It would be a strange picture of “Liverpool a few years since” which did
not exhibit Mr. (afterwards Sir) John Gladstone in the foreground of the
canvas. He had, in those early days, already taken his position, and was
evidently destined to play a conspicuous part in this busy world. We
never remember to have met with a man who possessed so inexhaustible a
fund of that most useful of all useful qualities, good common sense. It
was never at fault, never baffled. His shrewdness as a man of business
was proverbial. His sagacity in all matters connected with commerce was
only not prophetic. He seemed to take the whole map of the world into
his mind at one glance, and almost by intuition to discover, not only
which were the best markets for to-day, but where there would be the best
opening to-morrow. What was speculation with others was calculation with
him. The letters which from time to time, through a long series of
years, he sent forth, like so many signal-rockets, to the trading world,
under the signature of _Mercator_, were looked upon as oracular by a
large portion of the public. And there is little doubt that his
authority was often sought and acted upon, in commercial legislation, by
the different Administrations by which the country has been governed
during the last half-century. We recollect, many years ago, standing
under the gallery of the House of Commons with the late Mr. Huskisson. A
sugar question was under discussion, and Mr. Goulburn was hammering and
stammering through a string of figures and details, which it was clear he
did not comprehend himself, and which he was in vain labouring to make
the House comprehend. Mr. Huskisson smiled, as he quietly observed,
“Goulburn has got his facts, and figures, and statistics from Mr.
Gladstone, and they are all as correct and right as possible, but he does
not understand them, and will make a regular hash of it!” Mr. Gladstone
was himself in Parliament for some years, and was always listened to most
respectfully on mercantile affairs. If he did not make any very
distinguished figure, it was because he did not enter upon public life
until he had reached an age at which men’s habits are formed, and at
which they rather covet a seat in the House of Commons as a feather or
crowning honour of their fortunes, than as an admission into an arena in
which they intend to become gladiators in the strife, and to plunge into
all the toils, and intrigues, and bustle of statesmanship. Had our
clever townsman entered Parliament at an earlier period, and devoted
himself to it, we have no doubt that he would have been found a match for
the best of them, and might have risen to the highest departments of the
Government. His name is well represented amongst us still. He left four
sons behind him, one of whom, the Right Honourable William Ewart
Gladstone, is second to no statesman of the day, either in promise or
performance, eloquence or abilities. Mr. Gladstone lived in
Rodney-street, in a house subsequently taken by Mr. Cardwell, the father
of our late clever and gifted representative. So that, by a remarkable
coincidence, Mr. W. E. Gladstone and Mr. Cardwell, severally the best men
of their standing, first at the university, and now in the list of
statesmen, are not only from the same county of Lancaster, which produces
so large a proportion of the able men in every profession, but from the
same town, and the same street in the same town, and the same house in
the same street. Did ever house so carry double, and with two such
illustrious riders, before? Nor must we forget to mention Mr. Robert
Gladstone, an amiable, kind-hearted man, and one of the most agreeable
persons ever to be met with in society, always anxious to please and be
pleased.
And there was Dr. Crompton, a fearless, outspoken man, English all over
in his bearing. He was the father of the new judge, whose appointment
enabled proud Liverpool to say that, as before in Judge Parke, she had
furnished the cleverest occupant of the bench, so now she may boast that
the two best are both her sons. And what a glorious old fellow, kind,
clever, benevolent, well-read, well-informed, and well-disposed was
Ottiwell Wood. Who can forget him? His Christian name was a curious and
rare one. He was once a witness on some trial, when the judge, rather
puzzled in making out his name, called upon him to spell it. Out came
the answer in sonorous thunder: “O double T, I double U, E double L,
double U, double O, D.” His lordship, if puzzled before, was now, if we
may perpetrate such an atrocious pun, fairly “_doubled up_,” amidst the
laughter of the court. We lately, in our travels, met with a gentleman
at a party in a distant county. His name, as he entered the room, was
announced, “The Rev. Ottiwell —.” When we had been introduced to him, we
ventured to ask him where he got it. “Oh!” he replied, “I was so called
after an old Lancashire relation of mine, as worthy a man as ever lived,
Mr. Ottiwell Wood, of Liverpool.” We struck up an alliance, offensive
and defensive, and “swore eternal friendship” on the spot. We recollect
another gentleman, also called Wood, who once, playing upon the names of
some of our fashionables, at a party where he was amongst the guests,
thus exclaimed, as he entered the room, “There are, I see, _Hills,
Lakes_, and _Littledales_, it only wanted Wood to perfect the scene.”
