PRESTON AND SOUTHPORT WAY.
The Bridegroom Sea
Is toying with his wedded spouse, the shore.
He decorates her tawny brow with shells,
Retires a space, to see how fair she looks,
Then, proud, runs up to kiss her.
ALEXANDER SMITH.
Camden, in his famous seventeenth century tour, says that he approached
Lancashire from Yorkshire, "that part of the country lying beyond
the mountains towards the western ocean," with "a kind of dread,"
but trusted to Divine Providence, which, he said, "had gone with
him hitherto," to help him in the attempt. His apprehensions arose,
no doubt, partly upon the immense difficulties which in those days
attended travelling; but Lancashire west of the Rivington range was,
in its rural portions, at the same period almost as rude and cheerless
as Connemara. Towards the sea there were vast expanses of moor and
marsh, and even the inland parts were cold and inhospitable. How
changed by the wand of that greatest of magicians, Commerce! Though
there is still abundant need of polish, Camden himself, could he come
back, would surrender his fears, let him only be one of a party up to
the Pike. Conspicuous from a hundred spots on the western margin of
our city, Rivington Pike is little less worthy of a visit than Pendle,
and has the advantage over the latter in being comparatively near.
Proceeding first to Horwich, six miles beyond Bolton, on the main
northern line, the ascent is quite easy, and may be undertaken by two
or three different routes--one by the side of the little river Douglas;
another by the quarry and Tiger Wood, a deep ravine containing all the
accustomed pretty features of Lancashire mountain defiles, rushing
water, many cascades, and abundance of trees. Ferns, mosses, and sylvan
wild-flowers grow in plenty, and in one part, where the water collects
in a large natural pool, there is quite a remarkable display of aquatic
plants. The summit gained, over fifteen hundred feet above the sea, the
prospect is magnificent, especially if we delay till the green country
glows with a summer evening's sunset. The great plain that stretches to
the Ribble, and renews itself as the "Fylde," lies at our feet. Chorley
and Preston seem quite close; in the distance the church-towers and
other aspiring portions of Southport are plainly visible, and beyond
all there is a shining streak that is unmistakably the play-ground of
the sea-gulls. North Cheshire, North Wales, and the nearer Derbyshire
hills, are also seen. A very particularly fine view is obtained from
the Anglezark end of the hill, a rough and broken eminence reached by a
zigzag path from the base, which leads eventually to a soft and turfy
brow. Upon the opposite side of the field, a trifle higher, there is a
wall with a narrow iron gate in it, and here we take our stand. Now and
then, on fine and perfectly tranquil evenings towards sunset, Lancaster
Castle may be distinguished; if the tide be in, Morecambe Bay, and even
Coniston.
Quite as interesting, every way, as the Pike, and more so in some
respects, are the great reservoirs belonging to the Liverpool
Waterworks, altogether out of sight from the railway, but as a
spectacle from the hill-side undeniably one of the most charming in the
county. The area of the entire water-surface is five hundred acres; the
supply comes from ten thousand acres of moorland above, brought down
chiefly by the little rivers called the Douglas, the Yarrow, and the
Roddlesworth. The Act of Parliament authorising the construction of
these great reservoirs was obtained in 1847. Water was first delivered
from them in Liverpool January 2nd, 1857. Rivington Pike, after all, is
not the highest point of the range. Winter Hill, well named, so wild
and cold and dreary is the complexion, and so often is it beaten by
storms, claims a considerably greater altitude.
