Commercial ambitions: restructuring the Bull Ring at the start of the century

The Bull Ring has been at the heart of Birmingham’s market trading since the 12^th century when the lord of the manor was first granted a market charter. The market was built just north of his manor house in what was then a village.[1]

The market at the Bull Ring survived across the centuries, through the challenges of plague, earthquake and rebellions. In the 18^th century Birmingham’s first historian, William Hutton, wrote about the poor state of the market, although it’s hard to know if it had really decayed or aspirations had risen. The market at the Bull Ring was described as filthy, crowded and dangerously busy. Hutton said that “to stand all day idle in the marketplace is not known to us”. In the later 1700s this wasn’t a place for browsing, it was a case of get in, get what you wanted, and get out again.

Prior to redevelopment in the first decade of the 19^th century, the Bull Ring was a ramshackle area of old houses, stalls and shops that had grown up over centuries. Down the middle of the open space was the shambles. This was the name of a row of stalls where meat was sold. The image below is a sketch by local artist Samuel Lines, drawn in c.1800. This may have been drawn from memory to capture the buildings lost to development. The scene shows nothing of the chaos of a market day, nor the filth described by Hutton. We can get a feel of the age of the market, some of the buildings appear Tudor or Jacobean. And at the centre of the scene you may make out that Lines has added in the bull ring.[2]

The Old Shambles, Bull Ring Birmingham, 1800, Samuel Lines Snr. [Birmingham Museums Trust]

The corn cheaping (cheaping meaning ‘market’) sold vegetables and perhaps some fruit. Eggs and cheese could be bought at the Women’s Market, recently moved to High Street, following the demolition of the Old Cross near to St. Martin’s Church. The Old Cross, or High Cross (before it became old), had been an ancient seat of administration in the town, which had recently been demolished as part of the improvement plan. Things were moving forward; change was in the air. The site of St Martin’s Church, which can be seen in the background of the Samuel Lines sketch, was also a medieval remnant, but it had been rebuilt over the years, and would be again later in the 19^th century.

Old Cross Birmingham, engraving, J.Smith [Birmingham Museums Trust]

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From 1769 a new administrative body in Birmingham, the Street Commissioners, began to make improvements to the town. This body comprised local businessmen who were keen to ensure Birmingham’s commercial prospects aligned with local ambitions for growth in this age of Industrial Revolution. They included, briefly, William Hutton. The commissioners were not elected, but rather attained their powers through parliamentary acts, which they had to apply for each time they wished to make significant changes, and to impose the local taxes to facilitate those changes. These included changes to road layouts, construction and cleansing of the streets, introduction of gas lighting, managing policing and eventually the arrival of the railways. Across the course of their existence, they also oversaw a major redevelopment of Birmingham’s markets, including the Bull Ring and Smithfield.

Thursday was the main market day in the Bull Ring, as it had been since medieval times. As the new century dawned, shoppers and anyone passing through the thoroughfare, would have been aware of lots of demolition work going on around them, as run down housing was removed to make for a more spacious shopping area. With the Shambles and the old housing gone, the view down the Bull Ring towards St Martin’s was not so different to that which you might see today. The image below was painted by another famous local artist, David Cox, less than 30 years after the Lines’ Shambles sketch. Cox has captured some of the hustle bustle of market day, but there is clearly a change in the layout of the market. Looking downhill towards St Martin’s, elegant shops either side of the stalls and the statue of Nelson towards the end. I don’t think it looks too different to the view along there today (minus the geese!)

The High Street Market, Birmingham, David Cox 1827 [Birmingham Museums Trust]

View down to St Martin’s from High Street, 2024 [Donna Taylor]

 

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[1] If you have access to YouTube, there is a fine video showing a replication of Birmingham in medieval times: https://youtu.be/JZq9cBzrIVI?si=tuahy_2HsGWHjYsJ

[2] The Old Shambles, Bull Ring, Birmingham, 1800, Samuel Lines Snr, Birmingham Museums Trust

“Looking Backwards” as the century came to a close

Elijah Walton, St Martin’s Church by Night (1850-1888), Birmingham Museums Trust.

The last day of the nineteenth-century fell on a Sunday. It marked the end of a remarkable period in Birmingham’s history and those of an advanced age in 1899 must have witnessed many changes. These changes impacted every corner of Birmingham society – living conditions, work, social opportunities, education, health and travel. A person aged 60 at the end of 1899 will have been born in the year that Birmingham formed its first town council, when Chartists were rioting in the Bull Ring for parliamentary reform. That person would have grown up witnessing the building of the market hall, the prison and asylum, public baths, churches, schools, the beginnings of a university, parks, public libraries, the museum and Council House, and the opening of Corporation Street, including the red brick law courts. The railways had really arrived during this person’s lifetime, and New Street station had been opened when they were a teenager, boasting the largest single span arched roof in the world.

Postcard Birmingham Mason College, date unspecified, Birmingham Museums Trust

At the start of the nineteenth century, Birmingham was a major player in the Industrial Revolution. But the infrastructure of the town was at risk of letting its commercial growth lapse. Roads were in poor condition, some merchants refused to even come into Birmingham because the potholed roads caused such damage to their vehicles. The town’s first historian, William Hutton, had described dark, narrow streets, dirty ‘from want of air’ and puddled with stagnant water ‘prejudicial to health’. But from 1800 onwards there was a new spirit of regeneration which saw the town expanded, paved, lit, plumbed and policed in a seemingly never ending (still!) process of demolition and rebuilding. In 1890 an article in the New York Harper’s Monthly Magazine hailed Birmingham “the best governed city in the world”. Birmingham had moved to city status in 1889. Many people ascribe this success to Joseph Chamberlain, but I largely disagree (though I’ll give him the museum and university!). The serious changes had begun right at the start of the nineteenth century, and Chamberlain had merely built upon them.

Watercolour Birmingham Law Courts (undated) Maud Adams, Birmingham Museums Trust

The Sunday edition of the Birmingham Mail on December 31st, 1899, included news of a recent gale, which had left some buildings in the city with broken windows, and one dwelling in Nechells without a roof. There were numerous reports on events in South Africa, the Boer War and Aston Villa were top of the Birmingham and District League. Amongst the small ads and local news, a short editorial headed ‘Looking Backwards’, gave an incisive account of the century as it came to a close:

The whole course of men’s lives has been changed by the influence of the steam-engine, the telegraph and the cheap Press. We may boast of the “good old days” but we can today congratulate ourselves that we live under conditions that were never dreamt of by our forefathers. Medical science has so advanced that it is now possible to alleviate human sufferings as it never was before; the progressive and ever-developing laws of sanitation makes it competent for even the poorest to live among healthy surroundings. The labourer now enjoys shorter hours than he did when 1800 first headed the calendar.…philanthropy has swept away the noisome dens which a hundred years ago did service as public prisons, and now the gaolbird is incarcerated under the most scientific conditions as regards health and diet. The workhouses are no longer the home of scandal and brutality, the inmates no longer the paupers whom nobody owns.

Some of this is over egged. Housing was still very poor for the majority; the construction of Corporation Street had seen many people unhomed and forced to live in shared lodgings, which in turn caused overcrowding in Nechells and Small Heath. The shortage of housing invariably had an impact on health, particularly childhood illnesses. The article goes on to laud empire and colonialism in an unpleasant, gloating way, no doubt with one eye on the ‘scramble for Africa’ that was underway. Nevertheless, it is impossible to ignore the vast changes that took place in Birmingham across the nineteenth century, and certainly some for the better, though I prefer to avoid the term ‘progress’.

