Considering the pace at which Birmingham moved forward during the latter
half of the nineteenth century, it is not, perhaps, surprising that few
shops and houses of old date are now to be seen in the chief centre
streets of the city. A few, however, remain to remind us that Birmingham
was not built yesterday, and that it has a respectable past, and is not
a place of that mushroom growth which comes into existence in a night.
Chief among the old order of retail trading establishments still
flourishing in our midst I may particularly mention the shop of Mr.
William Pearsall, silversmith, &c. As many of my readers are aware, it
is situated in High Street, opposite the end of New Street, and is
conspicuous for its pretty--I had almost said petite--quaintness and its
genuine old-time appearance and origin. There are the small bow windows,
the little panes of glass, that are so suggestive of the architecture of
a century ago, and outside the shop everything bespeaks a past which was
not exactly of yesterday.
This great-grandfather shop, so to speak, has, indeed, been established
for more than a century, and when the present proprietor first went to
the business the trade done was chiefly in silver and silver made goods,
whereas now it is largely in electro plate, in jewellery, cutlery, &c.
The proprietor, indeed, like others in his position, has found himself
obliged to keep in step with the times or go under. He has preferred the
former course, but without abandoning what I may call the antique
department of his business.
It is, indeed, a most attractive kind of shop, especially for ladies of
a matured taste and mind who like to see pretty things, some of which
have a quaint charm which is often especially dear to the feminine soul.
I can fancy ladies going there and spending a right down happy time in
looking at the dainty specimens of antique silver, and also the modern
reproductions of old patterns in electro plate. I can, indeed, by a
stretch of the imagination picture in my mind ladies who will go and
look at many things at such a shop, admire all, and buy none.
Indeed, I do not know that I should mind indulging in this little luxury
myself, but, being of the masculine order of creation, I, perhaps,
hardly like to spend hours in a shop and leave the shopkeeper with the
cold comfort of a promise that I will "think about it." Quaint and
inviting shops, however, stocked with articles that form a little
exhibition in themselves must pay the penalty of their attractiveness,
and possibly the proprietors have no objection.
It goes, of course, without saying that a business that has been
carried on for over a century has seen great changes in regard to custom
and customers. Consequently, it is not surprising to learn that wealthy
iron-masters, the country gentry, and prosperous farmers no longer make
the purchases of silver and fancy wares they did in the days that are no
more. Black country magnates have discovered they can now do without
many solid silver services, and even fairly well-to-do rural people find
they can at a pinch put up with electro plate.
I confess I like to look at the bijou shop in High Street and think what
it must have seen and heard in its time. It must have heard the bells of
St. Martin's toll for the death of Nelson and ring out joyous peals
after Waterloo. It must have seen disorderly crowds march past its doors
at the time of the Birmingham riots; more than this, it felt something
of the lawlessness that prevailed, since the shop was looted and some of
its contents carried off by the rioters.
Yes, as I have said, it must have heard some pealing and tolling of the
St. Martin's Church bells--and what charmingly mellifluous and melodious
bells they are! I do not profess to be a campanologist or a bell hunter,
but I have a loving ear for a sweet-toned church bell, and can think of
few belfries whose contents surpass St. Martin's, Birmingham. Although I
have not heard the "Bells of Shandon" immortalised by Father Prout, I
have, however, heard Great Tom of Lincoln. I have listened to the "bonny
Christ Church bells" of Oxford, and my ears have dwelt upon the sweet
jinglings of the Carrillion at Antwerp and in other Flemish cities. I
have also heard the dulcet chimings of many village church bells in
various parts of the land, and I have listened with undelight to the
unmusical tones of Big Ben of Westminster, but so far as mellow tone is
concerned, I rarely hear any ordinary church bells that are more dulcet
and harmonious than the bells of St. Martin's, Birmingham.
Few people heed their beauties I am afraid; indeed, some singularly
insensible residents and traders in the neighbourhood have been known to
protest against the charming chimings of the bells of St. Martin's.
Those, however, who want to hear the true musical quality and tone of
these bells must select a quiet time, as the Bull Ring is not a
particularly peaceful spot in the busy hours of day. Midnight is the
witching hour that should be chosen to listen to the music of St.