By this same line we go also to Chorley for Whittle-le-Woods, distant
only four miles from Hoghton Tower, a romantic and secluded spot,
noted for its historical associations, its "Springs," and, if we care
to pursue a quiet and pretty walk by the edge of the canal, for
wild-flowers found nowhere else near Manchester. Excepting in the canal
at Disley, there is not another within the distance where there are
in particular so many pond-weeds, that beautiful plant the _lucens_
leading the way. Of these submerged things the question has been asked
perhaps more frequently than of any others, What use are they? Rest
upon them, then, for a moment. Use is a triple idea. Taking the entire
mass of the vegetation of our planet, first there is economic use, as
for food, which last being rendered to brute creatures as well as to
mankind, is at the best but at a low and menial one. Secondly, comes
the admirable use subserved by beauty, which brutes are incapable
of appreciating, and blindness to which, like the use of foul and
profane language, may be taken perhaps as the infallible sign of an
imbecile. Plants can never be truly learned, nor is their highest use
realised so long as we rest in the contemplation, albeit so salutary,
even of their loveliness. Their last and crowning use comes of their
_interpreting_ power. There is not a species that does not cast some
welcome side-light, that does not open our understanding to something
previously unperceived. The pond-weeds do this, if nothing below, so
that meeting with them we may rejoice.
The fine old halls scattered so freely about Bolton have counterparts
in the neighbourhood of Wigan, all this part of the county having been
in the hands of wealthy men during the time of the Stuarts and of
the Commonwealth. Ince Hall, black and white, with its five gables,
though of late much disfigured; Lostock Old Hall, Standish, Pemberton,
Birchley, and Winstanley, are all very interesting; and if Haigh Hall,
the Lancashire seat of the Earl of Crawford and Balcarres, be less
curious, archæologically, there is not one that will compare with it
in respect of gardens or romantic approach. The walk through the wood,
beginning at a mile from the Wigan market-place, is in its way, for so
near a coal and factory centre, without a rival.
For a charming bit of wild nature thereabouts, commend us, however,
to Dean Wood. Nothing, as regards landscape and prospects of sylvan
solitude, can be more unpromising than the approach thereto through
Hindley and Wigan. Two or three miles beyond the latter, where the
ground begins to rise, and trees and streams of water make their
appearance, it seems possible, after all, that something picturesque
may lie concealed; and leaving the line at Gathurst, sure enough, we
are by no means disappointed. Turning up on the left, after a few
minutes along field-paths, the way changes into a beautiful clough, in
many respects not unlike Bamford Wood, and which goes on improving to
the end. Of course it is not to be confounded with the Dean Wood upon
the slopes of Rivington; nor is the river below to be confounded with
the Rivington "Douglas." This one, in truth, is the Lancashire Douglas
pre-eminently: a stream of fifteen miles' flow before entering the
Ribble, and the same with which tradition connects bloody conflicts in
the time of the Danes. A tributary comes down the wood, after rain
often so much swollen as to drown the path beside, when we may take an
upper one, every bit as enjoyable, especially in autumn, since it gives
a charming view of the trees below, among which there is unusual plenty
of the kinds that bear red berries. Ferns and mosses grow in equal
abundance; wild-flowers also, and flowering shrubs. The Gueldres-rose
is especially abundant, and upon one occasion--October 10th, 1868--the
ground was strewed in certain spots with the fallen fruit of the wild
apple. In the upper part of the wood there are some curious varieties
of the common oak, the leaves so small that they might be thought
to belong to a different species. Emerging near the green lane, the
homeward path lies first through Up-Holland, then either by the lanes
to Wigan--four miles distant--or more speedily to Orrel station on the
Bolton and Liverpool line.
Appley Bridge, the station succeeding Gathurst, is the nearest for
that glorious eminence, Ashurst Hill, the prospect from which is once
again all that heart can desire, let only the day be fair. Now, too,
we have something quite different, the great flat, looking southwards,
being that which reaches to the estuary of the Mersey, the eye resting
upon the distant trees of Knowsley Park, and detecting even Liverpool;
while to the west, almost underneath, is Lathom, Ormskirk beyond, and
exquisitely upon the horizon, the lucid sea, and the mountains that
talk quietly of the Vale of Llangollen. A similar view is obtainable
from the summit of Billinge, half-way between Wigan and St. Helens,
but access thereto is not so easy, nor is there the same sweet sense of
remote and airy solitude, green as the early spring, which, unless the
visit happens to be most unfortunately timed, always awaits the pilgrim
to Ashurst. The beacon upon the summit, a stone tower with pyramidal
spire, was erected in the time of the French Revolutionary wars, taking
the place of one established on the identical spot in the memorable
August of 1588,--the year, as Charles Kingsley says, of Britain's
Salamis.
