About the month of August, 1816, an old woman was seen prowling constantly about the vicinity of Mr. J. A. Yates’ house, in Toxteth Park. She made a great many inquiries about the members of that gentleman’s family, whether there were men servants in the house, and whether a dog was kept. In fact, she made herself fully acquainted with Mr. Yates’ domestic arrangements. This was thought nothing of at the time, but the old crone’s curiosity was recalled to mind after the event took place, which I shall briefly mention.
On the night of Friday, 16th August, 1816, about ten o’clock, six men wearing masks, and armed with pistols, might have been seen approaching Mr. Yates’ house. Two of them took their position outside as sentinels to give alarm to their companions, if necessary. The other four approached the back of the premises, and entered the house. Passing through the scullery they went into the kitchen, where they found a servant-maid and a footman. Threatening them with instant death if they gave any alarm, one of the four remained in the kitchen to watch the girl, while the other three compelled the footman to
show them over the house. Proceeding up stairs, they encountered Mr. J. B. Yates, who was on a visit to Mr. J. A. Yates. On seeing the men approach, he inquired their business, when one of them aimed a blow at him, which, however, fortunately missed its mark, and only inflicted a slight wound on Mr. Yates’s mouth. They then ordered Mr. Yates to give up his money, which he did, fearing further violence. Driving him before them, they next entered a room, in which Mrs. J. B. Yates was sitting. They compelled her also to give up her money, watch, and the jewellery she wore. While this was going on, Mr. J. A. Yates arrived from Liverpool, and was seized by the two rascals stationed outside. They demanded his money, putting pistols to his head. Mr. Yates, however, with a good deal of nerve, rushed past the fellows, threw his watch away, and seized hold of the handle of the door bell, which he rung with considerable force. The men, however, again seized him, and told him his ringing would be of no use, as there were fellows inside who could overmaster any effort of his. But the ringing of the door-bell had seriously alarmed the party within, who were then robbing Mrs. Yates, as just mentioned. Snatching up whatever they could, which was portable and seemed of value, the fellows rushed down stairs, ordering the footman to open the hall-door. This he did, and
availed himself of the opportunity of making his escape. He ran across the fields and speedily gave an alarm, but too late to be of any service; for, when assistance arrived, the thieves had decamped, taking with them about £14 in money, and a quantity of valuable plate and jewellery. The man left in the kitchen had contrived to secure the stock of plate. Four of the robbers were captured in September following, and committed to take their trial at Lancaster, where they were found guilty and sentenced to death. They were hung in October following, and it is a rather curious circumstance that the very week these men suffered the extreme penalty of the law for their misdeeds, a daring burglary was committed one night at the mill near Mr. Yates’ house, when five sacks of flour were stolen, put into a boat in waiting by the mill dam, and successfully carried off.
The Waterloo Hotel was originally Mr. Gore’s house. It was afterwards occupied by Mr. Staniforth, who was in partnership with the present Mr. Laird’s father as ropers. The roperies occupied the site of the present Arcades, and extended to Berry-street.
I recollect the Fall Well occupying the site of Mr. Alderman Bennet’s warehouse near Rose-street. It was covered over with several arches; access to it was obtained down a flight of steps.
A tavern was afterwards built on its site, and was known for many years as the “Fall Well Tavern.” It stood at the corner of Rose-street at the back of the Amphitheatre. The Dye-House Well was in Greetham-street. I believe access is still obtained to the water, at least it was a few years ago. The wells on Shaw’s brow were all laid open when the alteration took place in that vicinity. One of the wells was used at an emery mill, which was once the cone of a pottery. One of the wells was found where the Library is now erected.
CHAPTER XVII.
As a young boy and an old man I have seen my native town under two very diverse aspects.
As a boy, I have seen it ranked only as a third-rate seaport. Its streets tortuous and narrow, with pavements in the middle, skirted by mud or dirt as the season happened. The sidewalks rough with sharp-pointed stones, that made it misery to walk upon them. I have seen houses, with little low rooms, suffice for the dwelling of the merchant or well-to-do trader—the first being content to live in Water-street or Old Hall-street, while the latter had no idea of leaving his little shop, with its bay or square window, to take care of itself at night. I have seen Liverpool streets with scarcely a coach or vehicle in them, save such as trade required, and the most enlightened of its inhabitants, at that time, could not boast of much intelligence, while those who