Some five years previous to this event, about the month of June, 1800, a circumstance occurred which created a great sensation in the town, and occupied public attention in a most remarkable degree. It seems rather out of chronological order to go back five years; but the reader who favours me with his attention must be content to obtain my information as I can impart it. My head is not so clear as it used to be in the arrangement of such matters.
In the year mentioned there was a merchant established in Liverpool of the name of Wainwright, who was one of the actors in what nearly proved to be a tragedy. At a place called Tunstall, near Burslem, in Staffordshire, resided an earthenware manufacturer named Theophilus Smith. This Smith was in difficulties and his affairs were in much disorder. His creditors werehostile to him, and he for some time had been endeavouring to obtain a settlement with them. Amongst other creditors was Mr. Wainwright. He, however, was not one of the hostile party, but was very well-disposed towards Mr. Smith. One day, in the month of June, Mr. Wainwright received an anonymous letter, requesting him to meet the writer at a small public-house near the “Olympic Circus,” which was a temporary place of amusement erected in Christian-street, then beginning to be built upon (the Adelphi Theatre in Christian-street succeeded the Circus—in fact, this place of amusement was called “the Circus” for many years). Mr. Wainwright, on carefully examining the letter, fancied he recognised Smith’s handwriting, and resolved upon keeping the appointment, supposing that Smith, fearing arrest, dared not openly wait upon him. An arrest was an easy matter then. It was only necessary to swear to a debt and take out a writ and you could arrest anybody at a moment’s notice, whether they actually owed you anything or not. There used to be tough swearing in olden times. Mr. Wainwright went to the house indicated and there, as he anticipated, found Theophilus Smith. Mr. Wainwright concluded that Smith was about to make some disclosures relative to his affairs and that was the reason he had sent for him. But Smith only produced a printed statement ofhis accounts, which had been previously circulated, and made no new discovery of any consequence; he, however, most strongly and earnestly entreated Mr. Wainwright to accompany him to Tunstall, where, he said, on the following afternoon, his creditors would meet, and where Mr. Wainwright’s presence would be conducive to their coming to terms. Mr. Wainwright at first refused to accede to this request, having important business of his own to attend to, but Smith was so importunate that he at length consented to accompany him, and they set out on the same afternoon in a chaise and pair. On their way, Smith was very friendly with Mr. Wainwright, and conversed with him as any man would with a friendly traveller on a long journey. On arriving within a mile of his house at Tunstall, Mr. Smith ordered the chaise to be stopped, and got out, and requested Mr. Wainwright to do the same, saying that a mile could be saved by walking across some fields adjacent. Mr. Smith at the time expressed his dread of being arrested if he were seen on the road along which the chaise would have to be driven. Mr. Wainwright, however, declined to get out; stating it was quite unnecessary to take so much precaution; but at length, in consequence of Smith’s earnest entreaty, he consented. They then proceeded across the fields on foot. As it was commencing to rain,Mr. Smith pressed on Mr. Wainwright the use of his cloak; but this Mr. Wainwright declined. Smith then led the way across the fields, by a stile path, till they arrived at length at a small thicket, through which they proceeded, when Smith stopped short, and said he knew a nearer way. Smith then led Mr. Wainwright into a meadow, and standing before him drew out a pistol. Mr. Wainwright immediately concluded that his fellow-passenger intended to put an end to his own life, and, after a sharp struggle, got the pistol from him, remonstrating with him upon the wickedness of the act. Smith, however, drew another pistol, and fired it at Mr. Wainwright, fortunately without effect. The latter instantly sprang upon Mr. Smith and got him down, uttering loud cries for assistance. Smith begged hard for mercy, and on promising not to repeat his murderous attack, was allowed to get up. He was no sooner released and on his legs than he drew a third pistol, fired, and hit Mr. Wainwright in the body. The men again closed, when Smith drew a knife and made several attempts upon his companion’s life by attempting to cut his throat, which was fortunately well protected by the thick rolls of cambric it was then the custom to tie round the neck, as well as by a thick scarf, which was cut through in several places. Mr. Wainwright, however, neverleft hold of Smith until they reached his house when, the door suddenly opening, he rushed in and quickly closed it. He then came to the window and ordered Mr. Wainwright away, refusing him shelter, although it was growing dark and raining heavily. Mr. Wainwright contrived to crawl to a cottage, where he was laid up for some time, but eventually recovered from the cuts and wounds inflicted upon him. Smith absconded, and a reward of £50 was offered for his capture. This was effected after some time in Pall Mall, London, by two Bow-street runners. Smith was committed for trial at Stafford assizes, where he was found guilty and sentenced to be hung. He, however, escaped that punishment by destroying both himself and his wife in his cell in Stafford gaol, while awaiting his sentence. What Smith’s motive could be for his conduct no one could conjecture. He would give no explanation on the subject though pressed to do so. It was supposed that a sudden fit of insanity had seized him, and that his violence was the result of it. During the journey the two gentlemen were on the most friendly terms, taking their meals together and acting as travellers thrown together usually do. Mr. Wainwright’s presence was most essential to Smith to allay the hostility of his creditors, and therefore, the attempts to make away with him were still more incomprehensible.
As I sit by my fire-side with two or three old friends—friends, indeed, for I have known them all for fifty, sixty, and seventy years—we talk over old times, faces, scenes and places, in a way that calls up the ghosts of the past to our dim eyes. If my readers could listen to our stories of the old town they would hear more about it in a night than my little amanuensis could write down in a day. Many curious anecdotes and circumstances are called to remembrance by us, and I must say we talk of old times with a regretful yet pleasant feeling. I know I often startle some of my young friends by telling them of scenes I have witnessed in the last century, and I have often noticed them in their minds putting one year and another together, or subtracting one from another so that they might ascertain whether I was telling the truth or not.
I don’t believe there is another man in Liverpool alive at this time who saw the Town Hall on fire in 1795. I saw it, I may say, almost break out, for I was in Castle-street in ten minutes after the alarm had spread through the town, and that was soon done, for Liverpool was not of the extent it is now. I believe half the inhabitants turned out into the streets to witness that awful sight, although it was at five o’clock on a frosty Sunday morning in January. For my part, I was aroused by the continuous springing of rattles by thewatchmen, and the rushing sounds of people running along the street. I was soon out of bed and joined the throng of people who were hurrying to the scene of disaster. When I arrived there, a crowd had already assembled. Castle-street was then very narrow. It was quite choked up with people. Dale-street was beginning to be crowded while High-street and Water-street were quite impassable. From the windows of all the houses the terrified inmates were to be observeden dishabille, and the large inn in Water-street, the Talbot, which was nearly opposite the Town Hall, had people looking out at every window.