From Appley Bridge there is also a grand walk to the summits upon the
_right-hand_ side of the rails, the chief of them, Horrocks Hill,
lying about two miles away to the north, and at a spot called Higher
Barn, attaining an elevation superior even to Ashurst. But it is not
so well adapted for a signalling station, and hence, instead of a
beacon, is marked only by a tree. The view from the top is singularly
fine, embracing the whole country up to the Lune, with the towers of
Lancaster city, Blackpool, Rufford (where there is a very interesting
old hall, black and white), the Ribble, and the entire course of the
Douglas, embouchure included. For variety, the return walk may be made
_viâ_ Standish.
Lathom Park implies, upon the Newborough side, a delicious walk
through the intricacies of what in this part would be better called
Lathom Wood. The trees are lofty; the shade is dense; the path, gently
undulated, crosses about the middle a swiftly-running stream called
the Sawd. This, like the water in Dean Wood, is a tributary of the
Douglas. Just outside the park there is another, now called the Slate
Brook, and of special historical interest, being that one which in the
records of the memorable siege of Lathom House is called the Golforden.
Shortly after emerging from the wood, and crossing the smooth
greensward of the park where open to the sunshine, the house itself
comes in view, a noble mansion, worthy alike of the domain and of the
owner. That it is not the original Lathom House--the Lathom which
belongs not more to the history of Lancashire than to the annals of
English courage and to the biography of great-souled women, scarcely
needs saying. The original,--the magnificent building honoured by the
visit of Henry VII. and his queen, when the "singing women" walked in
front,--which had no fewer than eighteen towers, in addition to the
lofty "eagle," and a fosse of eight yards in width, received so much
injury at the time of the siege that on the removal of the family,
shortly afterwards, to Knowsley, it soon fell into a state of utter
dilapidation. Passing into the hands of the Bootle family, restoration
was found impracticable, and during the ten years following 1724 the
present building superseded the historic one. Nothing in its style can
be finer than the north front, one hundred and fifty-six feet long,
rising from a massive rustic basement, with double flight of steps to
the first story, the lateral portions supported by Ionic columns. The
interior corresponds; the great hall being forty feet square, with
a height of thirty feet; the saloon, of almost similar dimensions,
and the library fifty feet by twenty. When given over to decay, the
original hall was literally carried off stone by stone, the country
people in the vicinity being permitted to take whatever they liked for
private use, so that now, as has happened with many an ancient abbey
and castle, the building may be said to be diffused over the whole
district. In farmyard and cottage walls it is not difficult to identify
now and then, on a very fair basis of conjecture, a fragment or two
of the ancestral home of the Stanleys, every atom suggestive, as we
contemplate it, of ancient dignity and heroism almost unique.
To recite, once again, the majestic old story of the siege is not
needful. Suffice it to say that in 1642, when James, the seventh Earl
of Derby, whose steadfast loyalty so well fulfilled the family motto,
_Sans changer_, was in the Isle of Man, approach was made to Lathom
House with a view to capture by the Parliamentarians under Fairfax. The
countess, originally Charlotte de Tremouille, a high-born lady whose
kindred were connected with the blood-royal of France, replied to the
summons to surrender that she had a double trust to sustain--faith
to her lord the Earl, who had entrusted her with the safe keeping,
and allegiance to her king--and that she was resolved not to swerve
from either honour or obedience. The nature of the long defence,
the discomfiture of the assailants, and what happened subsequently,
constitutes, as well known, a chapter in the family history at once
consummately noble and profoundly sorrowful. It reads more touchingly
than any romance or tale of fancy, and would supply subjects for many a
great picture. Plenty of memorials of the siege have been preserved. A
little while ago, upon removal of a tree near the site of the original
hall, numbers of bullets were found in the earth about the roots.
