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CHfiTKUJ S. M/^fy 










The PortsmOUtll Road, and its Tributaries : To-day and in Days 
of Old. 

The Dover Road : Annals of an Ancient Turnpike. 

The Bath Road : History, Fashion, and Frivolity on an Old 

The Exeter Road : The Story ot the West of England Highway. 

The Great North Road : The Old Mail Road to Scotland. Two 

The Norwich Road : An East Anglian Highway. 

The Holyhead Road: The Mail-Coach Road to Dublin. Two 


The Camtoridge, Ely, and King's Lynn Road: The Great 

Fenland Highway. 

The Newmarket, Bury, Thetford, and Cromer Road : Sport 

and History on an East Anglian Turnpike. 

The Oxford, Gloucester, and Mllford Haven Road : The 

Ready Way to South Wales. Two Vols. 

The Brighton Road : Speed, Sport, and History on the Classic 


The Hastings Road and the " Happy Springs of Tunbridge." 

Cycle Rides Round London. 

A Practical Handbook of Drawing for Modern Methods of 

Stage Coach and Mail in Days of Yore. Two Vols. 

The Ingoldsby Country : Literary Landmarks of "The Ingoldsby 
Legends. " 

The Hardy Country ; Literary Landmarks of the Wessex Novels. 

The Dorset Coast. 

The South Devon Coast. 

The Old Inns of Old England. Two Vols. 

Love in the Harbour : a Longshore Comedy. 

Rural Nooks Round London (Middlesex and Surrey). 

Haunted Houses; Tales of the Supernatural. 

The North Devon Coast. [/« the Press. 
















Manchesteh and Glasgow 

Manchester — 

(Cross River Irwell.) 


Salforcl lS5f 


. 186f 

Irlam-o'-th'-Height . 


Pendlebury . . . 


Clifton .... 


Kearsley Moor Church . 

. 1921 



Moses Gate 

. 194 



Bolton (Deansgate) . 




Boot Lane 




Horwich .... 


Smithy Bridge 


(Cross Lancaster Canal. 


Chorley .... 


('layton ( 


Baraher Bridge 




(Cross River Kibble.) 

Preston 217 




Cadley Moor . 


Barton .... 

Bilsborough . 

Brock's Bridge 

(Cross River "Wyre.) 
Catterall .... 

(Cross River Wvrc.) 
Garstang .... 
Scorton .... 
Bay Horse Station . 
Galgate .... 
Scotfortb .... 

(Cross River Liine.) 
Slyne .... 

BnrtoQ-in-Kendal . 
End Moor 

(Cross River Kent.) 
Kendal .... 
Sbap .... 
Tbrimby .... 
Clifton .... 
Lowther Bridge 

(Cross River Lowther.) 
Eamont Bridge 

(Cross Eamont River.) 
Penrith .... 




226 1 




















Salkolcl Giito. 

. 29U 

High llesket 

. 296i 

Low Hesket ...... 

. 297f 


. 302^ 

(Cross Petterill IJrook.) 

Carlisle (Clock Tower) .... 

. 3051 

(Cross River Eden.) 

Stanwix ....... 

. 306 

Kingstown ...... 

. 308 


. 309^ 

West Linton .... . , 

. 31U 

(Cross River Line.) 

Arthuret ....... 

. 313i 


. 313| 

(Cross River Esk.) 

The Border 

. 317i 

(Cross River Sark) 


. 317i 

Gretna Green ...... 

. 318| 

Graham's Hill 

. 321 


. 322 

Ecclefechan . . . . ' . 

. 328 


. 333f 

Dinwoodie Green 

. 338| 

Johnstone Bridge 

. 340] 

(Cross River Annan.) 

Beattock ....... 

. 347f 


. 349^ 

Elvanfoot Bridge . . . . . 

. 302, V 

((!roHs Ifivcr Clyde.) 


. 305 

(('roHB Riv(!r (!lyde.) 


. 368 


Denighton Bridge 


. 370 

(Cross a Branch of the Clyde.) 

Douglas Mill 

. 3771 


. 383-1- 

Larkhall ....... 

. 391i 

Hamilton ...... 

. 395^ 

Bothwell Bridge 

. 396f 

(Cross River Clyde.) 


. 397^ 


. 399f 


. 4U3 

Glasgow (Glasgow Cross) 

. 405f 

Carlisle to Glasgow (Exchange) Direct, by Telford's 
]^EW Road, avoiding Lontgtown, Springfield, and 

Carlisle . 

Glasgow Cross 
Glasgow Exchange 



Waiting to Change {After J. F. Herring) Frontispiece 


The Building of Mancunium {From the fresco hy Ford 

Madox Brown) ........ 7 

Manchester Cathedral, from Deansgate . . .17 

Manchester Town Hall 61 

Hall-i'-th'-Wood ........ 79 

Preston : Town Hall, Harris Public Library, and 

Sessions House. ....... 99 

Lancaster 109 

Lancaster Sands {After J. M. W. Turner, R.A.) . . 127 
Eamont Bridge . . . . . . . .177 

Carlisle .......... 207 

Solway Moss {After J. M. W. Turner, R.A.) . . .215 

"A False Alarm on the Road: "Pls oni-v tme Mail !" 

{After C. B. NewhouNc) 22:5 

"One Milk from ({rktna : 'I'iik < Joviirnou in Sight, with 

A Screw J.oosk " {After ('. /!. . . , 231 



The Dumfries Coach {After C. B. Neiohouse) 
The Glasgow Mail {After James Pollard) 




al: The Pedlar and 

The Hall, Chetham's School . 

Miserere Seat, Mancliester Cathedr; 
the Monkeys 

The "Bull's Head," Salford . 

The " Sun " Inn, Poets Corner 

The " Old Man and Scythe " . 

Town Hall, Bolton . 

Firwood : Birthplace of Crompton 

Ri\nngton Pike .... 

Piiviugton Pike from the Road 

Darwen Bridge and Walton-le-Dale 

"Teetotal" .... 

Garstang ..... 

"A fair mark, my Lord" 

Javelin-Man .... 

Lanca.'^ter Castle 

Map of the " Over-Sands " Route 

Carn forth ..... 

The Buckstone .... 

The Market Cross and Pillory, Burton-in-Kendal 

The " Duke of Cumberland " Inn, and Farleton Knott 

Kendal Castle, and the Road into Kendal 

Castle Dairy .... 

Boroughbridge, Shap Fell. 

Sign of the " Greyhound," Shap 

Shaj) Abbey .... 




1.J>1 ill' 1LLLI>>1 KA I IONS 


Sepulchral Slab of Utlinl »lo liiohaiu 

Brougham Castle ....... 

