Hospital was something beyond belief. Early and late he was busy for its
advantage; thousands of autograph letters appealing for help fell from
his pen. No chance of help was too remote for him to see; no one too
high in rank for him to appeal to; no one so poor but could be asked to
do something. It was he who brought Jenny Lind to sing gratuitously for
its benefit. It was he who induced managers of theatres, music halls,
and other places of amusement, to set apart certain nights as "Queen's
Hospital Nights." It was he who obtained Her Majesty's patronage and
support; and "last, but not least," it was he who organised the annual
ball at the Town Hall, which for fifteen or twenty years was the most
fashionable and delightful re-union in Birmingham, and which brought in
a very large annual profit to the funds of the hospital. His appeals to
noblemen and gentlemen to become stewards at these balls were literally
strewed broadcast through the land. Amongst others, he was bold enough
once to ask the great Duke of Wellington; and he used to show, with some
pride, the letter he received in reply, which was written in the Duke's
most characteristic manner. The original, I believe, still hangs,
framed, in the Secretary's room at the hospital; and as I think it
likely to be interesting, as a specimen of the Duke's epistolary powers
and peculiarities, I append a copy:
"Strathfield Saye, Dec. 11, 1842.
"F.M. the Duke of Wellington presents his Compliments to Mr. Cox and
regrets much that his time is so much occupied that it is impossible
for him to be able to find leisure to attend to the duties of the
office of a Steward of a Ball. He hopes, therefore that he will be
excused for declining to be nominated to fill an office the duties
of which he cannot undertake to perform.
"W. Sands Cox, Eqre."
The last time I saw Mr. Cox, in connection with these institutions,
was in 1862, at the time of the great bazaar on behalf of the
hospital. It was a hard week's work for many, and it resulted in a
profit of about L3,500. Mr. Cox's homely figure during that week, was
"here, there, and everywhere," encouraging everybody, and assisting in
every way, even to helping the college porter to carry large and heavy
hampers of goods across the street from the college to the Town Hall.
I have a perfect remembrance of his sitting, on the last day of the
bazaar, with another gentleman, in the ticket office, to receive the
sixpenny fees for admission. I recollect then to have seen again
the strange, miserly expression which had struck me at my first
introduction; and I noticed, too, the eager "clutch," with which he
grasped the money as it came in, and how he chuckled with delight as
he made up into brown paper parcels each pound's worth of silver as
it accumulated. How, too, his eyes twinkled; how he rubbed his hands
backwards and forwards over his mouth, as he jerked out "Another
pound, Mr. ----; I believe we shall get L50"; and how, when the doors
were closed, he triumphantly handed over to the treasurer more than
sixty packets, of L1 each, as the result of the sixpences paid for
admission on that one day.
Unfortunately, his mind was _creative_ only. Like many parents, who
never can be brought to understand that there comes a time when their
children are _mentally_ capable of "running alone," he, in his later
years, failed to see that these two institutions, the children of his
brain, no longer required leading strings, or his _unaided_ nursing.
Hence, as the establishments grew beyond his personal power of
supervision, he became jealous of everyone connected with their
management, and sought still to be sole director. As the founder, his
will was to be absolute law; everybody must consult his wishes, and
bow to his decision; and although he had, with advancing years, become
less capable, and had always been wanting in the _sustaining_
power which successfully _carries on_ great work, he insisted upon
regulating every matter of detail and discipline connected with the
two institutions.
The result was inevitable. Difficulty after difficulty arose. A
painful disease at this time attacked him, making him more irritable
and exacting. Professors and other officers of the college retired one
after the other. Friends fell off. Subscriptions were dropped. Pupils
were withdrawn, and complete anarchy prevailed. At length Chancery
was appealed to, and Mr. Cox, having been defeated, retired, somewhat
sulkily and disdainfully, from the town--disappointed, dejected,
dispirited, and with a feeling which embittered the remaining years of
his life--a feeling that he had been very greatly misunderstood, and
most ungratefully treated.
Sands Cox, in private life, was gentleness and simplicity itself. At
a dinner party, while ladies were present, he was very quiet; but the
merry twinkle of his eye when the conversation became animated, showed
that he was keenly alive to all that was going on. After the ladies
had retired, he generally joined in the conversation, and had, almost
always, some quaintly curious story, which, told, as it always was, in
a shy way, as a schoolboy might tell it, was irresistibly droll.