I would like to take this opportunity to thank those who have commented, shared, liked or subscribed to 19th century notes over the past decade. Encourage everyone to keep researching Birmingham’s fascinating history, making use of the local archives where possible, and sharing what you find through social media if you can.

With best wishes for the next year.

Christmas in the Louse Hole

Birmingham prison was opened in 1849, prior to that criminals were sent to Warwick to suffer their punishment. Issues of debt could be settled at the town’s Court of Requests, where local businessmen sat in judgement on local financial issues. The Court of Requests had been granted by special Act of Parliament in the late 18th century. There is a more in-depth explanation of the Court of Requests, its location and history, on the brilliant ‘A Tour of Lost Birmingham’, here:

https://mappingbirmingham.blogspot.com/2012/08/court-of-requests-high-street.html

As revealed in that post,  Birmingham had its own debtor’s’ prison, which amounted to nothing more than a few damp rooms in the cellars beneath the Court of Requests, and was so notoriously bad that it was known locally as ‘the louse hole’. It was a shocking system and attracted much criticism from the town’s earliest Victorians. Letters to the editor of Aris’s Gazette complained of the ‘great evils’ of the Court and of a lack of dignity in the way that cases were managed. In one such letter ‘A Townsman’ expressed sympathy for the prisoners, I pity from my heart the poor half-starved ragged persons who are dragged to this court by credit forced upon them, crammed together while waiting to have their cases called on, in a closed small room without a breath of air, making the whole atmosphere unbearable.

 In January 1844, a case of assault on a police officer during  disturbances at the prison, brought conditions to national prominence. The disturbance had taken place on Christmas Day, 1843. At the trial of two of those accused of the disturbance – James Smith and John Taylor – the governor of the louse hole, a Mr Boots, said that there were about 23 prisoners (all there for owing debt)  together in the room. Because it was Christmas, he had allowed them to have visitors come in. At the end of the allocated time some of the visitors asked for another hour, and Mr Boots agreed. The prisoners and their guests had been drinking alcohol, which might help to explain the disturbance that took place when they were asked to leave a second time – They began to differ with each other and fought. They were cursing and fighting as hard as they could. The men, their wives and all. – Mr Boots confessed he was frightened by their behaviour, and set off to call the police.

Police Constable Buckerfield attended the prison cell – which was really a cellar in a former shop – and he told how on entering he was immediately assaulted by the two men on trial. They were in possession of a stave with nails in it, and he believed that one of the prisoners had a sword. He was beaten quite badly. He said that the room was very full, with prisoners and women and some children. 

The Recorder, who oversaw the proceedings, was Matthew Davenport Hill – a passionate prison reformer – and he used the trial to draw attention to the shocking state of the town’s debtor’s prison and the conditions endured by those sentenced to it:

Twenty seven fellow beings, fellow men, endowed with all the sensibilities of nature, had, it appeared, from time to time been subject to bodily torture and mental degradation…in this miserable dungeon…that recalled to mind those horrible places which he had hoped had passed away forever.

Hill expressed a deep disquiet at what he described as degradation, shame and evil in Birmingham’s debtors’ prison and a determination to bring the situation to an end. The prisoners, Taylor and Smith, were found guilty of assault by the jury and Hill had no option other than to sentence them for the assault on the police constable. They were sent to the prison in Warwick for three months – but Hill had no doubt that this would be at least a reprieve from the louse hole. 

Notes from 19th Century Birmingham. An occasional history of the mundane.

It was never my original intention, but I have researched Birmingham’s early 19th century development, on and off, for the best part of fifteen years. In my occasional blog posts, and on social media, I try to pick up on some of the more mundane, day-to-day aspects of life in the town, which I find interesting, and I hope others do too. This era in Birmingham was at the heart of my academic studies, which included an MRes on the Chartist unrest in the Bull Ring and a PhD thesis on its early 19th century administration. This took many hours of reading through fifty-years worth of minute books! Birmingham is my home; I grew up and went to school in Nechells, my children were all born here and I worked for several years with Birmingham museums. The history of my hometown is so vast, that I could never tire of finding out new things about its past.

View to St Martin’s Church, Bullring (Donna Taylor, 2023)

For me, there was a period from the late 1700s to the mid-1800s when Birmingham really took off in a number of ways. The commercial and industrial growth, initiated initially by the likes of Samuel Garbett and Matthew Boulton, led to a desire for ‘improvement’ in the town. Through the efforts of the business community, there were significant changes to the infrastructure of Birmingham; transport was vastly improved; the higgledy-piggledy markets scattered about were all brought together into a single district centred on the traditional, medieval setting at the Bull Ring, an area that was brought up to date through processes of demolition, widening, and numerous by-laws. Gas lighting arrived; the railways were coming, and people from other places were beginning to fill the town. The Town Hall was built, paid for through local taxation. There were theatres, hotels, coffee houses, libraries, and plenty of shops. A busy, social, humming community. It was by no means perfect. Like many upcoming urban centres and more so than many of them, Birmingham experienced the deep troughs of economic depression in the early nineteenth century. Housing was often poor, and sanitation could have been better (though Birmingham was often ahead of London in improving its sewage system). The wars with France and Canada took their toll. The price of bread was high, people were hungry, and the militia based at the barracks in Nechells since the Priestley Riots of 1791 were often called upon to bolster an inadequate police system. It was in 1839, following more riots relating to Chartist unrest, that the government passed the locally unpopular Birmingham Police Act, and a more professional force was instituted.

View of Birmingham from Bradford Street (attributed William Dugdale, c. 1816) courtesy Birmingham Museums Trust

In the early 19th century, Birmingham was politically notorious; it’s people would not be quiet and they met in large numbers to demand corn law reform, parliamentary representation, ‘no taxation without representation’, and an end to the House of Lords. There was a national fear that revolution could break out in the town, a fear that spanned many years, largely because of the gun trade. The Birmingham Political Union was the first of its kind, with many other towns following and it can be argued that the BPU played a significant role in the foundation of the Chartist Movement. In 1832, thanks to petitioning and mass meetings, Birmingham elected its first MPs. In 1838, the town was granted a Charter of Incorporation, again as a result of mass petitioning. This opened the way for further developments in the mid-century, including Birmingham’s first public baths at Kent Street, and the prison and asylum at Birmingham Heath.

Meeting of the Birmingham Political Union (Benjamin Robert Haydon, 1832-1833) curtesy Birmingham Museums Trust

Queen Victoria never thought much of Birmingham, and allegedly asked for the blinds to be drawn on her carriage as she passed through. It was a dirty old town and, not dissimilar to today, always seemed to be in a state of demolition and digging up. The Queen’s Consort, Prince Albert, seemed to love the place, and visited regularly, showing a keen interest in the industrial innovations that were taking place here. Charles Dickens was another fan of Birmingham. Like the Queen, he was doubtless aware of its shortcomings, but was also struck by its fierce vibrancy, evident in a description featuring in Pickwick Papers, the scene begin from the 1820s:

The streets were thronged with working people. The hum of labour resounded from every house; lights gleamed from the long casement windows in the attic storeys, and the whirl of wheels and noise of machinery shook the trembling walls. The fires, whose lurid, sullen light had been visible for miles, blazed fiercely up, in the great works and factories of the town. The din of hammers, the rushing of steam, and the dead heavy clanking of engines, was the harsh music which arose from every quarter. [Charles Dickens, Pickwick Papers, 1837]

This was Birmingham as it began to develop into England’s second city. It had long been a commercial centre, popular with tourists back to Tudor times and with an even longer history of industry in tanning and metal trades. But in the late 18th and early 19th centuries, even while the wider area was still largely farmland, it is possible to see a shift – I try to stay away from the term ‘progress’ – as the world hurtled into a new era, Birmingham was running right alongside, keeping up with it all and sometimes taking the lead. Incidentally, the city motto, ‘Forward’, was chosen in this period, by the first Town Council in 1839. I think it was a good choice.