The smoke first made its appearance at the lower windows of the Town Hall. The doors having been forced, a party of men got into the interior of the building, and brought out for safety the books of the various departments, and some of the town’s officers having arrived, something like system took the place of the dreadful confusion which prevailed. The town records, the treasurer’s accounts, and the muniments, etc., were safely removed to a house at the end of High-street. I helped to keep order. Assisted by many other volunteers for the work we formed a lane so that there should be no impediment to a quick removal of anything that was portable. The fire was first discovered about five o’clock in the morning by the watchman on duty in the street.They were dull old fellows, those watchmen, and of but little use, for in calling the hour nine times out of ten they made a mistake. The thieves laughed them to scorn. When the watchman saw smoke issuing from the windows he gave the alarm without delay. The fire soon showed itself, when it had once got ahead. When the new Exchange was erected, after the former one had been taken down in 1748, somebody persuaded the authorities to have the woodwork and timber of the new building steeped in a composition of rosin and turpentine, so as to make the wood more durable. It may therefore be readily imagined how inflammable such a composition would make the wood, and how fiercely it burned when once ignited. There had been a perceptible odour of some sort experienced in the Exchange building for some days, and this was afterwards discovered to have arisen from the woodwork under the council-chamber having taken fire through a flue communicating from the Loan-office; and there is no doubt it had been smouldering for days before it actually made its appearance. It could not have been ten minutes after I arrived on the spot before the flames burst out in all their fury. It was an awfully grand sight. It was yet dark. What with the rushing and pushing of the anxious crowd, the roaring of the fierce flames, and the calling of distracted people, it was an event andscene never to be forgotten. The building was soon all in a blaze, and nothing on earth could have stopped that frightful conflagration. It was a mercy it was a calm frosty morning or the houses in the four streets adjacent must have caught the flame. From the age of these houses, the quantity of timber in them, the narrowness of the streets, and the absence of a copious supply of water, I am sure Liverpool would have been half consumed if a wind had sprung up. I thought the building looked like a great funeral pile as the flames roared out on all sides. It was a grand, yet dreadful sight. The whole of Castle-street was occupied by people, although, from the position of the Exchange, a full front view could not be obtained, it being almost parallel with the west side of Castle-street. The best view of it was where I stood at the top of Dale-street, by Moss’s bank. The dome, being constructed of wood, soon took fire, was burnt, and fell in. We had not then as now powerful engines, long reels of hose, and bands of active men well trained to their arduous and dangerous duties, still, everybody did his best and seemed desirous of doing something. We did that something with a will, but without much order, system, or discretion. The engines in use were not powerful, and the supply of water was not only tardy but scanty, as you may believe when I tell you it had to be brought fromthe town wells, the Dye-house Well in Greetham-street, the Old Fall Well in Rose-street (where Alderman’s Bennett’s ironwork warehouse stands, near the corner of Rose-street—by the way, Rose-street was called after Mr. Rose, who lived in the house next the Stork Hotel), and the wells on Shaw’s-brow; indeed, every possible source where water could be obtained, was put in requisition. The inhabitants allowed the rain-water to be taken from their water-butts in the vicinity to such liberal extent that I verily believe there was not a drop of rain-water to be got for love or money when that eventful day was out. Staid housewives for many a day after complained of the dirt the trampling of feet had made in their lobbies and yards, and deplored the loss of their stores of soft-water. At that time water was precious, every drop that could be obtained was saved, garnered, and carefully kept. Every drop of hard-water we consumed had to be brought to our doors and paid for by the “Hessian” or bucket. The water-carts were old butts upon wheels, drawn by sorry horses and driven by fat old creatures, half men half women in their attire and manners. The buckets were made of leather and the water was sold at a halfpenny per Hessian. They were so called, I believe, from their fancied resemblance to the Hessian boots. You may judge how inadequate a supply of water we had when our wantswere dependent upon such aid. The water-carts came rumbling and tumbling along the streets, in many cases losing one-half of their loads by the unusual speed at which they were driven and the awkwardness of their drivers. Water was also carted from the river, and I helped with others to push the carts up Water-street. The steep ascent of this street in its badly paved condition made this work extremely laborious. But everybody helped and did what they could, and those who did nothing made up for deeds by words and shouted and bawled and told the others what they ought to do.
Fortunately, only one life was lost, that of a fool-hardy young man who would press forward to see the fire better—he rushed up to the High-street door and a piece of timber fell on him. The surging of the crowd caused several persons to be struck down and trampled upon. I saved one woman’s life by beating off the people who would have crushed her. By twelve o’clock the fire had slackened considerably, and by the evening it was to all appearance subdued. But the fire in the interior remained smouldering for some time afterwards. In the churches on that day the event was alluded to in a very feeling manner, and in St. Peter’s Church the rector offered up a prayer of thanksgiving that the town had been spared from a more extensive calamity.
At this time High-street (there was a famous tavern called the “Punch-Bowl” in this street) was the communication between Castle-street and Old Hall-street, and it is a most strange circumstance that the direct line of road was not retained instead of cutting the new street called Exchange-street East through the houses and gardens between Tithebarn-street and Dale-street. It was a great mistake, and everybody said so at the time. Many great mistakes have been made in respect to our streets and public buildings, not the least of which was the blunder of filling up the Old Dock, and erecting that huge and ugly edifice, the Custom-house, thereon.
I believe if the conflagration had extended from the Exchange to some distance in the adjoining streets, we should have had some vast improvements effected. From the narrowness of Castle-street may be imagined what a scene of confusion it must have been during the fire. It is quite a wonder that many lives were not lost during that morning of terror. The inhabitants of the four streets in many cases prepared for flight, for the fire raged so fiercely at one time that the escape of the houses in the vicinity from destruction seemed miraculous. While I was helping to draw water from the yard of some people I knew in Castle-street, a burning ember or piece of timber fell into a lot of dirty paper which wouldin five minutes have been alight if I had not been there to extinguish it. There were many such wonderful escapes recorded.
