Recollections of Old Liverpool

by James Stonehouse

ourselves in a dark yard, with a house before us. We obtained a light in a shed on one side of the yard, and then looked about. We found a sort of cellar door by the side of a window. We tried to open it: to our surprise it yielded. Screening our light we proceeded into a passage, taking off our shoes and stockings first (some of us had none to take off, poor fellows!) so that we should make no noise. The house was quite still; we scarcely dared to breathe. We went forward and entered a kitchen in which were the remains of a supper. We took possession of all that was eatable on the table. It was wonderful that nobody heard us, for one of us let fall a knife after cutting up a piece of beef into pieces, so that each man might have a share. Although there were people in the house no one heard us; truly you Englishmen sleep well! Before us was a door—we opened it. It was only a closet. We next thought of the window, for we dared not climb up stairs to the principal entrance. We tried the shutters which we easily took down and, fortunately without noise, opened the window, through which one of us crept to reconnoitre. He was only absent about a minute or two, returning to tell us that not a soul was to be seen anywhere; that the wind was rushing up the main street from the sea, and that the rain was coming down in absolute torrents. Just as the neighbouring church clock struck two we were assembled under an archway together. We determined to disperse, and let every man take care of himself. Bidding my friends good bye I struck out into the street. At first I thought of going to the river, but suddenly decided to go inland. I therefore went straight on, passed the Exchange, and down a narrow street facing it (Dale-street) in which I knew mademoiselle dwelt. I thought of her, but had no hope of seeing her as I did not know the house wherein she resided. I

pushed on, therefore, until I came to the foot of a hill; I thought I would turn to the left, but shutting my eyes with superstitious feelings I left myself to fate, and determined to go forward with my eyes closed until I had by chance selected one of the four cross roads [Old Haymarket, Townsend-lane (now Byrom-street), Dale-street, and Shaw’s-brow] which presented themselves for my choice.

“I soon found I was ascending a hill, and on opening my eyes I discovered that I was pursuing my route in an easterly direction. I passed up a narrow street with low dirty-looking houses on each side, and from the broken mugs and earthenware my feet encountered in the darkness, I felt sure I was passing through the outskirts of Liverpool—famous for its earthenware manufactures. During all this time I had not seen a living thing; in fact it was scarcely possible for anything to withstand the storm that raged so vehemently. In this, however, rested my safety. I sped on, and soon mounting the hill paused by the side of a large windmill (Townsend mill) which stood at the top of London-road. Having gained breath, I pushed forward, taking the road to the right hand which ran before me (then called the road to Prescot). I began now to breathe freely and feel some hope in my endeavour to escape. My limbs, which, from long confinement in prison, were stiff at first, now felt elastic and nimble and I pushed on at a quick pace, the wind blowing at my back the whole time; still onward I went until I got into a country lane and had another steep hill to mount. The roads were very heavy. The sidewalk was badly kept, and the rain made it ankle-deep with mud. On surmounting the hill, which I afterwards learned was called Edge-hill, I still kept on to the right hand road, which was lined on both sides

with high trees. I at length arrived at a little village (Wavertree) as a clock was striking three; still not a soul was visible. I might have been passing through a world of the dead. After traversing this village I saw, on my left hand, a large pond, at which I drew some water in my cap. I was completely parched with my unusual exertions. Resting under a large tree which proved some shelter, I ate up the bread and meat I had procured from the kitchen of the house through which we had escaped. Having rested about half-an-hour I again started forward. I now began to turn over in my mind what I should do. I felt that if I could get to Ireland I could find friends who would assist me. I knew a French priest in Dublin on whom I could rely for some aid. I at length hit upon a course of action which I determined to pursue. Through narrow lanes I went, still keeping to the right, and after walking for more than an hour I found myself in a quaint little village (Hale) in which there was a church then building. The houses were constructed principally of timber, lath, and plaster and were apparently of great antiquity. Onward still I went, the rain beating down heavily and the wind blowing. In about a quarter of an hour I gained a sight of the river or the sea, I know not which, but I still continued my road until I came up to a little cottage, the door of which opened just as I was passing it. An old woman came out and began to take down the shutters. Now, as I came along the road I had made up my mind to personate a deaf and dumb person, which would preclude the necessity of my speaking. I felt I could do this well and successfully. I determined to try the experiment upon this old lady. I walked quietly up to her, took the shutters out of her hands and laid them in their proper places. I then took a broom and began sweeping away the water

