Though reminiscences and recollections are rather overdone in these
days, I may, perhaps, be permitted a few personal reflections in
bringing my chapters to a close. And I shall not write a long, tedious
tale, and why? Because, like the needy knife-grinder, I have no story to
tell. Happy, we are told, is the country that has no history, and, if
this is so, happy should be the man who is not burdened with too many
reminiscences.
Still, there are just a few memories that I should like to jot down,
which may, or may not, be of interest to my readers. Authors, I fancy,
often write as much to gratify themselves as to please other people. I
cannot boast that I have been personally intimate with many
distinguished people. I have never been to Court, and, consequently, I
am, according to Shakspeare's clown, emphatically "damned." I have known
some few titled people, and have even sat at meat with a Duke in his
palatial home, and did not fail to notice that his Grace was very easy
and human in his tastes and manners, and was not above taking a glass of
port wine with his cheese. I have just occasionally shaken hands with a
lord of high degree, and even with a belted earl, but I am not of the
Upper Ten, and am quite outside the gilded gate that encloses the noble
of the land. I have seen few people that were particularly worth seeing,
that is, for book-writing purposes, but I will take leave to reconnoitre
in my memory those I have beheld in Birmingham during the course of my
uneventful career.
I may, perhaps, preface my observations with the paradoxical remark
that the first great celebrity I ever saw I just missed seeing. This was
Louis Kossuth. I was only a small boy when the great Hungarian patriot
visited Birmingham in the year 1851. Hearing so much talk about Kossuth
I naturally burned with a desire to see him. When the eventful day of
his visit came I secured a very good position at the top of Paradise
Street, and fancied I was going to have a fine view of the distinguished
Hungarian and the procession that accompanied him. I waited patiently
for some hours, then I heard the sound of music in the distance, and
then the roar and cheers of many voices. They grew louder and louder;
then came the surging wave of a great crowd of people. For a brief time
I was quite submerged, and when I recovered my position the procession
and the patriot were past and gone.
I remember the visit to Birmingham of the Prince Consort in 1855 to lay
the foundation stone of the Birmingham and Midland Institute.
I saw his Royal Highness well and truly lay the said stone, and I
afterwards saw him in the Town Hall, where he was entertained at
luncheon. I have a very distinct recollection of the occasion even now,
and I call to mind in particular that the Prince wore a pair of light
grey trousers and a swallow-tail, that is, a dress-coat. We should think
this a strange costume for a gentleman at a morning function in these
days, but times have changed, and the dress coat is now never seen in
the morning, and not so much at night as it used to be.
Of course I remember the Queen's visit to Birmingham in 1858, for the
purpose of opening Aston Park, the "People's Park," as it was proudly
called. There was a deal of effervescent talk about this noble project.
The People, with a capital P, were going to buy the park for the People,
with the money of the People. The scheme succeeded save in the matter of
getting the funds. The People approved of the project, the People
shouted themselves hoarse when her Majesty came to put the finishing
touch to the noble undertaking, but, unfortunately, the great People
failed to find the money necessary to carry out the grand undertaking,
and the Municipality had to pay up to complete the purchase.
It is still going back a long time, but I distinctly recall the visit of
Lord Brougham to Birmingham in 1857, when as president he delivered the
inaugural address at the opening meeting of the newly-born Association
for the Promotion of Social Science. I remember the Town Hall was
completely filled, and much interest was felt in the appearance of Lord
Brougham on the occasion. When he took his place on the platform there
was some little disturbance and confusion among the audience. This
promptly brought to his feet Lord Brougham, who said in very emphatic
tones, "Allow me to say--and I have had some experience of public
meetings--that if any persons attempt to disturb the proceedings of this
meeting, measures shall be taken to expel them."
I am quoting from memory, but I believe my words are pretty correct.