. I(i8 

Countess Pillar 

. 169 

Yanwath Hall 

. 170 

Askham Hall 

. 172 

King Arthur's Drinking Cup ..... 

. 174 

The Ciant's Grave ....... 

. 184 

Old Doorway, Penrith 

. 186 

. 188 

East End, Carlisle Cathedral 

. 195 

. 203 

Map of Old and New Eoads from Carlisle to Gretna Green 

. 211 

Arthuret Church 

. 213 

The Road past Solway Moss . 

. 217 

Filial Affection {After Roivlandson) .... 

. 221 

Sark Bar 

. 227 

The Deaf Post-Boy {After Cruikshank) . 

. 233 

Gretna Hall in the Old Days 


The Old Smithy, Gretna Green .... 


Gretna Green ........ 


Ecclefechan : Showing Birthplace of Thomas Carlyle 


Old Tablet at Ecclefechan 


Broken Bridge ......... 


" Brig o' Clyde " 


Hamilton Palace ........ 


Both well Bridge ........ 


Trongate .......... 


The Anns of Glasgow ....... 


Gl.'isgow Ciitluidral and the Necropolis . . . . 


Tho 01dt3Ht House in Glasgow. . . . . . 



London Road. E-aihvay Station nowadays marks 
the beginning of central Manchester. Hitherto 
the long, long apjiroach, although busy and 
crowded, has been, if not a thought suburban, 
at least busy chiefly on the retail scale. Here, 
however, where the railway l)rings travellers in 
from London, you see Manchester as the great 
city of immense warehouses : the place that no 
longer manufactures but deals in bulk aiul by 
wliolesalc with the goods produced in a dependent 
circle of towns. 

From London Road you come iuunediately 
into Piccadilly, which is not in tlu> least like 
tlui Piccadilly in Ivondon ; and tliei-e you (Ind 
y()urs(df at the very hub of Manchester's hurly- 
burly. There is perhaps not much signilicance in 

vol,. II I 


all this to the commercial man ^^lio travels down 
by express from London, and merely rouses 
himself from his newspaper to alight and then 
to take a cab from this railway terminus to one 
of the others, or to his business appointments ; 
but to trace the road down from London on a 
bicycle and thus enter Manchester is to understand 
the great metroj)olis of cotton as it really is 
in relation to the rest of the country. To such 
a traveller the noise, the crowds, the furious 
energy, and the great sooty piles of buildings 
are not a little terrible. There is much good 
modern architecture in Manchester's streets, but 
a black cloak covers it all. And yet the sky, 
though generally overcast, for the climate of 
Manchester is tearful, is not scored with smoke- 
wreaths, and factory-chimneys are not a feature 
of Manchester itself. The sooty deposit comes 
insensibly in the air from the outer ring of towns, 
and although it is not evident in the sky, it very 
soon tones down brick and stone and terra-cotta 
to one dull monotone. For all the rain that 
washes the city, it does not suffice to cleanse away 
its coating of soot. The blackness of Manchester 
is the first characteristic that impresses itself 
upon the stranger. It greatly impressed the first 
Shah of Persia who visited England : Nasr-ed-din, 
who came in 1873, and afterwards wrote an 
account of his travels. " The City of Manchester," 
he wrote, " by reason of its exceeding number 
of manufactures, has its houses, doors, and walls 
black as coal, and the complexions, visages, and 


the dross of people are all black. The whole of 
the ladicvs of tliat ])lace at most times wear black 
elothiuy,', b(*caiise no sooner do they j)iit on white 
or coloured garments, than they are suddenly 
l)lack ! " 

This not without its picturesque exaggerations, 
and the citizens of Manchester will hardly recognise 
themselves in that inky complexion, but it will 
serve as a traveller's tale, and puts a keener 
edge on the unsharpened blade of truth. The 
blackest blackness of all, however, is that of the 
great Infirmary building, in Piccadilly, whose 
sable hue is own brother to darkest night. Only 
long years have brought it to this richness of 
tint. Art could not produce such a black ; dull, 
light-absorbing as it is, the building looks like 
an etching against the sky, and its Doric 
architecture in this coating would probably 
astonish any ancient Greek who might be 
privileged to revisit the earth and see what 
modern times had made of ancient models. But 
the Infirmary, ill-placed in these days amidst the 
roar of the streets, is presently to be removed, 
and this, the finest site in the city, is to l)e the 
home of an Art Gallery and Public Library. 

There are statues on the l)road pavement in 
front of the Infirmary, and very line ones too. 
But the latest addition to their number, that of 
(^iHM'ii Victoria, is not a success. Manchester 
|)('()|)ie do not and rigblly tJiey do not — Wkc it. 
The bi'onzc; s<5;it(Ml ligure ol" the (^)ueeu is a. |)0()i" 
copy by Onslow l^'ord ol" the well-Unow 11 statue 


by Alfred Gilbert at Winchester, and is set in a 
great canopied chair-like throne that forms a 
ridiculous object, seen along the street, resembling 
a gigantic grandfather's-chair. The figure is the 
very picture of senility. Was Onslow Ford, after 
all, a bitter satirist of the age and of the Empire ? 
The horrible thing looks as though he had 
successfully striven to typify the decay that had 
set in during the last years of the A'ictorian Era : 
that glorious, world-moulding era of which the 
second Jubilee, in 1897, was really the monument 
and epitaph. Here you see the tired, aged face, 
the hands nervelessly holding orb and sceptre ; and 
you cannot but think that this is really typical 
of that time. Given another ten years of Victorian 
recluse rule, with old-established abuses clustering 
around a long-occupied throne, cobwebbed methods 
hugged jealously, outrageous Prime Ministers, 
whether of the Old Man Eloquent type or the 
equally harmful man of the Blazing Indiscretions, 
and the slowly built Empire would swiftly have 
sped down the road to disintegration. A more 
fittino; monument than this for modern Manchester, 
Avhicli lives in the present and for the future, 
would be a statue of the patriot King, under whose 
rule in the new century the nation and the 
Empire shall, please God, have a new birth. 

