The place is of considerable antiquity, and is first spoken of, in any authentic record, in a charter of Henry II., bearing date 1173, by which document the privileges of a seaport were secured; and in 1207 King John granted it a municipal charter. Henry III. constituted it a free borough in 1229. It made but little progress for centuries, and was a scene of sanguinary conflict in 1644, for during the contest between Charles I. and his Parliament, this place resisted the King. After a month's determined opposition, it was taken by Prince Rupert, and was soon afterwards largely reduced in population by pestilence and famine. In 1699 it had not more than five thousand inhabitants.
There is no other foreign city so influenced by the United States. Its condition, advancement, and progress have been in proportion to our advancement; for upon the fluctuations of trade it has, for a third of a century, been somewhat dependent. The general look of the city is like that of the older parts of New York or Boston, which it resembles more than it does any place in Europe.
Its streets are generally wide, clean, and are always well paved. Its buildings are very substantial. They are of brick or stone; but from the large amount of smoke from the bituminous coal, and the damp, and—in winter—foggy atmosphere, they have an old and dingy appearance. Particularly is this true of most of the churches, with their square towers. The city proper has few very good church edifices; but it has many old ones, some of them surrounded by burial-grounds, in the very heart of the city. These churchyards are not only treeless, but they are without shrubs, or even grass. An acre is sometimes covered with slabs of stone, level with the ground. They are about three feet wide and six long, set close together, with hardly a crevice, and on them are cut the epitaphs.
St. George's Hall, a colossal and superb structure, has one of the largest organs in the world, and exhibitions of it are given two or three times a week for the small admission fee of a sixpence (twelve cents). At the time of our visit, there were full one thousand people present. It has a good art-gallery, in which are many fine paintings by the Masters.
Drunkenness abounds. In no other place did we see so much drunkenness or so many rum shops. A visit to the police court, and a stay of a couple of hours there, exhibited more inebriation, poverty, and destitution than we could imagine as existing as we walked through the streets of the city. We were informed by the judge that he had on his book one hundred and ninety-four cases for drunkenness alone, or crimes growing immediately out of it; and that in some way all must be disposed of that day, as to-morrow was likely to bring as many or more. Some offenders had been before his court over sixty times. Such victims were released, as would be so many wild animals or lepers, the kind-hearted judge simply lecturing them, and expressing his sorrow for what in these years he had been compelled to witness daily. He was humane in all his considerations. We could but tell him that he was a remarkable man, to be able for years to be in the presence of this mass of evil and degradation, and not become hardened in feeling, but retain a sympathetic yet judicious determination and manhood. Never did a case occur where with more propriety the old remark might be justly made, "the right man in the right place." We went away somewhat sad, as we thought of the upright judge's remark, made so innocently, that we intelligent Americans prohibited this evil and governed it better than did the people of England. Said he: "Close up the rum shops as your people do, and my occupation would end." Alas! Would that we did thus close them, for so would most of our judges' occupations be gone. But no! In enlightened Boston there are churches, schoolhouses, and asylums,—and thousands of vile rum-holes sandwiched between, making void the good done by the former, and furnishing inmates for station-house and prison.
The suburbs of Liverpool are very fine, and in appearance much like those of Boston. Horse-cars and omnibuses constantly ply between the city and these places. Sefton Park is inexpressibly fine in itself, and in its distant rural scenery; and Toxton (Brookline, we might consider it) is of great rural beauty. The distant view of the old red church tower, cathedral-like and grand, situated on elevated ground, peering up out of shade-trees that obscured other parts of the building, and even the larger portion of the village itself; small lakes gleaming in the sun; the evidence of high civilization,—made us long to see more of Old England,—of these "sweet Auburns," lovely villages of the plain; and we were soon gratified, for at 2.20 o'clock p. m., Saturday, we took cars for the city of
CHESTER.
Who that travels would risk his reputation as a person of taste, and not go to Chester? A fare of $1.50 each brought us to this Mecca; for as the Jews of old must go to Mt. Zion, so must the England-visiting American go to Chester. First, a few words about the city itself; and here the brain acts sluggishly, and the pen rebels at the thought of describing what has been described so many times before. We arrived after an hour and forty minutes' ride from Liverpool.
Chester is the capital of Cheshire, and is situated on the River Dee, with a population of 35,701. It was a Roman station known as Deva Castra. It is nearly surrounded by the river, and the original portion of the city is encompassed with an ancient wall having low towers at special points. This wall is in perfect condition, and is the best specimen of its kind in all England. The foundations are Roman, and part of this work is visible, and is an item of much interest. The upper portions, resting on the Roman base, date from the time of Edward I., who was born at Westminster in 1239, and died 1307; and so the wall is nearly six hundred years old. It is about eight feet thick at the top, and varies in thickness at the bottom according to its height, which, of course, is determined by the irregular surface of the land. The space enclosed is a parallelogram, planned like all Roman camps, with a gate or entrance in the middle of each of the four sides, the main streets intersecting at the centre of the town.
There are at stated intervals stone stairs, leading up to the walk at the top of the wall, and this is a common promenade for the public, and more especially for strangers, as from this elevation, a large portion of the entire city is seen, and the view of the outside scenery is most enchanting.