which had accumulated in front of her cottage, and seeing a kettle inside the door, I walked gravely into the house, took it, and filled it at a pump close by. The old woman was dumb-struck. Not a word did she say, but stood looking on with mute amazement, which was still more intensely exhibited when I went to the fire-place, raked out the cinders, took up some sticks and commenced making a fire. Not a word passed between us. It was with great difficulty I could keep my countenance. We must have looked a curious couple. The woman standing staring at me, I sitting on a three-legged stool, with my elbows on my knees looking steadfastly at her. At length she broke this unnatural silence. Speaking in her broad Lancashire dialect I could scarcely make her out. My own deficiency in not understanding much English increased my difficulty, but I understood her to ask “Who I was, and whither I was going.” This she repeated until, having sufficiently excited her curiosity, I opened my mouth very wide, kept my tongue quite close so that it might seem as if I had none, and with my fingers to my ears made a gesture that I was deaf and dumb. She then said, “Poor man, poor man,” with great feeling and gave me a welcome. So I sat before the fire, and commenced drying my clothes, which were saturated during my walk. I suppose I must have fallen asleep, for the next thing I noticed was a substantial meal laid on the table, consisting of bread, cold bacon, and beer. Pointing to the food the old woman motioned to me to partake, and this I was not loath to do. I made a hearty meal. I should tell you, before we sat down to the table I had pulled out my pockets to show her I had no money. The woman made a sign that she did not want payment for her kindness. When we had finished our meal I looked about me, and seeing that several things wanted

putting to rights, such as emptying a bucket, getting in some coals, and cleaning down the front pavement of the house, I commenced working hard as some repayment for the hospitality I had received. We Frenchmen can turn our hands to almost anything, and my dexterity quite pleased the old lady. While I was busily sweeping the hearth, I heard the sound of a horse’s feet coming swiftly onward. Terror-struck, I did a foolish thing. Fancying it must be some one in pursuit of me, I dropped the little broom I was using, seized my cap from one of the chairs, opened the back door of the cottage, and fled along the garden walk, over-leaped a hedge, crossed a brook, and was off like a hunted hare across the open fields. This was a silly proceeding, because if the horseman had been any one in pursuit, the chances were that, should he have entered the cottage, I might not have been recognized; and if I had simply hid myself in some of the outbuildings that were near I might have escaped notice altogether, while by running across the fields I exposed myself to observation, and to be taken. When half over a field I found there a small clump of trees, and a little pond. Down the side of this pond I slipped and hid myself amongst the rushes; but I need not have given myself any anxiety or trouble, for I saw the horseman, whatever might have been his errand, flying along the winding road in the distance.

“Having satisfied myself of my security, I started off and soon found myself on the highroad again, and after a time I came near a fine old mansion which presented a most venerable appearance. I could not stop, however, to look at it, for I found I had taken a wrong turn and was going back to Liverpool. I therefore retraced my steps and passed on, going I know not whither. After walking for about an hour in a southerly direction, feeling