Piccadilly gives place to Market Street, and 
then to Victoria Street, and Deansgate, which, 
although it forms one of the approaches to the 
Cathedral, is not named after any decanal dignitary 
but from a dene or dean — i.e. a hollow — once sloping 


to th(^ contluonco liorc of the rivers Irwell and 
Irk. Here, by those alVrontcnl rivers, once troiit- 
t'ul streams hut now of Stygian bhxckness, and 
running' in tunnels and under innumerable 
hi'idg-es, is the very core of Manchester, whose 
long story contains little of the doings of kings 
and queens, or of the romantic ways of feudal 
lords ; but is compact of a much more romantic 
and human interest : the story of the striving 
upwards of a people, through the disheartening 
chances of the centuries. It is not given to the 
casual wayfarer to perceive this romance, en- 
visaged as it is in the grim and grimy outskirts, 
or in the everyday crowding and turmoiling of 
the central traffic ; but it is there, nevertheless, 
and I, for one, refuse to treat of Manchester in 
particular, or of the road in general, in mere 
terms of topography ; for the road, and the places 
to which it conducts, take in their comjiass the 
entire interests and sympathies of mankind : the 
blood and tears, the joys and sorrows of the 


Ancient Manchester centred about the parish 
churcli, afterwards collegiate, now the Cathedral, 
and al)oiit tin; manor-house tliat is now Chetliam's 
JLos])ital. It is still, altlioiigli its ])avements are 
crowded, and although it is neiglil)oured l)y the 
great Exchange; and Victoria railway stations, a 
j)lace of narrow streets \vlios(5 singular names 
would tiiemselves 1)(; sullicient (evidence of anti- 


quity, even thoug-h every house in them were 
rebuilt. No modern authority woukl entitle a 
thoroughfare " Hanging Ditch " or " Smithy 
Door," hut such are the names here, together 
with Long Millgate, Hunt's Bank, and Withy 
Grove. Rural names, most of them, and you 
would quest in vain for the olden watermill in 
Millgate, and withies grow no more in Withy 
Grove than hazels in the Hazel Grove of which 
you already know. 

This spot where Cathedral and Hospital stand, 
and where the narrow streets with odd names 
plunge up and down and twist round unexpected 
corners, is indeed of a very high antiquity. One 
thousand eight hundred and thirty years ago, 
according to generally received opinion — that is 
to say, in a.d. 78 — the Romans, in the reign of 
Agricola, came to this site, where now the tide 
of modern Manchester flows most strongly. 
They found a red, rocky bluff where is now 
Hunt's Bank, overlooking the confluent rivers, 
and all around were forests and swamps and 
doubtless the hoary ancestors of those withies 
after which Withy Grove was in later mediasval 
times named. The sole representative nowadays 
near Manchester of those ancient abounding 
swamps is Chat Moss, now a very negligible 
bog indeed, but even so recently as early raihvay 
days a formidable j)li6nomenon to be reckoned 
with. But the rocky ledge overlooking Irk and 
Irwell was not unoccupied. A tribe of Britons 
had established themselves there ; very securely, 


no doubt, ag'ainst I'ocs of tlicir own calibro, but 
^hcn the Ronmns canu^. and found the situation 
desirable, their day was done. 

No account survives of the taking of that 
palisaded camj) of the Britons. We know nothing 
of what hapiDcned to the aborigines, and it is 
so remote a speculation tliat I am quite sure no 
one in modern Manchester has ever given the 
matter a moment's thought. Nor did any Roman 
historian narrate how many of the Empire's tall 
soldiers sank under the weight of their armour 
and perished in the morasses at the taking of 
Avhat is said to have been styled by the British 
Maencenion. The Romans, in their usual way. 
Latinised the native name for the place, and thus, 
from what they called Mancimiimi, springs, after 
many intermediate changes, " Manchester." 

We know nothing of all these doings, but the 
building of Mancunium is strikingly pictured in 
the first of the series of beautiful and interesting 
frescoes by Pord Madox Brown in the Manchester 
Town Hall, and with as certain and matter-of-fact 
a touch as thougli it had been draw n from personal 
observation. It was the Pre-Raphaelite way. In 
the picture you see the toiling slaves, working 
on tlie massiv(^ walls enclosing tlu^ Roman city ; 
a b(dm(;ted centurion on tlu; topmost windy Insight 
dir(5cting tluur operations. I do not know Avliich 
impress im^ most, tbe cast-iron folds of liis 
wind-blown cloak or th<^ gigantic muscles of bis 
bare legs, standing out like |)enny rolls. 'IMiey 
wcr(i a great people, tbe Ronians, and their 


muscular calf - dovelopmeut was apparently as- 

The early "historians" of Manchester were, 
however, not content with such history as this, 
and loved to tell a tale of the marvellous : how 
their city originated with a giant. Sir Tarquin, 
among whose peculiarities was that of having a 
little child ever}^ morning for breakfast, just as 
a modern might take anchovy, on toast. At last 
he was slain by Sir Lancelot de Lake, one of King 
Arthur's knights, whereupon the population, 
relieved of this check upon it, began to increase, 
and here we have now, after the passing of sixteen 
or seventeen centuries, an assemblage, including 
Salford, of about three quarters of a million souls. 
An ancient carved Avooden boss in the ceiling of 
the committee-room of Chetham's Hosj)ital alludes 
to this legend, and displays a giant head devour- 
ing an infant. 

And so we joass on to the Xorman jDcriod, and 
to the time when the family of Greslet, or Gresley, 
acquired the manor of Manchester from that 
great personage, Roger of Poictou, to whom a 
manor more or less, in all the great tract of the 
country that was his between the Kibble and 
the Mersey, was a small matter. For centuries 
the Gresleys retained their holding, Avhich passed 
from them at last by the marriage of Joan Gresley 
to one of the AVest family. Thenceforward, the 
Wests, ennobled as Barons de la Warre, owned 
the manorial rights of Manchester, until 1579, 
when they sold them for £3,000 to one Jolm 


Lacv, wlu) ill liis turn, in IHOC), sold to Nicholas 
Mosley, alderman of London, at a mere £500 
profit. After holdini*- the manor for two luindrcKl 
and forty-five years, the Mosley family, in the 
person of Sir Oswald Mosley, sold it to the newly 
created Corporation of Manchester for £200,000. 
It was a huge sum, but Sir Oswald was scarcely 
wise in his generation. 

Strange though it may seem in a place to 
outward appearance so modern as Manchester, 
the old manor-house of the Gresleys and the 
De la Warres still survives in the very centre 
of the great city. It is, indeed, identical with 
none other than the range of buildings long past 
occupied as Chetham's Hospital and Library ad- 
joining the Cathedral, and here is the later story 
of it. ' 

The last of the Manchester De la Warres was 
a man with an enthusiasm for the religious life. 
In 1373 he became rector of Manchester, and 
in 1422 refounded the parish church that is now 
the Cathedral, making it collegiate, and giving 
his baronial hall, hard by, for the purposes of 
his College of priests. That establishment was 
disestablished and disendowed in the tinier of 
Edward the Sixth, and the College buildings 
granted to the Earl of Derby, who used tliis 
ancient manorial residence as his town Iiouse. 
ILis successor, in th(i reign of Queen Elizabeth, re- 
eudowed the Colh^gc;, wliicli was again suppressed 
in tli(5 dawn of tlu^ Conunonwealtli ei-a, wlien (lie 
church Ix'canie a Presbyterian meeting-house. 