The trial of Mr. Charles Angus for the alleged murder of Miss Margaret Burns (who was his late wife’s half-sister) in 1808, may be considered as one of thecauses celebresof the time. It took place at Lancaster, on the 2nd of September, before Sir Alan Chambre. Sergeant Cockle, and Messrs. Holroyd, Raine and Clark, were for the Crown; Mr. T. Statham, attorney. Messrs. Topping, Scarlett, and Cross for the prisoner; Mr. Atkinson, attorney. Mr. Angus was a gentleman of Scotch birth, and resided in Liverpool—in King-street, I think. He had been at one time an assistant to a druggist, where he was supposed to have obtained a knowledge of the properties of poisons, and he was charged with putting this knowledge to account in attempting to produce abortion in the case of Miss Burns, who was suspected of being pregnant by him, and thereby causing her death. Miss Burns was Mr. Angus’s housekeeper, and governess to his three children. The case rested entirely on circumstantial evidence, made out against the prisoner by his conduct previous to the supposed commission of the deed, by his conduct at the time and afterwards. At the time the strongest prejudice ran against Mr. Angus, and it must be said that thepublic were not satisfied with the verdict of the jury; but at this distance of time, those who had an opportunity of looking over the evidence, and remembering the case in all its bearings, will at once say dispassionately that there was not a shadow of evidence against Mr. Angus. Miss Burns, who had been unwell for some time, was noticed previous to the 23rd of March, 1808, to be ailing, and that her size had materially enlarged; and it was suspected, as adduced by several witnesses, that she wasenceinte. On the 23rd of March she complained of being very unwell, and went to lie down on a sofa in the breakfast-room where she remained the whole of the day, thirsting and vomiting. Mr. Angus would not allow his servants to sit up with Miss Burns, but remained in the room with her the whole of that night, the next day, and the following night. On the 25th Miss Burns said she felt better. A servant on that morning was sent to Henry-street for some Madeira that Miss Burns fancied. On her return, not seeing the lady on the sofa, where an hour previous she had left her, she looked round the room and discovered her doubled up in a corner of the room with her face towards the wainscot, while Mr. Angus was asleep sitting in a chair covered by a counterpane. The evidence was most conflicting. Several witnesses declared Miss Burns was not pregnant, othersthat they believed she was. The medical evidence was also of a most bewildering and diverse nature. Some of the most eminent surgeons in Liverpool were examined, and none of them agreed on the case. This fact came out that no signs of childbirth were visible as having taken place—no dead infant was discovered. The room in which Miss Burns and Mr. Angus were, was at all times accessible to the servants, and no cries of parturition were heard during the lady’s illness. The fact of the matter was, Miss Burns had suffered from an internal complaint, and died from natural causes. This was shown by Dr. Carson, then a young and rising physician at the time, and who afterwards published a pamphlet in which he utterly demolished the medical evidence given at the trial for the crown.
The jury, after a few minutes’ deliberation, returned a verdict, finding the prisoner “Not Guilty,” on grounds as unimpeachable as the trial. In some of the circumstances attending and resulting from it, it was disgraceful, especially on the part of the medical witnesses for the crown, in their conduct towards the one for the defence—Dr. Carson. I have before me an authentic “Report of the Trial,” “A Vindication of their Opinions,” published by those witnesses, and Dr. Carson’s “Remarks” on that publication, in which he exposes their shortcomings with a master’shand, in a style as terse as it is bold, and as elegant as it is severe; never were the weapons of irony, satire, and invective more effectively used; his impeachment is as withering as his victory at the trial was complete. The authors of the “Vindications” had not only done what in them lay to ruin him in every conceivable way, public and private, but they had exposed themselves to his “Remarks,” all-pungent as they were, by going into court and giving opinions founded upon “the most disgracefully deficient dissection ever made.” The sore which they had inflicted upon themselves at the trial did not heal under the caustic of the “Remarks”; and so the doctor became a victim to local prejudice, passion, and persecution. But he gained to himself a world-wide reputation which outlived them all; the honours of the French Academy were bestowed upon him, and he took his stand among the literary and scientific magnates of the day. As to the trial, the theory of the prosecution was that the prisoner caused the lady’s death by administering a poison to procure abortion, and it was based upon a hole in the coats of the stomach, and a peculiar mark in the uterus; the medical witnesses for the crown affirming that the former could not have arisen from any other known cause than poison, and the latter a sure sign of recent delivery. No poison was found in the stomachor intestines, nor were the supposed contents of the uterus ever found, and no other part of the body was examined. The hole in the stomach presented the same appearance, and was described in the same terms as those which John Hunter had called attention to as occurring in certain cases of sudden death, where there was no suspicion of poisoning, and caused by the action of the gastric juice. Doctor Carson accepted Hunter’s facts, but propounded a theory of his own, being guided to his conclusions by the experiments of Sir John Pringle and Dr. Bride, in reference to water at the temperature of 90 degrees dissolving animal substances. He successfully combated the notion about poisoning from another point of view, namely, the symptoms during life, the comparative mildness of which did not correspond with the usual effects of the poison fixed upon. As to the mark in the uterus, he gave his opinion that it might have arisen from other causes than the one alleged; two phenomena were absent, and upon this fact he asserted it to be physically impossible that there could have been a recent delivery; and, moreover, in his “Remarks,” he proved mathematically that the mark was four times the size it ought to have been on that hypothesis. Miss Burns had not been attended professionally by any one as she was averse to doctors. Mr. Angus in his defenceascribed the whole of the legal proceedings against him to the malevolence of two interested parties, and had it not now been for their influence, the circumstance of Miss Burns’ death would have passed over without remark. Mr. Angus, so far from desiring to harm Miss Burns, expressed himself as deeply indebted to her for her care of his children and the affection and attention to his comforts she had always manifested, and emphatically declared he “loved and respected her too well to dream of doing her any harm.”
When I look around and see the various changes that have taken place in this “good old town” I am sometimes lost in wonderment. Narrow, inconvenient, ill-paved streets have been succeeded by broad thoroughfares—old tumble-down houses have been replaced by handsome and costly buildings, while the poor little humble shops that once were sufficient for our wants have been completely eclipsed by the gigantic and elegant “establishments” of the present day.
I recollect Dale-street when it was a narrow thoroughfare, ill-paved and ill-lighted at night. It was not half the present width. In 1808, as the town began to spread and its traffic increase, great complaints were constantly being made of the inconvenience of the principal streets, and it was agreed on all sides that something should be done towards improvement. The first movementwas made by widening Dale-street; the improvement being by throwing the thoroughfare open from Castle-street to Temple-court, but it really was not until 1820 that this street was set out in anything like a bold and handsome manner. Great difficulties were constantly thrown in the way of alterations by many of the inhabitants, who had lived in their old houses, made fortunes under their roofs, and were hoping to live and die where they had been born and brought up. Many tough battles had the authorities to fight with the owners of the property. Some were most unreasonable in the compensation they demanded, while others for a time obstinately refused to enter into any negotiations whatever, completely disregarding all promised advantages. The most obtuse and determined man was a shoemaker or cobbler, who owned a small house and shop which stood near Hockenall-alley. Nothing could persuade him to go out of his house or listen to any proposition. Out he would not go, although his neighbours had disappeared and his house actually stood like an island in the midst of the traffic current. The road was carried on each side of his house, but there stood the cobbler’s stall alone in its glory. While new and comfortable dwellings were springing up, the old cobbler laughed at his persecutors, defied them, and stood his ground in spite of all entreaty.There the house stood in the middle of the street, and for a long time put a stop to further and complete improvement, until the authorities, roused by the indignation of the public, took forcible possession of the place and pulled the old obnoxious building about the owner’s ears, in spite of his resistance and his fighting manfully for what he thought were his rights; nor would he leave the house until it had been unroofed, the floors torn up, and the walls crumbling and falling down from room to room. The cobbler stuck to his old house to the last, showing fight all through, with a determination and persistence worthy of a nobler cause. Some few years ago a barber, also in Dale-street, exhibited an equal degree of persistence in keeping possession of his shop which was wanted for an improvement near Temple-street. This man clung to his old house and shop until it was made utterly uninhabitable..