tired and seeing a barn open I went to it and found two men therein threshing wheat. I made signs to them that I was deaf and dumb, and asked leave to lie in the straw. They stared at me very much, whispered amongst themselves, and at length, made a sign of assent. I fell asleep. When I awoke the sun was up and bright, while all trace of the night-storm had disappeared. I wondered at first where I was. Seeing the fresh straw lying about, an idea struck me that I could earn a few pence by a little handiwork. I thereupon commenced making some straw baskets, the like of which you have often seen myself and fellow-prisoners manufacture. By the time I had completed two or three the men came again into the barn and began to work with their flails. I stepped forward with my baskets, which seemed to surprise them. The like they had evidently never seen before—they examined them with the greatest attention. One of the men, pulling some copper money out of his pocket, offered it for one of them. Grateful for the shelter I had received, I pushed back the man’s hand which contained the money and offered him the basket as a present, pointing to my bed of straw. The honest fellow would not accept it, saying I must have his money. I therefore sold him one of the baskets, and another was also purchased by one of the other men. They seemed astonishingly pleased with their bargains. Just as they had concluded their dealings with me a big man came into the barn, who I found out was the master. The men showed him the baskets and pointed to me, telling the farmer that I was a “dumby and deafy.” The big farmer hereupon bawled in my ear the question, “who was I, and where had I come from?” I put on a perfectly stolid look although the drum of my ears was almost split by his roaring. The farmer had a soft heart, however, in his big and burly frame. Leaving

the barn, he beckoned me to follow him. This I did. He went into the farm-house, and, calling his wife, bade her get dinner ready. A capital piece of beef, bread, and boiled greens or cabbages were soon on the table, to which I sat down with the farmer and his wife. Their daughter, soon after we had commenced eating, came in. Her attention was immediately attracted by my remaining basket, which I had placed by them. I got up from the table and presented it to her. Her father then told her of my supposed infirmities. I could scarcely help laughing while I heard them canvass my personal appearance, my merits and demerits. Pity, however, seemed to be the predominant feeling. When the dinner was over, I happened to look up at an old clock and saw that it had stopped. I went up to it, and took it from the nail. I saw it wanted but very little to make it go again. I therefore quietly, but without taking notice of my companions, set to work to take off the face and do the needful repairs. A pair of pincers on the window-ledge and some iron wire, in fact, an old skewer, were all the tools necessary; and very soon, to the satisfaction of my host, his wife, and his fair daughter, the clock was set going as well as it ever had done. The farmer slapped me on the back and gave me great encouragement. I then cast my eyes about to see what I could do next. I mended a chair, repaired a china image, cleaned an old picture, and taking a lock from a door repaired it, altering the key so that it became useful. In fact, I so busied myself, and with such earnestness that by night-time I had done the farmer a good pound’s worth of repairing. I then had my supper, and was made to understand I might sleep in the barn, if I liked. On the next morning the farmer’s daughter found me very busy in the yard with the pigs, which I was feeding; in fact, the whole of that day I

worked hard, because I thought if I could remain where I was until the wonder of our escapade was over, I might eventually get away altogether from England by some unforeseen piece of good fortune. For some time I worked at this farm, for, as if by mutual consent of the farmer and myself, I remained, getting only my food for my work; however, at the end of each week the farmer’s wife gave me quietly some money. I made several little fancy articles for Mademoiselle which she seemed highly to prize; but it was through her that I left my snug quarters. The principal labourer on the farm was courting, on the sly, this young woman, and I noticed he became sulky with me, as Miss Mary on several occasions selected me to perform some little service for her. From an expression I heard him make use of to one of the other men I felt sure he was about to do me some act of treachery and unkindness, and, as I was no match for the great Hercules he seemed to be, I thought it best to leave the place, as any disturbance might draw down attention upon me too closely. I therefore put up my spare clothes, some of which had been given to me by the farmer’s wife—a kindly, Christian woman she was—and hiding my little store of money securely in my breeches’ waistband, very early one fine morning I set off with a heart by no means light, from the place where I had been so well-treated, not knowing where on earth to go or what next to do. Before I went, however, to show I was grateful for their kindness, I made up a little parcel which I addressed to the farmer’s wife, in which I put a tobacco-box for Mr. John Bull, a bodkin-case for herself, and a little ring for Miss Mary, all of which I had made in my leisure time. I dare say they were sorry to part with me. I am sure Miss Mary was, for I fancied she suspected I was not what I seemed, and had begun to take an evident