He had few amusements. He was fond of a quiet rubber; kept a tame
monkey, whose grotesque antics were to him a perpetual source of
gratification; and he was very fond of fishing. With the fly rod he
was very skilful, and he would occasionally steal a few days' holiday
to indulge in trout or salmon fishing. He did not disdain, however,
the far humbler sport that lay within an easy reach of Birmingham, and
I occasionally went with him to a favourite spot for perch fishing. On
one occasion, by an accident, he lost his bagful of baits, and had to
use some of mine. Finding it inconvenient to come to me every time he
wanted to bait his hook afresh, he took half the worms from my bag,
which he crammed--all slimy and crawling as they were--into the pocket
of a nearly new satin waistcoat. At another time, just as he was about
to put on a fresh bait, his line became entangled in a bush, so as to
require both hands to disengage it. Without the slightest hesitation
he put the worm into his mouth to hold it while his hands were engaged
with the line, and he seemed greatly to enjoy the laughter which his
queer proceeding forced from those who were present.
In the course of his professional career, many honours were bestowed
upon him. He was made a Fellow of the Royal Society; was elected a
member of the French Institute; and was honorary member of nearly
every important surgical school in Europe. He was also created
magistrate and Deputy-Lieutenant for the County of Warwick. He had,
though few knew it, considerable influence in quarters where his name
might hardly be expected to be known. He was generally consulted as to
the fitness of local gentlemen proposed for magisterial honours;
and as none of the parties are now alive, I may state that some days
before the Queen's visit to Birmingham, in 1858, it was to Mr. Cox
that application was made for information respecting the then Mayor,
upon whom there was some hesitation as to whether the honour of
knighthood should be conferred. Mr. Cox suggested, in reply, that the
honour, although of course nominally given to the Mayor, would really
be granted as a compliment to the town, which had chosen him as the
chief magistrate. Acting on this suggestion, the Government of the
day, as is well known, decided on the honour being bestowed.
I have alluded to some indications of a miserly disposition in Mr.
Cox. These were, at the time, a psychological puzzle to my mind; but
I have learned since that a man may have strong acquisitive instincts,
and yet be without selfishness; that he may be even greedy to acquire,
and yet deny himself in almost every possible way, in order to benefit
others; and that the faculties of benevolence and conscientiousness
will, in many cases, direct into unselfish channels the riches
which have been accumulated by the mere animal instinct of selfish
acquisitiveness.
Such is a faithful and honest attempt to exhibit something of the
character, habits, and manners of one of Birmingham's most worthy
sons; a man who, whatever his faults and failings, did much to elevate
the noble profession to which he belonged, and thereby to alleviate
the sufferings of thousands of his fellow creatures, not only of his
own time, but for generations to come. To him, unquestionably, we owe
the existence of two of our noblest institutions--the Queen's College
and Hospital; and yet, strange to say, the town possesses no memorial
of him. Others, who have done comparatively little for the place,
have their portraits in the Corporation Gallery; yet Sands Cox
is unrepresented. Surely the time has arrived when this should be
remedied; surely, now that the grave has closed over his remains, the
irritation and ill-feeling created by his somewhat imperious will
and dogmatic manner, should be forgiven and forgotten, and only
his self-denying devotion to the good of his native town should
be remembered. Surely it is not too late to see that some fitting
memorial of the man, and his work, should show to posterity that his
contemporaries, and their immediate successors, were not unmindful
of, nor ungrateful for, the great and noble work he was privileged to
accomplish.
GEORGE EDMONDS.