Tradition also has plenty to say, and apparently with more truth than
is sometimes the case. In the history of the siege, written shortly
after its time, seven of the defenders are said to have lost their
lives, and one of these, called on account of his great stature, Long
Jan, is said to have owed his death-wound to his head rising above the
wall or parapet. Very interesting was it, therefore, a few years since,
when during some alterations in the level of the ground, there were
discovered seven skeletons, one of them indicating a frame little less
than gigantic. The bones, when uncovered, were seemingly perfect, but
all soon crumbled away, and not a trace remained. Another circumstance
mentioned in the old history of the siege is that supplies of coal were
obtained by excavating in the courtyard. The Earl of Lathom was so
fortunate, a year or two ago, as to personally prove the truthfulness
of this statement by the discovery of an outcrop below the turf, just
in front of the drawing-room windows of the modern mansion.
The Lathom pleasure-grounds and gardens are not less beautiful than the
wood. In the former, among many other rare and admirable trees, there
is a plane, in Lancashire quite a stranger; this one the very emblem
of health and nobleness, a sight, as Dame Quickly says, "to thank God
on:" the latter teem with interesting hardy herbaceous plants, quite
refreshing to behold after the inlay of chromatic geometry which at
the present day is so often substituted for a garden. The flowers, in
great abundance and variety, are chiefly of the kinds that the poets
and artists always loved, those that have been sung of in a thousand
simple verses, which the poets still love best of all, and which, when
neatly and nicely marshalled and tended, keep up an unrelaxing flow of
tinted loveliness from the time of Christmas-roses and yellow aconites
until that of the last lingering asters of November. Access to this
charming place is for the favoured few not beyond the range of the
possibilities. Never yet, when properly asked, has the Earl of Lathom
refused to give proof of generous courtesy such as distinguishes the
Lancashire gentleman and the English nobleman.
Not far from Lathom Park there is another very interesting old family
seat, Blythe Hall, the residence of the Hon. Mrs. Bootle-Wilbraham.
This is approached most pleasantly from Burscough, through lanes,
meadows, and corn-fields, and in its garden, like Lathom, and, we may
add, like Cheshire Tatton, gives delightful guarantee that, despite
the enmity of modern planters, genuine floriculture will, with the
tasteful, outlive them all. There are fit and proper places, no doubt,
for every style and system of flower-planting. Any mode that pleases a
considerable number of rational people is proved, by the simple fact of
its doing so, to be right under certain conditions, local ones, and
limited. The misfortune is that "bedding-out" very generally implies,
if it does not necessitate, the abolition of a thousand things that
are individually and supremely meritorious, the piece of land which
it embosses becoming only by a euphemism, "a garden," and this at
infinitely greater pains than if cultivated.
When at Blythe, it would be a pity to forget that at a few fields'
distance remains exist to this day of the once celebrated and stately
Burscough Priory. The fragments, for they really are no more, consist
of portions of one of the principal interior arches, deeply sunk in
the mass of earth and rubbish accumulated after the overthrow of the
building, the arched head of a piscina alone declaring the ancient
level. The ruins seem to have stood untouched and grey, as at this
moment, for at least a couple of centuries. The grass comes up to their
feet, and looks as if it had been there always. Very interesting,
however, is it to note, close by, orchards comparatively young, in
their season full of honey-plums and damsons; corn also, within a
few yards, the fruit and the grain renewing to-day what no doubt was
the exact spectacle five hundred years ago. The priory was founded
by Robert Fitz-Henry, lord of Lathom, temp. Richard I. It was richly
endowed, and at the time of the suppression required as many as forty
servants. Some of the Stanley monuments, and eight of the bells, were
then removed to Ormskirk church, where a new tower was built for
the reception of the latter, the remainder going to Croston. The
mutilated alabaster effigies of knights and ladies from the old Derby
burial-place, form one of the most interesting of the many attractions
of remarkable Ormskirk. Excepting a few portraits, these effigies,
strange to say, are the only extant art memorials of that ancient line!