Then it was that Humphrey Chetham, Man- 
chester's most famous benefactor, already phmning 
the estal)lishment of a free school, saw the College 
buildings, standing empty and forlorn, ready to 
his hand. He died in 1653, and so did not live 
to see the beginning of his school ; but by his 
will of 1650 had appointed trustees for the 
purchase of the College, and at last, in 1658, his 
school of " Chetham's Hospital " was opened. 
He directed that, " Ye boys shall be taught ye 
reading, ye writing, ye summes, and all kinds 
of ye ingenuitie," and his Avill continues to be 
observed on the same spot, and in the identical 
buildings, to this day ; the Chetham scholars 
even wearing the self -same picturesque but neat 
costume they wore when the institution was 
founded : dark -blue cloth jacket and knee- 
breeches, with silver buttons, and a queer little 
muffin-shaped cap. 

The HosjDital and Library buildings suffer 
shockingly as to their exterior by the sooty 
atmosphere, but the various interiors are Avonder- 
fully interesting, intrinsically, and additionally 
from their situation amid such circumstances as 
those of a gigantic commercial city wherein 
cloistered buildings, reasonablj^ to be expected at 
Oxford or Cambridge, are not looked for. The 
group of buildings has survived three uses : as 
manor-house of the baronial period ; as the home 
of a religious fraternity ; and for two hundred and 
fifty years as a school. The old hospitium, or 
guest-house, is the boys' dormitory, Avhere a 



liiindivd neat little cots aro to bo scon in lon^ 
perspectives : the ancient kitchen that I'nrnished 
curious, and often nasty, dinners to the ancient 
lords of the place and supplied the priests of 

th(; College with their not too cloistral meals — 
sav(; for v(n'y sliauK^ theii* ahstiiieni l^'riday fare 
of lisli is still ill use, and scuds forth the most 
app(;tisin^- scents about iiiidd.-iA ; and tlie refec- 
tory is MOW partly th(5 (joveriior's (piarters; while 


the Baronial Hall, where De la Warres held 
their very considerahle state, is now the dining- 
hall. It is a nohle apartment, this ancient hall, 
with its walls of thick masonry, its Gothic 
windows, and timbered roof, A bust of Chetham 
is placed on the Avail over what was once a fire- 
place replacing the more ancient central hearth 
or brazier in the middle of the Hall. Electric 
lighting replaces older methods of illumination, 
and everywhere reveals with fine effect ancient 
panelling, painted devices and pictures. Over 
the cloister walks, in what was in the period of 
the collegiate establishment the priests' dormitory, 
Chetham's Library is housed in ancient presses 
greatly resembling those in the Bodleian at Oxford 
and the University Lil)rary at Cambridge. What 
was once the "Warden's room of the priestly 
establishment is now the Reading Boom. To read 
scholarly books, to engage in the pursuit of curious 
knowledge in the Beading Boom of Chetham's 
Library is surely a wonderful privilege, for in 
this exquisite room, richly panelled in oak, with 
striped black-and-white plaster and timbered 
roof, and with gorgeously coloured and gilt wall 
paintings, the notorious Dr. Dee, Warden of the 
College in Elizabethan times, entertained among 
others Sir Walter Baleigh ; and no doubt gazed 
into his mystic crystal globe here, on his guest's 
behalf, to see what the future held in store for 
that courtier, warrior, explorer, and adventurer. 
Did it reveal nothing of that grim cell in the 
Tower where that unfortunate man was to spend 


vc>ars of c'a|)tivitv P Did no inimical shadows wax 
and waiio in that crystal, to warn him that Tower 
Hill and the headman's axe wonld cut his tlircad ? 

ir historic associations sulliccd to hring elo- 
quent writinij^ into heini^, then what is now the 
Heading lloom should he the parent of much 
literature ; hut the student resorting hither will 
have the 2)lace very much to himself, save for 
occasional parties of gajiing visitors shown round 
hy a Chetham's schoolhoy, for Chetham's Library 
is rich rather in hlack-letter tomes, and in works 
that research feeds fat upon, than in current 
literature. One would not wdsli this cloistral 
seclusion amended. To find in Manchester, 
whose every byway seethes with life, a corner 
not already occupied, a spot where you can hear 
the ticking of a clock, is too delightful to be 
forgone. There is, indeed, only one other spot 
in Manchester where something the same condi- 
tions prevail, and that is the great palatial 
building of Ryland's Library, where inestimably 
rare books, manuscripts, and bindings are to be 

Manchester Cathedral adjoins Chetham's Hos- 
pital. Cathedral thougli it be now, by virtue of the 
creation of tlie modei-n Bishopric of Manchester, 
the; ])iiildiiig is l)ut a glorified parish church, ami 
not any of the many additions made to it of 
r(^C(nit yeai's siiflice to render it anytliing else. It 
i-(Miiaiiis, as it vv(M"(% an incidental and not essential 
leatnre of \\\v great city. 

i suppose — the intense rivalry between Man- 


Chester and Liverpool being a thing to reckon 
with in so many directions — Manchester will not 
long remain content Avith this condition of affairs, 
especially since it has become known that the new 
Liverpool Cathedral, rising now from its founda- 
tions, is to outrange all others for size. The 
stranger to Manchester would certainly never 
imagine that the church he perceives, immediately 
outside the Exchange station, was of Cathedral 
rank ; and indeed it is so only by reason of modern 
ecclesiastical arrangements, made expedient by the 
growth of great modern industrial communities. 

Manchester was in the diocese of Lichfield 
until 1541, when it Avas transferred to Chester ; 
but since 1817 it has been an independent see. 
Manchester peoj^le have had amply sufficient time 
to realise this added dignity, but the stranger fails 
altogether to assimilate the idea, and although 
he perceives the Bishop to be full-fledged — except 
that he is a " Lord " Bishop only by election 
— cannot help observing that his Cathedral is 
but a suffragan. It Avould be an imposing 
building in a smaller place, but here it is 
dwarfed by the neighbouring raihvay stations 
and the toAvering piles of AAarehouses. It looks, 
as already remarked, nothing more than a parish 
church, and a A^ery black parish church, too. It 
is chiefly of Perpendicular Gothic, l)ut little of 
the exterior is really old, the tower having been 
rebuilt in 1868, and many features added since. 
The beauty of the church is chiefly Avithin. It 
is a dark interior, but the naA'e, with its tall 