In the early part of the present century, a house, which is still
standing, in Kenion Street, was occupied by a Dissenting Minister, who
had two sons. One of these sons, fifty years afterwards, told the
following story:
"When I was a boy, I was going one evening up Constitution Hill. On
the left-hand side, at that time, there was a raised footpath,
protected by railings, similar to the one which now exists at
Hockley Hill. I was on the elevated part, and heard some one running
behind me. Upon turning, I found a soldier, out of breath, and so
exhausted that he sank to the ground at my feet. He implored me not
to give information, and asked me for protection, telling me that he
had been sentenced, for some neglect of duty, to receive a large
number of lashes, at certain intervals, of which he had already been
indulged with one instalment. Having been thought incapable of
moving, he had not been very closely watched, and he had just
escaped from the barracks, having run all the way to the spot on
which he had fallen. I took him home, and told my father, who was
greatly alarmed; but he fed him, and sent him to bed. The next
morning I dressed myself in the soldier's clothes, and danced before
my father, as he lay in bed. He was angry and alarmed, particularly
as, on looking out of the window, we saw a non-commissioned officer
of the same regiment standing opposite, apparently watching the
house. Nothing came of that; but the difficulty was, what to do with
the man. At night, however, we dressed him in some of my clothes,
and sent him off to Liverpool. He promised to write, but we never
heard any more of him. His clothes were tied up in two bundles; my
brother James took one, and I the other, and we walked with my
father to Hockley Pool, where we loaded the bundles with bricks, and
threw them into a deep part of the water."
[Illustration: G. Edmonds]
The narrator of this story, and the chief actor in the simple drama was
George Edmonds. I mention this little event because it shows that the
spirit of hostility to tyranny, and the scorn of oppression, cruelty,
and persecution, which he manifested in his after life, were inborn, and
a part of his nature. The same noble spirit which induced him, like the
good Samaritan, to bind up the wounds, and to succour and defend the
friendless soldier, gave his tongue the eloquence, and his soul the
fire, to denounce, in the presence of assembled thousands, the
malpractices of those then in power, and the injustice of the laws
under which the people groaned.
George Edmonds was born in the year 1788, at the house in Kenion Street
of which I have spoken. His father was the Minister of the Baptist
Chapel in Bond Street. He was very popular as a preacher, and he appears
to have been a man of much culture. An engraved portrait of him may be
seen in the window of Mr. Massey's shop at the top of Mount Street. He
was possessed of considerable humour, and was almost as celebrated as
the great Rowland Hill for making droll remarks in the pulpit. It is
told of him that, reading the fourth chapter of _Philippians_, and
coming to the thirteenth verse, he read, "I can do all things;" here he
paused, and said, "What, Paul?--do all things? I'll bet you half-a-crown
of it;" then, suiting the action to the word, he placed the coin on the
leaf of the book; but on reading the concluding portion of the verse, he
said, "Oh, that alters it! I withdraw the bet," and then went on with
his reading.
Under his father's care, George Edmonds received a really good
education, and became an excellent classical scholar. His knowledge of
Greek was extensive and profound. He was not apprenticed or articled
to any business or profession, and he appears to have devoted his
early manhood entirely to study. His favourite pursuit was the science
of language, and in this branch of learning he became probably one of
the best-informed men of his day. He was in constant correspondence
with the most eminent and learned philologians of his time. I shall
have occasion, further on, to mention this topic again.
In the year 1823, I find that he was keeping a school in Bond Street,
near the chapel; his pupils, no doubt, being mainly the sons of the
members of the congregation. This life appears to have been, to him,
somewhat of a drudgery; and he longed for more active duties, and a
larger sphere of work. At that time the strict etiquette which now
governs all legal matters did not exist. The young schoolmaster having
volunteered on one occasion to assist a friend to conduct a case in
the old "Court of Bequests," found the self-imposed task very much to
his taste. He took up the profession of an Advocate, and in that court
and the magistrates' room at the Public Office he soon became a busy
man. His clear insight gave him the power of instantly possessing
himself of the merits of a case, while his fluency of speech,
his persuasive manner, and his scholastic acquirements were great
advantages. He soon obtained considerable influence among the
respectable old gentlemen who at that time sat as judges in the one
court and magistrates in the other. His intense love of fun, and his
powerful irony, made these courts, instead of dull and dreary places,
lively and cheerful. Many droll stories are told of him, one of the
best of which relates to his cross-examination of a pompous witness.
Edmonds began by asking, "What are you, Mr. Jones?" "Hi har a
skulemaster," was the reply. In an instant came the crushing retort
from Edmonds, "Ho, you ham, his you?" He continued to practise in the
Court of Bequests until it was abolished, but he was ineligible in
the newly-established County Court, not being an attorney. He then
articled himself to Mr. Edwin Wright, and in the year 1847 was
admitted as a solicitor, which profession he followed actively, up to
the time of the illness which removed him from public life.
