Recollections of Old Liverpool

by James Stonehouse

liking to me. I had taught her some French modes of cooking, which excited surprise, as well as gratification to their palates, and I taught her also two or three little ways of making fancy articles that pleased her exceedingly. It was through her manifesting a preference for me that, as I have told you, Monsieur le Capitaine, I felt obliged to absent myself from her father’s employment. It was most difficult at first to restrain myself from talking. But I soon got over that, for when I was about to speak I made an uncertain sort of noise, which turned off suspicion. That the head labourer had some doubt about me, I verily believe. I thought at first I would try to get to London, but the roads thereto, I learnt, were so bad and travelling so insecure, even for the poorest, that I considered it best to remain in this neighbourhood, as I wanted to see Mademoiselle P--- once more, and settle with her uncle for the money of mine in his hands. I thought if I could only communicate with him he would befriend me, so I went on my way.

“I travelled all that day until I got into a place called Warrington, by the side of a river. It is a town full of old quaint houses built of timber and plaster. I was very tired when I arrived there at nightfall, but obtained shelter in an old house near the bridge, and as I had the money my mistress gave me I bought some food at a little shop; a Frenchman does not want very heavy meals, so that I did pretty well. The next day I went to a baker’s and got some more bread. I interested the baker’s wife, and when she found I was deaf and dumb, she not only would not take money for her bread, but also gave me some meat and potatoes. It seemed she had a relation affected as I was supposed to be. I then went out to a farm-yard, and having begged some straw I turned to my never-failing fountain of help—basket

making. I made a number of baskets and other little things, all of which on taking into the town I sold readily. I begged some more straw of a man at a stable, and set to work again. I sold off my baskets and fancy articles much quicker than I could make them. I soon got so well known that I excited some attention; but one day being at a public tavern, where I had gone to deliver a basket ordered, the word ‘Liverpool’ fell upon my ears and caused me to tremble. Near me sat two men who looked like drovers. They were talking about Liverpool affairs: one of them told the other that there had been lately a great fire near the dock, where a quantity of provisions had been burnt, and much property destroyed besides. They then spoke of the escape of my companions and myself, and for the first time I heard of their fate, and how, one by one, they had been recaptured or willingly returned. I then heard of their trials and the miseries they had encountered. The drovers also spoke of one prisoner who had disappeared and got away completely, but that there was a hot search after him, as he, it was supposed, was the ringleader in the late outbreak, and that it was planned and carried out by him. I felt that they alluded to myself, and that this place would grow too warm for me, as I knew that I was already an object of public remark, owing to my supposed infirmities and the extraordinary dexterity of my fingers. It will be recollected that I bought some bread at a little shop near the market-place. Passing there the day after I arrived, I saw a bill in the window bearing the words “lodgings to let.” I, therefore, by signs made the woman of the shop comprehend that I wanted such accommodation. I took the bill out of the window, pointed to the words, and the to myself; then I laid my hand on my head as if in the attitude of sleep. The good woman quite comprehended

me, and nodding her head to my dumb proposition led the way up a small flight of stairs, and at once installed me in the vacant room. It was small and poorly furnished, but very clean. I soon made myself at home; and never wanted anything doing for me, so that the widow’s intercourse with me was very limited. I knew I could not write without betraying my foreign origin, so the way I did first was to get a book and pick out words signifying what I wanted, and from these words the good woman made out a sentence. I wanted so little that we had no difficulty in making out a dialogue. After hearing the talk of the drovers I determined to leave the town without delay, for my fears of recapture quite unmanned me, making me needlessly dread any intercourse with strangers. Having thus resolved to leave Warrington I bade goodbye to my kind landlady, giving her a trifle over her demand, and then shaped my way to the northward. I went to several towns, large and small, and stayed in Manchester a week, where I sold what I made very readily. My supposed infirmities excited general commiseration everywhere, and numerous little acts of kindness did I receive. I wandered about the neighbouring towns in the vicinity for a long time, being loth to leave it for several reasons; in fact I quite established a connection amongst the farmers and gentry, who employed me in fabricating little articles of fancy work and repairing all sorts of things most diverse in their natures and uses. At one farm-house I mended a tea-pot and a ploughshare, and at a gentleman’s house, near St. Helen’s, repaired a cart, and almost re-built a boat, which was used on his fish-pond. I turned my hand to any and everything. I do not say I did everything well, but I did it satisfactorily to those who employed me. I now began to be troubled about my money which was accumulating, being

