Victorian music halls are often depicted as overtly conservative spaces. Michael Grade in his 2011 documentary, ‘The Story of the Music Hall’, referred to audience members exclusively as ‘working class Tories’. Such claims are often supported by citing the acceptance of the class order within songs and the enthusiasm with which audiences sang along to jingoistic choruses.
However, this depiction is actually a misconception; a conservative tone was by no means entirely universal. Opposing opinions were present on the halls, and political loyalties varied depending on geography and audience dynamics. It is important to acknowledge these discrepancies if we are to understand the complexity of working class political attitudes during the 19th century.
The association of the halls with conservatism is understandable. In the later decades of the 19th century, the Liberal party began an attack on the alcohol trade; the lifeblood of the music hall business. In 1871, the Liberal Licensing Act, implemented by William Gladstone’s government, restricted the opening hours of public houses, regulated beer production and gave local boroughs the option to ban alcohol. The act was deeply unpopular and contributed to a Conservative victory in the general election of 1874. Music hall proprietors saw these Liberal policies as a direct attack upon their livelihood, and the audiences interpreted it as an attempt by the middle classes to control working class culture.
Moreover, from the 1870s, the larger, commercialised West End music halls became popular with aristocrats, military officers, students and clerks, many of whom were traditional Conservative supporters. The audiences of these establishments became increasingly pro-Conservative and so the songwriters, eager to impress, provided music hall stars with conservative material. Themes of patriotism and a preference for a maintenance of the status quo were frequently presented on stage. A general pattern emerged in the West End; Conservatives were praised, while reformers were mocked.
This narrative, however, largely represents a London pattern, and overlooks the strong anti-Conservative sentiment held in the provinces. Undoubtedly, the London-centric view with which we often reflect on Victorian music halls has skewed our national perspective of the politics presented and discussed within them.
West End artists toured the country with their repertoire of popular songs. However, they often found that the audiences of provincial halls were less unified in their support for the established order and took an anti-heroic approach to war. Halls in Scotland and the north of England were far less enthusiastic about imperialism, and though London was more conservative than the rest of the country, pockets of Liberal support remained within the capital. The political opinion of the crowd changed with geography, and accordingly, some artists adjusted the lyrics of their songs, or purposely chose songs that would be unproblematic for more liberal leaning audiences.
The chairman of the Plough Variety Hall in Northampton declared in an interview with the Northampton Mercury in 1888 that in Northampton music halls, ‘as a rule the name of Liberals and Radicals go down remarkably well’. Moreover, G.H. Macdermott, when interviewed by the Pall Mall Gazette in 1886, stated:
‘You are quite mistaken in thinking that music halls are all conservative. My own experience, if it worth anything, teaches me that where you have a music hall in the centre of a conservative district you will as surely have a conservative audience. Take the case of the Pavilion. That is the centre of a great Conservative district…At the Pavilion, then, you get a distinctly Conservative audience. But take the other extreme. At the South London Gladstone is in a majority, and a Tory song is received with howls. The Paragon (Mile End) too, and the Cambridge (Shoreditch)’.
In response, the interviewer asked, ‘then Mr Gladstone is not so unpopular in the music halls as one would think?’, to which Macdermott replied ‘well, he may be now, after the Irish business, but in less momentous times not a bit of it’. Tellingly, Macdermott’s response suggests political leanings within music halls changed not only with geography but also time; like today, government policy determined a party’s popularity. The Liberal Licensing Act lost the Liberal Party support in the immediate, but as the importance of political issues changed, so did political leanings across the country.
Indeed, a large working-class Liberal vote existed from 1867 until the First World War, and it is unreasonable to think, given that music halls were one of the main leisure pursuits of the Victorian working classes, that the opinions of these individuals were not present in the halls and on stage.
Indeed, some music hall stars represented the opinions of the left leaning audience members and instead of following the patriotic trend, questioned the futility of fighting for the British Empire. Herbert Campbell was famous for parodying the grotesque patriotism of his colleagues, and as Laurence Senelick sates, his song ‘I don’t want to fight’, ‘threw cold water on the very sentiments his audience had been bellowing and applauding moments before’. The chorus states:
I don’t want to fight, I’ll be slaughtered if I do
I’ll change my togs, I’ll sell my kit, and pop my rifle too
I don’t like this war, I ain’t a Briton true
And I’d let the Russians have Constantinople.
A dramatic sketch by Charles Godfrey, entitled ‘On guard, a Tale of Balaclava’, highlighted the hypocrisy of halls calling for young men to do their honourable duty and enlist, for them only to be cruelly forgotten upon their return from war. The sketch followed the life of a Crimea veteran who had been left to die because of his country’s ingratitude. He requests a night’s lodging in a casual ward, only to be told ‘Be off, you tramp! You are not wanted here!’. The veteran replies ‘I am not wanted here. But at Balaclava- I was wanted there!’.
Such songs challenged the assumptions of society, and Herbert Campbell’s song ‘They Ain’t No Class’, directly criticised parliament and the class system.
I ain’t a bloke as rhands upon the lords
Jist ‘cos they’ve got a bit o’ brass.
For among the Upper Ten there are lots of gentlemen
Though some on ’em ain’t no class
Admittedly, however, the halls never became a breeding ground for radical politics, despite being a predominately working class space. Most individuals who visited music halls during the 19th century did so with the expectation of being distracted from the hardships of their everyday lives, such as overcrowding and unsanitary living conditions. They did not want to be reminded of them during their leisure time, and so often, the presentation of politics on music hall stages was met with hostility from the audience.
However, when political themes did seep into music hall songs and acts, the political statements made on stage were certainly more varied that previously has been acknowledged, and in some regions, liberal politicians received great praise on stage. Anti-establishment themes were more prominent than is often acknowledged, and so, it must be concluded that conservative support was by no means universal within British music halls. The politics of any given music hall was defined by the attitudes of its audiences, and these were often fluid, changing according to geography and present concerns.
In consideration of this, Herbert Campbell alluded to the need of a music hall star to check the political loyalties of an audience before taking to the stage in his comic song, ‘What to Sing Nowadays’
The best songs are political, the reason is, because
They’re easiest to sing, and always gain the most applause;
But just before commencing, you should always ascertain
The Politics of the Audience, and then you’re ‘right as rain’.
As Campbell’s lyrics allude to and as has hopefully been demonstrated here, there are many discrepancies to the traditional belief that Victorian music halls were overtly working class spaces. These discrepancies are certainly worthy of further study, and should not be dismissed as a mere exception to the rule.
The Past Alive Today 