Liverpool has perhaps fewer relics of an archæological nature than any
other town in the United Kingdom; and this at first seems a little
singular, when we remember that it is not without its place in the
more romantic eras of our history, and that a castle of considerable
strength once lent it protection. Its old castle, its towers, and the
walls by which it was surrounded, have all been swept away by the busy
crowds that now throng its thoroughfares. Even the former names of
places have in most instances been altered, as if to obliterate all
recollections and associations connected with its early history. Thus
a row of houses, which a few years ago bore the not very euphonious
name of Castle Ditch, from its having followed a portion of the line
of the moat by which the fortress which once stood near it was
surrounded, was changed into St George's Crescent, and many others
underwent similar transmutations. But if the physical aspect of the
place holds out few or no attractions to the antiquary, the moral one
of its inhabitants, in so far as his favourite subject is concerned,
is equally uninviting; for, taken as a whole, it would be difficult to
find a population less influenced by, or interested in, such studies.
The only relic of the olden times which Liverpool has for a long time
past retained, was a long, low, picturesque-looking thatched cottage
in the small village of Everton (of _toffee_ notoriety), which went by
the name of Prince Rupert's Cottage, from its having been the
head-quarters of that fiery leader when he besieged the town from the
ridge on which the village is situated. But even this was swept away
about six years ago by the proprietor, to allow a street which he had
mapped out to abut upon the village at the point it occupied. The
project did not succeed, and the outline of the contemplated street is
all that as yet marks out the spot where this interesting object
stood.
I confess to the soft impeachment of having been, at a very early
period of my life, inoculated with the true Monkbarns enthusiasm, and
I have always been a great admirer of that beautiful remark of Lord
Bacon's, that 'antiquities may be considered as the planks of a wreck
which wise and prudent men gather and preserve from the deluge of
time.'
Some months ago, I was walking along what is called the Breck Road,
leading out of the little village of Everton, of which I have been
speaking, when my attention was arrested by a market-cross in a field
on the opposite side of the road. I was somewhat surprised that it had
escaped my notice when I formerly passed that way, and I immediately
crossed over to examine it. It was formed, as all the English
market-crosses are, of a series of flat steps, with an upright shaft
in the centre, was built of the red sandstone of the district, and
bore the appearance of great antiquity. The field was not far from
what might be called the principal street of the village; and as I was
aware that considerable changes had taken place of late years in the
neighbourhood, it occurred to me as possible, that at one time the
cross might have occupied the centre of a space on which the markets
were held. My time, however, being limited, I was unable to make any
immediate inquiries regarding it, but resolved to take an early
opportunity of making myself acquainted with its early history, so as
to rescue one interesting relic at least of the place from apparently
a very undeserved obscurity. This opportunity did not present itself
for some weeks; but at length it did occur, and I started for the
place, to collect all the information, both traditional and otherwise,
which I could regarding it.
On arriving at the spot, my surprise may be conceived, for it cannot
be described, when, on looking at the field where it stood, I found
that it had been removed, and all that remained to point out the
place, was the bare mark on the grass of the spot which it had
occupied. The consternation of Alladin, when he got up one fine
morning and found that his gorgeous palace had vanished during the
night, was hardly greater than mine on making this sad discovery; and,
like him, I daresay, I rubbed my eyes in hopes that my visual organs
had deceived me, but with as little success. On looking to the other
side of the road, I observed a mason at work repairing the opposite
wall with some very suspicious-looking stones, and I immediately
crossed over, and commenced a categorical examination of the supposed
delinquent. I inquired whether he could explain to me the cause of the
removal of the ancient cross, which used to be in the field exactly
opposite to where we were then standing; but he said that, although he
was an old residenter in Everton, he had not even been aware of the
existence of such an object. This I set down as an additional instance
of the want of interest which the natives of the place take in
archæological subjects. He told me, however, that about three weeks
previously, he had observed several men facing the wall opposite with
large stones, which they brought apparently from some place close at
hand; but that, having his own work to attend to, he had not bestowed
any particular thought on the matter. He said the field was rented by
a person for the purpose of cleaning carpets, and that he had no doubt
the removal had been accomplished by his directions.