Birmingham Corporation, Common Seal (image copyright British Library)

Entertainment in Birmingham: Circuses

Circus acts, such as rope walkers, jugglers and harlequins, have entertained people for centuries. Organised, travelling circuses, bringing together various performers and animals, particularly horses, emerged in the 18th century, with Philip Astley considered as the leading innovator. The first record of a visiting circus to Birmingham was Astley’s, on October 7th 1782. There was an advert a decade earlier for Astley’s circus appearing in ‘a large field at Navigation Coffee House’, but this was postponed due to bad weather.

Moving into the 19th century, here is an advert for Messrs. Adams ‘New Equestrian Circus’:

Billy Button, mentioned in this ad, is the character featured at the top of the page. He was a roaming entertainer who was often seen on the streets of Birmingham, and was said to have stuck buttons, found on his travels, to his jacket. The tight-rope dancer Mr Ryan was a young Irish man, who, following this performance, attempted to establish his own tent circus. In 1827, Ryan opened a bricks and mortar building for his circus on Bradford Street, not far from the moat where he made his name in the town, but it did not do so well and Ryan lost his business. The building was reopened again in May 1838, described as ‘an amphitheatre’, but was again unsuccessful. In 1848 it was converted to a Baptist chapel, which was known contemporarily as the Circus Chapel and this had more success, with an estimated Sunday evening attendance of 850. The chapel was dissolved in 1890, land sold to the council and it was later demolished to make way for the new meat market and slaughterhouse in 1897.

Back to the circus! In July 1839 the American animal trainer, Isaac Van Amburgh was in Birmingham, performing with his circus of wild animals at the Theatre Royal on New Street. The date is significant here, as the performance coincided with a night of Chartist rioting in the town, mostly centred around the Bull Ring, a short walk down the road from the theatre. During the performance, news came through of the disturbances, causing some alarm among the audience. It seems that the unperturbable Van Amburgh continued to ‘recline on the boards, his head resting on the side of a tawny lion’. He continued the performance with a small child on his shoulders and ‘putting his animals through their tricks, as calmly as if nothing whatever was the matter’.

Ryan’s circus building on Bradford street was used a few more times before its conversion; in 1842 a ‘flying railway’ called The Centrifugal was exhibited there, and the last circus performance I can see was in the same year. Andrew Ducrow and his ‘famous troupe’ appeared there for the Easter Week. Ducrow was English, but travelled across Europe. Ducrow had previously employed the celebrated juggler and horseman Pablo Fanque. Pablo was born in Lincoln in 1810 and named William Darby. He went on to become the first black owner of a circus, and had ties to Birmingham. His first wife, Susannah Marlaw, was daughter of a Birmingham button maker. She died tragically when a roof collapsed during a performance at Leeds in 1848. Pablo continued to perform and brought his own circus to the new circus at Moor Street in 1859, and also donated generously to the Unemployed Workmen of Birmingham Relief Fund. He had previously held a benefit performance, in Rochdale, titled ‘Being for the Benefit of Mr Kite’, which inspired a Beatles song.

Pablo Fanque

This is a bit of a roundabout post on Birmingham’s circuses in the first half of the nineteenth century, but circuses continued to entertain the town throughout the century. The building on Moor Street was demolished by 1865, but in that year Curzon Hall was opened and could seat 3000, that was used to accommodate circuses. By 1885, another large building had appeared at the foot of Snow Hill, and that was also used by touring circuses. There is a link below to an earlier post on a visit from the Great United States Circus.

Roll up, roll up…a visit from the Great United States Circus

The Iron Room has another really interesting post on playbills for circuses in Birmingham, which give a great insight into the performances that the audience will have seen:

Roll Up, Roll Up! Birmingham 19th Century Circus Play Bills

Circuses provided entertainment and escapism from everyday life in Birmingham during a time of great change and hardships. The arrival of exotic animals and the derring-do of the circus performers on high wires must have made these visits as exciting to nineteenth-century Brummies as they are today.

Hector’s House and the Stork Hotel, a snapshot of Old Square

John Pemberton, merchant, had purchased and developed part of the land on which Birmingham’s medieval priory had once stood, and here created the Priory Estate, including a Square of grand houses, in the early eighteenth century. The Square, which affectionately became known as Old Square, was demolished in the later nineteenth century, to make way for Corporation Street, but its memory remains in name at least. Some of the people who lived at the Square are commemorated in a mid-twentieth century frieze, which can still be seen at this busy junction today.

It is perhaps not surprising that John Pemberton took the first house built on the Square for himself, in around 1713, and resided there until his death in 1736. By 1747, No. 1 The Square had passed to Edmond Hector, Surgeon, who was a close friend of Dr Samuel Johnson, the leading light of England’s eighteenth-century literati. Johnson’s godfather, Samuel Swynfen, also lived in the Square, at number 3. Johnson often visited his old friend in Birmingham, sometimes staying over at the grand house in the Square, occasionally with his friend and biographer James Boswell. Hector died in 1794, the house passing to his great-nephew who, in turn, sold the house to a leather merchant, Clement Cotterill. The garden at the heart of the Square vanished under warehouses built by Cotterill, which seems unfortunate and, as this area had previously formed the site of the priory cemetery, numerous skeletons were reported to have been dug up as the warehouses were built. I wonder what those genteel neighbours thought of all this.  And – what would a leather merchant have stored in those warehouses? This advert from 1799 might give a hint:

Clement’s partner, Ketland, mentioned in this advert, took off for Philadelphia a couple of years later and Clement continued to settle into his refined home. This was the time of the war with France and men like Clement Cotterill, with an already established trade and a good business head, could make small fortunes in supplying the Ordnance with boots, shoes and uniforms, as well as guns and swords. Clement died in 1812, but his family stayed at No. 1 for some time. One of his daughters, Mary, married local merchant Joshua Scholefield, and the couple lived there for a number of years. Joshua Scholefield was one of the leaders of the Birmingham Political Union, the country’s first political union, and, along with Thomas Attwood, became one of Birmingham’s first MPs in the Reformed Parliament of 1832. His son, Clement Cotterill Schofield, stayed on at No. 1 until 1850. The last owner of ‘Hector’s House’, was John Dent Goodman, who sold it to the corporation for demolition in 1878.

Whilst some made fortunes from the French war, others could face ruin. John Bingham, a successful merchant who was able to buy Nos. 3 and 4 in the Square, met with calamity when two ships were sunk while carrying his exports. Although he lost almost everything, he was able to retain his properties in the Square, which he subsequently converted into a popular hotel, known as the Stork. Showell’s Dictionary of Birmingham informs us that the establishment first appeared in a trade directory in 1800, where it was described as a tavern, with Mr John Bingham as host. I understand that this was No.3, and that Bingham and his family continued to use No. 4 as a family home. In 1812, however, both houses were stone faced as a single building and presented as The Stork Hotel.  Located in a good position for people to access all the town had to offer – both business and leisure – and with stabling available for coaches, the Stork Hotel continued to thrive throughout the nineteenth century, with successive landlords expanding the hotel to absorb No. 2 and, eventually, No. 1, so that it filled a complete angle of the Square. The hotel let space for meetings and accommodated auctions; it put on philosophical lectures, scientific experiments and even a circus.  Just as the other buildings, The Stork was demolished to make way for Corporation Street and at this time the Birmingham and Aston Chronicle reminisced the Old Square’s ‘long retirement’, as it faced being “rudely broken into by modern requirements.” The article also highlights the changes in the immediate vicinity of Old Square, where pretty cottages and “sweet-smelling hedgerows” had been replaced with “filthy courts and noisome alleys”.