When Lord Brougham had delivered this emphatic utterance, he proceeded
with his address, which was a dull affair and did not inspire the least
enthusiasm. It was, indeed, a somewhat somnolent discourse, and his
audience hardly seemed to wake up till he reached his peroration, which
closed with a telling quotation from Oliver Goldsmith.
If I recollect rightly there were many notabilities present on this
occasion. I remember the interest I felt in seeing Lord John Russell for
the first and only time in my life. There was not much of him to look
at, but what there was looked pleasant. I saw, indeed, a small man, with
a big head, and a large smile. There was, of course, a good deal of
eloquence on the evening to which I refer, and at this distance of time
I remember that one distinguished visitor made a rather amusing bull.
Speaking of some obvious fact and carried away by the enthusiasm of the
moment, he said, "Gentlemen, the matter is as clear as the rising sun at
noon-day."
I remember seeing Thackeray in Birmingham, and heard him deliver his
lecture on George III. at the Music Hall, Broad Street, now the Prince
of Wales Theatre. I was, of course, interested to see the great
novelist, but I thought his lecture a prosaic performance. In a literary
sense the address was characteristic and interesting--as can be seen in
its printed form--but it gained nothing by its author's delivery. It was
a well-composed piece of work, and it had a composing effect upon those
who heard it. At least I know I found it dull, and half dozed during its
monotonous delivery. Indeed, it was not till Thackeray reached his
concluding words--which, by the way, were Shakspeare's, being an
effective quotation from "King Lear"--that I was roused from my dreamy
reverie.
I recollect seeing Charles Kingsley when he was President of the
Birmingham and Midland Institute, and noticed that though in speaking
he stammered perceptibly, when he delivered his presidential address he
adopted a sort of sing-song tone which more or less concealed his
impediment of speech. In fact he half intoned his discourse. I remember,
too, meeting Professor Tyndall at Mr. Chamberlain's table, and was
struck by the simple modesty of the eminent savant. I sat next to Mrs.
Tyndall, who was very unaffected, pleasant, and conversational. I have
often thought of this occasion, and did so especially when the sad and
tragic mistake occurred which ended in Professor Tyndall's premature
death. Mrs. Tyndall, it may be remembered, gave her husband a wrong dose
of medicine, which brought his illness to a sudden and fatal
termination. What an awful mistake. To live after this was pathetic.
Of course I remember a good deal about the late Mr. John Bright and his
visits to Birmingham. So do other people, and as many of these others
are scribes and quasi-historians who have published their records, there
is really not much for me to tell. I may say that I heard nearly every
speech our distinguished member delivered in Birmingham, for I hardly
ever missed a meeting at which Mr. Bright was a spokesman. Even now I
distinctly recall the first occasion on which he spoke after he became
M.P. for Birmingham. The Town Hall was more than crowded, it was packed;
indeed, I might almost say that herrings in a tub have elbow room
compared with the very compressed gathering that welcomed Mr. Bright on
the occasion.
In order to make more space the benches were removed from nearly all
parts of the Town Hall, and the curious sight of the sea of faces when
Mr. Bright appeared lingers in my memory still. One curious thing I
observed at this gathering was that so long as our member was speaking
the vast assembly was held spellbound. But when he paused for a moment
to turn over his notes or take a sip of water, the tightly squeezed
audience swayed for a little bodily relief and expansion, and this
resulted in big surging waves of humanity, which rolled from one end of
the body of the hall to the other, and often lasted for some little
time.
At this moment I can recollect almost word for word the stirring and
eloquent peroration with which Mr. Bright closed his first address to
his Birmingham constituents. It roused his hearers to a pitch of
demonstrative enthusiasm such as I have never seen equalled.
I could quote from memory many striking passages from the principal
speeches I heard our distinguished member deliver. But why? Are they not
recorded in a hundred books, or at least in many books and hundreds of
newspapers? I will, therefore, now content myself with just one or two
personal reminiscences connected with our great Parliamentary
representative.