On stepping across the road, I found these suspicions completely
realised; for there, resting on the top of the wall, were the
time-honoured steps of the cross of my anxiety. Luckily for me, at
least, the tenant was not at hand at the time, as in the state of
excitement in which I was, I might have done or said something which I
should afterwards have regretted. I had no alternative but to return
to town, 'nursing my wrath to keep it warm,' and thinking over the
best and most efficacious method in which I could accomplish the
punishment of the aggressor, whoever he might be, and procuring the
restoration of the cross in all its primitive simplicity. I thought of
an article in the papers, into which all my caustic and sarcastic
powers were to be concentrated and discharged on the head of the
desecrator--then of calling on the lord of the manor, and mentioning
the matter to him, so as, if possible, to carry his influence along
with me, although I thought it quite probable that he might have
sanctioned the spoliation, to save the expense of new stones for the
repair of his tenant's wall. Under this latter impression, therefore,
and previous to carrying either of these belligerent intentions into
effect, I thought it would only be fair to give the obnoxious man an
opportunity of explaining the circumstances under which he had
assumed such an unwarranted responsibility. Accordingly, a short time
afterwards, I again wended my way towards the field, determined to
bring the matter in some way or other to a bearing, when I saw a very
pleasant-looking man standing at the door of the house in which the
carpet-cleansing operations are carried on. Supposing him to be the
delinquent, I endeavoured to bridle my rising choler as much as
possible, while I asked him whether he could tell me anything about
the removal of the cross which had once stood in that field. With a
gentle smile, which I thought at the time almost demoniac, he mildly
replied, that _he_ had removed it, _because the object for which he
had erected it, about twelve months before_, had ceased to exist, and
he had taken the stones to repair the wall close by where it had
stood!
The shock which the nervous system of our worthy friend Monkbarns
received when the exclamation of Edie Ochiltree fell upon his ear, of
'Pretorium here, pretorium there, _I_ mind the biggin' o't,' was not
greater than that which mine sustained on receiving this death-blow to
all my hopes of rescuing this interesting relic of antiquity from its
unmerited oblivion. Gulping down my mortification as I best could, I,
in as indifferent a manner as I could assume, craved the liberty of
inquiring what the circumstances were which had led to such a
fanciful employment of his time. He told me that he had been a
carpet-manufacturer in Oxfordshire, but had been unsuccessful in
business, and had come here and set up his present establishment for
the cleaning of the articles which he formerly manufactured; and that,
wishing to add to his income by every legitimate means within his
power, he had been supplied regularly with a quantity of Banbury
cakes, for the sale of which he had erected a temporary wooden-hut in
one corner of his field; that one morning early, about eighteen months
ago, as he was lying awake in bed, the thought struck him, that as
there were a great many large flat stones lying in a corner of the
field, he would erect them, in front of the hut, into the form of the
well-known cross of equestrian nursery-rhyme notoriety. He immediately
rose, and, summoning his workmen, succeeded in making a very tolerable
imitation of the world-wide-known cross; but that, after about twelve
months' trial of his cake-speculation, finding it did not succeed, he
gave it up; and removing the cross of which it was the sign, turned
the stones to a more useful purpose.
Thus ended my day-dream connected with this _interesting relic_; and
nothing, I am sure, but that indomitable enthusiasm which
distinguishes all genuine disciples of the Monkbarns school, could
have sustained me under my grievous disappointment.
'TWENTY-FOUR HOURS OF A SAILOR'S LIFE AT SEA.'
In the article with the above title, in No. 431, the pay of seamen is
stated at from L.2, 10s. to L.3 a month; but this does not bring the
information down to the latest date. At _present_, we are informed,
the very best A. Bs. (able-bodied seamen) receive only from L.2 to
L.2, 5s.; and 'ordinary' hands only from L.1, 10s. to L.1, 15s. In the
navy, the pay is still less than in the merchant service, which is the
reason why our best men so constantly desert to the American navy,
where they obtain, on an average, about twelve dollars a month. It
ought to be added, that when one of our ships is short of hands in a
foreign port, these rates do not prevail. Captains are sometimes
obliged to bid as high as L.6 a month, to make up their complement.