In 1820, a rather curious circumstance transpired, which created a good
deal of conversation, and even consternation amongst the inhabitants of
Everton. This was the extraordinary and mysterious disappearance of the
Cross which stood at the top of the village, a little to the westward of
where the present Everton road is lineable with Everton-lodge. This
Cross was a round pillar, about four feet from the top of three square
stone steps. On the apex of the column was a sun-dial. This Cross had
long been pronounced a nuisance; and fervent were the wishes for its
removal by those who had to travel that road on a dark night, as frequent
collisions took place from its being so much in the way of the traffic.
When any one, however, spoke of its removal, the old inhabitants so
strongly protested against its being touched, that the authorities gave
up all hope of ever overcoming the prejudice in favour of its remaining.
However, a serious accident having occurred, it was at length determined
by the late Sir William Shaw, to do what others dared not. One dark and
stormy winter's night, when all Everton was at rest--for there were no
old watchmen then to wake people up with their cries--two persons might
have been seen stealing towards the Cross, in the midst of the elemental
war which then raged. One of them bore a lantern, while the other
wheeled before him a barrow, laden with crowbar, pickaxe, and spade. The
rain descended in torrents, and the night was as dark as the deed they
were about to commit could possibly require. They approached the ancient
gathering place, where, in olden times, during the sweating sickness, the
people from Liverpool met the farmers of the district and there paid for
all produce by depositing their money in bowls of water. Amidst the
storm the two men for a moment surveyed their stony victim, and then
commenced its destruction. First, with a strong effort, they toppled
over the upper stone of the column; then the next, and the next. They
then wheeled them away, stone by stone, to the Round House on
Everton-brow, wherein each fragment was deposited. The base was then
ruthlessly removed and carried away, and at length not a vestige was left
to mark the spot where once stood Everton Cross--raised doubtless by
pious hands on some remarkable occasion long forgotten.
The Cross was thus safely housed and stored away in the Round House, and
no one was the wiser. When morning dawned the astonishment of the early
Everton birds was extreme. From house to house--few in number, then--ran
the news that Everton Cross had disappeared during the storm of the
previous night. The inhabitants soon mustered on the spot, and deep and
long and loud were the lamentations uttered at its removal. Who did it?
When? How? At length a whisper was passed from mouth to mouth--at first
faintly and scarcely intelligible--until, gathering strength as it
travelled, it became at length boldly asserted that the Father of Lies
had taken it away in the turbulence of the elements. And so the news
spread through Liverpool, in the year 1820, that the Devil had run off
with the Cross at Everton. My old friend, who many a time chuckled over
his feat, and who told me of his doings, said that for many years he
feared to tell the truth about it, so indignant were many of the
inhabitants who knew that its disappearance could not have been
attributable to satanic agency. My friend used to say that he had hard
work to preserve his gravity when listening to the various versions that
were prevalent of the circumstance.
Opposite the Cross there were some very old houses of the same type,
character, and date as that known as Prince Rupert's cottage. The latter
was a low long building, constructed of stone, lath, and plaster, and
presented the appearance of an ordinary country cottage. Prince Rupert's
officers were quartered in the village houses. At the back of the
cottage, Rupert constructed his first battery. It was a square platform,
and was used as a garden, until cottage and all were swept away for the
new streets now to be found thereabouts. I can recollect the whole of
the land from Everton Village to Brunswick Road being pasture land, and
Mr. Plumpton's five houses in Everton Road, overlooking the fields,
commanded high rents when first erected. Low-hill at this time was a
rough, sandy, undulating lane with hedges on both sides. The only
dwellings in it were a large house near the West Derby-road, and two low
cottages opposite Phythian-street, still standing. The public-house at
the corner of Low-hill and the Prescot-road is of considerable antiquity,
there having been a tavern at this spot from almost all time, so to
speak. Hall-lane was then called Cheetham's-brow.
Amongst other objects of interest that have disappeared at Everton, may
be numbered "Gregson's Well," which stood on the left hand side of the
gateway of Mr. Gregson's mansion. This well, before water was brought
into our town in such abundance, was a great resort for the matrons,
maids, and children of the neighbourhood, and slaked the thirst of many a
weary traveller. It was a fine spring of water, and was approached by
stone steps: the water issuing from a recess in the wall. "Gregson's
Well" was a known trysting-place. There was an iron railing which
enclosed the side and ends of the well, to prevent accidents. The water
from the well is still flowing, I have been told. The stream runs
underground, behind the houses in Brunswick-road--or, at least, it did so
a few years ago. I have seen the bed of the stream that ran in the olden
time down Moss-street, laid open many times when the road has been taken
up. There was a curious story once current about the way that
Brunswick-road obtained its name. It is said that when the new streets
in that vicinity were being laid out and named, the original appellation
which it bore, was chalked up as copy for the painter; but a patriotic
lady, during the absence of the workman rubbed out the old name and
substituted for it "Brunswick-road," which name it has ever since borne.