The Stork Hotel was rebuilt in 1883, on the corner of the new Corporation Street and what is now the Priory Queensway, to be demolished again in the 1960s to make way for the Queensway and Priory Square (image below).

Old Square and Birmingham’s Medieval Priory

Old Square is located at the busy junction of Corporation Street and Priory Queensway. It’s a fairly innocuous and simple crossroads that many use to get from one bus stop to another. There are a few benches and a striking piece of street art commemorating the comedian Tony Hancock. It is worth pausing as you cross to have a look at the other piece of art there, a cement mural by artist Kenneth Budd, which depicts the history of Old Square and some of the people with historical connections to it.

The Square was developed in the early eighteenth century, in the time of Queen Anne, and built on land that had once been home to Birmingham’s medieval priory, which had its origins all the way back in the thirteenth century. The Priory of St Thomas had been home to a community of Augustinian friars and hermits and was endowed with lands given by the lords of Birmingham, Aston and the Baron of Dudley, John de Somerey, who had donated land in the nearby hamlet of Bordesley. The building of the Priory itself extended eastwards from Bull Street to Steelhouse Lane. In medieval times these roads were known as Chapel Street and Priors Conigree. Buildings on the site also included a small house for the clerk, a chapel dedicated to the blessed Mary (dedicated in the fourteenth century, following the Black Death) and a cemetery. The priory was broken up in the sixteenth century and the estate distributed to various people, including Margery Cave, who was the widow of Thomas Holte.

By the seventeenth century, much of the land on which the old priory had stood was in the possession of Richard Smalbroke, who sold some of it on to local businessman John Pemberton, who came from an established Birmingham family of goldsmiths and property dealers; Pemberton’s first wife was Elizabeth Lloyd, of the family that became prominent bankers in the town. It was Pemberton who, in the first quarter of the eighteenth century, began the development of the Square, selling on plots of surrounding land to house builders, with the intent to create a smart and exclusive neighbourhood close to the heart of the town. There were rules in place about the sorts of properties that were desirable, and some, including butchers, bakers and smiths, were banned. An area which would become known as The Minories was part of the Square, with permitted shops that included a bookseller.

The image at the top of the post is from a William Westley print, showing the Square as it was perceived in around 1732. It all looks very neat, enclosed by iron railings, trees and with a small garden in the centre. Proper posh! The houses can be seen located in the angles of the square. These were built over a period of time, likely completed within the first quarter of the eighteenth century and occupied by the good and the great of the town for almost two centuries. The building style moved out and across the town and could also be seen reflected in the architecture and layout of St. Phillip’s church (now Birmingham’s cathedral).

The Square became affectionately known as ‘The Old Square’ sometime before the mid-nineteenth century, reflecting a locally felt nostalgia as rapid changes unfolded in Birmingham. The strict rules around building usage began to fall by the wayside, the central garden was removed in 1828, and so-called ‘slum’ housing grew up around its periphery. Demolition in and around the Square began in the final quarter of the nineteenth century to make way for Mayor Joseph Chamberlain’s plans to build a Parisian style boulevard, Corporation Street, which to this day cuts across the site of Old Square. More commercial buildings grew up, reflecting Birmingham’s growth, with warehouses and offices filling the area. In 1881, a brief article in the Birmingham and Aston Chronicle recorded some of this:

Where formally dwelt the ‘big wigs’, being the most aristocratic quarter of Birmingham, and where the great, lumbering coach of the Holte’s was often to be seen, and Royalty has been entertained – will, with a few solitary exceptions, henceforth do duty as warehouses or offices.[1]

Towards the end of the nineteenth century, Old Square found itself at the heart of a busy commercial crossroads, cut through by a tramway where numerous accidents took place. Lewis’s department store opened on the corner of Corporation Street, around the location of the old Minories, in 1885, and was something of a forerunner for modern department stores. It remained there for much of the twentieth century.

The last surviving of the Queen Anne and Georgian houses in Old Square were demolished in the summer of 1896. Reportedly, the last resident to leave was a solicitor, J. W. Phillips, who left only when the roof had been removed from his home.

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Much of the information included in this post is taken from Dent, R.K. and Hill, Joseph, “Memorials of Old Square” (Published at Caxton House in Old Square, 1898)

[1] Birmingham and Aston Chronicle, July 30^th, 1881

The British Association for the Advancement of Science: Birmingham, 1849

At a general meeting of the Birmingham Street Commissioners held on September 4th, 1848, exciting news was revealed: the British Association for the Advancement of Science had announced that it would hold its nineteenth annual conference in Birmingham the following year. This was great news for the town, and a strong indicator of a growing cultural reputation. The Association, formally established in 1831, had become an institution of some national importance, holding annual meetings, attracting great scientific minds and, of greater importance, pooling ideas into readily accessible publications.

As was the habit in Birmingham, visiting members of the Association were treated to a warm reception lasting several days. Aris’s Gazette recorded an impressive list of ‘noble and distinguished visitors’  who were entertained by the Mayor. Amongst the names can be seen local gentry and European dignitaries, including Charles Bonaparte, Prince of Canino and nephew of the Emperor, he was also a recognised ornithologist who discovered a new breed of petrel during a trip to America. Other visitors to the conference included easily recognisable names, Charles Darwin, whose grandfather Erasmus had been part of the Lunar Society,  Michael Faraday (also no stranger to Birmingham, he worked with the Chance brothers on improving lighthouse efficiency) and Hugh Edward Strickland, who had just published his groundbreaking work on the anatomy of the dodo.

Frontispiece from Strickland’s ‘The Dodo and its Kindred’ (1848)

The arrangements for the conference had been undertaken with suitably rational organisation, utilising Birmingham’s numerous cultural buildings. The Gazette reported how the Association’s various  groups and committees were accommodated across multiple sites. This is interesting, as it reveals the diversity of the Association and an inkling of how exciting the conference might have been but also really shows an impressive array of cultural institutions in Birmingham; this was not just a dusty town of lodging houses and puddled courts (although there were plenty of those too!):

The most ample accommodation was provided by the Local Committee for the comfort and convenience of the members. Eight departments in the Free Grammar School were devoted to the use of the four sections, A, C, D and G; the Philosophical Institution was set apart for the section of chemistry; section F and the sub-section of Natural History were accommodated in the Queen’s College. The large room of the Society of Arts was converted into a reception room, where every facility was afforded the members for procuring lodgings and obtaining information upon all subjects. The Town Hall was also thrown open, and nearly all the manufactories of the town were accessible to the visitors

For all its culture, Birmingham clearly also kept an eye on the commercial opportunities that such a large and nationally important event might bring.

The British Association for the Advancement of Science still exists, now known as the British Science Association. Their website can be found here :
http://www.britishscienceassociation.org/history

The minutes of the Birmingham Street Commissioners are available to view by appointment at the Wolfson Centre, Library of Birmingham, the 1848 entries are in MS 2818/1/7  – this is a free service but recent staff cuts means that access is now limited.