A tablet, an epitaph, even a gravestone in honour of a Derby of the
lang syne, is sought in vain. Knowsley, the present seat of the family,
seven miles from Liverpool and two from Prescot, is celebrated for the
magnitude, rather than the symmetry, of its splendid hall. Built at
very various times, it presents as many different styles. The park,
nine or ten miles in circumference, abounds with pretty bits of the
picturesque given by trees. Many of these, however, have the curious
look presented by such as growing near the shore, are constantly
wind-beaten.
From various points near Lathom and Ormskirk there is seen, in
the Southport direction, to all appearance a village spire. This
indicates, in reality, Scarisbrick Hall, one of the most striking
and successful efforts in architecture the county possesses. The
ancestors of the Scarisbrick family having owned the estates for at
least seven centuries, we learn without surprise that, as in other
cases, where the present building now stands there was once a black
and white; further, that the family being Catholic, it was well
provided with outer defences, and had its "secret chamber" for refuge
in times of persecution. The original was in 1799 the residence of the
philanthropic Mr. Eccleston at whose cost and under whose guidance
Martin Mere was reclaimed. In 1814 all was changed. The old timbered
building was cased in stone so completely that now not a trace remains
in view; and the general form, a centre with projecting wings, is all
that exists in the shape of memorial. But how magnificently effected!
The work was entrusted to the elder Pugin, and continued by his
son, without stint as to cost, the result being an edifice in the
Tudor style, treated with power and opulence so astonishing that all
ordinary domestic buildings of similar character seem by comparison
insignificant. Sculptures and every kind of decorative stone-work
contribute to the wonderful beauty of the vast exterior. Along the
base of the enriched cornices or parapets scripture texts have been
introduced--"I have raised up the ruins, and I have builded it as in
the days of old;" "Every house is builded by some man, but He that
buildeth all is God;"--the ample windows, in their turn, are freely
traced with lines and patterns of shining gold. The superb tower, which
in the distance seems a village spire, erected about a dozen years ago,
is over one hundred and sixty feet in height, and is understood to be
an exact copy of the Victoria Tower of the Houses of Parliament. The
cost of this portion alone approached the sum of £25,000. Gardens and
conservatories add to the interest of this splendid place; the former
containing a holly, the stem of which, at twenty inches above the
ground, is six feet in circumference; while the latter are renowned
for their tropical ferns. The very low situation, and the flatness of
all the surrounding country, unfortunately prevent this noble building
being seen to advantage. It is a marvel, nevertheless, to all who
approach. The Scarisbrick family has of late years experienced changes.
The present owner of the hall, by marriage to the daughter of the Lady
Scarisbrick who died in 1872, is the Marquis de Blandos de Castèja.
Southport should be visited for the sake of its unusually good
Aquarium, with Winter Gardens above, a flower-show all the year round;
for the beautiful Churchtown Botanical Gardens, the fernery belonging
to which has no rival, as regards our own neighbourhood, except at
Tatton; and for the Birkdale sandhills, no dreary place except to
the dreary-hearted, but in their way so remarkable and picturesque,
so richly stored with curious plants, and breathing an air so soft
and salubrious that in the north of England they stand alone. In
their wild and ever-changing complexion they supply enjoyments quite
distinct from the uniformity of a corn and pastoral country. Standing
upon their spear-clad ridges, we seem to be surveying a miniature
Cordillera. In winter the northward and eastward slopes are flecked
with snow, while the southern and western ones bask in the sunshine;
mosses of all shades of green and coppery-gold strew the former parts
with little islands of sweet brightness; and in July the open plateaux
are crowded with the white cups of the parnassia. Up to about twenty
years ago, no place in the entire county, excepting Grange, was so rich
for the botanist as Southport in general. Building, drainage, and the
changes incident to town-extension, have obliterated many of the best
localities; still, so long as the Birkdale sandhills remain intact, it
will preserve no trifling part of the reputation. The want at Southport
is more sea. The tide not only goes out to an incredible distance,
but always seems reluctant to return. It is in respect of this that
superiority is so justly claimed by Blackpool, the sea at the latter
place, save on exceptional days, being always within view, always grand
and inspiring.
South Lancashire, _viâ_ the original Liverpool and Manchester line,
or that which runs through Barton, offers few attractions to the
excursionist, being flat and very seldom relieved by wood and water.