Where Mr. Gregson's house stood, or nearly so, there was a house which,
in the early part of the last century, belonged to a gentleman and his
sister named Fabius. Their real name was Bean; but, after the manner of
the then learned, they assumed the name of Fabius, from "Faba." Mr. or,
as he was called, "Dr." Fabius was an apothecary, and received brevet
rank--I suppose from being the only medical practitioner about. At any
rate, from the limited population of the vicinity, he was doubtless
sufficient for its wants. This Mr. Fabius was one of the first Baptists
in this part of the country, and in 1700 obtained a license from
Manchester, to use a room in his house as a prayer-room for that
particular class of worshippers. Mr. Fabius and his sister Hanna built,
after a short time, a chapel or tabernacle of wood, in their garden, and
gave to the Baptists "for ever" the "piece of land adjoining the
chapel-field," as a burying-place; and in this little cemetery have all
the earliest leading members of this influential body been interred. It
has been quite full for some years, and in consequence the Necropolis
Cemetery sprung as it were from it, where dissenters of all denominations
could be buried. The Baptists, increasing in numbers, quitted Low-hill,
and built a chapel in Byrom-street, which is now St. Matthew's church.
When this chapel was built it was thought to be too far out of town to be
well attended.
There once lived a curious person at Low-hill who had peculiar tastes.
He built a place which was called "Rat's Castle." It stood on the brink
of a delf, the site of which is now occupied by the Prescot-street
Bridewell. This person used to try experiments with food, such as
cooking spiders, blackbeetles, rats, cats, mice, and other things not in
common use; and, it is said, was wont to play off tricks upon
unsuspecting strangers by placing banquets before them that were quite
unexpected and unprecedented in the nature and condition of the food.
While lingering over my "Recollections" of Everton, I ought not to forget
mentioning that, as time went on and Liverpool became prosperous, and its
merchants desired to get away from the dull town-houses and imbibe
healthy, fresh air, this same Everton became quite the fashionable suburb
and court-end of Liverpool. Noble mansions sprung up, surrounded by
well-kept gardens. Gradually the gorse-bush and the heather disappeared,
and the best sites on the hill became occupied. The Everton gentry for
their wealth and their pride were called "Nobles," and highly and proudly
did they hold up their heads, and great state did many of the merchants
who dwelt there keep up. The first mansion erected was on the Pilgrim
Estate; the next was St. Domingo House. A brief history of these estates
may not be uninteresting. In 1790 the whole of Everton hereabouts was
owned by two proprietors. When Everton was all open, waste, and
uncultivated land, one portion of it was enclosed by a shoemaker who
called his acquisition "Cobbler's Close." This property was bought by
Mr. Barton, who realized upwards of 190,000 pounds through the capture of
a French vessel called _La Liberte_, by a vessel owned by Joseph Birch,
Esq., M.P., called _The Pilgrim_. The estate of Cobblers' Close was then
re-named "Pilgrim." The property next passed into the hands of Sir
William Barton, who sold it to Mr. Atherton. It was this gentleman who
gave the land on which Everton Church is built, with this stipulation
only--that no funerals should enter by the West Gate. The reason
assigned for this was because Mr. Atherton's house was opposite to it.
Mr. Woodhouse purchased the Pilgrim estate from Mr. Atherton, and
re-named it "Bronte,", from his connection with the Bronte estate in
Sicily, which had been bestowed on Lord Nelson for his great services.
When Lord Nelson received his first consignment of Marsala wines ordered
for the fleet from his estate, he was asked to give the wine a name so
that it might be known to the English people. Nelson said "call it
Bronte." His lordship was told that "Bronte" meant "thunder." "Oh,"
replied the hero, "it will do very well; John Bull will not know what it
means, and will think all the better of it on that account."
The St. Domingo Estate, in this vicinity, was originated by Mr. Campbell,
who in 1757 purchased the estate. He continually added to it, as
occasion presented, and called the whole "St. Domingo," in consequence of
a rich prize taken by a privateer which he owned when off that island.
These two contiguous estates may be said, therefore, to have been
purchased by English bravery.
Mr. Crosbie was the next proprietor. He purchased it for 3500 pounds,
paying 680 pounds as deposit money. On his becoming bankrupt the estate
was again put up for sale. It remained some time on hand, until Messrs.
