_Voyage to Liverpool.—Filthy Custom at the Inns.—School of the Blind.—
Athenæum.—Mr Roscoe.—Journey to Kendal._
Wednesday, July 14.
We left Chester yesterday at noon, and embarked again upon a canal. Our
last navigation had ended by transferring us to a coach; we had now to
undergo a more unpleasant transfer. The canal reached the Mersey, a huge
river which forms the port of Liverpool, across which we had about three
leagues to sail in a slant direction. A vessel was ready to receive us,
on board of which we embarked, and set sail with a slack wind. At first
it was pleasant sailing,—the day fair, a castellated hill in full view
up the river, and Liverpool at a distance, near to its mouth, upon the
northern shore. But the wind rose, the water became rough, there came on
a gale from the west with heavy rain, which drove us below deck, and
then we were driven up again by the stench of a close cabin, and the
sickness of women and children. The gale was so strong that we had
reason to be thankful for reaching the town in safety.
Immediately upon our landing we were surrounded by boys proffering cards
of the different inns by which they were employed to look out for
strangers, and contesting who should carry our luggage. The rain
continued, and confined us for the evening. They have a filthy custom at
the inns in England, that when you pull off your boots, the man brings
you a pair of old slippers, which serve for all travellers, and indeed
are frequently worn-out shoes with the heels cut away: clean as the
English are, this impropriety does not in the slightest degree offend
them.
The next morning we enquired for a gentleman with whom I had been
acquainted in London. A book containing the names and place of abode of
all the inhabitants is kept in every inn: so that there was no
difficulty in finding him out. With him we spent the day, and were
obliged to him for showing us whatever was most worthy of notice in the
town. There is no cathedral, no castle, gate, town-wall, or monument of
antiquity, no marks of decay. Every thing is the work of late years,
almost of the present generation.
There is but one fine street in the city, which is terminated by the
Exchange, a handsome structure; but as you look up the street to it, it
is not in the centre, and this irregularity produces a singularly
unpleasant effect. One side of the street, it seems, was built with
reference to this Exchange, and the other was to have corresponded with
it; but when the governors of the city came to purchase the ground, some
obstacles were discovered which had not been foreseen. As there are few
fine streets, so there are few which display much poverty: this external
appearance of prosperity is purchased at a dear price; for the poor, as
in Manchester, live mostly in cellars, underground. The height of some
of the warehouses excited the wonder of my companion, and he expressed
his surprise that I should not be astonished at them also. In fact, old
houses in England are generally lower than modern ones, and even these
have never more than four floors. Yet the value of ground is
prodigiously great, and the island is not subject to earthquakes.
Here is a hospital for horses, of which the sign-board caught my eye as
we passed along. We visited a school for the blind, a sight as
interesting as it was melancholy. They make curtain lines by a machine
which a blind man contrived; list-slippers, which were an invention of
the French emigrants; baskets;—every thing, in short, in which the sense
of sight can be supplied by touch. It was surprising to see them move
about the room, steering clear of every thing as surely as though they
had seen what was before them,—as if they had possessed that sixth
sense, which experimental naturalists, the most merciless of human
beings, are said to have discovered in bats, when they have put out
their eyes for the sake of seeing how the tortured animal can find its
way without them. They sung a hymn for our gratification: their voices
were fine; and the deep attention which was manifest in their eyeless
faces, dead as they necessarily were to all external objects which could
distract them, was affecting and even awful. Such as discover a taste
for music are instructed in it; and some have been thus enabled to
support themselves as organists in the churches, and by tuning
instruments. The blind must be very numerous in England, as I am told
there are many such institutions; but there is good reason to hope that
the number will be materially lessened in future by the vaccine
inoculation, a very large proportion of these poor sufferers having lost
their eyes by the smallpox.
Liverpool has become a place of great maritime trade, against every
natural disadvantage. The river is sheltered only from the north, and at
low-water sand-banks may be seen round its mouth for leagues off in
every direction. Vessels when leaving port easily avoid them, because
they start with a fair wind, but to returning ships they are far more
perilous. In spite of this, there is not any other place where so much
mercantile enterprise is displayed in England, nor perhaps in the whole
world.—Two ships came in while we were upon the quay: it was a beautiful
sight to see them enter the docks and take their quiet station, a crowd
flocking towards them, some in curiosity to know what they were, others
in hope and in fear, hastening to see who had returned in them.
Fortunes are made here with a rapidity unexampled in any other part of
England. It is true that many adventurers fail; yet with all the ups and
downs of commercial speculation, Liverpool prospers beyond all other
ports. There is too a princely liberality in its merchants, which, even
in London, is not rivalled. Let any thing be proposed for the advantage
and ornament, or honour of the town, however little akin it may be to
their own pursuits, habits, and feelings, they are ready with
subscriptions to any amount. It has lately been resolved upon to have a
botanical garden here; a large sum has been raised for the purpose, and
the ground purchased. "It will be long," said I to our friend, "before
this can be brought to any perfection." "Oh, sir," said he, with a smile
of triumph which it was delightful to perceive, "you do not know how we
do things at Liverpool. Money and activity work wonders. In half a dozen
years we shall have the finest in England."