The Littledales here mentioned were then, as the representatives of the
family still are, among the most thriving and prosperous of our leading
people. They brought both intelligence and industry to their work. They
owed nothing to chance, for they left nothing to chance. And we may
truly say of them, that, to whatever branch of commerce or the
professions they devoted themselves, they deserved and adorned the
success which they achieved. And here we cannot pass on without relating
an excellent _bon mot_ from the lips of Judge Littledale, the brother of
Anthony, Isaac and George, of the last generation, all, in their
different ways, distinguished men amongst our old stagers. Some years
since, a gentleman, now one of the most prominent of the rising
barristers on the Northern Circuit, had, when almost a boy, to appear
before the judge in some legal matter. We do not understand the jargon
and technicalities of the law. The opposing party, however, moved that,
in a certain case, “the rule be enlarged.” To this our young friend
demurred, alleging, according to the letter of his instructions, that “he
had never, in the whole course of his experience, heard of a rule being
enlarged under such circumstances.” “Then,” replied the judge, with the
blandest of smiles, “young gentleman, we will enlarge the rule and your
experience at the same time.” Never was anything better than this
uttered in a court of justice. We heard the story from the young
gentleman of such great experience himself. It made an impression on him
that will never be effaced; and, doubtless, when a judge himself, he will
repeat the anecdote for the benefit of the horse-hair wigs of the next
generation.
But, to keep to Liverpool, there must be many yet alive who remember Mr.
D’Aguilar among the celebrities and fashionables of the town. A tall,
fine-looking, portly man he was. Mrs. D’Aguilar was a charming person in
society, the life of every party, and retained to the end of a long life
all the vivacity and cheerfulness, as well as the appearance, of youth.
She seemed never to grow older. One of their sons, Mr. Joseph D’Aguilar,
was decidedly among the wits of the day, and had many a sharp saying and
good story attributed to him. Another was General D’Aguilar, who
distinguished himself in the Peninsular war, and is the soldier, scholar
and gentleman, all three combined in one. Mrs. Laurence, so long the
queen of fashion in this locality, was one of their daughters, and, like
her brothers, inherited a large portion of intellect from her parents.
The patroness of literature in others, she has herself just gone far
enough into its realms to excite our regret that she has not gone
further. A kindred spirit of Mrs. Hemans, we often wish that she had not
only extended her sympathies to that gifted genius, but had, with her own
pen, roamed with her, “fancy free,” into the regions of poesy, and
emulated her inspirations.
And here let us turn aside to embalm the memory of another old stager,
well known and much liked in his day, William Rigby. A gentleman in his
bearing, endowed with no slight powers of conversation; clever, witty,
social, convivial, he was a most popular man in his circle. And,
besides, he played a hand at whist second to none, which always made him
a welcome guest at houses where card tables appeared. He was a tall,
handsome man, with eyes twinkling with the humour and jocularity which
made him such an agreeable companion. And shall we forget Devaynes, that
nonpareil of an amateur in the conjuring line? Talk not to us of your
wizards of the north, or of the south, or of the east, or of the west.
Devaynes was worth them all put together. How we have stared in our
boyish days, half in wonder and half in alarm, at his wonderful tricks,
perfectly convinced in our own mind that such an accomplished master of
arts must assuredly be in league with some unmentionable friend in the
unseen world. As you sat at table with him, your piece of bread would
suddenly begin to walk towards him. Before you had recovered from this
astonishment your wine glass would start after it, next your knife and
fork, and then your plate would move, like a hen after its chickens, in
the same direction. And then how he would swallow dishes, joints of
meat, decanters, and everything that came in his way. He was a perfect
terror to the market-women, who really believed that he was on the most
intimate terms with the unmentionable old gentleman aforesaid. Having
made his purchases and got his change for his guinea or half guinea, he
would put the coin into their hand, and say to them, “Now, hold it fast,
and be sure you have it;” and then, before leaving them, he would add,
“Look again, and be certain,” when, the hand being opened, there was
either nothing in it, or perhaps a farthing, or a sixpence. And even
when the joke was over, and he had left the market, they eyed the fairy
money both with suspicion and alarm, lest it should disappear, and were
never easy until they had paid it away in change to some other customer.
How well we remember these things! The performer of them was a quiet,
unassuming man, much respected by all who knew him, and certainly one of
whom it could not be said that he was “no conjuror.”