The best part of the country traversed by the line in question is
that which holds Worsley Hall, the seat of the Earl of Ellesmere, the
ground here rising into a terrace which commands a view over the whole
of the great plain bounded upon the opposite side by Dunham Park. The
summit of the lofty tower at Wren's Wood, a little to the west of the
hall, overlooks or allows of glimpses of no fewer than six counties.
Hence it is itself seen from great distances. The grounds pertaining
to the hall, access to which is granted at certain times, supply an
excellent example of high-class professional laying-out, without
exciting the sense of surfeit such as at Alton is scarcely avoidable.
The woodland paths are pretty, and in autumn the floricultural part
emulates even Vale Royal. The hall, just beyond the village, upon
the left hand, is the third of the name. The original, or "Old"
hall, a most interesting, quaintly-timbered structure, still exists,
and is at present occupied by the Hon. Algernon Egerton. The second
was pulled down about twenty years ago. The present magnificent
structure, so conspicuous from the railway, was commenced in or about
1839 by the first Earl of Ellesmere, then Lord Francis Egerton, under
the superintendence of Mr. Blore, the architect of the new façade
of Buckingham Palace. Upon the right-hand side of the road, after
emerging from the village, there is a very pretty sylvan adjunct to
the park called the Hen Pen, the paths meandering through which often
recall the scenery of Mere Clough. The village itself is exceptionally
picturesque, the late Earl having encouraged the erection of private
houses and other buildings in the style of the old hall, the ancient
black and white or "magpie" fashion, these gaining in turn from the
happily chosen position of the church, which last is considered to be
one of the most successful productions of Mr. Gilbert Scott, and is in
any case a most beautiful example of Geometrical Decorated. Worsley may
be reached by three different routes. First, there is the station of
its own name, upon the Tyldesley line, going thence across the fields.
Secondly, there is the old way _viâ_ Patricroft, proceeding thence on
foot by the side of the canal, a walk of about two miles. Thirdly,
when permission can be obtained, there is the delightful path through
Botany Bay Wood, one of the most sequestered to be found anywhere
near Manchester. Being strictly preserved, it is of course only at
certain seasons, and then only by special favour, that people are
allowed to pass through, or can reasonably ask for leave. The entrance
to it is from Barton Moss, beginning with the station, then crossing
the waste at right angles, so as to step on to a broad causeway which
borders the moss in a line parallel with the rails, and after becoming
greener and softer, at last enters the wood. Filling the whole of the
space between the grounds of Worsley Hall and the edge of the moss,
and of purely artificial origin, this charming leafy covert received
its somewhat singular name from the workmen by whose labour it was
formed. So arduous was the toil demanded by the draining and subsequent
planting, that they compared it to the penalty of transportation to
the eighty years ago famous "Botany Bay" of the antipodes, the terror
of evil doers, and precursor of the Dartmoor of to-day. Barton Moss
is essentially a portion or adjunct of Chat Moss, an element of the
landscape as surveyed from the higher parts of Worsley, which can
hardly be considered cheerful, though rich in interesting associations,
foremost among which is the history of the means adopted to overcome
the difficulties it presented to the constructors of the original
Liverpool and Manchester Railway. The naturalist still finds upon it
abundance of welcome objects, including the bog-myrtle, _Myrica Galë_,
one of the very few really indigenous British plants which can be
rightfully called aromatic. A surface like Chat Moss, saturated with
wet, seems in little danger of ignition, yet no further back than in
June, 1868, a very considerable portion was on fire. The conflagration
commenced in a plantation near Astley. Within an hour most of the
trees were levelled with the ground. A strong wind was blowing at the
time, the fire spread rapidly, and the flames and clouds of smoke were
seen for miles. Continuing for between four and five days, at last it
approached Barton, and only then did it die away. The moss is traversed
hereabouts by many ditches cut for draining purposes. They are from
five to eight feet wide, and twelve to fifteen feet in depth, and are
generally full of water. So powerful, however, was the action of the
fire, that when it expired in many of them there was scarcely an inch,
and others were entirely dry. A conflagration of similar character
occurred in 1790 upon Lindow Common, resulting in the destruction of an
enormous quantity of the game then so plentiful there.