Aris’s Gazette is available via subscription to British Newspaper Archives, or free of charge in the Library of Birmingham Local Studies department, floor 4. Again it is perhaps best to check on opening times. Please support our local archives and resources in any way you can. They are a vital part of preserving and understanding our heritage and culture. If we lose them, and the experts who manage them, there is little chance of getting them back. Ta. 

Soup for the poor

The food bank is rapidly becoming a vital addition to local communities across twenty-first century Britain. In the nineteenth century, soup shops played an equally important role in the rapidly expanding towns that had been spawned by the Industrial Revolution. Back then, people in need were dependent upon the parish, which, under an act that had been passed in the time of Elizabeth I,  had a legal obligation to care for its poor. Everyone in the parish contributed to a poor rate, which was distributed to those deemed to be in need and worthy of assistance. In times of extreme economic distress communities often took further action and those who had the means would provide blankets and set up soup shops as large sections of local society struggled to survive on the few shillings a week from the poor fund.  The following is taken from the very first edition of The Birmingham Inspector,  a short lived newspaper published in 1817. The Poor Law Amendment Act of 1834 would bring in the workhouse system that we tend to associate with Victorian poverty (although Birmingham was a slightly different case), but prior to that the precarious lives of so many could often be dependent on the provision of cheap soup. This notion of a nutritious and cheap ration of food had come from the continent at the beginning of the century, the brain child of Count Rumford, an advisor to the Bavarian monarchy and possibly the founder of soup kitchens. The suggestion presented by the newspaper is for the setting up of a soup shop in Birmingham.

The Inspector article begins by first decrying the national obsession with eating meat and suggests that it will therefore be fortunate, both as respect to the finances and the health of the community, if the expedients of a hard time should render a simpler diet habitual and that the consumption of meat should be reduced to its proper and moderate degree. The article then moves on to extol the virtues of soup, as first presented by Rumford:

The action of water in the preparation of food is perhaps not sufficiently known, or not considered. It was early observed by Count Rumford that the quantity of solid food necessary to form soup, amply nutritious, was so very small as to excite astonishment, how a person could possibly exist upon it…this is effected by the long-continued application of gentle heat to a mixture of water and vegetable matter; as barley-meal, oatmeal or potatoes. 

The economy of this method of food preparation was further ‘scientifically’ explained in such a way that it made soup sound like some new-fangled invention of the Industrial Revolution, rather than a simple method of cooking that has been around, probably, forever!

The fairinaceous and gelatinous particles thus become completely suspended and diffused through the water, and when received into the stomach, draw it, as it were, with themselves, into a course of decomposition and consequent digestion. 

The best and most economical recipe to ensure maximum nutrition at minimum cost should be,

One pound of solid matter, in the form of grain or meal, would probably be  amply sufficient to thicken a gallon of water; or twenty ounces if a large proportion of potatoes are to be used. These proportions should be considered…as the basis of this soup, which ought to be kept several hours in a state of simmering, not boiling; the principal intention of other additions is to give flavour. The use of potatoes is strongly recommended as highly nutritious and greatly reducing the expense, they should be reduced in boiling to an uniform pulp. 

The addition of other vegetables to this most basic of soup were presented only as flavourings and these should be of the finest and strongest flavour, such as celery, onions, turnip and carrot &c., all cut into small and thin slices; herbs &c….and the whole, if well seasoned with salt and pepper will absolutely not require the addition of meat, either in point of nutriment, flavour or solidity. 

The writer of the article concludes by stating that the foregoing hints have not been thrown out at random: they have been verified by actual experiment and once more congratulates the name of Rumford a name which, after all the ridicule which is affected to be cast upon it, stands foremost in the list of those who have soberly and effectually exerted themselves to remedy the evils which the madness and folly of the rich and the great, in all countries, bring down upon the poor and lowly.

A humble petition

A couple of weeks ago I signed an on-line petition that was calling for a change in a certain government policy. On reaching 100,000 signatures the petition was then presented for debate in Parliament and the response made public. All British citizens can take part in petitioning the government on any subject that they feel strongly about, it is a tradition that goes back hundreds of years and was particularly popular in the early part of the 19th century, the so called ‘Age of Reform’. Petitions from Birmingham during this time included one in 1812 demanding an end to trade embargos  (as a result of Orders in Council) that were having a negative impact on the town’s trade with America and another around the same time calling for the repeal of the East India Company’s charter. Other large manufacturing and port towns, such as Manchester, Liverpool and Bristol, also petitioned and both policies were repealed. Petitioning could be a powerful political tool, especially when combined with outbreaks of popular unrest.

Petitions then were, of course, hand written and signed. On a recent archive trip I was lucky enough to see an example of an original petition.

1828 Birmingham petition (Donna Taylor)

1828 Birmingham petition (Donna Taylor)

As you can see it was quite a chunky scroll, but with the exception of a few holes along the paper between the signatures, is in great condition. It was fascinating to see. This particular petition can be dated to 1828, because the first signature is that of ‘Charles Shaw, High Bailiff’. Bailiffs were elected annually and Aris’s Birmingham Gazette published their names around the same date each year, so it was pretty easy to trace.

1828 Birmingham petition (Donna Taylor)

There’s something rather special about seeing a person’s signature; I always feel it’s as close as I can get to a handshake with the past. Although it was not possible to unroll the whole scroll, it was possible to see that it comprised several petitions attached together. This makes sense, because it was likely that petitions were left in multiple locations to attract plenty of signatures.  In parts it looked as though sheets were glued together, but there was also evidence of stitching:

1828 Birmingham petition (Donna Taylor)

This is a great resource. But why is it in Birmingham, and not tucked away in a Parliamentary archive? Well, in 1828 there was an attempt in the House of Commons to have the Nottinghamshire constituency of East Retford disfranchised (that is, they would lose their MP) following decades of alleged electoral corruption. There was a suggestion that one of the big industrial towns that did not have an MP could instead be given the East Retford seat; the two towns primarily tipped for the transfer were Manchester and Birmingham – and Birmingham set about gathering signatures requesting that it be given the Parliamentary seat. In the end, East Retford retained its MP for another few decades, while Birmingham and Manchester would have to wait until 1832 to realise their ambition of representation. As a result, the petition was never delivered to the House.

The Birmingham petition can be found at Birmingham Archives, Heritage and Photography, Library of Birmingham – reference MS 3097 (1 of 2) 

PLEASE SUPPORT OUR LOCAL ARCHIVES, CURRENTLY SUBJECTED TO SEVERE CUT BACKS AND ALWAYS UNDER THREAT. YOU CAN FIND UPDATES BY FOLLOWING THE FRIENDS OF THE LIBRARY OF BIRMINGHAM ON TWITTER AND FACEBOOK (@FoLoB_) – thanks.

If you are interested in current Parliamentary petitions, the official website is here: https://petition.parliament.uk/

Diseases prevalent in Birmingham’s back-to-back courts, 1849: the Rawlinson Report

by Hayman Seleg Mendelssohn, albumen cabinet card, 1882-1887, National Portrait Gallery

In 1849, Robert Rawlinson visited Birmingham to assess the public health of the town. Rawlinson was one of the first inspectors employed by the government under the Public Health Act of the same year.  Whilst in Birmingham, Rawlinson received reports from local doctors and listened to complaints about substandard housing conditions and the limitations of the fresh water supply. The resultant report would ultimately lead to the amalgamation of Birmingham’s many administrative bodies under a single authority of the town council.