Gregson, Bridge and Parke purchased it for 4129 pounds. They sold it for
3470 pounds, losing thereby. In 1793, Mr. Sparling, who was Mayor of
Liverpool in 1790, bought it. He took down the house built by Mr.
Campbell and erected the handsome mansion now standing. This gentleman
stipulated in his will that the house should be only occupied by a person
of the name of Sparling, and that it was not to be let to any person for
longer than seven years. In 1810 the legatees got the will reversed by
an act of Parliament. The Queen's Dock was projected by Mr. Sparling,
and Sparling-Street was called after him. The St. Domingo Estate was
next sold for 20,295 pounds. It was afterwards resold for 26,383 pounds,
and used as barracks.
The objections made by the people of Everton to barracks being formed in
their neighbourhood were very great. A strong memorial was numerously
signed by the inhabitants against the movement. The memorialists
represented the demoralization attendant upon the introduction of numbers
of soldiers into a respectable and quiet neighbourhood, and the
annoyances that would have to be endured. But the prayer failed, and St.
Domingo House, for a time, became barracks accordingly. Everton appears
always to have been a favourite locality for the quartering of soldiery,
when it has been necessary or expedient to station them in the vicinity
of Liverpool. On several occasions entire regiments have been quartered
at Everton.
The encampment of soldiers in the fields near Church-street, which a few
years ago attracted great attention and curiosity, is of too recent
occurrence to require remark from me, as also the occupancy of the large
houses on Everton-terrace and in Waterhouse-lane and Rupert-lane by
officers and men. As of old, the inhabitants of the present day sent up
a remonstrance to the authorities at the Horse Guards, against soldiers
being located in the neighbourhood, but with the same want of success. A
most intolerable nuisance, amongst others, entailed upon the inhabitants
was the beating of what, in military parlance, is called "the Daddy
Mammy." This dreadful infliction upon light sleepers and invalids
consisted of half a dozen boys at military daybreak (that is, as soon as
you can see a white horse a mile off) learning to beat the drum. The
little wretches used to batter away in Mr. Waterhouse's garden and
Rupert-lane half the day through, until several letters appeared in the
newspapers on the subject, which excited the wrath of the commanding
officer of the regiment then stationed there, who vowed vengeance on all
civilians daring to interfere with, or comment on, the rules of the
service.
The Breck-road, and indeed all the roads about Everton were, but a few
years back, mere country lanes, along which little passed except the
farmers. There was no traffic on them as there was no leading
thoroughfare to any place in the neighbourhood of the least importance.
It is only within the last ten years that Everton can be said to have
been at all populous. It was in my young days out by Breck-road and
Anfield (originally called Hangfield), Whitefield-lane, and
Roundhill-lane, completely open country. On Breck-road or Lane the only
house was that at the corner of Breckfield-road, called the "Odd House."
It was then a farm.
Connected with Whitefield-lane I recollect a good story told by a
gentleman I knew, of his getting a free ride to Liverpool, behind the
carriage of a well-known eccentric and most benevolent gentleman, some
thirty years ago. My young friend who was then but lately come to
Liverpool, had been invited to spend Sunday at Whitefield House, which
stands at the corner of Whitefield-lane and Boundary-lane. At that time
there was not a house near it for some distance. Boundary-lane was a
narrow, rutted road, with a hedge and a ditch on each side, while the
footpath--on one side only--was in a most miserable condition. There was
then adjoining West Derby-road a large strawberry garden, which in summer
time was the resort of pleasure-seekers, and it was the only approach to
neighbourship along the whole length of the lane.
On leaving Whitefield House the night proved so intensely dark that my
young friend found himself quite bewildered, and scarcely know whether to
turn to the right or the left, being unacquainted with the locality.
Fortunately turning to the right, he stumbled along the miserable road,
and with the utmost difficulty made his way onward, but not without
misgivings of being knocked down and robbed, as there had been several
daring attacks made upon people at night in that vicinity. He fervently
wished himself in Liverpool, but shortly arriving at the West Derby-road
he began to understand his "whereabouts." Having proceeded a few yards,
a carriage passed him driven by a postilion. There was an unoccupied
dicky behind, which my young friend thought it seemed a pity not to
appropriate. Quick as youth and activity prompted, he climbed upon the
carriage with the notion of the Dutchman "that it was better to ride than
walk," and found his condition materially benefited by being carried
through the darkness of the night instead of walking. When the carriage
reached the London-road my friend thought it was time to alight, as he
was then near home; but to his dismay he found that, although it was very
easy to get up, it was not very easy to get down in safety. On he went
with the carriage until it arrived at Lime-street, and began to turn down
Roe-street, which was a good mile from my friend's lodgings. What was to
be done? A bold thought struck him. "Hallo, hallo! I'll get down
here!" he cried. Upon this the postilion pulled up short, when down came
the window of the carriage, and an inquiry from it took place as to the
reason of the stoppage. My friend had by this time managed to drop off
his perch, when he found the head protruding was that of the excellent
lessee of the Theatre Royal, Mr. Lewis. As he was quite as polite a man
as the worthy lessee himself, on finding to whom he had been indebted for
his ride, he made a very low bow, with thanks for his most welcome
"lift," exclaiming with Buckingham, "I will remember that your Grace is
bountiful." In very sharp tones "John" was told to drive on, while my
friend walked away, quietly laughing in his sleeve at the success of his
impudence, but regretting that he had not alighted sooner to be nearer
home.
