“Well, on Sunday, in the afternoon, I was sitting under one of these fine old trees, when I saw a cavalcade coming down the road, consisting of two ladies and a gentleman mounted on fine horses, and attended by two serving-men or grooms. When the party had arrived opposite the trees they stopped to examine them, when one of the ladies, struck with the wonderful size of the largest tree, expressed her admiration of it in very purely-pronounced French. I was so surprised that I became completely unnerved, was thrown off my guard, and, in the excitement of the moment, at hearing my native tongue so beautifully pronounced, sprang up, and rushing forward echoed in my own tongue the lady’s commendation of those grand old trees. I immediately found out my error, for, to my grief, the other young lady, whom I at once recognized, exclaimed—“Why this is the dumb man who was at the Hall the other day repairing the broken glass vases!” I at first denied that such was the case, but on the grooms coming up they both identified me. In fact, I knew both from having applied to the younger of the two, only a few days previously, to obtain for me employment in the house of his master, in any way my services could be made available. Thus I had through him obtained permission to repair the vases which had been much injured, and which I had most successfully put in order. The gentleman then asked me who I was, called me an impostor, and ordered his servants to seize me. This they did, when I at once admitted who I was and where I came from. The gentleman, although entreated most earnestly by the ladies to allow me to go away, would not consent to his servants releasing me, but ordered them to take me to Ormschurch (Ormskirk), about five miles distant, and have me put into the little prison there, which you call the cage. The ladies, withtears in their eyes, on seeing me thus seized by the servant-men, bade them not use me roughly, and one of them slipped a gold piece into my hand, bidding me in French to be of good cheer, for there was a talk of immediate peace, when I should be released. The gentleman rode away calling the young ladies to follow him without delay, bidding, at the same time, the servants to see that I was delivered over to the proper authorities at Ormschurch, so that I might be transmitted to Liverpool. As soon as the master and the ladies were out of sight, one of the men, who rode a stout horse, bade me get up behind him, which I did, and in about an hour we arrived in the town. It was full of people in their Sunday clothes. My appearance attracted some notice, I was pitied by some, execrated by others, and followed by crowds of boys. After waiting in the street some time I was taken before a stout, growling old gentleman, who ordered me to be locked up until the next morning, and to have meat and drink given me. I was then to be taken to Liverpool and delivered over to my gaoler again. In accordance with this order I was put into a small square room, on the floor of which was a quantity of straw. There were benches fixed in the walls. There was no fire-place and it was sadly uncomfortable. However, soon after I was locked up, I received a good supply of bread, meat, and beer; and, as the straw was tolerably fresh and clean, I did not fare so badly. I therefore lay down, covered myself up with the straw, and was soon fast asleep. I awoke once, but as everything was dark, I composed myself to sleep again and did not awake until morning. About six o’clock, as I knew by the church-clock hard by, I was aroused and told to be ready to start for Liverpool, whereupon I presented myself at the door, and found an open cart in waiting. Into this Iwas put, and, after a tiresome journey over some of the worst roads I had ever seen in my life, I arrived here last night, having enjoyed a three months’ holiday to my great satisfaction. Here, then, I am, waiting for death or peace to release me. I shall now finish your box if you are not too offended with me for neglecting your commission so long. I may tell you that Mademoiselle P--- was here this morning; tears were in her lovely eyes, and she seemed very glad to see me back, at which I somewhat wondered, especially if she esteemed me. I should have thought she would rather have relished my escaping altogether, than being again caught.”
Here ends Durand’s narrative.
My father appends a note to the effect that, through the intervention of Sir Edward Cunliffe, one of the members for Liverpool, Durand was released from the Tower, and went to reside with Mr. P--- in Dale-street. At the date of September following there is a memorandum to the effect that M. Durand and Miss P--- had become man and wife, so that, as my father quaintly adds, he supposes M. Durand had by that time found out why it was that old P---’s niece was so glad to see him again in prison.
The House of Correction stood at the back of the present Fever Hospital, the entrance being in Mount Pleasant. It was in Mr. Howard’s time a most miserably managed place. In 1790 it was a vile hole of iniquity. There was a whipping-post, for instance, in the yard, at which femaleswere weekly in the receipt of punishment. There was also “a cuckstool,” or ducking tub, where refractory prisoners were brought to their senses, and in which persons on their first admission into the gaol were ducked, if they refused or could not pay “a garnish.” This barbarous mode of punishment was common in Lancashire, and Cheshire. This prison was in the course of the following years much improved, as it was found by Mr. Neild very clean and orderly through the exertions of Mrs. Widdows, the keeper. Mrs. Widdow’s salary was £63 per annum. She had resolutely put down the cuckstool, and the whipping-post was becoming in a complete state of desuetude. A pump in the men’s yard was used as a place of occasional punishment for the stubborn and refractory. The prisoners were without any instruction, secular or religious. No chaplain attended. The allowance to each prisoner was a two-penny loaf, two pounds of potatoes, and salt daily. I believe, from all I could learn, that the Liverpool prisons, bad as they undoubtedly were at the close of the last and the beginning of the present century, were in better condition than others elsewhere.
One of my great-grandsons—a fine young fellow, has joined the Volunteers: and seems determined to work his way to a commission. I cannot help smiling when I see him in his uniform, for he reminds me of my young days, when I was a full private in Pudsey Dawson’s Liverpool Volunteers. I don’t think the volunteers of this day are so smart-looking as they were of olden time, when they wore blue coats, white breeches, gaiters and pig-tails, and used pipe-clay in abundance. When we were reviewed on Moss-Lake Fields we made a gallant show. There are fine young fellows now, but somehow the dark rifle-dress looks sombre and dull. Pudsey Dawson’s regiment consisted of eight companies of infantry, and mustered 1200 strong.
