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Royal Orthopaedic Hospital
Formed by the
merger of Orthopaedic Hospital founded 1817 as General Institute for the Relief
of Bodily Deformity and Crippled Childrens Union founded 1896. In-patients
treated at The Woodlands, Northfield from 1909, following the donation of the
Grand House by George Cadbury.
The Royal Orthopaedic and Spinal Hospital, Newhall Street, was founded in
1817, for the cure of hernia, club feet, spinal disease, contractions and
distortions of the limbs, and all bodily deformities. The honorary Surgeons
attend at the Institution daily and give gratuitous advice to the deformed poor
two days a week each, in rotation. All cases are admitted without the necessity
of procuring letters of recommendation; but in those instances where the patient
requires supports or instruments of any kind, they must obtain tickets signed by
the subscriber by whom they originally were recommended. The foundation stone of
the new wing was laid by the Marquess of Hertford 28 July 1888, and the building
opened in May 1889.
Source: Kelly's Directory 1900
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The Forelands was purchased and opened in 1921 as a convalescent Home for Children. The merger
officially took place in 1925 and Broad Street Hospital was purchased, to be
used as the Outpatient Department. Services were reorganized and both Broad
Street and Forelands were closed early 1990's, all services relocating to The
Woodlands. A further battle lay ahead when closure and relocation to Selly Oak
Hospital along with Birmingham Accident Hospital threatened the Hospital.
However, the Staff and League of Friends made great strides and the Hospital
achieved Trust Status on its own merits.
George Cadbury
It was largely with a view to the children that Mr. and Mrs Cadbury built a
house in Bournville village which they called "The Beeches", and which they
converted into a home of rest. During the winter the home was used for
invalid or convalescent officers of the Salvation Army. For the work of this
organisation, as already indicated George Cadbury had a high regard, and he
forwarded it by financial help in many directions.He had a special sympathy
with the women who worked for the Army as officers. "I found", he said, "how
many of these saintly women had given up comfortable situations to devote
themselves to the work, living on a mere pittance, some of them not touching
meat more than once a week, and with their constitutions seriously injured
by their hard work in the slums of the cities. It is for such of these that
have fallen ill and need fresh air and good food that Mrs Cadbury and I have
founded 'The Beeches'" Here under the care of Mr and Mrs Cole, provision was
made for quiet and rest, pleasant grounds to wander in, hammocks slung in
the sun and a shelter facing south; a carefully selected library, and
recreations for body and mind; occasional visits to the Manor Farm and the
unbroken peacefulness of the country, usually from the great cities.
In the summer, however, the home was reserved for another purpose. Then it
was that Father and Mother Cole, entertained a succession of young visitors
from Birmingham, children of the poorest, who came in batches to enjoy a
miraculous fortnights holiday, with plenty to eat, fields to play in all
day, trees to climb, wonderful beds to sleep in o'nights, and a chorus of
birds to wake them in the morning. No wonder that when the fatal day for
departure came they were in tears or revolt. Then it was that some of them
were unaccountablly missing, to be disconvered later by Father and Mother
Cole - hitherto their trusted friends - hiding behind doors, in cupboards
and under beds. It was characteristic of George Cadbury that he did not miss
so excellent an opportunity of acquiring useful data as to the effects of
wholesome food and fresh air. The scientist always lurked behind the
philanthropist. The children were weighed on arrival and when they left, and
it was found that the average increase of weight in the fortnight was 2 ¾
lb.
While 'The Beeches' gave joy to the healthy, another childrens home which
George Cadbury provided was designed for a sadder purpose. The case of the
crippled child of the poor made a peculiarly strong appeal to his
sympathies. "The crippled in body" he said to me, "has much more to endure
than the feeble in mind. He is acutely susceptible to his defects, and as he
grows up he feels increasingly his handicap in the race, and the sense of
the burden he is to others." The appeal of the cripple was intensified by
the fact that so frequently he found, as old Martin in Meredith's poem
found, that the child was the victim of cruel circumstances or ignorant
chance. In many cases he traced the disease to the wretched surroundings in
which the child lived or to the carelessness of drunken parents. His
sympathy with these little unfortunates gave him a keen interest in the work
of the Birmingham Cripples Union, and led finally to a development of his
benefactions which occupied much of his thought in his later years. Not far
from the Manor House, and situated on the other side of Bristol Road, in the
parish of Northfield, was a spacious residence known as the Woodlands. It
was a substantially built house, which was said to have cost £15,000 to
erect, and was surrounded by six acres of gardens, parklands and woodland.
The opportunity of purchasing this estate fell to George Cadbury at a time
when he was feeling the need of some better means of dealing with the
cripples of Birmingham than existed, and he bought the place, spent some
thousands of pounds in converting it into an open air hospital, and vested
the control in the hands of the Birmingham Cripples Union. As the demands on
the hospital increased, he added to the accommodation, and no work in which
he engaged gave him more satisfaction. Every Sunday evening it was his
practice to visit his little guests before their bed time. On these
occasions he left the Manor House with a large box of chocolate under his
arm. His entrance at the Woodlands was announced by the loud shouts of the
children who were well enough to be in the grounds on crutches, and who
gathered round him to give him an escort to the door - a piteous escort of
white faces and maimed limbs. Perhaps some of the warmth of the welcome was
due to the box under his arm, but still more of it was a tribute to the
gentleness and pity that always stirred in him and made his lips quiver in
the presence of childish suffering. When he mounted the stairs and entered
the open air corridors, where on the sides of the quadrangle the bed ridden
children were lying, there was another shout of welcome. Then he opened his
box and passed from bed to bed with his gift for each little child, Some of
the patients were little more than infants, others had been in the Home for
long periods even years. He knew all about each, what was wrong with them,
how it came about, what hope there was of recovery. His manner on these
rounds was quiet, almost timid. The mystery of suffering filled him with a
certain reverence for the afflicted, and he moved through the wards as if he
were in the presence of something sacred. Teh, the round being over, he
would leave the wards amid another volley of cheers, and go round the
building and grounds with the principal, discussing new schemes and perhaps
producing plans for further developments - for the removal of out buildings
that shut out the view from the wards, or for the extension of the
quadrangle in order to provide more open air accommodation.
Source: Life of George Cadbury by A. G. Gardiner
Cassell and Company, Ltd London 1923
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Page updated July 03, 2004
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Royal Orthopaedic Hospital