The report, available to view at the Local Studies Centre, Library of Birmingham, is comprehensive and includes details of the town’s geographic features and a brief history before revealing some of the serious public health issues facing the local community. Public health had not really been a great national issue before the 1842 publication of Edwin Chadwick’s ‘The Sanitary Condition of the Labouring Population in Great Britain’. Below is an extract from the Report showing the information that local doctors provided in response to a request from Rawlinson. For the purpose of the investigation, the town was divided into districts and local doctors appointed to report on each.

Birmingham was, perhaps rightly, proud of its successful deflection of ‘King Cholera’ during the devastating outbreaks in the 1830s. However, as the report below reveals, this shouldn’t be taken to mean that Birmingham was any healthier than other industrial centres at that time. Many of the outbreaks were attributed to poor sanitation and lack of fresh water. The majority of Birmingham’s houses had been built in the early part of the nineteenth century, generally without any sort of planning control. As a result, they quickly deteriorated and became unfit for purpose.

n.b. ‘varicella’ is chicken pox

District A: – Dr. Hinds

• In August 1848, there were 5 or 6 cases of typhus in Court No. 3, Sheepcote Street, resulting in several deaths.
• Court No. 1, Cottage Lane – Smallpox and Varicella
• Steward St the whole of Spring Hill; Eyre St; Edmund St – especially courts 9 & 4,Nelson St.,  Union Court in Mill St., Brasshouse Passage, Baskerville Place,  Lower Camden St., Barrack yard and others in its vicinity – reports of typhus and scarlet fever, rubeola (sic.) and dysentery

District C: – Mr. Clarkson

• Henrietta St., Water St., Fleet St. and Little Charles St. – typhus, scarletina (sic) diarrhoea

Mr Clarkson further reported that, ‘when these diseases again prevail, I have no doubt they will fall upon these spots severely unless in the mean time they are much improved in their sanitary condition’

District D:- Mr. Roden

• Hospital St; Upper Hospital St; Upper Tower St; Farm St; George St; Hampton St; Hockley St; Harford St; Howard St; and William St. North – incidents of fever, measles, erysipelas (a sort of cellulitis caused by streptococcus), smallpox and diarrhoea

District E:- Mr. Jones

Bagot Street: the dwelling house of 4 court, 5 house occupied by Ingrams is in filthy and unwholesome condition, having been the nucleus of typhus fever since the beginning of August, 1848, and requires first the removal of its inmates; second the fumigation of the house by chlorine (this was Mr. Jones full report)

District F – Mr Field

Instances during the quarter ending December 30th, 1848:

• Influenza  – Princess St., Stainforth St., Snow Hill, Loveday St., Slaney St., Lench St., Weaman St., Price St., Brickiln St., and  Steelhouse Lane
• Diarrhoea – Steelhouse Lane almshouses, Lancaster St., Staniforth St., Slaney St., Snow Hill, Weaman St., Loveday St., Princess St., Price St., Whittall St., Shadwell St.,  and Balloon (sic) St.
• Measles – Stainforth St., Cotterills
• Scarlet Fever – Lench St., Lancaster St.
• Dysentery – Stainforth St.

District H – Mr Hill

No epidemics reported,  but ‘scattered cases’ of typhus, measles, scarlet fever and hooping-cough (sic) at Old Inkley’s, New Inkley’s, Myrtle Row, Green’s Village, Tonk St. and Hill St.

District I – Mr Badger

• Cheapside – diarrhoea, scarlet fever and measles all ‘very prevalent’
• Essex St. – fever
• Barford St. – diarrhoea and fever
• Nelson St. south – Scarlet fever
• Edgbaston St. – fever, measles and diarrhoea ‘prevalent’ – ‘Court 15 is scarcely ever free from fever’

District K – Mr Sproston

‘There has been no disease in my district since the 1st November last, of either an epidemic or endemic nature’ – Mr Sproston suggests this was surprising given ‘locality and class of people living in it, consisting as it does of the low Irish, whose habits generally are of the most filthy kind’. He goes on to reveal that the district had ‘a very bad and insufficient supply of water’ with no water at all available in some parts and the sewerage and drainage ‘defective’. He expresses that an inspection of this part of town would be beneficial.

The remarks on the local Irish community appear shocking to us today, but I have come across similar attitudes in other literature of the time, including Friedrich Engels Condition of the Working Class in England, written in 1844.

District L – Mr Simons

Mr. Simons called attention to state of drainage in several courts on Duke Street and Sheep Street ‘in consequence of their being below the level of the streets in which there is no main sewer’. Suggests that many of the courts were covered with pools of water and ‘stagnated filth’ which in some parts was a foot deep ‘this all runs into a cistern from which it is pumped into a well as occasion may require’.

Simons also states that, when visiting patients in Masshouse Lane, bricks had to be placed down to form an elevated footpath above the pools of water – again because of no drainage. He stated ‘the state of things unless removed may tend to produce fever and other contagious diseases’.

Twelfth Night: Confectionery and Customs

Mary Clitheroe’s Twelfth Night party by “Phiz”

In recent times Twelfth Night has become the traditional time for taking down the Christmas tree, although there is now some dispute over whether the occasion should fall on the 5th or the 6th of January. A celebration dating back to the Middle Ages, during the nineteenth century it was one of the most popular of the Christmas holiday celebrations.

A detailed explanation of the origins and customs of the occasion was presented in a two column article in Birmingham’s Daily Post, January 6th, 1871, opening with a vivid description of an expected street scene:

This evening, if it happens to be tolerably fine, there will be a crowd at every confectioner’s window, admiring those indigestible dainties – the Twelfth Cakes; resplendent in all the colours of the rainbow, adorned with a multiplicity of grotesque ornaments and figures reposing amidst flowers, fruits and bonbons, illuminated by the most brilliant gas-light and artfully reflected in the most polished of mirrors. Yet of the crowd who linger and admire, not one in a thousand has any idea the origin of this Pantomime of Confectionery

The article goes on to explain how the feast day originated from the Roman celebration of Saturnalia when it was customary to make special merriment and feasting and to draw lots to see which of the company should be King for the night…the Saturnalia ceased but the Festival remained, beginning with the Nativity, or Christmas day and ending with the Epiphany, or Twelfth Day. 

In the Christian tradition, Epiphany represents the arrival of the three wise kings to the Nativity scene, and celebrations of the event can be traced back to Medieval times:

In the ‘Middle-Ages’, Twelfth Night was celebrated with special Church observances. There was a sort of Miracle Play performed in honour of the Three Kings. These personages, properly habited, used to make their appearance in church, preceded by a star…on being received by the clergy, the Three Kings were taken to the altar and there deposited gifts in commemoration of the gold, frankincense and myrrh. These gifts were divided among the priests. The gifts over, the Three Kings went to sleep, then came a boy, clothed in an alb (representing an angel) who made this announcement “All things which the prophets said are fulfilled”. Then there was chanting and everyone went away to feast and make merry and choose King and Queen out of the Twelfth Cake. 

There is further description of secular celebrations: The Mummers continued their antics on Twelfth Night, and Saint George, the Dragon and Old Father Christmas, the Grand Turk and Beelzebub played their pranks in old manor houses and country towns…in all private houses, Twelfth Night was celebrated with special feasting, drinking from the wassail bowl, games of all kinds, fiddling and dancing. 