Newton-le-Willows, a place of more names than any other in the
county, being also called Newton Bridge, and Newton-in-Makerfield,
and by sporting men simply Newton, all these superseding the ancient
"Rokeden," gives access to interesting places both right and left.
The town itself has its attractions, consisting of little more than
the one old original broad street, with plenty of archæological
curiosities, which preserves the primitive idea of a rural English
village. Some very pleasant walks, partly sylvan, invite us to the
northern side, where also will be found a large and picturesque sheet
of water. Like Taxal and Rudyard it is artificial, having been formed
by barricading the outlets of two small streams--the Dene and the
Sankey--which previously occupied little independent valleys of their
own, so that the outline of the "lake" so called, is most agreeably
irregular. In parts it is abundantly flowered with water-lilies, so
easy is it for good taste to confer a pure and lasting ornament. On the
southern side of the line the specialty consists in the very ancient
and interesting village of Winwick, with its celebrated church and
innumerable antiquities, including a runic cross in the graveyard.
Thence, by permission, there is a charming walk towards Warrington,
first along the old lane in front of the church, then through the
grounds and shrubberies attached to Winwick Hall, after leaving which
the path becomes public. The rhododendrons at Winwick Hall are probably
the oldest, as they are certainly the largest and finest in the
district. They give one a perfect idea of the stalwart vitality of this
inestimable flowering shrub, and place it before us, in all likelihood,
just as developed in its native valleys upon the borders of the Euxine,
all these very large and venerable rhododendrons, wherever seen, being
the original _Ponticum_. While the original "anemone" was the flower
we now call the cistus, the original "rhododendron" was after all,
not our universal garden favourite so named, but a totally different
thing--the shrub, originally from Palestine, cherished in greenhouses
as the "oleander." Such, at least, was the application of the name in
the times immediately preceding those when Pliny wrote.
On the extreme south-western margin of the county, where the simple
rustic streams we found near Marple, the Goyt and the Etherowe, after
uniting their strength, and receiving the waters of the Tame, the
Irwell, and the Bollin, at length become glorious as the estuary of the
Mersey, there remain for us, in conclusion, two of the most interesting
places in Lancashire. These are Speke Hall, near Garston, and the
village of Hale; the latter possessed of some fine archæological
fragments, with, close by, the park and gardens appertaining to the
residence of Colonel Blackburne.
Speke Hall is a most charming example of genuine Elizabethan
work, affording, both inside and out, some of the best and most
characteristic features of the better kind of domestic architecture
which came into general use soon after the middle of the sixteenth
century. To compare small things with great, it may be described as
a miniature Bramhall. It stands only a few minutes' walk from the
edge of the estuary, and in the olden time would often, no doubt, be
approached from the water, to which an avenue or arcade of lofty trees
at present shows the way. In front the ground is level, consisting of
green fields which reach to the garden fence. The want of elevation,
as at Scarisbrick, rather hinders full appreciation of the singular
beauty of the building, at all events until we draw near enough to
perceive that, like nearly all other mansions of the kind, it was
originally protected by a moat. This has long since been superseded by
turf, the bridge alone remaining to show the depth and width, and the
grand old structure now rising up in all its nobleness of design. It
is not the original Speke Hall. At the period of the Domesday survey
the estate was held by a Saxon thane. After the Conquest, it fell to
the share of that famous Norman, Roger de Poictou, who as a reward for
his conduct at the battle of Hastings, received so large a portion
of Lancashire. Roger, as we all remember, took part in sundry small
acts of disloyalty, for which, in turn, he was punished by forfeiture.
Subsequently changing hands yet again, at last--perhaps about 1350--the
property came to be owned by a branch of the celebrated old family of
Norreys (one of the descendants of which fought under Lord Stanley
at Flodden, A.D. 1513), and by these the first hall of the name was
erected, in what style is not known. Remaining in their possession,
Speke, as we see it to-day, was the work of one Edward Norreys, who
commemorates himself in an inscription in antique letters over the
principal entrance:--"This worke 25 yards long was wolly built by Edw.