Dale-street, when I was a boy, was not very much broader than Sir Thomas’s Buildings; in some parts it was quite as narrow, especially about Cumberland-street end. The carrying trade at one time from Liverpool was by means of packhorses, long strings of which used to leave the town with their burthens, attended by their drivers, and always mustered together in considerable number in Dale-street previous to starting. This they did that they might be strong enoughto resist the highwaymen who infested the roads at the end of the last century. I have often heard my father talk of these free gentlemen’s exploits, and the sometimes droll adventures arising from their presence. He used to tell a story of three volunteer officers going to Warrington by the stage to a county muster, being stopped by a pretended footpad (a friend in disguise) the other side of Prescot, and ignominiously robbed of everything they possessed, even their very swords. I cannot say I believed the story, because I felt sure no officers, whatever service they might be in, would have allowed themselves to be so treated. My father frequented the tavern which stood where Promoli’s Bazaar now stands, and where all the leading tradesmen used to assemble, and he told us that the three officers were there one night and were terribly “trotted” about their losses and that they did not altogether “deny the soft impeachment.” There was a good story current in Liverpool, I have been told, in 1745, touching the doings of Mr. Campbell’s regiment which, when the rebellion broke out in that year, was suddenly called into active service with orders to march to Manchester, by way of Warrington, to resist a party of Scots said to be in that neighbourhood. The regiment marched at night, and of course threw out an advanced guard. When about two miles this side of Warrington, the vanguard fellback reporting that they had seen a party of the enemy bivouacking in the road about a quarter of a mile ahead, and that they could see them quite plainly lying on the ground, at the sides and in the middle of the road. A halt was called, and a council of war summoned. Hearts beat quickly in some hardy frames who boldly advised an onward march, while others were for retreating until some good plan of attack could be determined upon. Some were for diverging from the road and continuing the march through the lanes and bye-ways, so that, if necessary, the enemy could be outflanked. One bolder than the rest offered to go forward as a scout. His proposition was eagerly accepted. Away he went, and soon in the distance a terrible uproar was heard—the volunteers flew to arms, and waited in breathless suspense. They were surprised, however, to hear the alarm raised, but no shots fired. The row subsided, when presently the gallant scout was seen approaching with a prisoner he had bravely captured—in the form of a fat goose. The fact was that a flock of geese had got out into the road, and they presented an appearance to the advanced guard of troops bivouacking. The bold men of Liverpool were then led undauntedly forward, and it was said that every other man marched into Warrington with his supper on his knapsack.
The most admirable improvements that the town underwent was when Lord-street was widened and the Crescent formed, the completion of which undertaking cost upwards of half a million of money. Castle-street was narrow, badly paved, and badly lighted at night, as, indeed, was the whole town. Yet, I recollect there were some people who objected to the improvements at the top of Lord-street, who clung pertinaciously to the old Potato Market, and the block of buildings called Castle Hill. The houses that were erected upon the site of Castle Ditch had the floors of some of their rooms greatly inclined in consequence of the subsidence of the soil. There was a joke current at the time that these apartments ought to be devoted to dining purposes, as the gravy would always run to one side of the plate!
A great increase has taken place in the value of property in every part of the town. In Castle-street sixty years ago a house and shop could be had for £30 per annum. The premises in which Roscoe’s Bank was carried on, and now occupied by Messrs. Nixon, were purchased by Mr. Harvey who, finding his property remaining unoccupied for so long a time, began to despair of letting it, and grew quite nervous about his bargain. On the formation of Brunswick-street, projected in 1786, this handsome thoroughfare was cut through Smock-alleyand the houses in Chorley-street, and swept away a portion of the old Theatre Royal in Drury-lane; it then ran down to the old Custom-house yard, on the site of which the Goree Piazzas and warehouses were erected. Drury-lane was formerly called Entwhistle-street, after an old and influential family who filled high offices in the town in their day.
Any one can fancy what Castle-street must have been when the market was held in it, by filling Cable-street with baskets of farmers’ produce, and blocking it up with all sorts of provisions and stalls, in which the usual marketable commodities would be exposed for sale.
The introduction of Gas in the town was an immense stride in the march of improvement; yet there were not a few persons who bitterly complained of the Gas Company so often disturbing the streets to enable them to lay down their pipes. Frequent letters appeared in the papers of the time to that effect. Previous to 1817 the town was wretchedly lighted by oil lamps which used to go out upon all trifling occasions and for insufficient reasons. They only pretended to show light at the best of times. The lamps were not lit in summer nor on moonlight nights. They were generally extinguished by four or five o’clock in the morning.
The gentry were at one time attended bylink-men or boys in their night excursions. These links were stiff, tarred ropes about the thickness of a man’s arm. They gave a flaring light with any quantity of bituminous-odoured smoke. In front of one or two of the old houses of Liverpool I have seen a remnant of the link days, in an extinguisher attached to the lamp iron. I think there is (or was) one in Mount Pleasant, near the house with the variegated pebble pavement in front (laid down, by the way, by a blind man). The link-extinguisher was a sort of narrow iron funnel of about six inches in diameter at the widest end. It was usually attached to a lamp-iron, and was used by thrusting the link up it, when the light was to be put out.
People in those days seldom went out at night without a lantern, for what with the ruggedness of the pavements and the vile state of the roads it was by no means safe to life or limb to go without some mode of illuminating the way.
Gas was introduced in 1816 and 1817. Only one side of Castle-street was lighted at first. While we now acknowledge the invaluable introduction of this fluid, when we consider the vast area over which it casts its pleasant and cheerful beams, and the price we also pay for such an unmistakable comfort and blessing, we shall not fail to peruse the first advertisement of the Gas Company with intense interest. With this beliefI insert a copy of it. The rate of charge and the mode of ascertaining the quantity of light consumed cannot but prove curious to us and rather puzzling perhaps to understand.
LIVERPOOL GAS-LIGHT COMPANY.Scale of Chargesper Annum for Burners of various sizes, calculated for lighting to the hours below mentioned:—Till8 o’Clock.Till9 o’Clock.Till10 o’Clock.Till11 o’Clock.Till12 o’Clock.OneArgand.£ s. d.£ s. d.£ s. d.£ s. d.£ s. d.No. 1,3 0 03 18 04 16 05 12 06 8 0No. 2,2 14 03 5 04 0 04 14 05 8 0No. 3,2 2 02 14 03 7 03 18 04 10 0OneBatwing.2 14 03 5 04 0 04 14 05 8 0Persons who wish to take the Light, may make application at the Company’s Office, Hatton-garden, where their names will be entered numerically in a Book, and Branch-pipes laid in rotation, the Company only contracting to fix the pipes just within the house, and to supply the Light when the interior is fitted up, and made air-tight and perfect, which must be done by each individual, and approved by the Company’s Engineer.No extra charge will be made, if the Light be extinguished in a quarter of an hour after the time contracted for, and on Saturday evenings the Company will allow burning till twelve o’clock.The Rents will be collected at the commencement of each Quarter, and will be apportioned as follows: Two-thirds of the above prices for the two winter quarters, and One-third for the two summer quarters. If the Lights amount, by the above table, to £10 per annum, a Discount of 2½ per cent. will be allowed; if to £20, 5 per cent.; if to £30, 7½ per cent.; if to £40, 10 per cent.; and if to £50, 12½ per cent.By Order of the Committee,CHARLES ROWLINSON,Secretary.6thJune, 1817.
