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. 

Notes

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