He was a powerful and successful advocate. His fault, however, in this
capacity was that he identified himself too much with his case. He
seemed always determined to win. True justice and fairness were not
considered, so long as he could gain the day. Hence, when another
advocate was opposed to him, the matter assumed, generally, the aspect
of a professional tournament, in which victory was to be gained,
rather than that of a calm and impartial investigation, in which the
truth was to be ascertained and a just award made.
At the time of the incorporation of the town in 1838, and the
establishment of Quarter Sessions, Mr. Edmonds was appointed Clerk of
the Peace. He was then seriously ill, and was supposed to be dying. It
was understood at the time, that the appointment was made as a solace
to him in his then condition, and as a recognition, which would be
pleasant to him, of the services he had rendered to his native town.
It was not expected that he would survive to undertake the duties of
the office. He, however, lived to perform them for more than thirty
years. He himself had so little expectation of recovery that, from
what he supposed to be his dying bed, he wrote to Mr. William Morgan,
urging him to announce himself as a candidate for the office, so soon,
in all probability, to become vacant. Mr. Morgan refrained from so
doing, and Mr. Edmonds nominated him his deputy. In that capacity Mr.
Morgan acted at the first Sessions held in the town.
As years rolled on, Mr. Edmonds became at times very absent in
mind, causing occasionally great merriment in court by the ludicrous
mistakes he made. When the Sessions-room was altered a few years ago,
the jury box was placed on the opposite side of the court to that
it had formerly occupied, but Mr. Edmonds's mind never realised
the change. While juries were considering their verdict, it was
Mr. Edmonds's practice to engage in conversation with some of the
barristers; and he sometimes became so lost in these discussions as
to take no heed of his duties. Mr. Hill, the Recorder, enjoyed these
little scenes intensely. On one occasion, when the jury was waiting
to deliver a verdict, the Recorder had to call him from one of these
little chats, to receive it. Edmonds turned to the old spot, and
seeing no one there, said, "There is no jury, sir." Upon which, Mr.
Hill, smiling, said, "If you'll turn round, Mr. Edmonds, you'll see
the jury laughing at you." In some confusion, Edmonds turned round,
and, his mind being somewhat uncollected, he asked, "What say you, Mr.
Foreman, are you guilty or not guilty?" On another occasion he took
up, by mistake, from his desk, an indictment against a man who had
been tried and sentenced, and charging the prisoner, who was a female,
read, "John Smith, you stand indicted," &c. The Recorder, jocularly
rebuking him, said he had never known a woman named John Smith before.
The woman was sent down, and Edmonds insisted in having the real John
Smith up, and he again began the charge. The prisoner laughed in his
face, and told him he had been tried once, and got ten years, but he
wouldn't mind being tried again if the judge would make it five.
But George Edmonds had a higher claim to grateful recollection than
could be based upon mere forensic skill or professional duty. His
it was to help to apply the first impulse to the movement which
eventually broke down the strong bulwarks of territorial oligarchy.
His it was to wear the political martyr's crown; his to beard a
profligate Court, and a despotic, tyrannical, and corrupt Government;
his to win, or to help to win, far nobler victories than were ever
gained by Marlborough or Wellington: victories of which we reap the
benefits now, in liberty of thought and speech, in an unfettered
Press, in an incorrupt Parliament, in wiser laws, and in unshackled
commerce. His manly voice never counselled aught but obedience; but
it was never silent until it had assisted to ensure for his
fellow-countrymen, that the laws he taught them to obey were just and
impartial, and were equitably administered.
When Mr. Edmonds was a mere child, the great Revolution in France gave
the English advocates of freedom hopes that the "appointed time" would
soon arrive. The obstinacy of the King, which had already caused the
loss of America, once more made itself manifest, and crushed these
hopes. War was declared against France in 1793, and (with the
exception of a period of thirteen months, from March, 1802, to April,
1803, and a few months in 1814-15) raged until the Battle of Waterloo,
in June, 1815. Daring the whole of this long period the hopes of
English freedom lay dormant. With the return of external peace came
fresh visions of internal reformation. Major Cartwright, Sir Francis
Burdett, and other advanced politicians formed themselves into a
society, which, in memory of one of England's most worthy sons, they
named the Hampden Club. They advocated annual Parliaments, universal
suffrage, and vote by ballot. Provincial reformers adopted their
creed. George Edmonds, then some 27 years old, took up the cause with
great zeal, and advocated it with much eloquence and fervour. Cobbett,
by his writings, and Hunt, by his speeches, aided the movement.