The tradition of the Twelfth Cake is also included made of flour, honey, ginger and pepper…the maker thrusts in at random a small coin as she is kneading it. When it is baked it is divided into as many portions as there are persons present in the family. It is distributed and each has his share. Portions are also assigned to Christ, the Virgin and the three magi, which are given away in alms. Whoever finds the piece of coin is sainted by all as King, and being placed on a seat or a throne is thrice lifted aloft with joyful acclamations. The paper notes that this custom was played out on the continent, as well as in England, but that while continental celebrations chose only a king, in England it was customary ‘always’ to choose a king and a queen a bean and a pea were put into the cake and whoever found the bean in his slice was King and whoever found the pea was Queen…generally it was contrived that the master and mistress of the house became King and Queen, but occasionally mirth was provoked by an accidental change of parts. 

Three local customs from the Midlands, apparently peculiar to their community, are listed:

Pagot’s Bromley (Bagot’s Bromley) a man came along the village with a mock horse fastened to him with which he danced, at the same time making a snapping noise with a bow and arrow. He was attended by half a dozen villagers wearing mock deer’s heads and displaying the arms of the chief landlords of the place. The party danced “The Hays” and other country dances, and were rewarded with a pot of ale and a general contribution from the village.

The following tradition is still carried on in Herefordshire:

In Herefordshire the apple trees used to be solemnly wassailed on Twelfth Night eve – that is sprinkled with ale from the wassail bowl to make them bear well in the next season. The same custom existed (perhaps in some places still does) in all the cider counties.

And finally another custom from Herefordshire, as described in this same item from the Post:

At the approach of evening on the vigil of Twelfth Day the farmers and their friends and servants meet together and at about six o’clock walk out to a field where wheat is growing. In the highest part of the ground, twelve small fires and one large one are lighted up. The attendants, headed by the master of the family, pledge the company in old cyder, which circulates freely on these occasions.  A circle is formed round the large fire, when a general shout and halloing takes place, which you hear answered from all the adjunct villages and fields. Sometimes fifty or sixty of these fires may be seen at once. This being finished, the company return home where the good housewife and her maids are preparing a good supper. A large cake is always provided, with a hole in the middle. After supper, the company all attend the bailiff (or head of the oxen) where the following particulars are observed. The master, at the head of his friends, fills the cup, generally of strong ale, and stands opposite the first or finest of the oxen. He then pledges him in a toast. The company follows his example with all the other oxen, addressing each by name. This being finished, the large cake is produced and with much ceremony put on the horns of the first ox, through the hole above mentioned. The ox is then tickled to make him shake his head. If he throws the cake behind, then it is the mistresses perquisite, if it is thrown before in what is called the ‘bocay’ then it is the bailiff himself claims the prize. The company then return to the house, the doors of which they find locked, nor will they be opened till some joyous songs are sung. On their admittance a scene of jollity ensues and which lasts the greatest part of the night.

Comfort and Joy: an institutional Christmas

Life in early Victorian Birmingham was hard for the majority of the community, but as the post on the visit of Charles Dickens showed, there was a great deal of hope that life for the working classes was beginning to improve. There were some for whom life could be even harder. The extracts included from this 1854 article reveal that there was at least some attempt to bring ‘comfort and joy’ to the whole community. There is a sense of poignancy, especially I think in the brief description of the dinners he at the workhouse, as it is clear that the children ate separately to the adults.  No big Victorian family Christmas for the poor. This is in sharp contrast to the visitors ‘and their families’ who attended the General Institution for the Blind.

The various Guardians appear to have been well dined over Christmas, as some of them appear at both the asylum and the workhouse dinners!

From Aris’s Birmingham Gazette January 2nd, 1854

The asylum:

On Monday evening the inmates of the Borough lunatic asylum at Winson Green were entertained at their usual Christmas treat, under the direction of the Surgeon Superintendent, Mr. Green. The patients indulged in dancing and various games, and the proceedings were considerably enlivened by the musical performances of a band, some of whom were patients. During the evening fruit was supplied to the guests, and buns and coffee having been served the National Anthem was sung and the company separated. Amongst the visitors present were Alderman Cutler, Councillor Blews, Councillor Brookes, the Rev. T. C. Onion, Chaplain to the asylum, Mr. James Corder, Clerk to the Guardians, and others.

The Workhouse:

On Monday last the inmates were regaled with an abundance of roast beef, plum pudding and ale. The dining hall of the adults was tastefully decorated with evergreens and several emblems of loyalty. At twelve 0’clock the adults sat down to an excellent dinner, which was well served under the superintendence of Mr. Ogden, the Master and Mrs. Cooper, the Matron. A band which was provided for the occasion by the liberality of some of the Guardians, was stationed in the hall, and played a variety of lively airs, which contributed to the enjoyment of the day. In the children’s dining-hall, the boys and girls were also most plentifully regaled, and after an excellent dinner, treated with oranges, nuts &c. In the evening various parties were formed in the house, consisting of attendants and servants and the utmost harmony and good humour prevailed throughout the entire establishment. A number of Guardians were in attendance, among whom were Messrs. T. Aston, Benton, Biddle, Bowker, Blews, Brookes, Corbett, Guest, Hill, Kenton, Lingard, Mason, Maher, Parish, Poultney, Sawker, Simkiss and Street. The Rev. T. C. Onion, the Chaplain; Mr. Corder, the Clerk to the Board; Alderman Cutler, with several visitors, and some strangers, including Mr. Liversege, from Nottingham, were also present.

Music was an important feature of Birmingham’s charities. The General Hospital benefitted greatly from the Town Hall, which had been built with a key priority of having a concert hall which could be used to raise money for the hospital. 

The General Institution for the Blind:

The pupils from the General Institution for the Blind, forty-six in number, were regaled with the usual Christmas dinner on Tuesday last; and in the evening a selection of music was given, in which twenty-three of the pupils performed upon the organ and piano-forte accompanied by the choir. The Superintendents had the pleasure of being able to report to the meeting, which consisted chiefly of the friends of the pupils, together with the Committee and their families, that three of the children had received only five months’ instruction and that nine had been taught exclusively by their fellow blind pupils.  The visitors appeared to be much gratified by the performance, especially the parents, many of whom expressed in the most grateful terms their sense of obligation to the friends of the charity.  An examination of the pupils was then conducted by the Chaplain, the Rev. George Lea, who addressed them, as well as their parents and friends, in his usual appropriate and affectionate manner, and the evening was concluded with prayer. 

The front entrance of the Birmingham Asylum, which came to be known as All Saints. Opened in 1848, a short distance from the prison, All Saints eventually closed in 2000.

100 bags of beans – more horses of Holliday Wharf

 

In the previous post, I wrote about the horses that worked for Birmingham’s cleansing department, based at Holliday Wharf. This site had been established by the Commissioners of the Birmingham Street Act, towards the beginning of the century. The wharf also housed the road maintaining department; it was this department that watered the roads, rather than the cleansing department, as I previously thought. And the road maintaining department had its own horses, occupying two stables at Holliday Wharf.

These horses are named in the chattel list of the final arrangements committee, as the Street Commisssioners prepared to hand over the town’s assets to the corporation. Again, they have a high monetary value and, confusingly, a couple have the same names as the horses belonging to the cleansing department:

Stable no. 1: Merriman, Brown (£30), Sharper (£20), Merriman, Black (£15) and Madam (£30)

Stable no. 2: Short (£30) Boxer (£30), Dick (£10), Blossom (£15) and Jack (£15)

Again, I don’t know enough about horses to understand the significance of these valuations, but would love to find out if anyone knows.

