Selective storytelling
Introduction
Victorian Bournemouth (217) derives components of contemporary civic heroism by distilling obituaries of early town councillors. Their careers’ accounts articulated the mantra of social ambition: hard work, material success, improvement, respectability, and a life of leisure charted for progeny. The occasional strident nature leaching through the texts illustrates the resort’s quick need for civic heroes to supply its fiduciary history and culture.
Victorian Bournemouth (217): components of civic heroism
Vision-industry-tenacity
William Hoare, one of ‘these old pioneers’, ‘had his “days of small things”’. He did ‘an honest day’s work for perhaps not too luxurious a wage’. Yet, he could see ‘farther into the future of the place than most … no old-fashioned methods suited him …’. William Mattocks pioneered in his business and ‘became one of the pioneer legislators of the town’. Archibald Beckett enjoyed ‘keen foresight’. To G. J. Lawson the ‘idea that hard work is a thing to be shunned was foreign’. Thomas Beechey ‘was an indefatigable worker’ as was Stockley, while Alderman Parsons proved ‘strenuous’, and Jolliffe ‘ardent’. Mayor Hankinson did not know ‘the word defeat’, he never heard ‘the bugle when it sounds the retreat’. Beckett persevered ‘despite numerous head-shakings’ which might ‘have given pause to a man of less firm purpose’. Youngman ‘did not mince matters’. Thus, in part, heroism lay in vision, industriousness, and tenacity.
Unsolicited popularity through selfless acts
Mayor Webber, ‘by his genial nature and never-failing kindliness had endeared himself to many hundreds of friends and acquaintances’. William Hoare, in his pony cart, broadcasted ‘happy smiles’ to passers-by. In George Frost, Bournemouth would remember ‘a real friend as well as a medical attendant … his generosity to humbler folks’. Alderman Parsons became ‘a people’s tribune’. Merton-Cotes, ‘… besides his public beneficence, … also did much good privately and unostentatiously’. Henry Stockley, ‘absolutely free from anything like cant’, ‘… never played to the gallery’. John Ridley’s dealings ‘earned for him the respect and esteem of a large circle of friends’. Those not as genial as Webber showed effort. William Fisher, ‘… although of the leisured class, was ever by nature a public man’. Youngman ‘never sought publicity’, but would ’emerge from his shell’ when necessary. Thus, the heroism of public men blossomed through selfless associations and unlimited connective friendships.
Victorian Bournemouth (217): beneficiaries of civic heroism
Community
All men had a private life, but some sought a public counterpart. This required conscious effort, physical and emotional, as well as resources. They stepped into the public life. Entrepreneur Edward Dyke had two phases in Bournemouth, on the second he ‘associated himself with the public life of the place’. Joseph Cutler took ‘a goodly share in the active public business life of the town’. He ‘rendered such useful service’. William Hoare ‘In local affairs … did his duty as a good citizen … with no end to serve but that of the Bournemouth he loved’. Merton-Cotes ‘from the first identified himself closely in all public affairs and in every development of the town that commended itself to his judgment’. Thus, the idea existed that, where possible, a man had a duty to enter public life. Within this lay the assumption that wealthy men owed the community their service.
Town
Indeed, the wider ramifications of this assumption encompassed the idea of debt. Merton-Cotes ‘owed everything to Bournemouth, and it can be said truthfully that he re-paid in full’. Parsons had ‘a burning desire to give back to [Bournemouth] something in return for the favours it showered on him’. Part of this debt consisted of extending their vision beyond the community’s internal needs. They had to accept the duty included propagating the resort’s brand to its commercial audiences. Beechey moved always ‘in the direction of progress and improvement’. Archibald Beckett’s buildings and his impresario’s role to fill his theatre labelled him ‘the maker of Boscombe’ if not Bournemouth. Merton-Cotes made ‘great efforts to advance Bournemouth’. In this respect, therefore, the components of perceived civic heroism became threads, contributing to the growing tapestry of Bournemouth’s identity, its alternative to its deficiency in tradition and history. The obituaries acted as warp and weft.
Victorian Bournemouth (217): assessment
Image and reality
The obituaries project an image of heroism similar to that contained within the novels of G.A. Henty. ‘… heroism is largely based on two qualities- truthfulness and unselfishness, a readiness to put one’s own pleasures aside for that of others’. Until their obituary, the councillors had featured in press reports many times. These accounts, a fly-on-the-wall within the council chamber or touching other aspects of their political lives, often depict a different picture. Debate reports paint a gaggle of councillors chivvying each other over minutiae; or worse. Such accounts come from the dry world of Trollope. In reality, Joseph Cutler spends most of his public life courting attention. Thomas Hankinson emerges as a person not to cross. John Gunning appears as a Thersites; others also. Few people supported Merton-Cotes, the pitchforked mayor. J.H. Moore’s vituperations verged on hysteria. The obituaries offer rose-coloured spectacles for viewing departed civic heroes.
Cultural ballast
Thus, the difference between image and reality poses questions. Such disparities encompassed the resort’s entire society. A greenfield community, it had no trace of the history and tradition that trailed behind almost all the country’s settlements. It had to build its identity, a social bricks-and-mortar to match those spreading the town’s footprint each day. Its mythology, therefore, occurred in real-time, not as a historical artefact. Thus, much of its early self-projection had a strident jingoistic tone: success, improvement, increase. Its tonality betrays a deficiency in the community’s self-confidence that a historic trail could counter. Cresting the wave of becoming a borough county at speed, Bournemouth may have needed an instant panoply of civic heroes. Eulogies turn a conspiratorial blind eye to parts of their subject’s history. These obituaries, however, steamed away all wrinkles. They emphasised mythology over history, image before reality, to become part of the town’s cultural ballast.
Takeaway
Victorian Bournemouth (217) has distilled characteristics of contemporary civic heroism by analysing obituaries published to eulogise many of its councillors. An image of purity and selfless dedication emerges, a historical revisionism in counterpoint to reported actions. It represents a parochial example of the ‘Great Man of History’. The obituaries represent a collective effort to equip Bournemouth’s explosive civic success with instant mythology.
References
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