siciulor colmniis ol" rod saiidstoiu', is |);ii'ticularly 
•••raccfiil. This is no place for an arcliitoctural 
history of the structure, but at h\ast the ancient 
carved miserere seats may be mentioned, par- 
ticuhxrly as they are amon£^ the fin(\st in the 
country, for craftsmanship and fertility of in- 
vention. Like — yet how unlike ! — the pictorial 
advertisements of a patent medicine which here 
shall be nameless, " every picture tells a story," 
and much entertainment may be derived from 


these quaintly humorous designs. The three legs 
of Man, shown upon one, allude to the connection 
of the Stanleys, Earls of Derby (who were Kings of 
Man), with the " old church," as Manchester 
men still affectionately style the Cathedral. An 
elephant with a castle on his back is seen on 
another, but the eh^phant's legs are jointed like 
those of a horse, and obviously the designer kneAV 
littl(3 of th(i structure of elepluints. Another 
su])j(;ct is tliat of t]u\ fox walking off witli a goose. 
Two otb(M*s display tlic twin sj)()rts of l)ull- and 
l)(';ir-b;ii( iiig. A very Iminoroiis ex.'unplc (iis|)i;iys 
a |)c(llai", ralicii asl(M'|) hv Mie way, robbed 


hy monkeys, who are takiug the trinkets and 
clothing out of his pack, and trying them on, 
while one other is busily searching in his hair 
for the usual game that monkeys in the Zoological 
Gardens may any day he observed seeking. 
Another very elaborate carving represents a sow 
playing the bagpipes, and a group of little pigs 
dancing to the music. A pilgrim engaged in 
drinking and accidentally letting fall the jug, is a 
scene unfortunately mutilated. A game of back- 
gammon in an inn ; the execution of the fox by owls 
and rooks ; the hare's revenge, where the hare is 
seen to be roasting tlie hunter on a spit ; and a 
stag-hunting scene complete the set. In this last, 
the hunt is represented as at an end, or "done"; 
and probably is intended as a pun ujion the name 
of the first Warden of the College, Huntingdon. 


The history of Manchester is chiefly the history 
of the textile industries. There was a mill for 
the manufacture of woollen cloth in Manchester 
so early as the time of Edward the Second, and 
in the succeeding reign a settlement of Flemish 
weavers further increased the trade. In the reign 
of Henry the Eighth, Manchester was described 
as " the fayrest, best builded, quickliest, and most 
populous toune of all Lancastershire," and " well- 
inhabited, distinguished for trade, both in linens 
and woollens " ; but the cotton industry, introduced 
at the close of the sixteenth centurv, became no 


g'roat tliinu; until anotlun' two luindvcd years liad 

In the meanwhile history Avas enacted. Early 
in the Cromwellian wars Manchester declared for 
the Parliament, and the Royalists besieged what 
Avas then the walled town twice, unsuccessfully. 
13ut these were only passing incidents. Every- 
where in England at that time crop-headed men 
of sour visage and in suhfusc garments warred 
with ringleted men of a cheerful countenance and 
ungodly conversation, wearing clothes of extra- 
vagant cut and colour. The one side fought for 
Parliament, the other for King, but the quarrel 
really was deeper than that. It was a conflict 
of ideals. But they fought it out elsewhere with 
greater fierceness and exj)enditure of blood, and 
Manchester went on as best it could Avitli its 
fated function of providing linen for all the godly 
and ungodly, whether Royalists or Iie2)ublicans, 
who had the wherewithal to buy. 

Again Manchester was to know something of 
warfare, for Prince Charles and his Highlanders 
came in November, 1715. The sympathies of the 
town wer(5 largely with him, the bells of " t'owd 
church " were rung, and a great illumination lit 
the streets — as great illuminations were then 
understood : modern Market Street, Avitli th(» 
sliops lit of an evening, would 2)robal)ly reduce 
that illumination to a sorry dicker. Tliree hun- 
dred Manch(;stei- men marched south with l*rince 
(Jhai'lie, iiii(hM- tiu^ commaiid of Colonel To\\iih>y. 
VVilliiii a week ilx'y wcvi' marehiiiL;' back, and 


when they were come to Mancliester again they 
found local sentiment sadlv clian^-ed : the mob 
harrying their rear on the retreat to Preston. 
Colonel Townley and some of his ill-fated men 
were hanged on Kennington Common. 

What the trade of Manchester was, and how 
goods were brought to and despatched from it 
in old times, may be seen from Aikin's descri2:)tion 
in 1795 : 

" When the Manchester trade began to extend, 
the chapmen used to keep gangs of pack-horses 
and accompany them to the principal towns with 
goods in packs, which they opened and sold to 
shopkeepers, lodging what was unsold in small 
stores at the inns. The pack-horses brought back 
sheep's wool, which was bought on the journey 
and sold to the makers of worsted yarn at 
Manchester, or to the clothiers of Eochdale, 
Saddle worth, and the West Riding of Yorkshire. 
On the improvement of turnpike roads, wagons 
were set up and the pack-horses discontinued ; 
and the chapmen only rode out for orders, carry- 
ing with them patterns in their bags. It was 
during the forty years from 1730 to 1770 that 
trade was greatly pushed by the jiractice of send- 
ing these riders all over the kingdom." 

Such enterprise would not have been possible at 
an earlier period, for the turnpike roads surround- 
ing Manchester date only from 1750 : the earliest 
was the Preston to Lancaster turnpike, constructed 
under the Act of that year. Tolls were taken, on 
the Preston to Garstang section, until Pebruary 

NO AV ). I / ).s^- 01. 1) R( ). I DS 23 

1st, 187'), and 011 the Garstaii''' to Lancaster 
portion until Novembei" 1st, 1882. The way out 
ol' jManchester, on to Bolton, was tui'nj)ike(l in 
17r)2, and tolls ceased to he taken on Noyemher 1st, 

Prom the sixteenth to the middle of the eigh- 
teenth century the roads of Lancashire were less 
roads than slushy lanes, very narrow and full 
of ruts, mud, and water. Even the main route 
through to Scotland was no better, and had then 
hut little need to be, for wheeled conveyances 
Avere almost entirely unknown. Pack-horses, as 
we have seen, conveyed what goods were ever 
sent, but for all practical purposes most com- 
munities were self-contained. Their wants were 
few and simple, and were easily supj^lied from 
their own resources ; while persons obliged to 
travel made their way on horseback ; only those 
of robust physique and in good health being able 
to undertake such journeys, and glad enough, 
amid the difficulties of the way, to find here and 
there a stretch of lane roughly paved with rude 
slal)s of local millstone grit. 