N., Esq. Anno 1598." The ground-plan, as in similar halls, consisted
of a spacious quadrangular courtyard, buildings occupying all four
of the sides, so that by means of the corridors and galleries, any
portion can be reached by an inmate without stepping into the open
air. The richness of these corridors, the beauty of the wood-carving,
and the general ornamentation, it is impossible to describe briefly;
some of the carved oak was brought from Holyrood by the Sir Wm.
Norreys of Flodden fame. There is a fine collection also of ancient
weapons, miscellaneous curiosities, and paintings. A wonderful and
probably unique spectacle, as regards our own country, is presented
upon entering the quadrangle. A very considerable portion of its large
area is occupied by a pair of yew trees, much older than the building
itself, and to accommodate which the builder seems to have given his
first thought while measuring, not forgetting that while his walls
would remain unchanged, the trees would grow. They are not of the same
age. The yew being one of the trees which are distinctly unisexual, it
is plain that the object in introducing the second individual was to
secure red berries, such as are still produced abundantly every year.
In 1736 the Speke estate passed, through a marriage, into the hands
of one of the Beauclerk family, concerning whom the historians seem
to care to say no more than is needful; and in 1780 it was purchased
by Mr. Richard Watt, an opulent Liverpool merchant. Continuing in
his family, it is now held by the lady--Miss Ada Watt--whose kindly
permission to enter the gates is indispensable.
[Illustration: Tho. Letherbrow.
_Hale Hut._]
Hale, renowned for its cottage-gardens, with lilies and roses beyond
the counting, is a quiet, peaceful, salubrious little place, claiming
celebrity as regards historical mention long anterior to that of
Liverpool. When the site of that wealthy city was known to few but
fishermen, Hale, so its people assert, already possessed a royal
charter. To-day the archæologist turns with interest to the remains of
a mansion which in its way must have been a fitting companion even
for Speke--the ancient baronial residence called the Hutte, about two
miles upon the Liverpool side of the village, and lying back a little
distance from the turnpike road. The great hall was a hundred feet long
by thirty feet wide; scarcely anything is to be seen now beyond some of
the grand old windows, an ancient chimneypiece, and the moat, with its
drawbridge. Hale Church, like the Hutte, tells of a time when the maps
did not insert Liverpool.[29] The body dates from about the middle of
the last century, but the tower is of immemorial age, contemporaneous
perhaps with the vast pile at the western extremity of Ormskirk old
church, thus with the very earliest ecclesiastical remains extant in
Lancashire. Here, too, we have a beautiful example of the ancient
lych-gate.
Soon after the Restoration the Hutte would seem to have been
relinquished as a place of residence by the local family. A new
one at all events was built in 1674--the Hale Hall of the present
day--mentioned above as the seat of Colonel Blackburne. Like many
another first-class country-house, in style it is substantially
domestic, extremely comfortable to look at, and no doubt well appointed
within; but still neither in outline or physiognomy can it be said to
preserve the traditions of any particular school of art. The park is
spacious, full of fine trees, including many lindens, so valuable
wherever men are sagacious enough to set up beehives. It supplies,
also, many a delightful prospect, especially when the eye crosses the
water and rests upon the opposite distant hills of North-West Cheshire,
which are said to resemble very strikingly the rising grounds about
Bethany and Bethphage. The gardens have great historic interest, since
it was to Hale that the famous collection of plants once existing at
Orford Mount was transferred, these including vines now two or three
centuries old, but still prolific of grapes. Vines in this healthful
village seem comfortable anywhere, mounting, as in the south, to the
cottage eaves, and outstripping in their beautiful green ambition even
the honeysuckles.
[Illustration]
Footnote
[29: Liverpool was omitted even so late as 1635. _Vide_
Selden's "Mare Clausum, seu de Dominio Maris," p. 239, Chetham Library,
Manchester.]
[Illustration]