The mettle of the Liverpool men was shown in 1797, for some time about the end of February orthe beginning of March, in that year the whole town was put into the utmost fright, confusion and excitement. Two French frigates having landed in Cardigan Bay upwards of 2,000 men, it was reported in Liverpool (the report being traced to the master of a little Welsh coasting smack, who had come from Cardigan) that the French were marching on to Liverpool to burn, sack and plunder it, in revenge for the frigates which had been launched from her yards, and the immense losses sustained by the French mercantile marine through the privateers that hailed from this port. Owing to the low state of education then prevalent amongst the lower—and, indeed, in the middle classes—very few knew where Cardigan Bay was situated and I very much question whether, if a map of Europe, or of England and Wales, had been shown, nine people out of ten could, without much difficulty, have pointed out the place. But that the French had landed in Cardigan Bay was a known fact; and it was firmly believed that they were on their way to Liverpool, destroying every thing on their march. It was fully believed also that the privateers which swarmed out of our docks were the cause of this exhibition of ill-feeling towards us. It may be fairly stated that the enormous sums obtained by captures from the enemy by Liverpool privateers proved the main foundation-stone of the present greatprosperity of the port. I must say I was and am proud of my fellow townsmen’s spirit in ’97, and their show of pluck. No sooner was the report current that the French might be expected, than meetings took place at which his Worship the Mayor and the authorities generally, exhibited the most lively feeling towards supporting their fellow citizens in their intention of defending the port, their homes, and hearths, from the ruthless invaders. Men, money, and arms, came forth freely, and even boys—mere lads—urgently begged to be allowed to join the ranks of England’s bold defenders. But I must not conceal the fact that, in many cases, great cowardice was exhibited; as, when the report got current and the cry was rife that “the French were coming”—a cry that used to frighten naughty children to the verge of terror—numbers of the inhabitants became panic-struck, and actually packed up their furniture and valuables, and commenced a hasty exodus believing that they would be safer inland than by the seaboard. I saw cartload after cartload of goods, toiling up Prescot-road, Brownlow-hill, Mount Pleasant, Oldhall-street, and Preston-road, accompanied by weeping and terrified women and children, with the deepest anxiety exhibited on their countenances. The outskirt roads were like a fair. It will scarcely be believed that the price of cartage rose so high while the panic lasted,that fabulous sums were asked and obtained for transporting goods out of town. It at length became impossible to obtain a vehicle of any description. Hundreds of persons might be seen camping along the high roads at some distance from the town, anxiously awaiting the expected sound of cannon, the clash of arms, and the cry of contending men. I laugh at this now—but it was no laughing matter then. I recollect one day passing down Dale-street (then a narrow, inconvenient thoroughfare) to muster, when the Warrington and Manchester coach was about to start: numbers of frightened people besieged it and attempted to turn out and off those who had obtained possession of its lumbering inside and its miserable basket behind. In it I remember was seated a tremendous man, a town councillor, who fairly roared and cried like a child because the driver would not hasten his departure—the cry of “the French” annihilated him, and I had half a mind to let off my fire-lock and see what the result would have been. We were not much addicted to punctuality in those good old times; so that half an hour’s delay in the starting of a coach was held as nothing very important—the delay however seemed a year to the worthy magnate.
In the town the utmost excitement prevailed. At the Pier Heads, at the Fort, and in St.Nicholas’s churchyard (in the lower part of which there was a battery of six guns) might have been seen hundreds of stalwart fellows strengthening the fortifications; men in and out of uniform were marching through the town with drum and fife, some armed and some unarmed, coming and going from or to the rendezvous. The jolly sailors in the port mustered strong, and hearty were their demonstrations of enthusiasm. The shops were shut in many of the streets, while barricades were prepared at the street ends leading out of town, ready to be put up at any moment. Information was then so slow in its journeyings that falsehood became as strong-looking as truth, and it was easy to keep up a ferment for some time. Any atom of news became a mountain, until the fresh air of truth melted it away. We were therefore kept for days in a state of great excitement, and it certainly was some time before our warlike spirit subsided, and I must say that although we were somewhat laughed at for our extraordinary haste in coming to the conclusions we did, we had nothing to be ashamed of. We Liverpool men showed our pluck on that and many other occasions during the French war. I fear we were a little too much alive. We had too much pugnacity about us if anything. I recollect some poor simple looking French fishermen in that year put into Liverpool, in order to sell someoysters, when it was all once taken for granted that they were spies, sent to ascertain what we were doing. The mayor at a meeting held to consider the state of the harbour-defences, actually alluded to these poor fishermen as having in their possession the soundings and bearings of the harbour and river-entrance. I, for one, did not believe in their being spies, never having seen such a lot of harmless, stupid-looking men.
About this period the press-gang was very actively engaged in taking men for the navy. These gangs were made up of the very worst and most violent men in the service. They were by no means particular whom they took: to them a man was a man, and that was a sufficient reason for securing him. Cases of horrible cruelty and great hardship frequently occurred to individuals. Men were constantly torn from their homes, wives, and families, without a moment’s warning. They disappeared and were not heard of for years, or perhaps not at all. There was a man I knew who was seized in Pool-lane and hurried off to the tender, and was not heard of for four years, when he returned suddenly as his wife was about to be married for the third time since his departure. His arrival, with a good store of pay, and prize-money, was ample compensation for the loss of the new husband. Terrible rows took place between the press-gangs and the sailor-men—thelatter resisted to the very death any attempt to capture them. Blood was frequently shed, and loss of life was not uncommon. I recollect one murderous business with which I should have been mixed up if I had not made my escape by running into a house in Atherton-street. The men used to get across the water to Cheshire to hide until their ships were ready to sail. Near Egremont, on the shore, there used to be a little low public-house, known as “Mother Redcap’s,” from the fact of the owner always wearing a red hood or cap. This public-house is still standing. I have often been in it. At that time there were no inner walls to divide the room on the upper floor; but only a few screens put up of about seven or eight feet in height to form apartments. The roof was not latted or plastered. When I last saw it, some twenty-five years or more ago, the joists and timbers were all open to view. Mother Redcap was a great favourite with the sailor-men and had their entire confidence. She had hiding-places for any number, and the men used, on returning from their voyages, to deposit with her their pay and prize-money, until they wanted it. It was known, or at least, very commonly believed, that Mother Redcap had in her possession enormous (for her) sums of money, hidden or put away somewhere; but where that somewhere was, it was never known; for, at herdeath, very little property was found in her possession, although only a few days before she was taken ill and died, a rich prize was brought into Liverpool which yielded every sailor on board at least a thousand pounds. Mother Redcap’s was swarming with sailors belonging to the privateer, directly after the vessel had come into port, and it was known that the old lady had received a good deal of the prize-money on their account, yet none of it was ever discovered. It is a very remarkable circumstance that some few years ago, I think about ten or twelve, but I forget exactly when, a quantity of money in spade-ace guineas was found in a cavity by the shore, not far from Mother Redcap’s. It has always been a firm belief with me that some day a rich harvest will be in store for somebody—a case of treasure trove like that which some years ago was known as “the Cuerdly Find.” Mother Redcap’s was the resort of many a rough, hard-hunted fellow, and many a strange story has been told, and scene enacted, under the old roof.