But if the ways were incredibly foul, the inns 
at the end of each day's journey went some way 
towards com})0ii sating the fatigued horseman for 
his hiboiirs. IMie Lancasliire inns were then, 
acording to llolinshead, writing in 1577, excep- 
tionally good, each guest being "sure to lie in 
('lean sliects vvher(MM no man hath lodged." 
r]vid<'ntly tlie innke(!|)ers looked to make tiieir 
j)i-oht out of tiie " entertainment " they su])plied 


for man and beast, for the horseman's bed cost 
him nothing, but "if he go on foot, he hath a 
penny to pay." Mere public-houses, of the com- 
plexion of drink-shops, were not tolerated in 
Manchester and Preston ; for at Manchester it 
was forbidden to brew or sell ale unless the brewer 
or vendor could make " two honest beddis," while 
Preston was even more strict : lodgings for four 
men and four horses being the irreducible 

The old " Seven Stars " inn in Withy Grove 
is ancient enough to have come under this ordi- 
nance, which must have affected also the pictur- 
esque old house now styled the "Wellington," in 
the Market Place, and the even more picturesque 
" Bull's Head," in Greengate, Salford. 

With the growth of trade referred to by Aikin, 
between 1730 and 1770, Manchester's interests 
comprehended the whole of the kingdom, and its 
trade was greatly helped by the demand that by 
this time was growing for good roads, not alone 
here, but generally throughout the country. Koad 
improvements, made possible by Turnpike Acts, 
began to be frequent from about 1710, and were 
very numerous and imj^ortant between 1730 and 
1770, when 420 Acts were passed. In this period 
business grew so heavy that pack-horses did not 
suffice to carry the increasing bulk of goods, and 
wagons came more and more into use ; while the 
press of affairs Avas such that principals found 
it necessary to visit London and other centres 
at more frequent intervals. It was thus that 



tlic IMauclicster and Loiuloii J^'lyiiig Coach was 
established, in 1751. 

Ill 17()(^ the ex})ortation of cotton goods began ; 
for, Avitli the first tentative apj)lication of machinery 
to weaving, production had increased beyond tlie 
possible consumj^tion of the country. The first 
imjn'ovement ujjon the primitive form of hand- 

THE "bull's head," SALFORD. 

loom weaving was the invention of the fly-shuttle, 
in 1738. This contrivance d()ul)led the weaver's 
powei-s ; but it was followed in 1708 by the inven- 
tion of tin; " sj)inniiig-jenny," by James llar- 
greaves, which increased production eight-fold. 

The population of Manchester and Salford had 
by this tim(5 grown to ch)s(5 upon 10, ()()(), and the 
local rie(Mls liad iiicreas(Ml in like degree. Jkit 
still, altlioiigii much had been doiui to improve 


roads throughout the country, and in Lancashire, 
those immediately around Manchester itself were 
still so bad in 1760 that although coal was mined 
at Worsley, less than ten miles away, it could 
not be brought into the town by Avheeled convey- 
ance, but had to be carried by long lines of j^ack- 
horses, in loads of 280 11). Coals were cheap at 
the pit mouth — usually lOd. the load — but the 
carriage cost, as a rule, a shilling more. 

Inventions do not burst upon a world that 
has felt no need for them. The need may not 
have been more than blindly felt, but the neces- 
sities of the ages have, nevertheless, been supplied 
as they have arisen. In tliis, almost more than 
in anvthinsr else, the thinkino? man sees an ordered 
scheme of existence which, in other directions, 
the brutalities and injustices of an imperfect world 
would seem to deny. 

At this time, tlie consumption of coal was 
Grrowinsr so fast in Manchester, and the difficulties 
of marketing it Avere so great that the wealthy 
Duke of BridgeAvater, owner of the pits at 
"Worsley, conceived the idea of enriching himself 
still further, and at the same time heljiing tlie 
srrowth of Manchester, bv means of constructins' 
a canal from Worsley, by which coals could be 
carried cheaply and expeditiously. It was necessary 
to secure the support of the people of Manchester, 
before he could present a Bill to Parliament for 
this purjDOse, and he accordingly undertook, if 
the canal were made, to sell his coal at 4<d. per 
liundred in tlie iovm — less than half the usual 


price — oi' to c'.li;ii'i;'(' not more than liall'-a-crowii a 
ton t'rcig'Iit. 'V\w Hill was introduced and passed 
in 1759, Avitlioiit opposition, and l)y July 1701 the 
canal Avas ojx'ned. This lirst section of what 
eventually became the great Bridi^ewater Canal, 
extended to Runcorn in 1773, was the first step 
towards the making* of modern Manchester, and 
was rendered possible only by the homely genius 
of James Erindley, the self-taught engineer, 
whose works were justly considered marvels in 
their day. He designed and originated all the 
novel and ingenious contrivances that were features 
of the undertaking, and did it all on wages not 
exceeding a guinea a week, a rate of pay he 
continued to receive for years of unremitting toil, 
until his death. The canals at leno-th brous-ht the 
Buke an income of £80,000 a year, but at 
Brindley's untimely death in 1776 the stingy peer 
owed him some hundreds of pounds, on account 
of salary, Avhich he was so incredibly mean as 
not to pay. 

This enterprise was remarkable in more than 
the engineering difficulties overcome. Several 
canals had already ])een made in various parts 
ol* the country by deepening and straightening 
tin; channels of streams and rivers, and the first 
ship canal was that constructed in ir)()(>, on the 
Kxe, fi'om Topsham to Exeter; but tlie Bridge- 
water Canal was the first to Ix; dug in dry ground. 
Its (!xt(Mision aci'oss country, to tbe Mersey at 
iluncorn, was undcrtakcui lor tlie ])ur|)ose of 
cluiapening and ex2)cditing trallic in I'aw and 


manufactured cotton and other goods, between 
Manchester and Liverpool, and Avas thus the 
precursor, by a hundred and twenty years, of the 
Manchester Ship Canal, which aims to make Man- 
chester a port entirely indejDcndent of its great 
seaboard neighbour. 

The last quarter of the eighteenth century was 
a great turning-point in Manchester's history. 
One invention rapidly succeeded another ; most 
of them by local men, for among the S2:)rack-witted 
Lancashire folk there has ever been plenty of 
mechanical genius. At the time when Hargreaves 
was planning his spinning jenny, another was 
perfecting a similar machine. This Avas Richard 
Arkwright, of Preston, the youngest of a j^oor 
family of thirteen children, who was born in 1732, 
and began life as a barber and dealer in hair at 
Bolton. In 1768 his cotton-spinning machine, 
which performed the work of sixteen or twenty 
men, was set up at Preston, and in 1707 was 
patented. His first spinning-mill was erected at 
Cromford, Derbyshire, in 1771, and was entirely 
successful. In 1786 he was knighted, and in 1792 
he died, leaving a fortune of close ujion half a 
million sterling. 

