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. There was 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 permitted to 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 water bathing 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 a continuation, 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 a ropery 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, in Huntingdonshire, 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 ship Hartwell, 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 after being 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 pounds worth of timber, but only 4,000 pounds 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 pounds, 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 inherited his 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 his fate 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."



CHAPTER IV.

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 horrors of 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 pounds for his vote. There ought to be some fixed sum—certainly not less than 25 pounds."

One of the most remarkable election events that has taken place in Liverpool was that in which Messrs. Ewart and Denison were engaged in 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 on board one of the beautiful American sailing-packets, the George 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 Tuesday morning, 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 as a 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 pounds 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 pounds. Amongst the C's was a recipient of 28 and 25 pounds from each side; and another, a Mr. C., took 50 pounds from Denison and 15 pounds 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 borough voters. 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 pounds, of which sum Colonel Bolton supplied 10,000 pounds. Mr. Ewart's family it was understood, entirely furnished his expenses amounting to 65,000 pounds. Mr. Denison's reached from 47,000 to 50,000 pounds.

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 pounds, and as much as 40 to 50 pounds 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 pounds, 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 was rapidly 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 pounds 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 pounds 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 days any and every occasion of offence was seized upon as a casus 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 Brooks repeated 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 the Princess frigate, 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 the hour 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 two gentlemen 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, repeatedly asked 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 and quid nuncs of 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 (fancy our Volunteers 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 being to 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 in the 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, who had 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 pounds 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 20th of 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 in concealment 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.



CHAPTER V.

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 were hostile 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 of his 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, never left 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 pounds 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 the watchmen, 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 observed en 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 and scene 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 from the 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 wants were 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 would in 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 the causes celebres of 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 the public 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 was enceinte. 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, others that 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's hand, 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 stomach or 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 defence ascribed 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."



CHAPTER VI.

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 movement was 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 enough to 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 fell back 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 pounds 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-alley and 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 by link-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 belief I 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 CHARGES per Annum for Burners of various sizes, calculated for lighting to the hours below mentioned:— Till Till Till Till Till 8 9 10 11 12 o'Clock. o'Clock. o'Clock. o'Clock. o'Clock. One Argand. l. s. d. l. s. d. l. s. d. l. s. d. l. 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 One Batwing. 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 pounds per annum, a Discount of 2.5 per cent. will be allowed; if to 20 pounds, 5 per cent.; if to 30 pounds, 7.5 per cent.; if to 40 pounds, 10 per cent.; and if to 50 pounds, 12.5 per cent.

By Order of the Committee, CHARLES ROWLINSON, Secretary.

6th June, 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 Athenaeum 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-street will 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 hedges which 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.