mayor of London's juvenile fancy dress ball at the Mansion House in January 1883 display the children's costumes, and the children look serious but not unhappy.  

At the top left of the page of Manchester sketches, he shows the backs of children's heads sitting in row after row as they watch "Dissolving Views" on the magic lantern.  They are being shown the portrait of a white-haired gent with a receding hairline, rather flowing locks and a copious chin beard and side whiskers – the Mayor himself.  The central sketch, "Unusual occupants of the Mayor's chair", shows three drooping girls looking pale and wan, their long fair hair flowing decoratively around them, and a rather supercilious looking boy with dark curly hair leaning against the lectern. 

In "Well, my dear, what's your name!" the Mayor is graciously chucking a demure little girl in short skirts under the chin while a sulky boy stands with his hands in his pockets to the side.  "Spectators of the Dance"  depicts assorted ladies, wilting children, bored boys, little girls and the Mayor, sitting on a long bench under a balcony of potted plants.  There are portraits down the side of the page of doe-eyed future beauties, a pugnacious boy in a stiff collar, a bored boy leaning back on a bench with one leg nonchalantly across the other, a sad boy apparently in a sailor suit, and a profile of an distinctly objectionable boy gazing snootily and gloomily to the left.  Perhaps all the happy children were actually dancing.

The coverage can't have pleased everyone in Manchester, but the ball was hailed by the press as a great success.  Then, a few months later, an objection was raised.  The children's balls were supposed to be held at the Mayor's expense – and what a gratifying way of returning invitations and making new business and professional contacts the balls must have been – but there were people who suspected that the mayor did not bear all the cost.  

On 30 September 1882, the Manchester Courier printed a letter from a young man called Frank Hollins, a leather merchant in his early thirties.  A singer, artist and writer, he was rather hot-headed and very strong on the question of waste and corruption in the Town Hall, sometimes finding himself in trouble for over-hasty allegations.  He would go on to write graphically and with great sympathy at the end of the decade of the poor of Manchester and Salford who received food and clothing from Superintendent Bent's charity at the Old Trafford police station.  

He described in the Manchester Courier on Friday 16 January 1891 his visit one cold, frosty Sunday evening to the county police station drill yard and shed at Old Trafford.  There he saw nearly 1,000 people, aged from 3 months to 71 years, queuing at the soup kitchen which was run, in their own time, by Superintendent Bent and his men.  Some of those queueing – and this included the little children – had tramped miles to be there and had arrived two hours early.  Hollins described their bare feet and legs and their ragged clothing, and he told some of their stories.  Lizzie Wilkinson, aged nine had come with her 2½ year old brother.  Her father was dead, her sister Alice was minding their mother who was very ill, and they were mostly fed by the kindness of Mrs Kegg who kept a shop on the corner and let her mother have some things on trust.  There were children who had had neither breakfast on Sunday nor dinner on Saturday and an old couple who would not go into the workhouse where they would be separated from each other.  Frank Hollins appealed to his readers to donate – "every sovereign sent feeds about 300 children".  In 1882 Hollins was a self-appointed ratepayers' advocate and would in a couple of years' time be elected as citizen's auditor.  His attack on Charles Stewart about building materials bought from the council ended Stewart's time as a councillor.  

In his slashing letter to the Courier in 1882 he wrote

… Now, sir, it is pretty well known that a considerable portion of the amount entered in the Town Hall committees' accounts as "casual expenses" is illegal.  I am informed that some portion of the expenses in connection with the children's ball, given by the mayor, falls upon the rates.  If this is so it is simply monstrous.  Have the working men of Ancoats to pay rates to entertain the children of the merchants of the city at a ball?  Will John Smith's child, of Angel Meadow, or Medlock-street, ever get an invitation?  I trow not.  Yet, I have it on good authority that the dance programmes alone for the last children's ball cost the ratepayers over £40 ...

This was not the sort of publicity that serious-minded councillors appreciated.  Corporations did sometimes get some funding from central government by grants in aid which could be made to encourage councils to comply with a newly-imposed duty.  Councils could, with difficulty, find capital funding through local private Bills or provisional orders under an enabling Act.  "Municipal trading" was a popular option, and in this Manchester had led the way, building the first publicly-owned gas works for its street lighting.  But most of the corporation's income came from the ratepayers.

The ratepayers could keep themselves very well informed about council proceedings, which were reported in great detail by the local newspapers – the Courier, the Guardian, the City News, the Evening News and the various satirical papers.  There had been a boom in local newspapers since the abolition of Stamp Duty on newspapers in 1855 had made them cheaper.  So there was a very well-informed body of ratepayers, and it was very uncomfortable to be in the line of fire from letters to the Editor and reports of the Ratepayers' Association.  Councillor Charles Sydney Grundy, who was mayor between 1877 and 1879, took press criticism of the Improvement Committee of which he was chairman so personally and bitterly that he abruptly resigned from the council in 1885.  The old ways of doing things were beginning to be challenged and expected standards of behaviour were changing, just as local government itself was changing as it tried to catch up with the problems of a growing industrial population. [3]

Bad publicity about children's balls wouldn't have helped.