The fickleness and waywardness of fortune 
are proverbial, but nowhere else so marked as in 
the struggles of inventors. In 1779, eleven years 
after Arkwright had set up his spinning- jenny, 
Samuel Crompton, of Hall-i'-th'-"Vyood,near Bolton, 
invented the hybrid " Spinning Mule," combining 
the useful features of Hargreaves' and Arkwright's 


inac'liiiu's. Ilo was an exceptionally pooi' man, 
and partly earned liis living by playing the violin 
at the Bolton theatre. 

A great step forward was Cartwright's power- 
loom, invented in 1785, and the Government in 
1809 granted him £10,000, in recognition of his 
usefulness to the advancement of commerce. With 
the same year that witnessed Cartwright's inven- 
tion, steam was first employed in weaving, by 
Boulton and Watt, and the history of the cotton 
industry has l)een, since that day, a long record 
of improvements, until nowadays factories are 
equipped Avith the most beautiful and complicated 
contrivances^the outcome of a hundred and 
seventy years of invention — that seem themselves 
almost sentient and understanding. 


This long succession of mechanical improvements 
brought immense wealth to the manufacturers 
and helped to tide England's credit over the ex- 
hausting years of the American Rebellion and 
continual Continental wars ; but it brought the 
original foul l)light of the factory system, which 
replaced the spinning once done in cottage homes. 
Industry was stived up in overcrowded Avorkshops, 
th(5 slums came into existence, and under-jjaid, 
over-worked, and cruelly treated child-labour char- 
acterised tb(5 days Ix'l'ore ilie passing of the 
l^'acl-ory vVcts. 

A distinguished Spaniard, Don Manuel Alvarez 


Espriclla, visiting England in 1807, and coming 
to Manchester, was truly horrified by what he 
saw here. It seemed to him that " a place more 
destitute of all interesting objects than Manchester 
it Avould not be easy to conceive. In size and 
population it is the second city in the kingdom, 
containing about fourscore thousand inhabitants. 
Imagine this multitude crowded together in narrow 
streets, the houses all built of l)rick and blackened 
with smoke; frequent buildings among them as 
large as convents, without their antiquity, without 
their beauty, Avithout their holiness ; where you 
hear from within the everlasting din of machinery; 
and where, when the bell rings, it is to call 
wretches to their Avork instead of their prayers." 
Here you jierceive the conflict of ideals between 
a priest-ridden country and a land of commerce : 
with the telling of beads pre-eminent in the one, 
and the counting of gold equally prominent in 
the other. 

Espriella and his companions saw all the 
sights. They were taken to one of the great 
cotton manufactories and were shown a number 
of children at Avork there, the guide dwelling 
with satisfaction and delight on the infinite good 
resulting from employing infants at so early an 
age. " I listened," says our horrified traveller, 
" Avithout contradicting him, for Avho Avould lift 
up his A'oice against Diana at Ephesus I " and he 
left "A\ith a feeling at heart Avhich makes me 
thank God I am not an Englishman." 

*' There is," he continues, " a shrub in some 

CHILI) I. .[HOUR 31 

o[' the Kast Indian islands wliicli tlu; l^^rcnch call 
vi'/offficr ; it (\vhal(\s an odour that is agreeablo 
at a distance, Locomes less so as you draw nearer, 
and Avlien you are quite close to it, is insupport- 
ably loathsome. Alciatus himself could not have 
imagined an emblem more appropriate to the 
commercial prosperity of England. 

" The i^uide remarked that nothini'' could be so 
beneficial to a country as manufactures. ' You 
see these children, sir,' said he. ' In most parts 
of England poor children are a burden to their 
parents and to the parish ; here the parish, which 
would else have to support them, is rid of all 
expense ; they get their bread almost as soon as 
they can run aljout, and hj the time they are 
seven or eight years old, bring in money. There 
is no idleness among us : they come at five in 
the morning ; we allow them half an hour for 
breakfast, and an ]iour for dinner; they leave 
work at six, and another set relieves them for 
the night ; the wheels never stand still.' 

" I was looking, while he spoke, at the unnatural 
dexterity with which the fingers of these little 
creatures were playing in the machinery, half 
giddy myself with the noise and the endless 
motion ; and wlien Ik; told me there was no rest 
in tliose walls, day or night, I thought tliat if 
Dante had peopled one of his liells witii cliildi-en, 
here; was a sc(Mie wortliy to have sup2)lied him 
vvitli new images of torment, 

" ' 'I'hese children, then,' said I, * liav<' no tinu* 
to r<'C(!ive instruction.' 


" ' That, sir,' he re2)liecl, ' is the evil we have 
found. Girls are employed here from the age you 
see, till they marry, and then they know nothing 
about domestic work, not even how to mend a 
stocking or boil a potato. But we are remedying 
it now, and send the children to school for an hour 
after they have done work.' 

" I asked if so much confinement did not injure 
their health. 

" ' No,' he replied, ' they arc as healthy as any 
children in the world. To l)e sure, many of them 
as they grow up go off in consumption, but con- 
sumption is the disease of the English.' " 

This was not merely a temporary state of 
affairs, liut an evil which came into being with 
the factory system, and grcAv steadily with its 
growth. Nor Avas it confined to any particular 
district. Not only in Lancashire, but everywhere 
that mills and factories were working, did the 
scandals of child-labour disgust Englishmen who 
did not happen to be mill-owners, and surprise 
and horrify foreigners, Avho at one and the same 
time saw England proposing to liljerate the negro 
slaves, and permitting white slavery, almost as 
gross, in " the land of liberty." 

The things that Espriella saw in 1807 were the 
things, infinitely aggravated by the further ex- 
tension of the factory system, that prevailed in 
1832, when the scandal grcAV to such proportions 
that petitions were presented from all classes to 
Parliament, praying that legislation should Ije 
undertaken to end it. This movement resulted 


ill a I'^ictoiy Commission that revealed many 
nnsnspected thini^s. Not only were the factory 
owners g'uilty of Avorking their miserable child- 
hands almost incredi])le hours, under the most 
dreadful conditions ; but the parents, who prac- 
tically sold their children into this slavery, were 
guilty equally with them. 

The rejiort of the Factory Commission is a 
voluminous affair of many hundreds of folio pages. 
Many of those pages of evidence taken on oath 
disclose curiously varying ideas of what constituted 
cruelty in punishment, or excessive hours of 
labour for children. Eor example, a child ten 
years of age employed at Wigan was punished 
for being late at the factory, as many others were, 
by being forced to work with a rope round her 
neck, to which a 20 -lb. weight was attached. 
There were those who did not regard this as any- 
thing at all out of the way, and declared the 
children so punished did not mind it. We can 
only wonder they did not say more, and insist that 
the victims rather enjoyed this torture. Mary 
Ilooton, the mother of the girl, acknowledged that 
she told the overlooker to beat her. 