LIVERPOOL GAS-LIGHT COMPANY.
Scale of Chargesper Annum for Burners of various sizes, calculated for lighting to the hours below mentioned:—
Till8 o’Clock.
Till9 o’Clock.
Till10 o’Clock.
Till11 o’Clock.
Till12 o’Clock.
OneArgand.
£ s. d.
£ s. d.
£ s. d.
£ s. d.
£ s. d.
No. 1,
3 0 0
3 18 0
4 16 0
5 12 0
6 8 0
No. 2,
2 14 0
3 5 0
4 0 0
4 14 0
5 8 0
No. 3,
2 2 0
2 14 0
3 7 0
3 18 0
4 10 0
OneBatwing.
2 14 0
3 5 0
4 0 0
4 14 0
5 8 0
Persons who wish to take the Light, may make application at the Company’s Office, Hatton-garden, where their names will be entered numerically in a Book, and Branch-pipes laid in rotation, the Company only contracting to fix the pipes just within the house, and to supply the Light when the interior is fitted up, and made air-tight and perfect, which must be done by each individual, and approved by the Company’s Engineer.
No extra charge will be made, if the Light be extinguished in a quarter of an hour after the time contracted for, and on Saturday evenings the Company will allow burning till twelve o’clock.
The Rents will be collected at the commencement of each Quarter, and will be apportioned as follows: Two-thirds of the above prices for the two winter quarters, and One-third for the two summer quarters. If the Lights amount, by the above table, to £10 per annum, a Discount of 2½ per cent. will be allowed; if to £20, 5 per cent.; if to £30, 7½ per cent.; if to £40, 10 per cent.; and if to £50, 12½ per cent.
By Order of the Committee,CHARLES ROWLINSON,Secretary.
6thJune, 1817.
Just fancy such a tariff to be in existence at present!
Lord-street, previous to 1827, was very narrow; it was not so wide even as Dale-street. The houses and all the streets in Liverpool were just as we see in third-rate country towns, having bowed shop-windows, or square ones, projecting from the side of the house. I recollect Church-street and Ranelagh-street being paved in the centre only. Cable-street, Redcross-street and Park-lane were only flagged in 1821; and nearly all the houses in these streets were then private dwellings. In Ranelagh-street the houses had high steps to the front doors. The porches of the old houses in Liverpool were remarkable for their handsome appearance and patterns. Many still remain but they are yearly decreasing in number. I recollect when the only shops in Church-street were a grocer’s (where part of Compton House now stands) and a confectioner’s at the corner of Church-alley. Bold-street was nearly all private houses, and there were very few shops in it, even some forty years ago. Seventy years since there was scarcely a house of any sort in it. I have been told that where the Athenæum now stands in Church-street, there was once a large pond on which the skaters used to cut a figure, and that a farm-house stood at the corner of Hanover-street. Some houses in Hanover-streetwill be noticed as being built out at angles with the street. This was to secure a good view of the river from the windows. At the corner of Bold-street some ninety years ago was a milkman’s cottage and dairy. Whitechapel, when I was a lad, was a dreadful thoroughfare. I have seen it deep in water, and boats rowed about, conveying people from house to house, in times of flood. There used to be a channel with water running down the centre of the street, which was considerably lower than it is at present. It was no uncommon thing for the cellars of all the houses to be filled with water, and even now, I believe, some portion of the neighbourhood is not unfrequently rendered damp and uncomfortable. In the cellars under the Forum, in Marble-street, there is a very deep well which is at all times full; this well drains the premises. This Forum, about fifty years ago, was a well-known and much frequented arena for disputations of all sorts. Many a clever speaker has addressed audiences now passed away. Speaker and spoken to are for the most part gone. A great change took place some forty years ago in the locality where St. John’s Market now stands. There was a ropewalk here which extended from where the angle of the building faces the Amphitheatre, as far as Renshaw-street. There was a field at one time to the north of the ropery skirted by hedgeswhich went down the site of the present Hood-street, and round to where there is now a large draper’s shop in the Old Haymarket; the hedge then went up John’s-lane, and so round by the site of the lamp opposite the Queen’s Hotel, along Limekiln-lane to Ranelagh-street. These were all fields, being a portion of what was anciently called “the Great Heath.” It was at one time intended to erect a handsome Crescent where the cab-stand is now. The almshouses stood on this ground. Limekiln-lane, now Lime-street, was so called from the limekiln that stood on the site of the present Skelhorn-street. Here were open fields, which extended to the London-road, quite famous for the assembling of all sorts of rough characters, especially on summer evenings, and on Sundays. Cock-fighting, dog-fighting, and pugilistic encounters used to be carried on daily, and scenes of the utmost confusion took place, until public murmurings compelled the authorities to keep order. It was in the fields about where the Lord Nelson-street rooms stand, that my grandfather recollects seeing three, if not four, men hung for being mixed up in the rebellion of ’45. They were hung there in chains for some time, and afterwards buried at the foot of the gallows as a warning to evil-doers.