We can see there was uneasiness about the balls from the fact that it didn't become a yearly event.  There was a revival in the 1890s, but in 1896 Alderman A E Lloyd broke the tradition again. "Instead of the usual ball, to which the well-to-do only have been invited," wrote the Manchester Courier on 6 January 1896, "he has given a treat to poor and deserving old people living in the city".  He and his wife invited some 700 old people to a good tea, and gave them each a quarter pound of tea, two pies, pastries and any leftovers to take home.

I think it possible that John Hopkinson, as a serious and personally austere practical man and an engineer, was all the more attractive as a choice to some councillors and aldermen because of an uneasiness about adverse publicity and because of what some might well have seen as the flaunting of wealth in the face of poverty and need.

In Alice Bragg's autobiographical account of her life [4], her description of her grandparents is one of lively, vivid and frequently inaccurate details.  She wrote that John became mayor "with some anxiety, as his illegitimate birth was raised and his acceptability queried in some quarters at first."  I can't find any support for this comment.  I've no doubt that those of John's opponents who knew of his illegitimacy were happy to use it – how could they resist such a titillating bit of gossip?  But in this booming city of new men, what need was there for it to be known?  I think it was quite probably more embarrassing for John's grandchildren, in their new upper middle-class, public school-educated status, than it had been for John in the 1880s.  And the men of Manchester Council were not looking for social acceptability in their mayor.  It wasn't a matter of choosing someone from your own social circles but of choosing the right man for the job.

Alderman Philip Goldschmidt
Manchester Art Gallery

The man who succeeded John was Philip Goldschmidt, the first foreign-born mayor of Manchester.  He belonged to the large German population of the city, he was a naturalised British citizen, and he was a Jew.  (London-born Benjamin Disraeli, Jewish but baptised, had died on 19 April 1881 a year after Gladstone defeated his ministry at the general election).  He was almost certainly chosen because of his financial expertise.  On his sudden death in March 1889, the Manchester Courier set out the details of the official programme for the funeral procession (he was buried in the Nonconformist section of Southern Cemetery), and below it a report from the Anglican Cathedral:

The Dean of Manchester, preaching at the Cathedral yesterday, referred to the late Mr Alderman Goldschmidt, and said he was the first Mayor of Manchester he had the pleasure of knowing, and he remembered gratefully his courtesy and kindness to a stranger … He did not know the exact description of the late Alderman Goldschmidt's theological belief, but he represented one of the modern versions of that venerable creed and cult which, whatever its relation to other Oriental faiths, was the direct parent of the Christian Church, and in no slight degree also of the whole structure of Christian civilisation.  He was faithful to the best traditions of his race and faith, and that day, fellow-citizens and fellow-believers, whatever their differences, were one in their respect for him and in sympathy for his family.

Directly below this, coincidentally, is a review of the opera put on by the Carl Rosa Opera Company at the Theatre Royal – it was "The Jewess", La Juive, the 1835 triumph of grand opéra by French Jewish composer Fromental Halévy.  

There is plenty about Catholicism in Ellen Ewing's book but no mention of John and Alice's attitude to Jews.  Perhaps this was from tact, given that Gerald Hurst was writing the Preface and we know that his brothers-in-law had been hostile to his marriage to their sister Margaret because he was a Jew.  I think we can be fairly sure that councillors such as John Hopkinson did not move in the same social circle as Philip Goldschmidt, though his son Richard and John's son Edward regularly shared the prizes at Owen's College.  But this was no impediment to successful co-operation on the Council.

After Mr Goldschmidt came the difficult and prickly John Harwood, later Sir John.  He had begun work at the age of six in calico printing works in Oswaldtwistle and by sheer hard work had become the owner of the biggest calico printing works in Manchester.  He was not an easy man to get on with and, though he came to dominate the council, his colleagues clearly often found it difficult to work with him.   "He was not easily understood.  He was a strong man, very reserved and very sensitive" said the Manchester Evening News on his death in April 1906.  But he was certainly chosen for his close attention to detail and figures and his constant desire to keep costs down. 

Next:  55. "Evils to remedy": John becomes Mayor of Manchester in 1882

Notes

[1] For more on Doctor Mark and his Little Men, see https://momh.org.uk/exhibitions/dr-mark-and-his-little-men/

[2] Sir Alfred Hopkinson, K.C., LL.D., Penultima (1930) pub. Martin Hopkinson Ltd, p. 37

[3] Pamela Mary Nuttall, Corruption in Municipal Government in the late Victorian Period, (1871 – 1902).  Thesis submitted to University of Huddersfield March 2019

https://pure.hud.ac.uk/ws/portalfiles/portal/71701519/Nuttall_THESIS.pdf 

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

 

53. Becoming Mayor: John makes his decision

John was quite thrown by the idea that he should be mayor.  He had never thought of taking a prominent public rôle – he had never thought he was up to it.  He distrusted his own powers, as he told his old friend and mentor, the Revd James Griffin.  His work as a councillor in suggesting solutions for technical problems must always have been similar to his professional life, and dealing with the problems of people living in his ward must have been very like the work he had been used to for years with the Rusholme Road Chapel.  Being the public face, the "first citizen", of the new Cottonopolis was a very different matter.  