The Tory party was alarmed, and Lord Liverpool's Government was so
exasperated, that a crusade against the popular cause was resolved on.
Meanwhile, the Hampden Club counselled their Birmingham friends to bring
matters to an issue, by electing a "Legislatorial Attorney," who was to
proceed to the House of Commons, and formally demand to be admitted as
the representative of Birmingham. The advice was taken, and on the 12th
of July, 1819, a great meeting was held on Newhall Hill, for the purpose
indicated. George Edmonds was the chairman and principal speaker, and
was admittedly the local leader.
The Government was not slow to take action. On the 30th of the same
month, the Prince Regent issued a proclamation, warning all His
Majesty's subjects against treasonable and seditious meetings, and
malpractices generally, and saying, _inter alia_--
"And whereas, it hath been represented unto us, that at one of such
meetings the persons there assembled, in gross violation of the law,
did attempt to constitute and appoint, and did, as much as in them
lay, constitute and appoint, a person then nominated, to sit in
their name, and in their behalf, in the Commons House of Parliament;
and there is reason to believe that other meetings are about to be
held for the like unlawful purpose.
"And whereas, many wicked and seditious writings have been printed,
published, and industriously circulated, &c.
"And whereas, we have been given to understand ... that in some
parts of the kingdom, men, clandestinely and unlawfully assembled,
have practised military training and exercise.
"And whereas, &c., we have resolved to repress the wicked,
seditious, and treasonable practices, &c. We do charge and command
all sheriffs, magistrates, &c., to discover and bring to justice,
all persons who _have been_ or may be guilty of uttering seditious
speeches or harangues, and all persons concerned in any riots or
_unlawful assemblies_, which, _on whatever pretext they may be
grounded_, are not only _contrary to law_, but dangerous to the most
important interests of the kingdom," &c.
At the time this Proclamation appeared, Edmonds was editing and
publishing in Birmingham a weekly political paper, under the title of
_Edmonds's Weekly Recorder_. Number 8 of this paper, dated August 7,
1819, lies before me. The Proclamation is printed at full length on the
front page, and the next column contains the opening sentences of a
letter from Edmonds to the Prince Regent. This letter is of great
length, and is written in a well-supported strain of splendid irony all
through. To copy it at length would occupy too much space. I may,
however, be allowed to quote a short extract or two. Speaking of the
meeting on the 12th July, of which he acknowledges himself to have been
the chairman, he says: "I, and may it please you, sir, being a very
loyal man, was very careful, although it was quite unnecessary, to
admonish the people to obey the laws; and I can assure you, sir, that I
have not heard of a single instance of disloyalty, or violation of the
laws, which occurred during the said meeting. And while we are upon the
subject, permit me, sir, to lament that your Royal Highness did not in
your Royal Proclamation lay down the _law_ which had been violated by
the people of Birmingham." "Finding, however, contrary to our
expectations, that your Royal Highness considers that we have acted
unlawfully, we must humbly petition that the _precise law we have
violated_ may be pointed out, that we may not, through ignorance, be led
to do wrong again. Some persons have supposed the _Proclamation_ to be
_law_, but I have said to them, 'A Proclamation is a _Proclamation_, and
_not the law of Parliament_.' In the same manner as your Highness
profoundly speaks, in your Royal Proclamation, of those 'unlawful
assemblies' which are 'contrary to law.' Truisms, an please your Royal
Highness, are much better than falsehoods."
The number of the _Weekly Recorder_ for August 14th, 1819, contains a
long address to his "Fellow-townsmen," signed by George Edmonds. It
commences by stating that "the last week has been a very important one
in the annals of Warwickshire, and indeed of England.... Five of us,
Major Cartwright, Mr. Wooler, Mr. Lewis, Mr. Maddocks, and myself, have
had true bills found against us for a conspiracy to elect a Member of
Parliament, and at the next Assizes the indictment will be tried."