The passage of the river then and at the beginning of the last century, until steam-boats were introduced, was a complete and serious voyage, which few undertook. The boatmen used to run their boats at one time on the beach opposite the end of Water-street and ply for hire. After the piers were ran out they hooked on at the stepscalling aloud, “Woodside, ahoy!” “Seacombe, ahoy!” and so on. It is a fact that thousands of Liverpool people at that time never were in Cheshire in their lives. We used to cross in open or half-decked boats, and sometimes we have been almost as many hours in crossing as we are now minutes. I recollect once wanting to go to Woodside on a stormy day, to see a man who lived in a small house between the Ferry-house and Wallasey Pool, and which, by the way, was the only house then standing thereabout. The tide was running very strong and the wind blowing hard, and, after nearly four hours hard work, we managed to land near the Rock Perch, thankful for our lives being spared. The Rock Perch was a pole with a sort of beacon or basket at the top of it, implanted in the rocks on which the lighthouse now stands. There were no houses then anywhere about what is now called New Brighton. The country was sandy and barren, and the only trees that existed grew close to the mouth of the river near the shore. There was scarcely a house between the Rock and Wallasey. Wirrall at that time and the middle of the last century was a desperate region. The inhabitants were nearly all wreckers or smugglers—they ostensibly carried on the trade and calling of fishermen, farm-labourers, and small farmers; but they were deeply saturated with the sin ofcovetousness, and many a fierce fire has been lighted on the Wirrall shore on stormy nights to lure the good ship on the Burbo or Hoyle Banks, there to beat, and strain, and throb, until her timbers parted, and her planks were floating in confusion on the stormy waves. Fine times, then, for the Cheshire men. On stormy days and nights, crowds might have been seen hurrying to the shore with carts, barrows, horses, asses, and oxen even, which were made to draw timber, bales, boxes, or anything that the raging waters might have cast up. Many a half-drowned sailor has had a knock on the sconce whilst trying to obtain a footing, that has sent him reeling back into the seething water, and many a house has been suddenly replenished with eatables and drinkables, and furniture and garniture, where previously bare walls and wretched accommodation only were visible. Then for smuggling—fine times the runners used to have in my young days. Scarcely a house in north Wirral that could not provide a guest with a good stiff glass of brandy or Hollands. The fishermen used to pretend to cast their nets to take the fish that then abounded on our coasts, but their fishing was of a far different sort. Formby, on this side, was a great place for smugglers and smuggling. I don’t think they wrecked as the Cheshire people did—these latter were very fiends. TheFormby fishermen were pretty honest and hardworking, and could always make a good living by their calling, so that the smuggling they did was nothing to be compared to their Cheshire compatriots. Strings upon strings of ponies have I seen coming along the road from Formby, laden with the finny spoil. The ponies had panniers slung over their backs, while sometimes the fisherman’s wife or child, if the horse could bear the double burden, was seated between them. These were called “Formby Trotters.” There were good fish caught in the river at that time; and I have heard say that herrings used to be taken in great profusion in our vicinity until the people fought at the Fish Stones by St. Nicholas’s Church wall, and blood was shed on the occasion. Many a fisherman steadfastly believed that the herrings then left the coast, and never returned in consequence. Wallasey was certainly, at one period, a great place for the curing of herrings, as can be proved by tradition as well as written history.
How well I recollect the Woodside Ferry when I was a boy. There was a long causeway at it, which ran into the river, formed of logs of wood and large boulder stones. Up this causeway you walked until you came to the overhanging shore which on the left hand was cut away to admit the causeway continuing up into the land. Therewas a small thicket of trees on the rock-top and a patch of garden which belonged to the ferryman. The only house visible was a farm-house which stood on the spot where the (Gough’s) Woodside Hotel may now be found. It had a garden enclosed by a hedge round it. The road to Bidston was a rough, rutted way, and the land was for the most part marshy between Woodside and Bidston, and the country looked very desolate, wild, and rugged. There were some pretty walks over the fields. There was one from Holt Hill to Oxton which I was very fond of. When the weather was fine I have had many and many a pleasant ramble over land where now houses show themselves in hundreds, nay, thousands, and where I have gone bird-nesting, and picking wild flowers, and mushrooming in their season. Lord! what changes I have seen and yet live to see; and I am very thankful for His mercies, which have been manifold and abundant. Wallasey Pool was a glorious piece of water once, and many a good fish I have taken out of it in the upper waters. The view of Birkenhead Priory was at one time very picturesque, before they built the church near it and the houses round it. I recollect when there was not a dwelling near it. It seemed to stand out well in the landscape, and certainly looked very pretty. It was a great shame that persons should have been permittedto carry away the stones for building or any other purpose. Had not a stop at last been put to this sort of work there would not in time have been a vestige of the old Abbey left. I recollect that there was a belief that a tunnel or subterraneous passage ran under the Mersey to Liverpool from the Priory, and that the entrance in 1818, when the church was built, had been found and a good way traversed. That passage was commonly spoken of as being in existence when I was a boy, and I often vowed I would try to find it. I have been up the tunnels or caves at the Red and White Noses many a time for great distances. I was once fishing for codling at the Perch, and with two young companions went up the caves for at least a mile, and could have gone further only we became frightened as our lights went out. It was thought these caves ran up to Chester Cathedral—but that was all stuff. I believe they were excavated by smugglers in part, and partly natural cavities of the earth. We knew little then of archaeology or geology, or any other “ology,” or I might be able to tell a good deal about these caves, for I saw them more than once, but I now forget what their size and height was. The floor, I recollect, was very uneven and strewed about with big stones, while the roof was arched over in the red sand-stone. The encroachment of the sea upon the Wirral shore has been very gradual,but regular, for many years. Within the memory of man the sea has made an inroad of nearly, if not quite, a mile from its former high-water mark. It was not until the erection of the Wallasey embankment that a stop was put to its ravages.
When I stand on the Pier-head, or take my daily walk on the Landing-Stage, I often pause and revolve in my mind the wonderful changes that have taken place in my time in this native town of mine. The other day, soon after the completion of the large Landing-Stage, I sat down and thought would any man then making use of the old baths, swimming inside the palisade, have not considered me, some eighty years ago, a mad fool to have predicted that before I died I should sit on a long floating stage two or three hundred yards from where we were swimming, that would be about a quarter of a mile in length, and that between it and the shore there would be most wonderful docks built, in which the ships of all nations would display their colours, and discharge their precious freights? As I sat there the other day, I thought of the one bath and the old houses by the river’s brink, and the Bath-street, along which came, in the summer-time, such strings of country “dowkers.” Beyond the baths there were no houses, all was open shore consisting of boulder stones, sand, and pools, such as may be seen on any sea-beach. There was hot as well as cold waterbathing in the baths, and a palisade ran out into the river, within which, at high-water, persons could swim, as in a plunge-bath. These baths were erected originally by Mr. Wright, who sold them to the corporation in 1774, by which body they were enlarged and greatly improved.
I recollect the bath-woman sold a sort of parliament cake, covered over with coloured sugar plums, and also some sweet things which in appearance resembled slugs. I never see these caraway-cakes and confections in the low shops in which they are now only sold, without thinking of the fat old bath-woman, who was a terror to me and others of my size and age. In 1816 these baths were discontinued and pulled down on the opening of George’s Pier-head baths. For a mile or more there was good bathing on the shore. The bathing machines were introduced about the end of the last century. The keeper of the “Wishing Gate-house” had several, and an old man who lived in a low hut near the mill (the remains of which still stand in the Waterloo-road) had two or three, and made money by them. At that time Bootle and Bootle Marshes were wild places, the roads execrable, and as for frogs (Bootle organs), the noise they made at night was wonderful. I recollect all the docks and streets from Bath-street downwards being sand-hills and salt-marshes. New Quay, of which Bath-street was acontinuation, was a sort of haven, into which small vessels, at certain times of the tide, ran to discharge their cargoes. On the tide receding the vessels were left high and dry upon the bank. Bathers used to be seen in any number on the shore. Decency was so frequently outraged that the authorities were at last compelled to take steps to redress the grievance. Not far from the baths was once a pleasant public walk of which I have often heard my father and mother speak. It was called the “Ladies Walk,” and extended from the site of the present Canal bridge by Old Hall-street, down to the river. It was a sort of a terraced gravel walk, having four rows of fine Lombardy poplars, and seats underneath. On fine evenings all the gay and fashionable world of Liverpool used to take the air and show off their hoops and high heels, and the gentlemen their brocaded silk coats, and three-cornered hats. The sword was often drawn by the gallants for some fancied affront, and occasionally a little blood was spilt, a matter of no moment in those days. Great was the grief when it was announced that the Leeds and Liverpool Canal Company had resolved on the destruction of the Ladies Walk.