And he was very concerned for Alice's "sensitive, shrinking nature", as he told Mr Griffin.  Unlike some of her sisters-in-law, Alice had always stayed in private life, she had never been a committee woman, and she had deafness to contend with.  As she had written four years earlier

My deafness! My deafness! How it interferes with pleasant communion and makes one dull and uninteresting [1]

How would she feel about taking on the rôle of Mayoress?  He thought she might not like it, or perhaps simply the thought of it would make her nervous.  

Alice was away in Grasmere and couldn't be consulted in person.  He wrote to her on 13 July 1882.  

Alderman Curtis had been very reassuring about the duties of the Mayoress.  As the new Town Hall was now finished, the Mayoress did not need to do anything or appear any more than she liked.  To make the proposal more attractive, Mr Curtis had stressed the advantages – through the position itself and the introductions it would bring – that being mayor would be to his son and partner Charles in his profession.  ("I daresay there is a good deal of truth in it," wrote John).  And Mr Curtis had said 

he had never on any former occasion seen so much unanimity and cordiality, eight or ten of the Council, including Stewart as well as my own friends, commending the proposal. [2]

(Councillor Charles Stewart was elected to the Council at the same time as John.  Born in Warkworth in Northumberland, he was a pawnbroker with a sideline in house building projects.) 

Alice replied on 14 July

My own beloved husband,

My mind is full of many thoughts, some of them troubled and anxious.  If you were here I might be able to explain myself better than in a letter

But she was very definite

On no account would I be a hindrance to your doing what you think is right and best in the matter.  

She thought he would like to accept and

If your judgement seconds your inclination, I beg that anything I have said may be forgotten and that you will act accordingly.  With regard to any benefit to Charles, I am sceptical – your nature is not one to make capital of any such advantage; you are too disinterested for that.  With a very large share of wisdom, I do not believe you have much worldly wisdom.  When you take a public office it will be with one thing in view – to forward everything that will be good for the community; private ends will never enter your calculations.  If you feel you can afford to do this, I would not hinder, especially if you are assured you will be serving your generation after the Will of God. [3]

John turned next for advice to Alice's nephew John Milne, by this time an established Manchester businessman, for his opinion and on 18 July he wrote to Alice

I had a short talk with John Milne, the only family friend I have consulted.  He takes a clear decided view.  'It is the fitting and proper thing for the Council to do, and for you to do.'  Many acquaintances have expressed gratification that I have been asked and they hope that I would undertake the office – some very enthusiastically [4]

and he wrote to the Revd James Griffin.  Ellen Ewing quotes from the draft letter, written on tissue paper and "singularly difficult to decipher".  John explained that he had

just been receiving a deputation from the City Fathers to express the unanimous wish of the Council that I should allow myself to be elected as mayor for the next year.  I do not find it easy on this occasion to get into my usual judicial position of looking at a question.  The cordiality of the invitation binds me to give it a respectful consideration 

Revd James Griffin in 1847

He put before Mr Griffin his distrust in his own powers and his concern for Alice.  But now, he told the Revd Griffin, she said "I am prepared to stand by my husband anywhere and at any cost".  What should he do?  

He ended with a summary of the family situation.  By this time, the summer of 1882, his youngest child, May, was 17 and John, the eldest, was soon to be 32.  John and Alfred had been married men since 1873 and had five children apiece.  They and their brothers were hard at work in their chosen careers:

Albert, my good son, goes to Cambridge in October, to qualify as a Doctor of Medicine, to which he is giving himself from the highest motives.  Charles is my right hand here in business.  He and Mary go on Saturday to join their Uncle Wills in Norway.  Edward is living near London helping Dr Siemens in new applications of Electricity.  John and Alfred are full of hard work and honourable employment in their respective professions. [5]

Mr Griffin, who had written on 11 September 1872 of his looking forward "if life be spared" to seeing John as Mayor of Manchester and one of his sons as Principal of Owens College [6], wrote back with warm and emphatic encouragement to his "dear and valued Friend"

Your long and valuable services to your Corporation and City claim this reward.  Next, your own character, your public talents and ability and the high repute of your family entitle you to the office of First Magistrate of your distinguished City.  Besides this, I have not the shadow of a doubt that you will be able, by Divine Assistance, to fill the office with dignity and effect, and very much to the honour and advantage of your eminent City Council and of the great community they represent … You cannot decline to be Mayor  [7]

Next:  54. "A brilliant success"? Juvenile balls & the ratepayers

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. 75

[2] ibid., p. 80-1

[3] ibid., p. 81

[4] ibid.

[5] ibid., p. 80

[6] ibid., p. 62

[7] ibid., p. 80