Surprising are the changes that have taken place on the West Derby-road
of late years. It was originally called Rake-lane, and Rocky-lane from
Richmond-hill. A complete little town has sprung up upon its pleasant
meadows and bountiful cornfields. The Zoological Gardens, within a very
few years, was the uttermost verge of this suburb. I recollect very well
the opening of those once beautiful gardens. They were projected by the
late Mr. Atkins, a gentleman who was the proprietor of the largest
travelling-menagerie in the country. The place he had selected for his
undertaking was called "Plumpton's Hollow." This was originally a large
excavation, whence brick-clay which abounds in the neighbourhood had been
obtained. Mr. Atkins, possessing great taste and judgment, was highly
favoured and much thought of by the late Lord Derby, who consulted him on
many occasions and honoured him with his patronage, benefiting the
gardens as much as he could, by adding to the collection. Mr. Atkins
chose this site for his gardens, believing it to be far enough out of
town for the convenience of the public, and healthy enough for the due
growth of his trees and plants, and the well-being of his animals. The
Zoological Gardens were, under Mr. Atkin's management, very different, by
all accounts, from what they are now. I have seen on fine summer days,
numbers of ladies of the highest respectability taking the air in them,
accompanied by their children, while at night the attendance was most
excellent, being patronized by the highest families in the town who
seemed to enjoy the amusements provided with the utmost zest and relish.
The collection of animals was remarkable at that time. Captains of
vessels frequently brought rare and curious animals as presents, so that
every week some new specimen of interest was added. I look back with
pleasure to the many hours I have spent in the Gardens shortly after
their being opened. They were admirably conducted, and in great repute
as a zoological collection. Mr. Atkins took his idea of forming them
from the success of the Gardens then lately established in Regent's Park,
and at Kennington, in Surrey.
A great sensation was once produced by the abduction of a Miss Turner
from Miss Daulby's School, on the West Derby-road, by Mr. E. Gibbon
Wakefield. This is the white house that stands retired a field distant
from the road, on the right hand side, about a quarter of a mile beyond
the Zoological Gardens.
The abduction took place in March, 1826. It caused immense excitement
throughout England. Miss Turner was the daughter of Mr. Turner, of
Shrigley Park, Cheshire. By means of a forged letter addressed to Miss
Daulby, intimating that Miss Turner's mother was dangerously ill, the
young lady was permitted to leave the school for the purpose of going
home. In the carriage in waiting was Mr. E. Gibbon Wakefield, a widower
with one child (a perfect stranger to Miss Turner). It is believed he
had been put up to this disgraceful act of villainy by a Miss Davies,
with whom he was acquainted in Paris, and who was a member of a small
coterie of friends, meeting for social purposes at each other's houses.
This Miss Davies afterwards became the wife of Mr. E. G. Wakefield's
father. She was tried with her two stepsons for the conspiracy. The
object in taking Miss Turner away was the large fortune in expectancy
from her father as his sole child and heiress. Miss Turner was taken
from Liverpool to Manchester, next to Kendal, and on to Carlisle, and
thence across the borders and there married to Mr. Wakefield; he having
represented to her that by marrying him, he could save her father from
impending ruin. From Scotland, they went to London, thence to Calais,
where Miss Turner was found by her relatives and taken away.
The Wakefields were tried at Lancaster. Edward was found guilty of
abduction and sentenced to transportation. He went to Australia in
pursuance of his sentence, and after some years became the Government
commissioner. The marriage with Miss Turner was not consummated. Miss
Turner stated that she had received the utmost politeness and attention
from Mr. Wakefield, and had been treated by him with deference and
respect throughout. Had it not been for Mr. Wakefield's forbearance, it
was thought that his sentence would have been different. Edward Gibbon
Wakefield was said to have been a natural son of Lord Sandwich. He wrote
some exceedingly clever works upon colonial matters, and on emigration.