There was another Ladies Walk in Duke-street, which extended from opposite the present York-street (then called Great George-street) to Berry-street. This was afterwards converted into aropery and succeeded by Parr-street. By the way, Duke-street, which occupies a portion of its site, has been famous for notable persons residing in it. In the third house from Colquitt-street Felicia Hemans was born, and she wrote some of her early poetry there. In the yard of the next house was once a tree, the last remnant of the Ladies Walk, which had two rows of trees down the sides and centre as in the other Ladies Walk previously mentioned. Mrs. Hemans apostrophizes this tree in one of her early poems. I recollect her very well, for she was intimate with my friends, the Nicholsons, who lived at the top of Richmond-row some forty years ago. Miss Browne received much advice and encouragement from Mr. Nicholson, and she was a most pleasing person. As Mrs. Hemans, her life was not happy. She resided at one time at Wavertree, in one of those cottages on the left hand side of the road just beyond Orford-street. The present “Loggerheads Tavern Revived” was Mr. Nicholson’s house. It was a public-house, called “The Loggerheads” before he converted it into a private dwelling. Where Soho-street now begins there was a dyer’s pond and yard; over it was a fine weeping-willow. In Duke-street also lodged at one time Thomas Campbell, the poet. He occupied part of the house now converted into a cabinet-maker’s shop by Messrs. Abbot. I visited Mr.Campbell several times when he was preparing “The Pleasures of Hope” for publication. He was a very handsome young man, with a fine face and bright eyes. Mr. John Howard lodged in Duke-street in the house directly facing Cornwallis-street, then newly built. At this time his “Report on Prisons” was passing through the Warrington Press; and he used to journey backwards and forwards to correct the proofs. The Rev. Gilbert Wakefield lodged in Duke-street, near the bottom, when he was first appointed curate to St. Paul’s church, then just erected. Dr. Henderson was the first incumbent of that church. Strangely enough, he seceded from the Dissenting body, while Mr. Wakefield joined it from the Church. Curious stories were told of Dr. Henderson’s ministration. Mr. Wakefield complained bitterly of the unkindness and inhospitality of the Liverpool clergy. He said he never was invited but by one brother clergyman to visit him during his stay in Liverpool.
In 1812, Bellingham, who shot Mr. Percival in the House of Commons, on the 11th of May, also lived in Duke-street, about the sixth house above Slater-street. His wife was a dressmaker and milliner. She was a very nice person, and after Bellingham’s execution the ladies of Liverpool raised a subscription for, and greatly patronized her. Bellingham was born at St. Neot’s, inHuntingdonshire, about 1771. His father was a land-surveyor and miniature-painter. Becoming insane, he was for some time confined in St. Luke’s Hospital, London; but being found incurable he was taken home, where he died soon afterwards. Bellingham, at the age of fourteen, was apprenticed to a jeweller in Whitechapel, named Love, from whom, after giving much trouble and annoyance, he ran away. In 1786 his mother’s sister’s husband, a Mr. Daw, yielding to the solicitations of his wife and Mrs. Bellingham, fitted the young man out for India, whither he sailed in the shipHartwell, in the Company’s service. This vessel was wrecked off one of the Cape de Verd Islands, and young Bellingham managed to get home again, penniless—having lost everything he possessed. Still influenced by his female relatives, Mr. Daw next took a shop in the tinware trade for Bellingham. This shop was in Oxford-street; but a fire occurring in it, Bellingham asserted that he had a large number of bank-notes destroyed. It was suspected he was cognizant of the origin of this fire; but nothing could be proved against him. In 1794 he became bankrupt; but his creditors were so disgusted with the statement of his affairs, that they would not grant him his certificate, and he never obtained it. We next find him obtaining employment in a merchant’s counting-house; and afterbeing with them some time he was sent out by them to Archangel. He remained there about three years, and then entered into partnership with a firm there. He then came to Hull where he entered into contracts for the delivery of £12,000 worth of timber, but only £4,000 worth was ever delivered upon the bills drawn, accepted, and paid. Upon this transaction Bellingham was arrested and imprisoned in Hull, where he remained seven months. On his release he went back to Archangel, where he had no sooner arrived than he was again thrown into prison. He appealed vehemently against this arrest to the English Consul, and also to the British Ambassador at St. Petersburg, Lord Levison Gower; but they both declined interfering, as they considered his arrest legal and justifiable. On his release he came to Liverpool, whence he went to Dublin, where he met his future wife, Miss Neville, a native of Newry. Having become possessed of a legacy of £400, left him by his aunt, Mrs. Daw, he returned to Liverpool, where he commenced business as an Insurance and General Broker. He now began memorializing the government on the subject of his claims upon Russia. General Gascoigne presented his petitions. All he got was a constant refusal of interference. There is no doubt that some of the wrongs he complained of were partly imaginary, and that he perhaps inheritedhis father’s malady. Finding his appeals of no avail he determined upon being revenged in some way or other upon somebody. On the 11th May, 1812, he posted himself, soon after five o’clock, near the door of the lobby of the House of Commons, and as Mr. Spencer Percival approached, he drew a pistol from his breast pocket, and fired at the right honourable gentleman. The shot took effect, and Mr. Percival died almost immediately afterwards. General Gascoigne, one of the members for Liverpool, was one of the first to recognize the assassin, and, in fact, seized him and took from him his pistols. It was not thought he had any particular enmity against Mr. Percival, but that he would have assassinated any other of His Majesty’s Ministers had they fallen in his way at the time. He said he had been a fortnight making up his mind to this bloody deed. He bought his pistols from a well-known gunmaker in Fleet-street, and so desirous was he that they could be depended upon, that he went to Primrose Hill, in the outskirts of London, to try them. It was said that he had his coat altered, and a capacious and readily accessible pocket made in it; in which pocket, in fact, the discharged pistol was found. Bellingham to the last maintained his contumacious and determined character. He justified his frightful deed, and expressed himself resigned to hisfate and prepared to meet it. His atrocious act caused a great sensation in the town. The news that it had been perpetrated, had, however, scarcely reached us in Liverpool before we heard of his trial and execution. He was tried on the 16th of May and executed on the 18th. Short shriving was then the mode!