One little story I have to tell is connected with Mr. Bright's speech on
the occasion of unveiling the statue of Mr. Joseph Sturge, erected at
the Five Ways, Birmingham. There was an immense gathering on that
occasion, and of course I was there. I secured a good position for
hearing, but, unfortunately, there was a woman near me with a crying
baby in her arms. This prevented me hearing much that the speaker said,
and at last I got quite out of patience, and turning to the woman I
remarked, "Why don't you take that noisy child home?" "Oh," said the
woman in reply, "her's just as bad at home." I felt I had my answer, and
that there was no more to be said.
On another occasion I remember Mr. Bright walking down New Street, just
after delivering one of his grandest speeches, when a working-man, one
of the real "horny-handed," stepped up to him and patted him on the back
in the most familiar and approving manner. I will also just note one
other little incident in connection with Mr. Bright and Birmingham and
then I have done. I have to give this second-hand, but I believe what I
say may be accepted.
When Mr. Bright was offered a seat in Mr. Gladstone's administration in
the year 1868 it caused him some severe searching of heart. He did not
like giving up his freedom in the House of Commons. When this question
was before him he was staying with Mr.----now Sir John Jaffray, Bart.,
and in discussing the matter with his host he walked up and down the
room talking and talking till the hours flew by and it became late. Mr.
Jaffray--who was rather an early man--became weary before Mr. Bright had
finished his talk. The latter probably perceived this, for with a fine
touch of humour he made for the chandelier, and said, "I see, Jaffray,
that you will never go to bed till I turn off the gas."
In searching the files of memory it is rather surprising to find how one
thought leads to another, and the long-hidden past reveals itself with
almost as much clearness as the events of yesterday. When I began to
write down these personal recollections I thought I should find little
or nothing to tell. As I proceed, however, occurrences of past years
crop up and crowd upon memory, and that to such an extent that it
becomes a question of what I shall not write rather than what I shall.
Lest, however, I become tiresome and tedious I will for the most part
"let the dead past bury its dead," and content myself with a little
chapter of history which is especially interesting to me, and may not be
without some amount of interest to others, especially those concerned in
our educational and industrial progress.
One important change that has recently taken place in what I will call
business Birmingham has brought back to my mind a throng of mixed
memories. I allude to the vicissitudes that have taken place in local
trading concerns, and I may especially mention the disestablishment or
dismemberment of the manufactory of R.W. Winfield and Co., Cambridge
Street. To see the break-up of this once large, important, and
successful concern has been a matter of some sorrow to me. And why?
Because it was at this establishment that I began my working career.
Yes, at an early age I was a junior clerk at Cambridge Street Works,
when it was the private business of the late Mr. R.W. Winfield.
At that time the manufactory was one of the largest if not _the_ largest
in Birmingham. It employed about 1,000 hands, and its operations were
carried on in several separate departments. These were the tube and
metal, the gas-fitting, the metallic bedstead, the stamped brassfoundry,
the general brassfoundry, and other departments and divisions. To my
youthful eyes it seemed to be a huge place, and, indeed, it was a big
manufactory, and had a very extensive home and foreign trade.
I do not propose now to go into details concerning the manufacturing
work done at Cambridge Street at the period of which I speak. This would
be a matter of small interest to general readers. The once large
establishment has had its day and has now ceased to be, though why it
should have fallen to pieces so completely is not readily to be
explained.
There are, however, matters concerning the earlier days of Cambridge
Street Works that well deserve to be recognised and recorded. I think,
indeed, I may say that Mr. R.W. Winfield was the local pioneer of
compulsory education. There were, of course, a large number of boys
employed at the works, and Mr. Winfield not only provided an evening
school for these young hands but compelled them to attend and be
educated whether they liked it or not.
At the time mentioned, I remember, Mr. James Atkins--then a manager of
one of the departments--had a large hand in the educational operations
carried on in connection with the Cambridge Street manufactory. He had
the happy knack of attracting boys to him, and could interest those he
taught and teach those he interested. Mr. Atkins, as is well known,
afterwards became the principal of the firm, but more of this anon.