The history of their Athenæum is a striking instance of their spirit:—by
this name they call a public library, with a reading-room for the
newspapers and other journals,—for all periodical publications, whether
daily, monthly, quarterly, or yearly, are called _journals_ in England.
Two of the literary inhabitants were talking one day after dinner of the
want of a public library in the town, and they agreed to call a meeting
for the purpose of forming one. The meeting was advertised,—they went to
it,—and found themselves alone. "What shall we do now?" said the one:
"here is an end of the business." "No," said his friend;—"take you the
chair, I will be secretary; we will draw up our resolutions unanimously,
and advertise them." They did so; and in four-and-twenty-hours
sufficient funds were subscribed to establish the finest institution of
the kind in the kingdom.
Literature also flourishes as fairly as commerce. A history of Lorenzo
de Medici appeared here about eight years ago, which even the Italians
have thought worthy of translation. The libraries of Florence were
searched for materials for this work, and many writings of Lorenzo
himself first given to the world in Liverpool. This work of Mr Roscoe's
has diffused a general taste for the literature of Italy. It has been
said of men of letters, that, like prophets, they have no honour in
their own country; but to this saying, to which there are so few
exceptions, one honourable one is to be found here. The people of
Liverpool are proud of their townsman: whether they read his book or
not, they are sensible it has reflected honour upon their town in the
eyes of England and of Europe, and they have a love and jealousy of its
honour, which has seldom been found any where except in those cities
where that love was nationality, because the city and the state were the
same. This high and just estimation of Mr Roscoe is the more
praiseworthy, because he is known to be an enemy to the slave-trade, the
peculiar disgrace of Liverpool.
* * * * *
Thursday, 15.
We had choice of stage-coaches to Kendal, but it was only a choice
between two of the same sort, the long, coffin-shaped machines, of which
we had had so bad a sample between Worcester and Birmingham. One of
these we ascended at seven this morning for a day's journey of twenty
leagues. The outskirts of Liverpool have an unsightly appearance,—new
streets of houses for the poorer classes, which bear no marks either of
cleanliness or comfort, fields cut up for the foundations of other
buildings, brick yards, and kilns smoking on every side. It was not easy
to say where the town ended; for the paved way, which in all other parts
of England ends with the town, continued here the whole stage, sorely to
our annoyance. We passed through Ormskirk, a town chiefly famous for the
preparation of a nostrum of more repute than efficacy against
hydrophobia, and breakfasted a stage beyond it, at a single inn beside a
bridge, the worst and dirtiest house of entertainment which I have yet
seen in England. Sometimes we had a view of the sea towards Ireland; but
the country was flat and unpleasant, and the trees all blighted and
stunted in their growth; they seemed to have shrunk and twisted
themselves to avoid the severity of the sea-blasts.
Preston was the next stage, a large manufacturing town: before we
entered it we crossed the river Ribble by a good bridge, and immediately
ascended a long hill,—it was the only pleasant spot which we had seen
upon the way. Near this place an officer once met his death in battle by
a singular accident. His horse upon some disgust he took at the guns, as
the old writer oddly expresses it, ran off and leapt a ditch; the man's
sword fell, and at the same minute he was thrown upon its point, and it
ran him through. There is a spring about three leagues from hence, the
water of which will burn with a blue flame like spirits of wine. Beyond
Preston the roads were good, and the country also improved. We changed
horses again at Garstang, a little town where the picture over the inn
door caught my notice. It was an eagle carrying away a
child—representing a circumstance which is believed to have happened in
old times in this part of the country. Near the town we saw the ruins of
a castle to the right. Another easy stage brought us to Lancaster, one
of the best built cities in the kingdom. The view as we left it after
dinner was truly fine; two stone bridges over the river Lon, the town on
the opposite bank, and on the highest part of the hill a castle, which
has been newly built or repaired as a prison.—Lancaster could scarcely
have appeared more beautiful in the days of the shield and the lance.
Our land of promise was now in sight; high mountains seen across a great
bay, with all the aërial hues of distance: but the clouds gathered, and
we were driven to take shelter in the coach from a heavy rain. About ten
we arrived at Kendal. Here, while supper was preparing, we sent for A
Guide to the Lakes, and a map of them. This is one of the comforts of
travelling in England;—wherever you go, printed information is to be
found concerning every thing which deserves a stranger's notice. From
hence our pedestrian expedition was to begin. We took out our knapsacks,
stored them with a change of linen, &c., and dispatched our trunks by
the carrier to meet us at Ambleside.
They produced at supper potted char, which is their delicacy, this fish
being peculiar to the Lakes. So many are potted and sent to other parts
of the country, chiefly as presents, that pots are made on purpose,
which have on them a rude representation of the fish. It resembles a
trout, but is I am told more beautifully spotted, and of a more delicate
flavour. In its potted state it was very good, as I suppose any eatable
fish would have been if prepared in the same manner.