In Suffolk-street, which runs out of Duke-street, there once dwelt a droll person named Peter Tyrer. He let out coaches and horses for hire. Many funny stories were current about him. I recollect one to the effect that a customer of his, a gentleman residing in Duke-street, complained several times that Peter had supplied him with a coach so stiff in the springs as to be quite unpleasant to ride in it. The next time a coach was sent for by this gentleman, Peter sent him a hearse! On being asked his reason for so doing, his reply was that “so many people had ridden in that vehicle and never made any complaint, that he supposed it must be a very comfortable conveyance.”
Before I exhaust my recollections of Duke-street and its celebrities, I ought not to omit mention of a worthy gentleman who resided in it, and whose name occupied the attention of the public in many ways, in all honourable to himself, as a man, a soldier, and a citizen. I refer to Colonel Bolton, whose mansion in Duke-street, between Suffolk-street and Kent-street (called after, and by Mr. Kent, who lived at the corner of the street, and who also named the streets adjacent after the southern counties), was in bye-gone years the head-quarters of the Tory party in Liverpool, in election times. From the balcony of that house, wherein the utmost hospitality was always exercised, the great statesmen who have represented Liverpool in Parliament—George Canning and William Huskisson—have many a time poured forth the floods of their eloquence,stirring up the heart’s-blood of the thousands assembled in the street to hear them, making pulses beat quicker, and exciting passions to fever-heat. Mr. Canning used also to address the electors from Sir Thomas Brancker’s house in Rodney-street.
The lengths to which election zeal carried men may be understood, when, during the progress of an election, business was suspended in the town for days and days. Hatred, envy, and malice were engendered. Neighbour was set against neighbour, and I have known many instances where serious divisions in families have taken place when opposite sides in politics have been chosen by the members of such families. It has required years to heal wounds made in family circles, and time in some instances never succeeded in bringing relatives to esteem each other again. The small knot of reformers in this town stuck manfully together and fought their battles well; and if the Tory side could boast of substantial names amongst their ranks, those of Henry Brougham, Egerton Smith, Dr. Shepherd, Mr. Mulock, Edward Rushton, and many others, occupy a place in the pantheon of worthies who stood forward on all great and public occasions when improvement in the constitution was to be advocated. I recollect a time when it was scarcely wise for a man to confess himself a reformer. At the beginning of this century, when the horrorsof the French Revolution were fresh in all men’s minds, and knowing so well as we did that there were many mischievous, dangerous, and disaffected people amongst us, ripe and ready to foment and foster broils, bringing anarchy and confusion in their train, it seemed to be the duty of all men who had characters and property to lose, to stick fast to the state as it was, without daring to change anything, however trifling or however necessary. A man was almost thought a traitor to talk of reform or change at one time, for there were not a few influential men who would rather have risen on the ruins of Old England than have fallen with her glory. Ticklish times we had in the beginning of the present century.
On the subject of Reform, it was said that an elector one day meeting Mr. Brougham in Castle-street, thus accosted him:—“Well, Mister, so you are going to try for Reform again?” “Yes,” said the great orator, “and I hope we shall get it.” Elector:—“Very good, Mister, we really do want a reform in parliament, for I think it is a very hard thing that a man can only get a paltry £5 or £10 for his vote. There ought to be some fixed sum—certainly not less than £25.”
One of the most remarkable election events that has taken place in Liverpool was that in which Messrs. Ewart and Denison were engagedin 1830. Remarkable not only for the vigour with which it was carried on, but for the intense excitement that it created, the number of days it occupied, and also for the enormous sums of money it cost. The bribery that took place on both sides and all sides was really frightful. It was a positive disgrace to humanity. The contest was continued for seven days. While it was carried on business in the town was partly suspended, and all men’s thoughts, and acts, and interests, seemed engrossed by the one prevailing subject. On the death of Mr. Huskisson, those interested in political matters set about to look for a successor to represent their interests in parliament. Several distinguished gentlemen were invited to stand; amongst others were Sir Robert Peel, and the Right Hon. Charles Grant, both of whom, however, declined the honour. Mr. Grant had had enough of an election contest to last him for some time, his success at Inverness had only been won by too hard fighting to be lightly thought of; while Sir Robert Peel freely confessed that the duties of Home Secretary were such as to prevent him from devoting sufficient time to the interests of so large and important a constituency as that of Liverpool.
By the way, I recollect a rather curious anecdote of Mr. Huskisson, which may perhaps not be devoid of interest. About 1834 I was dining onboard one of the beautiful American sailing-packets, theGeorge Washington. It was only a small party, and amongst others present was the late Sir George Drinkwater, who related the following curious circumstance connected with Mr. Huskisson:—Sir George told us that the day before the lamentable occurrence took place, which deprived this town of a valuable representative, and the country of so distinguished a statesman, Mr. Huskisson called upon him at the Town Hall (Sir George being then Mayor), and asked permission to write a letter. While doing so an announcement was made that there was a deputation from Hyde, near Manchester, wishing to see Mr. Huskisson. “Oh!” said that gentleman, “I know what they want; but I will send them back to Hyde with a flea in their ears!” The gentlemen of the deputation having been ushered into the room, they stated their case, to the effect that they solicited Mr. Huskisson to support a petition in parliament to enable them to construct a railway between their town and Manchester. They had no sooner stated their errand than Mr. Huskisson, angrily throwing down his pen, in very few words refused their request, winding up his reply with these memorable words—remarkable not only for the fallacy of his then opinions, but also in connection with the calamitous event of the next day—“Gentlemen,I supported the scheme of the railway between Liverpool and Manchester as an experiment, but as long as I have the honour to hold a seat in parliament,I will never consent to see England gridironed by railways!” What would Mr. Huskisson say now-a-days, when a map of England shows it not only gridironed, but spread over as with an iron net-work of railroads, that to the eye appear in a state of a inextricable entanglement?
To return to the election of 1830. During seven days the town was kept at fever-heat, each day its intensity becoming heightened. Denison, in his opening address on ’Change, on the 14th October, in appealing to the constituency for support, avowed himself entitled to it, not only as being Mr. Huskisson’s friend—“the friend of your friend”—but an enthusiastic admirer of his principles. Mr. Denison was son-in-law to the Duke of Portland. Mr. Ewart was a townsman, and a barrister, and had represented the town of Bletchingly (or Bleechingly, as they call it in Surrey), so that both candidates came well recommended. The writ was moved for in the House of Commons on the 17th November, and received in Liverpool on the Friday following. An army of canvassers was organised on both sides, who plied their vocations in all directions. Mr. Denison’s friends mustered on Tuesdaymorning, 23rd November, in front of Mr. Bolton’s house in Duke-street, and moved in grand procession to the Town Hall. Amongst them were Mr. Bolton, Mr. Gladstone, Sir J. Tobin, Messrs. Wm. Brown, Ritson, Shand, and Garnett. Mr. Ewart’s friends met opposite to the Adelphi Hotel. The horses were taken from Mr. Ewart’s carriage, which was then drawn by the people. With Mr. Ewart were Messrs. J. Brancker, Hugh Jones, W. Wallace Currie, W. Earle, jun., Hall (barrister), Captain Colquitt, Rev. Wm. Shepherd, etc. The processions were both got up in admirable style; splendid and costly banners and flags of all descriptions were displayed, while ribbons, of which Denison’s were scarlet, and Ewart’s blue, fluttered in the wind in all directions. The following was the result of the polls. I give it to show how remarkably close the contest was carried on, and how the tide of favour ebbed and flowed: 1st day—Denison, 260; Ewart, 248. 2nd day—Denison, 583; Ewart, 568. 3rd day—Denison, 930; Ewart, 918. 4th day—Denison; 1320; Ewart, 1308. 5th day—Denison, 1700; Ewart, 1688. 6th day—Denison, 2020; Ewart, 2008. 7th day—Denison, 2186; Ewart, 2215. The number of freemen who voted was 4401.
