Part 1 (1/2)

Recollections of Old Liverpool.

by A Nonagenarian.

PREFACE.

The ”Recollections of Old Liverpool,” contained in the following pages, appeared originally the _Liverpool Compa.s.s_, their publication extending over a period of several months.

When they were commenced it was intended to limit them to three, or at the most four, chapters, but such was the interest they created, that they were extended to their present length.

Those who have recorded the green memories of an old man, as told while seated by his humble ”ingle nook” have endeavoured to adhere to his own words and mode of narration--hence the somewhat rambling and discursive style of these ”Recollections”--a style which does not, in the opinion of many, by any means detract from their general interest.

The frontispiece is copied (by special permission) from part of a very finely-painted view of Liverpool, by Jenkinson, dated 1813, in the possession of Thomas Dawson, Esq., Rodney-street. The vignette of the Mill which stood at the North end of the St. James' Quarry in the t.i.tle page, is from an original water colour drawing by an amateur (name unknown), dated 1821.

_November_, 1863.

CHAPTER I.

I was born in Liverpool, on the 4th of June in 1769 or '70. I am consequently about ninety-three years old. My friends say I am a wonderful old man. I believe I am. I have always enjoyed such excellent health, that I do not know what the sensation is of a medical man putting his finger on my wrist. I have eaten and drunk in moderation, slept little, risen early, and kept a clear conscience before G.o.d and man. My memory is surprising. I am often astonished at myself in recalling to mind events, persons, and circ.u.mstances, that occurred so long ago as to be almost forgotten by everybody else.

I can recollect every occurrence that has fallen under my cognizance, since I was six years old. I do not remember so well events that have taken place during the last twenty or thirty years, as they seem confused to me; but whatever happened of which I had some knowledge during my boyish days and early manhood, is most vividly impressed upon my memory.

My family have been long-livers. My father was ninety odd, when he died, my mother near that age at her death. My brother and sister are still living, are healthy, and, like myself, in comfortable circ.u.mstances.

I may be seen any fine day on the Pier-head or Landing-stage, accompanied by one of my dear great grandchildren; but you would not take me to be more than sixty by my air and appearance.

We lived in a street out of Church-street, nearly opposite St. Peter's.

I was born there. At that time the churchyard was enclosed by trees, and the gravestones were erect. One by one the trees died or were destroyed by mischievous boys, and unfortunately they were not replaced. The church presented then a very pretty appearance. Within the last thirty years there was one tree standing nearly opposite to the Blue Coat School. When that tree died, I regretted its loss as of an old friend.

The stocks were placed just within the rails, nearly opposite the present extensive premises occupied by the Elkingtons. Many and many a man have I seen seated in them for various light offences, though in many cases the punishment was heavy, especially if the culprit was obnoxious in any way, or had made himself so by his own conduct. The town boys were very cruel in my young days. It was a cruel time, and the effects of the slave-trade and privateering were visible in the conduct of the lower cla.s.ses and of society generally. Goodness knows the town boys are cruel now, but they are angels to what their predecessors were. I think education has done some good. All sorts of mischievous tricks used to be played upon the culprits in the stocks; and I have seen stout and st.u.r.dy fellows faint under the sufferings they endured. By the way, at the top of Marybone, there was once a large pond, called the Flashes, where there was a ducking-post and this was a favourite place of punishment when the Lynch Law of that time was carried out. I once saw a woman ducked there.

She might have said with Queen Catherine:--

”Do with me what you will, For any change must better my condition.”

There was a terrible row caused once by the rescue of a woman from the Cuckstool. At one time it threatened to be serious. The mayor was dining at my father's, and I recollect he was sent for in a great hurry, and my father and his guests all went with him to the pond. The woman was nearly killed, and her life for long despaired of. She was taken to the Infirmary, on the top of Shaw's Brow, where St. George's Hall now stands. The way they ducked was this. A long pole, which acted as a lever, was placed on a post; at the end of the pole was a chair, in which the culprit was seated; and by ropes at the other end of the lever or pole, the culprit was elevated or dipped in the water at the mercy of the wretches who had taken upon themselves the task of executing punishment.

The screams of the poor women who were ducked were frightful. There was a ducking tub in the House of Correction, which was in use in Mr.

Howard's time. I once went with him through the prison (as I shall describe presently) and saw it there. It was not till 1804 or 1805 that it was done away with.

My father was owner and commander of the _Mary Ellen_. She was launched on the 4th of June, my birthday, and also the anniversary of our revered sovereign, George III. We used to keep his majesty's birthday in great style. The bells were set ringing, cannon fired, colours waved in the wind, and all the schools had holiday. We don't love the gracious Lady who presides over our destinies less than we did her august grandfather, but I am sure we do not keep her birthday as we did his. The _Mary Ellen_ was launched on the 4th of June, 1775. She was named after and by my mother. The launch of this s.h.i.+p is about the first thing I can remember. The day's proceedings are indelibly fixed upon my memory. We went down to the place where the s.h.i.+p was built, accompanied by our friends. We made quite a little procession, headed by a drum and fife.