Martin's belfry. It may be a late and inconvenient hour for the
experiment, but it is worth it--if the bells still chime at that
"ghostly" hour.
I am afraid I have indulged in a somewhat extensive parenthesis, but my
pen has run away with me, and now it must come back to the old-fashioned
High Street shop where I lingered a few paragraphs back. The adjoining
premises to Mr. Pearsall's, on the east side, are also old and well in
years. They have been altered and provided with a modern "dickey"--I
should say, front--which rather hides their antiquity. There is,
however, still conspicuous a quaint and curious spout-head which bears
the date 1687, showing that these premises have more than passed their
bicentenary.
The only little old-date shop in the heart of Birmingham that, till
recently, rivalled the "silver-smithy" I have described in High Street,
was a saddler's at the top of New Street, which nestled under the shadow
of Christ Church. It had the old-style small bow windows, the low roof,
and the circumscribed area of old-fashioned shops. The ancient saddler
who formerly tenanted it had not enough space to crack a whip, let alone
swing a cat in. In past days, however, business was carried on under
"limited" principles, but chiefly limited as to extent and space.
When walking about Birmingham, archaeological observers should look up
if they wish to see and note any traces of age and antiquity. The lower
portions of old premises have often been so enlarged and modernized that
they give no sign of the real date of the buildings. In Bull Street,
for instance, there are narrow old style windows that are very
suggestive of a bygone day. But these are becoming few and far between,
and will doubtless soon be seen no more.
Old-fashioned shops naturally suggest new and old-style shopkeeping. In
a recent chapter I alluded to some long-established trading houses in
Birmingham that within certain limits carry on their trade in a manner
that differs from the very modern and obtrusively pressing fashion which
is so much the custom of the day. Something of the same kind may be said
of shops, as I generally remarked in my earlier observations. But to
descend more into detail, there are still among its at any rate a
limited number of shopkeepers who like to do their business on good,
safe, and steady lines, and keep together a nice respectable connection
by upholding the dependable quality of their wares. Some of these
shopkeepers do not make much of an outward show, but I have reason to
know that many of them in a quiet undemonstrative manner do a snug and
prosperous trade without fuss or display.
I will just briefly particularize. Opposite King Edward's School in New
Street is a quiet, unostentatious-looking tobacconist's shop. The window
plate bears the name of Evans, and in the window is a modest show of
smoking wares and materials. If you step inside the shop, it is
comparatively calm and quiet. You do not see young men sitting about
smoking, chatting, and joking with girls across the counter. There is no
constant succession of customers coming in and out and buying their
ounces and half ounces of "Returns," "Bird's Eye," "Shag," and "Old
Virginia." Yet an evident perfume of tobacco and prosperity seems to
pervade the shop, but no sign of the Tom, Dick, and Henry sort of trade
that is done by more ostentatious modern traders. It is, I believe, a
case of half a century's trading in good tobacco stuffs having
established a connection among those who like good tobacco, will pay a
proper price for it, and deal where they can get it.
These remarks apply more or less to a jewellery, watch and clock shop
next door, kept for many years by Mr. L.N. Hobday. Here again there is a
look of quality rather than mere quantity. There is no ticketed crowded
display of wares, but the look of the shop inspires a feeling of
confidence and an assurance that the quality of what you purchase may be
relied upon. I am not in the secrets of the proprietor of this
establishment, and have no interest in it beyond being an occasional
small customer, yet I should not wonder if he does not do a nice,
steady, quiet trade among those who have found out the advantages of
dealing with a trader who personally understands his business, and will
give them good value for their money.
There are, as I have hinted, other shops that prefer adhering to
well-established lines of business, rather than up-to-dating their
trade past all recognition. There are a few drapers still left, who,
like Turner, Son, and Nephew, do not go in for a general all
round-my-hat sort of business, but who restrict themselves within
certain limited lines and on them keep up a well-established connection.
There are, however, others who prefer a more pushing, store-competing,
Whiteley-emulating style of trade. They follow their bent and probably
make it pay. It is, of course, well that we should have traders of all
kinds to minister to the requirements of a large and varied community.
For myself, however, I am glad that there are still some shopkeeper
specialists left who limit themselves to dealing in such things as they
understand, and know what they buy, and sell that they know.