If ever a borough deserved disfranchising, it was Liverpool on that election. The conduct of the freemen was atrocious. I speak of them asa body. The bribery on that occasion was so broad, barefaced, and unblushingly carried on, as to excite disgust in all thoughtful men’s minds. Sums of money £3 to £100 were said to have been given for votes, and I recollect that after the heat of the election had subsided, a list of those who voted was published, with the sums attached, which were paid to and received by each freeman. I have a copy of it in my possession. Whether true or false who can tell? Where there is fire there will be smoke. It is a well-known fact that many of the canvassers never looked behind them after that memorable time, and numbers of tradesmen signally benefited by the money that was spread about with such liberal hands. In some cases money was received by freemen from both parties. In one case I find a man (among the H’s) voting for Mr. Denison, who received £35 and £10. Amongst the C’s was a recipient of £28 and £25 from each side; and another, a Mr. C., took £50 from Denison and £15 from Ewart, the said voter being a chimney-sweeper, and favouring Mr. Denison with the weight of his influence and the honour of his suffrage. In looking over the list I find that the principal recipients of the good things going, were ropers, coopers, sailmakers, and shipwrights. Yet the name of “merchant” and “tradesman” not unfrequently occurs in the descriptions of boroughvoters. Amongst the W’s there appears to be scarcely a voter that escaped “the gold fever.” Amongst others who declined taking any part in the election was Mr. Brooks Yates; he, feeling so disgusted with the veniality of the voters, and the bribery that was going on, publicly protested on the seventh day against the conduct of all parties, and said “he lifted up his voice against the practice of bribery, which was so glaringly exercised, and which had been carried on by both parties to the utmost extent. The friends of Mr. Ewart had made use of his name to fill up their complement without his authority, and he begged to withdraw it, for he was resolved to remain decidedly neutral. The corruption was so gross and flagrant that he would not give his vote on either side.” It is said that this election cost upwards of £100,000, of which sum Colonel Bolton supplied £10,000. Mr. Ewart’s family it was understood, entirely furnished his expenses amounting to £65,000. Mr. Denison’s reached from £47,000 to £50,000.
Amongst those who addressed the various meetings during the week of the election, and previous to the commencement of the polling, were Mr. William Rathbone, Mr. Henderson, barrister (afterwards recorder), Rev. W. Shepherd, Captain Colquitt, Mr. James Brancker (who proposed and seconded Mr. Ewart), and Mr.Falvey. The orators on the part of Mr. Denison were, Mr. Edward Rushton (afterwards stipendiary magistrate), Messrs. Shand, W. Brown (now Sir William Brown), John Bolton, W. Earle, Leyland, Sir John Tobin, etc. About the fourth day of the election the real excitement commenced, and the baneful system of bribery was resorted to. On the fifth day the prices of votes advanced from £20 to £25, and as much as £40 to £50 were asked and obtained. It was expected that on the sixth day the contest would close, but it seemed to be then continued with unabated vigour. On the seventh day voters were brought from all parts of England, Scotland, Ireland, and wherever they could be met with. The tricks played by both parties on voters were most amusing, either to deter or compel them to vote. Nearly four hundred freemen declined or were unable to record their votes.
Even in the elections for mayor the most inconceivable interest was excited, and in one case, that of 1828, between Messrs. Porter and Robinson, from £16,000 to £20,000, if not a larger sum, was said to have been expended in carrying the day. I recollect a worthy tobacconist, who kept a little shop in the town, who had a vote and was not inclined to sell it cheap. In every insidious way was he assailed to part with his vote. On the occasion of this election the list of voters wasrapidly running out to the last drop; the hour of closing the poll was approaching, and it was found impossible to keep the poll open another day. “Come, Mr. Pipes, what about your vote?—it’s half-past three!” “Call again in a quarter of an hour.” In this quarter of an hour the little tobacconist’s shop was besieged by canvassers on both sides, when the tempting sum of £30 was reached. The cunning little Abel Drugger knew his value, but no higher sum would either party advance. Pipes had, unfortunately, gone into the back part of his shop for a few minutes, when a wag put his clock back thirteen minutes. Keeping his eye, while in the shop, on the clock, every now and then—although, as he admitted afterwards, it seemed a long quarter of an hour—he still kept off his persecutors. When the hand approached the quarter on the false-telling dial, one canvasser, bolder than the rest, laid £35 on a box of cigars, as the bid for it. But Master Pipes only was sold, for just as he was about to take up the tissue paper bearing the magic name of Henry Hase, St. George’s church struck four, and the prize was re-pocketed to the great discomfiture of “Pipes,” and the merriment of his customers. Of electioneering tricks I could tell a full score.
The practice of the “Duello” is, happily, now gone quite out of fashion, but in my young daysany and every occasion of offence was seized upon as acasus belli. Duels were fought on the most frivolous occasions and for the slightest possible affronts, intentional or supposititious.
This taste has subsided, as well as that for hard drinking. I can remember both being carried to a lamentable state of excess; but these practices have grown out of date. I have seen, thank goodness, other equally salutary improvements in morals, customs, and manners.
Two remarkable hostile meetings, I recollect, took place in Liverpool at the commencement of the present century, and caused an immense sensation, from the known position and high standing of all the parties concerned.
The first duel I shall mention was that between Mr. Sparling, late of St. Domingo House, Everton, and Mr. Grayson, an eminent shipbuilder. Both gentlemen moved in the first circles of society in the town. It took place on the 24th of February, 1804.