obliged to carry it about with me, as I feared being pillaged of it. I therefore resolved on coming back to Liverpool and finding out Monsieur P--- at all hazards, trusting to chance that I should not be recognised. Who could do so? Who would know me in the town save the Tower gaolers who would scarcely be out at night; even they would not recollect me in the dark streets of the town? When this resolve came upon me I was at a place called Upholland where I had been living three or four days, repairing some weaver’s looms—for there are a good many weavers in that little town. I had nearly finished the work I had undertaken, and was intending to come to Liverpool direct at the end of the following week, when my design was frustrated by a curious and most unexpected circumstance. About three miles from Upholland there is a very high hill called Ashurst. On the top of this is a beacon tower which looks at a distance like a church steeple rising over the top of the hill, just as if the body of the church were on the other side of the crest. This beacon is intended to communicate alarm to the neighbouring country in war time, it being one of a line of beacons to and from different places. I had once or twice walked to this high place to enjoy the fine prospect. On Sunday last I had gone there and extended my walk down the hill to a place where the road, after passing a pretty old entrance-gateway, moat, and old hall, dips very prettily down to bridge over a small stream. This bridge (Cobb’s Brow Bridge) is covered with ivy, and is very picturesque. Just before the road rather abruptly descends there are, on the right hand side of it, a number of remarkably old and noble oak trees, quite giants. Some are hollowed out, and one is so large that it will accommodate several persons. This tree has been used by what you call gipsies—and shows that fire has been made in it.

“Well, on Sunday, in the afternoon, I was sitting under one of these fine old trees, when I saw a cavalcade coming down the road, consisting of two ladies and a gentleman mounted on fine horses, and attended by two serving-men or grooms. When the party had arrived opposite the trees they stopped to examine them, when one of the ladies, struck with the wonderful size of the largest tree, expressed her admiration of it in very purely-pronounced French. I was so surprised that I became completely unnerved, was thrown off my guard, and, in the excitement of the moment, at hearing my native tongue so beautifully pronounced, sprang up, and rushing forward echoed in my own tongue the lady’s commendation of those grand old trees. I immediately found out my error, for, to my grief, the other young lady, whom I at once recognized, exclaimed—“Why this is the dumb man who was at the Hall the other day repairing the broken glass vases!” I at first denied that such was the case, but on the grooms coming up they both identified me. In fact, I knew both from having applied to the younger of the two, only a few days previously, to obtain for me employment in the house of his master, in any way my services could be made available. Thus I had through him obtained permission to repair the vases which had been much injured, and which I had most successfully put in order. The gentleman then asked me who I was, called me an impostor, and ordered his servants to seize me. This they did, when I at once admitted who I was and where I came from. The gentleman, although entreated most earnestly by the ladies to allow me to go away, would not consent to his servants releasing me, but ordered them to take me to Ormschurch (Ormskirk), about five miles distant, and have me put into the little prison there, which you call the cage. The ladies, with

tears in their eyes, on seeing me thus seized by the servant-men, bade them not use me roughly, and one of them slipped a gold piece into my hand, bidding me in French to be of good cheer, for there was a talk of immediate peace, when I should be released. The gentleman rode away calling the young ladies to follow him without delay, bidding, at the same time, the servants to see that I was delivered over to the proper authorities at Ormschurch, so that I might be transmitted to Liverpool. As soon as the master and the ladies were out of sight, one of the men, who rode a stout horse, bade me get up behind him, which I did, and in about an hour we arrived in the town. It was full of people in their Sunday clothes. My appearance attracted some notice, I was pitied by some, execrated by others, and followed by crowds of boys. After waiting in the street some time I was taken before a stout, growling old gentleman, who ordered me to be locked up until the next morning, and to have meat and drink given me. I was then to be taken to Liverpool and delivered over to my gaoler again. In accordance with this order I was put into a small square room, on the floor of which was a quantity of straw. There were benches fixed in the walls. There was no fire-place and it was sadly uncomfortable. However, soon after I was locked up, I received a good supply of bread, meat, and beer; and, as the straw was tolerably fresh and clean, I did not fare so badly. I therefore lay down, covered myself up with the straw, and was soon fast asleep. I awoke once, but as everything was dark, I composed myself to sleep again and did not awake until morning. About six o’clock, as I knew by the church-clock hard by, I was aroused and told to be ready to start for Liverpool, whereupon I presented myself at the door, and found an open cart in waiting. Into this I

was put, and, after a tiresome journey over some of the worst roads I had ever seen in my life, I arrived here last night, having enjoyed a three months’ holiday to my great satisfaction. Here, then, I am, waiting for death or peace to release me. I shall now finish your box if you are not too offended with me for neglecting your commission so long. I may tell you that Mademoiselle P--- was here this morning; tears were in her lovely eyes, and she seemed very glad to see me back, at which I somewhat wondered, especially if she esteemed me. I should have thought she would rather have relished my escaping altogether, than being again caught.”

Here ends Durand’s narrative.

My father appends a note to the effect that, through the intervention of Sir Edward Cunliffe, one of the members for Liverpool, Durand was released from the Tower, and went to reside with Mr. P--- in Dale-street. At the date of September following there is a memorandum to the effect that M. Durand and Miss P--- had become man and wife, so that, as my father quaintly adds, he supposes M. Durand had by that time found out why it was that old P---’s niece was so glad to see him again in prison.