In the work of these evening schools, Mr. John Fawkener Winfield, son of
Mr. R.W. Winfield, took a very active interest. He used to give some
excellent lectures, and constantly taught in the classes. Much money was
spent upon these schools; indeed, a large room was specially built, at
very considerable cost, in order that the educational work might have
elbow room and be carried on effectually.
Mr. Winfield was a stiff, unbending man in some matters--especially in
politics--but he was in many respects broad-minded and large-hearted. He
was thoughtful for those in his employ, especially the young people, and
his son was like unto him.
When I was engaged at Cambridge Street Works Mr. R.W. Winfield lived at
the Hawthorns, Ladywood Lane. The house seemed by comparison to be a
large and important mansion, and was quite in the country then. Yes, I
remember now, at this distance of time, how often our employer used to
give us treats at his house, and what pleasant jinks we had in playing
and rollicking about the fields and grounds surrounding his residence.
In many respects Mr. R.W. Winfield was one of the real old school. He
was not a high or broad so much as a good, thick, consistent churchman
of the Evangelical school. He "wore his beaver stiffly up," his neck-tie
was a starched white cravat, his clothes were black broadcloth, with the
dress coat worn by gentlemen in the early and middle years of last
century. All the same, he had some modern ideas, especially, as I have
said, in the matter of education. If it came to be totalled up how much
he spent on the education of the boys in his employ, the aggregate sum
would run to large figures.
Time, we know, smooths the surface or rounds off the corners of past
events that seemed rather arbitrary at the time of their occurrence.
But, after making allowance for all this, my experience of Mr.
Winfield's evening schools is occasionally wafted back to me with many
pleasant memories and associations. Compulsory education was the iron
hand that directed the young ideas how to shoot, though it was enveloped
in a soft velvet glove. Mr. Winfield did good far-reaching work by the
establishment and maintenance of his evening schools, and his
thoughtfulness and generosity in this direction should be counted unto
him for righteousness.
Why Cambridge Street Works, which once employed so many hands, should
have so completely collapsed is, as I have hinted, a bit of a mystery. I
can only guess, and as tracking conundrums is not my purpose in these
chapters, I will leave others to unravel the riddle if they can. It is,
however, a matter of local business history that some thirty years or
more ago the Cambridge Street concern shewed signs of tottering to its
fall, and when Mr. Atkins went into the business as a proprietor, he had
to make some sweeping reforms that naturally created some resentment and
criticism. Possibly the business was "eating its head off," and the
process of deglutition had to be rigorously curtailed. This having been
done, the business thrived and prospered once more, and continued to do
so for some years. I will not follow its fortunes to its ultimate fall.
It became a public company, and now it is no more.
Winfields' is not the only important local business that has gone under
during the past fifty years, yet it is satisfactory to find that many of
our old-established manufactories and businesses have survived, and
still exist in some form or other. Elkington's, Gillott's, and Hardman's
still flourish, and among the brassfounders Pemberton and Son's, Tonks
and Son's, Cartland's, and others, go on their way rejoicing, casting,
stamping, lacquering, and polishing, and pushing brassfoundry into more
ornamental and utilitarian use.
Some of our old-established merchants and factors are still with us. The
trade of Messrs. Keep and Hinckley, whose place of business was for
years near St. Mary's Square, is now carried on by Keep Bros., in Broad
Street. The establishment of Rabone Bros., merchants, also in Broad
Street, still stands where it did. The businesses of Rock and Blakemore,
Moilett and Gem, and others, are still carried on by survivors of the
old firms.
As for the new industries, the new firms and companies that have been
created in our midst during the past half-century, their enumeration and
description would be a big story, and would require a large volume to
tell it. That volume I do not propose to begin. I desire to close my
present little chapter, and perhaps I shall not be the only one who will
be glad to come to the end of it.