The occasion of the duel was a conversation that occurred in Mr. Grayson’s carriage, between that gentleman and Major Brooks (who was shot by Colonel Bolton in the ensuing year), on their way to dine at Mr. Grayson’s, at Wavertree. Mr. Grayson, it seems, called Mr. Sparling “a villain,” for breaking off the marriage between himself and a relative of Mr. Grayson’s. Major Brooksrepeated this conversation to Mr. Sparling, who instantly commenced a correspondence with Mr. Grayson, calling upon him to apologise for his language. This correspondence continued from October until the time the duel was fought—the meeting being the consequence of the unsatisfactory results of the communications between the parties. They met at a place called Knot’s Hole, near the shore by the Aigburth-road. Mr. Sparling was attended by Captain Colquitt, commanding thePrincessfrigate, then in the river. Mr. Grayson’s second was Dr. MacCartney. After the fatal shots were fired Mr. Grayson’s servant found his master alone, lying on the ground with his face downwards. He was desperately wounded in the thigh, and was taken back to Liverpool as quickly as possible. He lingered until the following Sunday, when he died. Mr. Sparling and Captain Colquitt were, at the coroner’s inquest, found guilty of murder, and were tried at Lancaster, on the 4th of April, before Sir Alan Chambre. Sergeant Cockle, Attorney-General for the County Palatine of Lancaster, led for the crown; with him were Messrs. Clark and Scarlett (afterwards Sir James); attorneys, Messrs. Ellames and Norris. For the prisoners, Messrs. Park (afterwards Baron Park), Wood, Topping, Raincock, and Heald; attorney, Mr. William Statham.
It came out in evidence during the trial, that thehour of meeting was seven o’clock on Sunday morning, February 24th. Mr. Sparling and Captain Colquitt arrived first at Park Chapel; on alighting the Captain carried the pistol-case, and the two gentlemen went through a gate into a field opposite, to the place of rendezvous. Soon after Dr. MacCartney and Mr. Park, the surgeon, arrived in a carriage. Mr. Park had been induced to accompany the Doctor on the representation that he was about to attend a patient of some consequence, and required his (Mr. Park’s) advice and skill. Soon after Mr. Grayson arrived on foot, attended by his servant, when, finding the two gentlemen in waiting, he pulled out his watch, and remarked that he feared he was rather late, but that it was all his servant’s fault. Dr. MacCartney then took out the pistol-case from the carriage (leaving Mr. Park in it, who had declined proceeding any further), and with Mr. Grayson passed through the same gate as did Mr. Sparling and the Captain. They then went down the field towards the river, and soon afterwards a shot or shots were heard by Mr. Park, Mr. Grayson’s servant, and the post-boys. Mr. Grayson’s servant ran into the field, and met Mr. Sparling and Captain Colquitt hurrying up the foot-road, the former asked him “what he wanted?” he told him who he was, when Mr. Sparling informed him his master was severely wounded. The twogentlemen then ran onward when they met Mr. Park, who had got out of the carriage on seeing them coming towards the road in such a hurry. They bade him “make haste, for Grayson was badly wounded.” They then got into their carriage and told the coachman to drive back to Liverpool. The other driver asserted he heard Captain Colquitt say, “by G---, it has done me good.” The two gentlemen were driven first to Mr. Ralph Benson’s in Duke-street, to whom a message was sent up that Mr. Sparling “had been in the country and was quite well.” They next called on Mr. Stavert, when Mr. Sparling said, “I have put a ball into Grayson this morning.” Mr. Stavert replied, “I hope he is not much hurt,” when Mr. Sparling exclaimed, “I think not, for he made too much noise for it to be of any consequence.” They were next driven to the Royal Hotel and thence to the Pier Slip, where a boat was in waiting, in which they were rowed off.
Mr. Park, on hurrying forward to Knot’s Hole, found Mr. Grayson supported by his servant and Dr. MacCartney. His breeches were soaked with blood at his right thigh. There appeared to be a shot-hole at the upper part near the hip. He complained of being in acute pain, and that he had lost the use of his limbs; he said he could no longer stand, but must be allowed to sit down. The party, however, bore him to the carriage,and got him home as soon as possible. Mr. Park attended him until he died. The ball had perforated the thigh-bone, and was not extracted until after death. It was produced in court.
Mr. Grayson was fully aware of his approaching end. On the Wednesday after the duel, he told Mr. Park that “he was going to meet his God.” On the following day he said that “he hoped for mercy, and that he might have gone with greater guilt on his head, if he had killed Sparling, instead of Sparling killing him”; and added, “whatever his opinions of Mr. Sparling’s conduct might be, he truly forgave him the injury he had done him, in giving him his death-wound, and hoped, in the event of his decease, that his friends would not prosecute him.” Mr. Grayson repeatedly said Mr. Sparling was an utter stranger to him, and that he did not know him even by sight.
At that time counsel were not allowed to make any appeal to a jury for a prisoner. Mr. Sparling’s defence was therefore read by one of his counsel, Mr. Park. It was very ably got up. He bitterly protested against the outcry that had been made against him in public, from the pulpit and by the press. He wholly denied bearing any malice towards Mr. Grayson, and justified himself, declaring his act was a mere vindication of his honour and good name, and that he had, in conjunction with Captain Colquitt, repeatedlyasked Mr. Grayson to withdraw his insulting words and threatening speeches, but without avail, and the meeting was the consequence of his obstinacy. He said of Mr. Grayson, as Mr. Grayson had said of him, that he was an utter stranger to him. Captain Colquitt made an able defence, wherein he justified himself and his conduct. A number of gentlemen of high character and distinction spoke to the kindliness of manner of Mr. Sparling at all times, and also of Captain Colquitt, and completely exonerated them from the imputation of entertaining vindictive or malevolent feelings. Amongst others who appeared for Mr. Sparling were Sir Hungerford Hoskins, Captain Palmer, Rev. Jonathan Brooks, His Worship the Mayor (William Harper, Esq.), Soloman D’Aguilar, Lord Viscount Carleton, Major-General Cartwright, Lord Robert Manners, Lord Charles Manners, Lord James Murray, Colonel M’Donald, and Major Seymour. For Captain Colquitt many equally honourable gentlemen and officers in His Majesty’s service gave evidence in his favour.
The judge on summing up decidedly leaned towards the prisoners, and the result was a verdict of “Not Guilty.” The same jury was afterwards empanelled to try Mr. Sparling, Captain Colquitt, and Dr. MacCartney on another indictment, but no evidence being brought forward, they were all acquitted.
Thus terminated a trial which created an immense amount of interest, not only in Liverpool, but throughout the whole of the northern counties.
Before I relate the incidents of the second duel that took place in Liverpool, I will briefly give the particulars of another affair, which happened in the same year (July, 1804), which gave the gossips andquid nuncsof the town ample food for conversation. This was the court-martial on Captain Carmichael, the Adjutant of Colonel Earle’s regiment of Fusiliers, and formerly adjutant of Colonel Bolton’s regiment of “Royal Liverpool Volunteers.” He was charged with “disobedience of orders, and with addressing Colonel Earle in abusive and scandalous language respecting the officers of the regiment.” The court-martial was held by virtue of a warrant from His Royal Highness Prince William Frederick of Gloucester, the General commanding the district. The president was Colonel Bolton; the judge-advocate, Fletcher Raincock, Esq., barrister-at-law.