There were several mills in this vicinity, one of which was called the White Mill, and there was avery curious story once commonly current about it, in the town to the effect that the owner of it had been murdered by a friend of his who kept a mill lower down the hill. Whitemill-street is called after this White Mill. The lower mill stood where Hotham-street is now, which formerly was called Duncan-street. The mill occupied the site of the Quaker’s school, which was pulled down to make room for the railway yard. When this mill was razed to the ground, a grave was discovered in the foundation, in which was a skeleton, and it was freely said that this was the White Mill miller, who had so mysteriously disappeared some years previously. It was the talk of the town at the time, and crowds of persons went to the spot to look at the grave. When the mill in Duncan-street was taken down it was so rotten that it was razed to the ground in one day. Where St. George’s Hall now stands was the Infirmary. It faced Islington Triangle, afterwards converted into a market-place, being built round with small shops, having a pump in the middle. When this market was discontinued in 1848, the tenants were removed to Gill-street, on its opening in September of that year. The Infirmary consisted of two wings and a centre; at the back was a spacious garden or airing ground. On Shaw’s Brow lived the potters. There were upwards of 2,000 persons engaged in this trade,which was carried on to a very great extent. Pottery in Liverpool was a considerable manufacture, and it is said that it was Mr. Sadler, a potter who lived in Harrington-street, that first discovered the art of printing upon earthenware, through seeing his children stick pieces of printed cotton fabric on some damaged plates they were playing with. There were many other large potteries in Liverpool at one period, besides those on Shaw’s Brow. There was one at the corner of Fontenoy-street, of which Alderman Shaw was proprietor. There was one at the bottom of Duke-street. This was kept by Mr. Drinkwater, who married Captain Leece’s daughter, after whom Leece-street is named. Pothouse-lane is a reminder of the old trade. There were other potteries on Copperas-hill. I do not recollect much about these potteries; but I have heard my father and mother talk about them amongst their “Recollections.” This trade seems to have departed from this town most strangely. The last remnant of it was in the works that were in operation down by the river-side near the present Toxteth Docks. Watch-making has always been a great trade in Liverpool. The first introducer of it was Mr. Wyke, who lived in Dale-street, on the site of the present public offices. Mr. Wyke came from Prescot, and carried on a large trade in watches about the year 1758. Mr. Litherland, theinventor of the chronometer, died in Church-street. On Mr. Wyke’s premises and garden the Gas Works were afterwards erected, which were removed to Newington some few years ago. Amongst many others I have seen some very remarkable changes that have taken place about Bevington-hill. I recollect very well what is now called “Summer Seat” being gardens, and the view from them to the river quite uninterrupted. There was near them a house built by a shoemaker who had made a fortune by his trade; it was called “Lapstone Hall.” The inn called the “Bush” had a bough hanging out with the motto “Good Wine Needs no Bush.” The sailors were very fond of going up to Bevington-Bush on Sundays with their sweethearts, and many a boisterous scene have I witnessed there. The view was really beautiful from the gardens. Where the market stands in Scotland-road there used to be a large stone quarry. The houses in Scotland-road beyond the market are all of very late erection. I can well recollect open fields and market gardens thereabouts, and, indeed, all the way up where Scotland-road now is, there used to be fields. The Preston-road wound round up Bevington-Bush. The Everton range looked very pretty from the Kirkdale-road, especially when handsome mansions began to dot its crest. I recollect along this road cornfields, meadows and gardens.Scotland-road is a comparatively newly-formed thoroughfare. Any one turning to the left at the bottom of Scotland-road, and going to Bevington-Bush will see, in those old houses on the right hand, of what Liverpool, in my young days, was composed. Very few specimens of the old town houses are now remaining, so speedily do they become modernized and altered. I like those quaint old buildings although they were not very comfortable within, from their narrow windows and low ceilings, but there has been a great deal of mirth and jollity in some of those old low-roofed houses in the town, in our great privateering and slave-dealing times.
I have often heard old people talk abouttheir“Recollections” of the town. I have heard them speak of Clayton-square being laid out in the memorable year of 1745. Mrs. or Madame Clayton to whose family this part of the town chiefly belonged, was the daughter of Mr. Clayton who was Mayor in 1689, and who represented the town in parliament for eight sessions. Madame Clayton’s house stood near Cases-street. Her garden was said to have been the best kept and most productive in the town. It was this lady who started the first private carriage in Liverpool. I have heard it said that people used to stare at it, as if it was something wonderful. The streets about Church-street are all called after the oldfamilies. Parker-street was called after Mr. Parker, of Cuerdon, who married Miss Ann Clayton. Their daughter Jane married one of the Tarletons. Tarleton-street is named after Colonel Banastre Tarleton. Banastre-street is named after him also. Houghton-street is after the old Houghton family. Williamson-square was laid out in 1745 by Mr. Williamson. Basnett-street was called after the Basnetts, at one time a very influential family of old Liverpool; Leigh-street after the Leighs; Cases-street after the Cases. Mr. Rose, who projected many streets at the north end of the town on his extensive property, seems to have adopted the poets’ names to distinguish his thoroughfares, as in Chaucer, Ben Jonson, Juvenal, Virgil, Dryden, Milton, Sawney (Alexander) Pope-street, etc. Meadows-street, Scotland-road, was named after Mr. William Meadows, who married six wives. His first wife lived two years. He next married Peggy Robinson, who lived twenty years, and bore him children; after being a widower a month, he again married. This wife lived two years. After remaining a widower seven weeks, he married his fourth wife, who lived eighteen years. After a nine months’ single blessedness he again married. After his fifth wife’s death he remained a widower thirty-four weeks, and at the age of seventy-five, on the 10th of June, 1807, he married Miss AnnLowe, of Preston-street. William Meadows was thought to be a bold man. Maguire-street was named after Mr. Maguire who kept a shop in Lord-street. Benson-street was called after Moses Benson, Esq. Bixteth-street after Alderman Bixteth, who is said “to have been publicly thanked by the authorities for paving the front of his house with his own hands.” Pudsey-street after Pudsey Dawson. Seel-street after Mr. Seel, who lived at the corner of it. Wolstenholme-square and street, after an influential family of that name. Bold-street after the Bolds, who built the first house in it: now occupied by Mr. Dismore. Colquitt-street after the Colquitts, whose mansion was converted into the Royal Institution. Berry-street, was named after Captain Berry, who built the first house at the corner of Bold-street. Cropper-street after the Cropper family. Fazakerly-street after the Fazakerlys. Oakes-street after Captain Oakes, who died in 1808. Lydia Ann-street after Mademoiselle Lydia Ann De La Croix, who married Mr. Perry, the originator of Fawcett’s foundry, and the Coal Brook Dale iron works. Mason-street, Edge-hill, was named after Mr. Mason, who built and endowed Edge-hill church, and whose mansion stood at the corner of Mason-street, the gardens of which extended to the bottom of Paddington. James-street was named after Mr. Roger James, who held large propertyin it. Preeson’s-row was named after Alderman Preeson, who built his house and two others of the old Castle materials. Part of Castle-street is also constructed of the timbers and stones. Old Peter-street which ran out of School-lane has disappeared. Crosshall-street was called after the Hall and gardens of the Crosses which stood on the site of (or about) Manchester-street. Part of Fenwick-street was called Dry Bridge, a bridge passing over the Old Ropery, the name of which is perpetuated in that street. Holden’s Weint was re-named Brook-street. Lower Stanley-street was re-named Button-street, after Mr. Button, who lived to a great age, and saw I don’t know how many king’s reigns. The streets of Liverpool seem to have been named, in some parts of the town, as it were, in classes, as I have mentioned. Mr. Rose called his new thoroughfares after the poets, and in another neighbourhood we find the names of celebrated commanders affording street-titles as in Blake-street, Duncan-street (afterwards Hotham-street), Clarence-street, Russell-street, Rodney-street, Seymour-street, Rupert-street, etc. While on the site of the old Botanic Gardens at the top of Oxford-street, we find Laurel-street, Grove-street, Oak, Vine, and Myrtle-streets. In Kensington, on the site of Dr. Solomon’s property, we have streets named after celebrated lawyers, and this locality is jocosely called “Judge’sLand.” We have streets thereabout bearing the names of Cottenham, Coltman, Wightman, Patteson, Pollock, and Coleridge, and there may also be found a Gilead and a Solomon-street.