My father and mother walked first, leading me by the hand. I had new clothes on, and I firmly believed that the joy bells were ringing solely because _our_ s.h.i.+p was to be launched. The _Mary Ellen_ was launched from a piece of open ground just beyond the present Salt-house Dock, then called, ”the South Dock.” I suppose the exact place would be somewhere about the middle of the present King's Dock. The bank on which the s.h.i.+p was built sloped down to the river. There was a slight boarding round her. There were several other s.h.i.+ps and smaller vessels building near her; amongst others, a frigate which afterwards did great damage to the enemy during the French war. The government frequently gave orders for s.h.i.+ps to be built at Liverpool. The view up the river was very fine.

There were few houses to be seen southward. The mills on the Aigburth-road were the princ.i.p.al objects.

It was a pretty sight to see the _Mary Ellen_ launched. There were crowds of people present, for my father was well-known and very popular.

When the s.h.i.+p moved off there was a great cheer raised. I was so excited at the great ”splash” which was made, that I cried, and was for a time inconsolable, because they would not launch the s.h.i.+p again, so that I might witness another great ”splash.” I can, in my mind's eye, see ”the splash” of the _Mary Ellen_ even now. I really believe the displacement of the water on that occasion opened the doors of observation in my mind.

After the launch there was great festivity and hilarity. I believe I made myself very ill with the quant.i.ty of fruit and good things I became possessed of. While the _Mary Ellen_ was fitting-up for sea, I was often taken on board. In her hold were long shelves with ring-bolts in rows in several places. I used to run along these shelves, little thinking what dreadful scenes would be enacted upon them. The fact is that the _Mary Ellen_ was destined for the African trade, in which she made many very successful voyages. In 1779, however, she was converted into a privateer. My father, at the present time, would not, perhaps, be thought very respectable; but I a.s.sure you he was so considered in those days. So many people in Liverpool were, to use an old and trite sea-phrase, ”tarred with the same brush” that these occupations were scarcely, indeed, were not at all, regarded as anything derogatory from a man's character. In fact, during the privateering time, there was scarcely a man, woman, or child in Liverpool, of any standing, that did not hold a share in one of these s.h.i.+ps. Although a slave captain, and afterwards a privateer, my father was a kind and just man--a good father, husband, and friend. His purse and advice were always ready to help and save, and he was, consequently, much respected by the merchants with whom he had intercourse. I have been told that he was quite a different man at sea, that there he was harsh, unbending and stern, but still just.

How he used to rule the turbulent spirits of his crews I don't know, but certain it is that he never wanted men when other Liverpool s.h.i.+p-owners were short of hands. Many of his seamen sailed voyage after voyage with him. It was these old hands that were attached to him who I suspect kept the others in subjection. The men used to make much of me. They made me little sea toys, and always brought my mother and myself presents from Africa, such as parrots, monkeys, sh.e.l.ls, and articles of the natives'

workmans.h.i.+p. I recollect very well, after the _Mary Ellen_ had been converted into a privateer, that, on her return from a successful West Indian cruise, the mate of the s.h.i.+p, a great big fellow, named Blake, and who was one of the roughest and most ungainly men ever seen, would insist upon my mother accepting a beautiful chain, of Indian workmans.h.i.+p, to which was attached the miniature of a very lovely woman. I doubt the rascal did not come by it very honestly, neither was a costly bracelet that one of my father's best hands (once a Northwich salt-flatman) brought home for my baby sister. This man would insist upon putting it on the baby somewhere, in spite of all my mother and the nurse could say; so, as its thigh was the nearest approach to the bracelet in size of any of its little limbs, there the bracelet was clasped. It fitted tightly and baby evidently did not approve of the ornament. My mother took it off when the man left. I have it now. This man used to tell queer stories about the salt trade, and the fortunes made therein, and how they used to land salt on stormy and dark nights on the Ches.h.i.+re or Lancas.h.i.+re borders, or into boats alongside, subst.i.tuting the same weight of water as the salt taken out, so that the cargo should pa.s.s muster at the Liverpool Custom House. The duty was payable at the works, and the cargo was re-weighed in Liverpool. If found over weight, the merchant had to pay extra duty; and if short weight, he had to make up the deficiency in salt. The trade required a large capital, and was, therefore, in few hands. One house is known to have paid as much as 30,000 pounds for duty in six weeks. My grandfather told me that in 1732 (time of William and Mary), when he was a boy, the duty on salt was levied for a term of years at first, but made perpetual in the third year of George II. Sir R.

Walpole proposed to set apart the proceeds of the impost for his majesty's use.