It appeared that on the 12th of June the Fusiliers were drilling on Copperas-hill (fancyourVolunteers drilling on Copperas-hill!), at the manual and platoon exercise, when they were commanded to “order arms” and “stand at ease” by the Colonel; his intention beingto keep the regiment for the remainder of the morning at firelock exercise. Something was said of a private nature by Colonel Earle to the Adjutant Carmichael, who, instead of replying, took no notice of the observation. He subsequently spoke to the Colonel in an insulting and impertinent manner, treating him at the same time with marked indignity—calling out, loud enough for the men to hear, “that he insisted upon the officers being called together to inquire into his conduct, for such things were said of him as he could not bear.” On being told that that was not the time nor place to bring charges against the officers, and that he should put down in writing what he had to say, and he would then be attended to, he did not seem satisfied, but continued to demand the calling of the officers together. Colonel Earle told him to go on with his duty. Captain Carmichael still took no notice of these orders; but said his feelings were “worked up to a fiddle-string.” Still disobeying Colonel Earle’s commands, he was told “to go home if he could not do his duty.” He was then heard to say that the officers, or some of the officers, were “a set of blacklegs.” For this offence Captain Carmichael was tried. He denied at first the right of the court to sit in judgment upon him, and raised three objections, two of which were read, and the third was stopped inthe middle, being overruled by the court. The court-martial sat five days, and the result of it was that Captain Carmichael was acquitted of disobedience, but found guilty of addressing abusive language to his commanding-officer. His sentence was “to be reprimanded at the head of his regiment.” Colonel Bolton was delegated to administer this reproof. Colonel Bolton spoke highly in the Captain’s favour, and stated that he had presented him with a piece of plate which he had bought for him when in London, to mark his respect for him, and his efficiency in drilling his (Colonel Bolton’s) regiment.
In the following year, 1805, the second duel was fought, which created as great a sensation as that between Mr. Sparling and Mr. Grayson, in the previous year. In this encounter the principals were Colonel Bolton and Major Brooks, the same party who had caused the mischief in the previously-mentioned affair.
The origin of the quarrel arose in this way:—Colonel Bolton, who had raised a regiment of volunteers, in 1803, which he had entirely clothed, armed, and equipped, mustering ten companies of sixty men each, was held in high respect and possessed great influence with government. On the death of Mr. Bryan Blundell, who held the appointment of Customs Jerker, Colonel Bolton obtained the vacant office for Major Brooks, whohad been formerly in the Lancashire Militia. After enjoying this place for a time, Major Brooks applied for an increase of salary. His application was referred to the West India Association, of which Colonel Bolton was President, to report upon whether an increase in the pay of the office was desirable or deserved. The Association reported adverse to Major Brooks’ application. He immediately, publicly, and in the most disgraceful manner, accused Colonel Bolton with being the cause of this refusal, as he had learnt that the Colonel had said that “£700 a year was quite income enough for a comparatively young, unmarried man.” Major Brooks, forgetting that Colonel Bolton’s friendship and influence had obtained for him, in the first instance, his appointment, did his utmost to force his benefactor into collision with him, and to such an extent was this annoyance carried, that at length a hostile meeting was arranged between the parties. As a soldier and gentleman, Colonel Bolton could no longer keep quiet. Major Brooks possessed, unfortunately for himself, a great amount of irritable vanity and pugnacity. He had been “out,” as it was then called, not long before with Captain Carmichael, whose trial by court-martial I have just detailed, upon some point of difference in military discipline. The meeting took place on Bootle Sands, and, to show Major Brooks’s temper,on Captain Carmichael firing in the air, he exclaimed: “D--- it, why don’t you fire at me—we did not come here for child’s play!” In those days duelling was very prevalent, and small words brought out pistols and coffins for two.
The first meeting between Colonel Bolton and Major Brooks was to have come off on the 20th December, 1804, at a place called Miller’s Dam, off the Aigburth-road, which, if I recollect rightly, was a small creek which ran up to a mill—long and long ago swept away. The circumstance of the quarrel, however, having by some means got abroad, the authorities interposed and both gentlemen were arrested on their way to the rendezvous. They were both bound over, in very heavy penalties, to keep the peace to all and sundry of His Majesty’s subjects, and each other in particular, for twelve calendar months. Brooks, on being arrested, exhibited the utmost rage and virulence, and expressed himself in strong language against the Colonel, accusing him roundly of being the cause of the arrest, and the interference they had met with. There was not word of truth in this charge, Colonel Bolton, though forced into the matter, according to the laws of honour, kept the meeting a secret, and it was afterwards actually proved that the secret of the meeting oozed out from one of Major Brooks’ own friends.
During the twelve months the two gentlemen were bound over, Brooks let slip no opportunity of insulting Colonel Bolton, as far as he dared without coming into actual collision. He said he was the cause of their meeting being interrupted, although he had been frequently assured of the truth. As the twelve months were about to expire, Major Brooks increased his violence. On the day the bond ceased to have effect, the Major, meeting Colonel Bolton walking with Colonel Earle past the shop, kept at present by Mr. Allender, in Castle-street, then and there publicly again insulted him, and called him by a name which no gentleman could put up with. A challenge was the consequence. The report of the disturbance soon reached the Exchange, and the authorities again stepped forward to prevent hostilities. Colonel Bolton was again arrested and bound over, and Major Brooks was taken into custody. The latter denied the right of the authorities to arrest him, asserting that he had done nothing of sufficient weight to break his bond, and that he could not be again bound over until the year of bondage had expired. The Major was some hours in custody, but was at length released without promising anything. He was no sooner at liberty than he sent a friend to Colonel Bolton, who consented to a meeting for that very afternoon. This was on the 20thof December, 1805. The place of rendezvous on this occasion was in a field at the foot of Love-lane (now called Fairclough-lane), which was skirted by it. The exact spot of meeting was in a field about half-way between the present Boundary-street (then a narrow lane with hedges) and St. Jude’s Church. It was near Fielding’s nursery ground, which occupied the land now used as a timber-yard. It was quite dark when the combatants arrived. Major Brooks was accompanied Mr. Forbes. Mr. Park, surgeon, who resided at the corner of Newington-bridge, was taken up by Colonel Bolton on his way to the place of meeting in his carriage. Mr. Harris was Colonel Bolton’s second. When the parties got over into the field it was found that they could not see to load the pistols. It would then be about six o’clock. Candles were therefore procured to enable them to complete the necessary arrangements.
As soon as the combatants had taken the places allotted to them, Colonel Bolton observed that, according to the laws of honour and duelling, the Major was entitled to fire first. To this the Major assented, and fired immediately, the shot passing harmlessly by the Colonel, who then fired in his turn, hitting Major Brooks in the right eye. The Major instantly fell and died. Colonel Bolton was hurried off and remained inconcealment for a short time. It was said that the firing of the pistols was heard in Major Brooks’ house at the corner of Daulby-street. An inquiry was held, when a verdict of wilful murder was found, but in consequence of the strong recommendations of Major Brooks’s friends, admitting that he was entirely to blame, and that his dreadful fate was entirely brought on by himself, the matter passed over without further notice, everyone admitting that Colonel Bolton had conducted himself with the utmost forbearance as well as courage, and that he deserved the highest encomiums for his gentlemanly and straightforward behaviour throughout this most painful affair.