In addition to the horses, and in contrast to the cleansing department chattel listing, the road maintaining department also contains a list of what looks like horse feed. These were kept in the store room, as listed below:

Hay (£7,10s worth), straw (£5), 100 bags of beans (£62,10s), 17 quarters of oats (£19,10s), a weighing machine (£2,10s), measures (£2), 50 bags (no specification what for, £5), a chaff, bean and kibbling machine (£100!!) and 20 pairs of driving reins (£4)

There are many more sundries, not quite horse related, included in the listing – all the shovels, buckets, brushes, wheelbarrows and carts that might be expected, along with 24 water carts (thanks to Justine Pick for mentioning these and leading me to have another browse through the document!) These were all kept in the yard

Also listed, not horse connected, but I think of interest, is the material that must have been used in maintaining the roads, so I shall list that here and then leave off. I like to see these materials, as it gives an inkling of an idea of how the highways and byways might have looked:

Timber
Slates
2000 cube yards of rag stone (Rowley ragstone was the most usual, a basalt stone often used as Victorian cobbles)
1100 square yards of flagging (possibly sandstone)
Urinal (valued at £8, and a relatively new feature of Birmingham’s street furniture)
16 stone posts
2 iron posts
445 yards of lineal kirb (sic.)

The Horses at Holliday Wharf

Holliday Wharf is now the site of smart, modern flats. In the 19th century it had a very different function, serving for many years as the town’s cleansing department. In the first half of the century, the Street Commissioners (predecessors to the corporation) had two sites; in addition to the main premises at Holliday Street, there was another in Shadwell Street. The corporation moved to dispense with the Holliday Street site when the lease came up for renewal in 1858.

The site at Holliday Wharf was substantial. There were offices, storage for the mechanical cleansing machines and stables. A public works’ committee report of 1852 shows that the town employed 84 street cleansers, with an average total weekly wage of a little under £80 (around £6000 in today’s money). There was also a porter at the wharf, an inspector of the cleansing machines and someone to attend to the horses.

There is no information in the committee reports on what the horses were used for, but it is likely that they did heavy work, pulling carts, sweeping machines and the devices used for watering the streets. This latter was an important job, preventing drying out and fracturing of the road surfaces.

In 1851, the Commissioners of the Birmingham Street Act was dissolved, and their responsibilities and assets amalgamated with the corporation. As part of this change, a ‘Final Arrangements’ report was presented, listing the assets (and debts!) to be transferred. Amongst those assets, were the contents of Holliday Street, including the horses, who are named. And so, rather brilliantly, we know that the horses helping keep Birmingham’s streets clean and in condition during the first part of the 19th century, were the following:

In stable no. 4, there was Lion, Billy and Plumper – these horses were each valued at £45 (a considerable sum)

The residents of stable no. 5 were Dragon and Blackbird (£20 each), Short (£15, maybe a descriptive name), along with Boxer and Sorrel (£30 each)

Stable no. 6 was home to Punch and Bob (£40 each), Poppit (£30), Captain (£40) and Miller (£20)

Finally, in stable no. 7, a further 6 horses, making 19 in total for the cleansing department: Tinker, Peacock, Badger, Bonny and Turpin (£40 each) and Boxer (£30). Total value of the cleansing horses – £650!!

There were also 5 horses listed as belonging to the Ash Hole (careful how you say that!) department. These are not named and have a much lower, or more realistic, value, at a total of £63. The Ash Hole department also owned a boat, valued at £25.

Would be interested to know why such a high value was placed on those horses.

For this post, I used notes taken from the minutes of the Street Commissioners before lockdown. These original minute books are held by Birmingham Museum Archive, Heritage and Photography, series MS 2818. Obviously it is not possible to access these at the current time, but please show support for the archives where you can – they have a wonderful WP site: https://theironroom.wordpress.com/

I believe that the Final Arrangements document is also available in the archives, but I have my own copy which I used here. It’s a great document, and happy to answer any queries.

 

Supplying the Workhouse: Advert for Tenders 1849

Birmingham Workhouse ©Birmingham Museums Trust

In an advert appearing in Aris’s Birmingham Gazette dated September 10th, 1849, Birmingham’s Board of Guardians of the Poor offered several tenders to supply the parish of Birmingham workhouse and other places with provisions for their day to day running.

The advert opens with instructions on the process of application:
Persons wishing to CONTRACT for the supply of one or any of the under-mentioned  ARTICLES from the 22nd day of September inst. to the 22nd day of December next, are requested to send sealed TENDERS and SAMPLES addressed to ‘The Chairman of the Guardians’ marked “Tender for…..” by MONDAY NEXT the 17th day of September, not later than five o’clock in the afternoon.

The inclusion of samples to test for quality suggests that the Guardians were not only interested in the cheapest produce, but in value for money. The list includes all the staples which might be expected, but it certainly wasn’t all gruel in the nineteenth-century workhouse. Beef, mutton, ‘good Dutch cheese’,  rice and potatoes are on the list, along with tea, coffee, sugar, beer, snuff and tobacco. Other items include shoe leather, varying types of material, socks, blankets and coal.

I have copied the below from a copy of the newspaper on the British Newspaper Archives site. This is a subscription service offering access to an archive of newspapers, local and national, spanning around three centuries. If you are a member of Birmingham Libraries, and have a card number, you can access a free newspaper archive run by the British Library. It’s a very simple matter to log on, and if you don’t currently have a library card, you can order a temporary one to make use of the online resources. If you have any problems accessing, I recommend finding the Library of Birmingham on Twitter or Facebook, and they’ll help you out.

Right – here’s that list!

Those large loaves of bread were also supplied in large quantities, and we might guess that it was an important staple. Delivery of between 600 and 1500 loaves was to be made by 7am every Wednesday morning at the workhouse, asylum and the various relief stations around the town. Each loaf was to be stamped with the name of the supplier. Coal supply was also up for tender at each of these sites, with the workhouse requiring a whopping 260 tons, to be delivered twice; 90 tons for the asylum and a 10 tons for each of the relief stations. The coal had to be weighed at the Town Machine, or alternatively the Canal Company machine prior to delivery. Four relief stations are listed, these at Fleet Street, Cecil Street, Little Hill Street and Grosvenor Street. As the article is dated 1849, the workhouse was likely the old workhouse and infirmary on Lichfield Street, near the site of where the Children’s Hospital is today. A new workhouse opened near Winson Green in 1852, the site of what is now City Hospital on the Dudley Road.

The ad also included a tender for fabric, including linen and calico along with some names which may sound less familiar today. Welsh and Lancashire flannels and Hurden linen which I have found described as a coarse, unbleached linen. Grey grogram was for the workhouse uniforms; a coarse silk which was often mixed with wool. Striped Linsey was also mentioned, a cheap, hardwearing fabric used among the working classes, often as petticoats Fustian, a hard wearing rough cotton for men’s and boy’s jackets was also associated with the labouring classes in the nineteenth century. The Fustian jacket had been adopted as a sort of motif of radical politics, famously by the renowned Chartist Feargus O’Connor. Worsted hose (socks/stockings) for men, women and children would be purchased by the dozen.

In his The Workhouse Cookbook, Peter Higginbotham highlighted that local traders would often view workhouse tenders as an “easy target for swindling”, with the samples supplied in the tendering process being of better quality than those provided once the tender was won. (Peter Higginbotham, The Workhouse Cookbook, published by The History Press, 2008).