By the way, a reference to Dr. Solomon’s property, at Kensington, reminds me of the good stories that were current in Liverpool about the worthy doctor himself. I recollect one wherein the laugh was loud at the Custom-house authorities, who had been nicely bitten by a seizure they had made of some of the doctor’s “exports.” It was said that a quantity of “Balm of Gilead,” upon which drawback was claimed, had been seized by the Custom-house people as not being of the specified value to entitle Dr. Solomon to claim so large an amount of drawback. The doctor was, as may be supposed, very wrath at his “goots” being waylaid, but he determined upon revenge. Making up a lot of sugar and water, well-flavoured with spice, the doctor entered a large case “outward,” declaring it to be of the same value as the former seized case. The trap fell, and the Custom-house authorities were caught, to the intense satisfaction of the doctor, who told them he “vould teach them to seize his goots!”
Another story is told of the doctor once entertaining a party of gentlemen at Gilead House (as was often his custom), and towards the close of theevening, some one began joking the doctor about his “Balm of Gilead.” The doctor bore the jesting very well, and on being told he ought to let those present taste it, readily consented to open a few bottles. Now this Balm, I believe, was very good, and was made, it was said, of strong alcohol or brandy, and the richest spices. The bottles of “Balm” passed round and were duly appreciated. On the guests preparing to leave, they were presented with “a little bill” amounting to about a guinea each for the Balm of Gilead which had been consumed. The doctor telling them that it was by means of the “Balm” he lived, and through the “Balm” he was enabled to invite them to partake of his really bountiful hospitality. Each guest paid his bill, admitting that the doctor was right, and that they had merited the reproof so properly administered to them.
The doctor used to drive a handsome team of four horses, and, of course, attracted a good deal of attention whenever he made his appearance in the streets. On one occasion the late Lord Sefton, who was through life a first-rate whip, drove up to Heywood’s bank in his usual dashing style. Dr. Solomon was tooling along behind his lordship, and desirous of emulating his mode of handling the reins and whip, gave the latter such a flourish as to get the lash so firmly fixed roundhis neck as to require his groom’s aid to release him from its folds.
I will now give the derivations of a few more streets, as I have heard them spoken of by old people; they may be interesting to my readers: Benn’s Gardens was called after Mr. Benn, who was bailiff, in 1697. He resided in Pool-lane, now South Castle-street; his garden occupied this locality. Atherton-street was named after Mr. Peter Atherton, who was bailiff, in 1673. Bird-street was named after Mr. Joseph Bird, who was bailiff, in 1738; mayor in 1746. In Birch-field resided Mr. Birch. Roscoe lived here at one time, and it was here he wrote the greater part of the lives of “The Medici.” I recollect a great many fine trees being in and about this vicinity. Bolton-street was named after John Bolton, Esq., or Colonel Bolton as he was called. Byrom-street was named after Octavius Byrom. Chisenhale-street is named after Chisenhale Johnson. Chorley-street is called after Mr. Chorley, who was recorder of Liverpool from 1602 till 1620. Canning-street is named in honour of the statesman. Cleveland-square takes its name from the Clevelands; it was formerly called Price-square. The Prices were lords of the manor of Birkenhead. Gildart Garden is named after Mr. Gildart, who was bailiff in 1712, and mayor in 1714, 1731, and 1736. Gill-street is namedafter Mr. Gill, who owned the land thereabouts. Harrington-street is called after the Harrington family, who once held considerable property in Liverpool. Hackin’s-hey is called after John Hackin, who was a tenant of the More’s of olden time. Huskisson-street is named after the statesman at one time member for Liverpool. Cresswell-street after Sir Cresswell Cresswell, also an ex-borough member. Brougham-terrace, after Lord Brougham. Hockenhall-alley is called after a very old Liverpool family. Lord-street is named after Lord Molyneux. Redcross-street was so named in consequence of a red obelisk which stood in the open ground, south of St. George’s Church. This street was originally called Tarleton’s New-street. Shaw-street was named after “Squire Shaw,” who held much property at Everton. Sir Thomas’s Buildings is called after Sir Thomas Johnson, who, when Mayor, benevolently caused St. James’s Mount to be erected as a means of employing the destitute poor in the severe winter of 1767. Strand-street derived its name from being the strand or shore of the river. Hunter-street and South Hunter-street, Maryland-street, Baltimore-street, etc., were named after Mr. John Hunter, an eminent merchant trading with the States, who dwelt in Mount Pleasant, and whose gardens extended to Rodney-street.
In 1801, my wife being out of health, I was advised to take her from town. As Everton was recommended by Dr. Parks, I looked about in that neighbourhood, and after some difficulty obtained accommodation in a neat farm-house which stood on the rise of the hill. I say it was with difficulty that I could meet with the rooms I required, or any rooms at all, for there were so few houses at Everton, and the occupants of them so independent, that they seemed loth to receive lodgers on any terms. It must appear strange to find Everton spoken of as being “out of town,” but it was literally so then. It was, comparatively speaking, as much so as West Derby, or any of the neighbouring villages round Liverpool, are at present.
The farm-house in which we resided has long since been swept away, with its barns, its piggery, and its shippon. Never more will its cornricks gladdenthe eye—never more will busy agricultural life be carried on in its precincts. Streets and courts full of houses cumber the ground. No more will the lark be heard over the cornfield—the brook seen running its silvery course—or the apple in the orchard reddening on the bending bough. The lark is represented by a canary in a gilded cage hanging out of a first-floor window—the corn-field by the baker’s shop, with flour at eight pounds for a shilling—the brook is a sewer, and the apple is only seen at the greengrocer’s shop at the corner, in company with American cheese, eggs, finnon-haddies, and lucifer matches. Ditch and hedge—the one with waving sedges and “Forget-me-nots” the other with the May blossom loading the evening air with its balmy breath—were as prevalent, at the time I speak about, in Everton, as you will now find in any country district. It was a pleasant place in summer and autumn time. The neighbourhood of the Beacon was our favourite resort. Many a pleasant day we have spent at the top of it. The hill was covered with heather and gorse bushes. In winter it was as wild, bleak, and cold a place as any you could meet with.
In the summer it was the delight of holiday-makers. A day’s “out” to the Beacon, at Everton, was a very favourite excursion. The hill-side on Sundays used to be thronged with merry people,old and young. The view obtained from Everton Beacon-hill was a view indeed.
And what a prospect! What a noble panoramic scene! I never saw its like. I do not think, in its way, such an one existed anywhere to be compared with it. At your feet the heather commenced the landscape, then came golden corn-fields and green pasture-lands, far and wide, until they reached the yellow undulating sand-hills that fringed the margin of the broad estuary, the sparkling waters of which, in the glow and fulness of the rich sunshine, gave life and animation to the scene, the interest of which was deeply enhanced, when on a day of high-tide, numbers of vessels might be seen spreading their snowy canvas in the wind as they set out on their distant and perilous voyages. In the middle ground of the picture was the peninsula of Wirral, while the river Dee might be seen shimmering like a silver thread under the blue hills of Wales, which occupied the back ground of the landscape. Westward was the ocean—next, the Formby shore attracted the eye. The sand-hills about Birkdale and Meols were visible. At certain seasons, and in peculiar states of the atmosphere, the hummocks of the Isle of Man were to be seen, while further north Black Combe, in Cumberland, was discernible. Bleasdale Scar, and the hills in Westmoreland, dimly made out the extreme distance. AshurstBeacon, Billinge, and at their back Rivington-pike, were visible. Carrying the eye along the Billinge range, there were Garswood-park, Knowsley and Prescot; the smoke from the little town of St. Helen’s might have been seen behind them. Far away to the eastward were the Derbyshire-hills. Then we saw those of Shropshire, until the eye rested on the Chester ranges, Beeston and Halton Castles being plainly before us. The old city of Chester was discernible with a good glass. The eye moved then along the Welsh hills until it rested on the Ormeshead and travelled out upon the North sea. Below us, to our left, was the town of Liverpool, the young giant just springing into vigorous life and preparing to put forth its might, majesty and strength, in Trade, Commerce, and Enterprise. The man of 1801 can scarcely believe his eyes in 1862. The distant view is still there, from the top of Everton church tower, but how wonderfully is all the foreground changed.
The Beacon stood on the site of the eastern corner of Everton church. It was a square tower of two stories, and approached from the present Church-street by a little lane. Church-street was then a sandy winding road, having on one side the open heathery-hill, and on the other a low turf wall which enclosed the fields called “the Mosses,” which were indeed little better than marshes. The Beacon was constructed of thered sandstone taken from the vicinity. I am no antiquarian, so that I can give but a poor opinion of its original date of erection. It was said by some to have been of great age—long previous to the time of Queen Elizabeth. Some even ascribed it to the time of the Earl of Chester; but a learned friend of mine once told me, when talking on this subject, that that could not have been the case, as Beacons were not erected in tower shapes until after the time of Edward the Third. Beacons, previously to that period, were merely lighted fires in cressets, grates, baskets of large size, or of faggots piled up. Everton Beacon certainly looked very old and dilapidated, and had stood the shock and buffet of some centuries. Its size was about six yards square; its height twenty-five feet. The basement floor was on a level with the ground, and was a square room in which there was, in one corner, a fireplace, much knocked about and broken. There was also a flight of narrow stone steps which led to the upper chamber. It was utterly bare of any fittings whatever; but in the walls were indications of there having been fixtures at some time. There being no door to it the cattle which grazed on the hill had access to it at all times of storm or wind or heat, or as their bovine inclinations should prompt them to seek shelter, so that the floor, which was unflagged,was always in a very dirty state. On ascending the stairs access was obtained to the upper apartment which was lighted by a broad window facing the westward. This room had been used as a sleeping apartment by the guard or custodian of the Beacon, the window serving as a look-out. I believe the combustibles used in lighting up the signals were stored in it, the lower room being occupied as the common living chamber. From the upper room a flight of stone steps led upon the roof or outer platform. In the south-west corner was a large stone tank in which the signal fires were lighted. It seemed to have been subjected to the action of intense heat. At one corner was a sort of pent-house which served as a shelter for the watchman in inclement weather. On the east wall a gooseberry bush flourished surprisingly. How it came there no one knew—it had long been remembered in that position by every one who knew anything about the Tower. A few years previous to the date I speak about, the Beacon was occupied by a cobbler who carried on his trade in it, and eked out a living by grazing a cow and some goats on the common land in the vicinity. He looked after them while he made, mended, or cobbled. It was a very current tradition in Everton that during the early part of the reign of Charles the First, people came up to Everton Beacon to be married, during theproscription of the clergy. When Thurot’s expedition was expected in 1760, it was said that Everton Hill was alive with people from the town waiting the freebooters’ approach. A party of soldiers was then encamped on the hill, and I have been told the men had orders, on Thurot’s appearance, to make signals if by day, and to light up the Beacon if at night, to communicate the intelligence of the French fleet being off the coast to the other Beacons at Ashurst and Billinge, Rivington-pike and elsewhere, and so spread the news into the north; while signals would also be taken up at Halton, Beeston, the Wreken, and thence to the southward. The most perfect arrangements for the transmission of this intelligence are said to have been made; and I knew an old man at Everton who told me that he had on that occasion carted several loads of pitch-barrels and turpentine and stored them in the upper chamber of the Beacon to be ready in case of emergency. He said that during the French war, at the close of the reign of George the Second, the Beacon was filled with combustibles, and that there was a guard always kept therein.
I am not sure if it is very generally known that it was to a Liverpool captain the discovery of the sailing of the Armada must be ascribed, and through him was made public in England. This captain’s name was Humphrey Brook. He wasoutward bound from Liverpool to the Canaries when he saw the Spanish fleet in the distance, sailing north. Suspecting its errand he put his helm up and hastened back to Plymouth, where he spread the intelligence and caused it to be transmitted to London. He received substantial marks of favour from the Government for his foresight, prudence, and activity.
In 1804 a telegraph station was established at Everton. It stood where the schools are now built. It was discontinued in 1815. It consisted of an upright post whence arms extended at various angles—there was also a tall flag-staff for signals. While we were at Everton, a Mr. Hinde erected a house at the corner of Priory-lane, which he intended should represent the Beacon; but it was not a bit like it originally, nor at the present time (for I believe the house is still standing). Mr. Hinde had not long erected his Tower before he found that it was giving way. To prevent it falling he ran up a wing to the westward. He then found that it was necessary to erect a southern wing to keep that side up also. Hence the present appearance of the house which has always been a subject of wonder and remark by strangers at its eccentric and unusual aspect.
I recollect St. Domingo Pit being much more extensive than it has been of late years. At one period it was fully one-third larger than it is now.Those large stones that stand by its brink are the “Mere Stones.” There were several more stones about which marked Everton’s ancient boundaries. There was one, I recollect, in the West Derby-road, near the Zoological Gardens. I often wonder if this relic of the past has been preserved. A branch of the Pool ran up the westward and formed an ornamental water in the grounds that skirted the Pool, a rustic bridge being thrown over it. The cottage at one corner of the Pool is the ancient pinfold, and the rent of it was paid to the lord of the manor. The view from this part of Everton was very fine before houses began to spring up in its vicinity. I do not know a finer prospect anywhere about Liverpool. When we were staying at Everton there were very few houses. I dare say there were not fifty houses in the whole district, and the inhabitants did not muster more than 400 souls; and it was not until 1818 or 1820 that much increase took place in its population.