Humphrey Dyson, giving evidence as to the 
practice of a factory at Manchester, stated that 
the overlooker made a whip of a piece of leather 
al)out three inches wide and about half a yard 
Ioiil;', and cut into lingers at the end. This was 
s(!t into a wood(;n handh) with a l)rass hook. With 
tliis insti'unK^nt of torture tlu^ overlooker " pun- 
ished " tli(! ciiildrcMi at his discretion. In many 
vol.. II 3 


instances, mothers, siij^erior to the Mary Hooton 
type, came and took these away and destroyed them, 
Ijut the overlooker made others. 

The Avages of these child-workers, it seemed, 
ranged from one shilling and sixpence to four 
shillings a week, and these, according to a speech 
made in the House of Commons, aa ere the condi- 
tions under Avhich those scanty Avages AA^ere 
earned : 

" The folloAAing Avere the hours of labour 
imposed upon the children and young persons. 
Monday morning, commence AA^ork at six o'clock : 
at nine, half an hour for breakfast ; begin 
again at half -past nine, and Avork till tAvelve. 
Dinner, one hour ; AYork from one till half- 
past four. Drinking (afternoon meal), half an 
hour ; Avork from Ha'c till eight ; rest, half an 
hour ; AA^ork from half -past eight till tAvelve, mid- 
night; an hour's rest. One in the morning till 
fiA e, AA'ork ; half an hour's rest ; AA^ork, half-past 
Ha'C till nine ; breakfast, half an hour ; Avork, 
half-past nine till tAveh^e. Dinner, one hour. 
Work, one till half-past four. Drinking, half- 
jiast four till fiA^e. Work again from liA^e till 
nine on the Tuesday CA^ening, AAiien the gang 
of adult and infant slaves were dismissed for the 
night, after having toiled thirty-nine hours, Avith 
nine intervals for refreshment, but none for bed. 

" AYednesday and Thursday Avere occujned Avith 
day AA^ork only. From Friday morning till Satur- 
daA' nisrht, the same labour as that of MondaA" 
and Tuesday Avas repeated." 


The mill-owners, ol' course, felt outnii'ed wlieii 
Parliament passed tlic first Factory Act, and when 
the Ten Hours Act of 1817 and subsequent legis- 
hxtion, designed to put an end to the scandal of 
women being sent underground to work, and to 
rescue children from conditions hardly less horrible 
than those of negro slavery, was under discussion, 
Bright and Cobden characterised the proposals as 
"harassing the manufacturers," and as "a blow 
at liberty." 


Manchester was a place of especial unrelieved 
grimness in the early years of the nineteenth 
century. It had ceased to be a picturesque over- 
grown village, and was assuming the earlier and 
more forbidding aspect of an industrial town. It 
was, of course, compared with the widespreading 
city of to-day, a small 2)lace, and the surrounding 
country came close up to its centre, and is said 
to have been not unpleasing. But the toil and 
the striving were then unrelieved by any url)an 
graces. There was no " Society " at Manchester, 
])ut a great deal of discontent existed and short 
commons were then the rule. Manchester was 
regarded in those days of depi'ession, after th(» 
close of the great Continental Avars, as a dangerous 
j)lace ; and lujre, ind(!ed, iiadicalism was born, ol' 
injustice and hung(;r. "Manchester! your lloyal 
IliglnKJSs," (^\:claim(;(l ilui fastidious JJc^au Brum- 
mell, in hoi'ror, to tli(5 Princes Ilegent — "only think 
of IVIancliest(M" ! " when liis reiiiinent was ordiM-ed 


there. He sped swiftly away and sold out of 
the Army, rather than he hanished to a henighted 
jilace where the correct set of a cravat was un- 
known, and not considered especially worth 

Manchester, as an industrial centre, has, in 
common with other great cities similarly placed, 
always keenly felt the yicissitudes of national 
prosperity, and, with the surrounding towns and 
districts of Lancashire, has eyer ridden on the 
crest of the Avayes of commercial expansion, or 
Ayallowed in the dejDths of its depression. There 
is perhaps no other great city, nor any other 
county than Lancashire, in England which so 
surely feels the warming glow of good times, or 
the chilling nip of bad ; caused by influences 
almost wholly beyond control. 

The years immediately following Waterloo 
and the close of the great and long-continued 
wars Ayith Napoleon were lean jeavs in Lancashire 
in particular, and in England in general, and 
discontent was rife. The price of bread was high, 
employment was scarce and threatened by the 
continual introduction of labour-saying machinery. 
The outlook of all the wage-earning classes was 
yery grim, and the position was further inflamed 
by agitators, who very speedily i)ut a political 
complexion upon the economic crisis. It was 
the era before Reform, when all jjolitical power 
was frankly held by the classes and the wealthy. 
The people were not enfranchised, and were taught 
by mob orators to belieye that there lav the secret 


of the ills and (lisal)iliti('s tlicy sulTorcd. 'Vo 
possess a voto Avas \w\d u}) as an idinil wliicli, 
Avlien reached, Avoiild be the solution ol" all 
grievances. It was ])r()l)al)ly not declared in so 
many words that enfranchisement would hring 
more work and better 2)aid, nor that the voting- 
power would enable the working-men to vote 
away the employment of the labour-saving 
machinery they dreaded ; Init so much was im- 
plied. Riots, more or less serious, took place 
sporadically, throughout the country, where the 
people were almost starving ; for, side by side 
with scarcity of emjiloyment, the price of bread 
was extravagantly high, in consequence of a 
succession of bad harvests bringing up the price 
of corn to an unprecedented figure. The Govern- 
ment at length became . seriously alarmed at the 
troubles. There had been destructive riots in 
1816, in Spitalfields, when a mob of 30,000 had 
broken into shops and houses, and burned and 
pillaged. Nottingham, Preston, Bury, and many 
other places were scenes of mob rule. In 1818 
the Manchester operatives had l)roken the factory- 
windows, and had to be dispersed by Dragoons ; 
and in the same year there were riots at Barnsley. 
The jiVcXY 1819 opencnl with the d(»magogue, 
"Orator Hunt," being thrashed by Hussars in the 
theatre; at Manchester, where, it was said, he had 
hissed tin; playing of " (Jod Save the King"; 
and il, was declai'cd that tin; turbulent Ueformers 
of (il<M,sg()W [)i'()p()sed inair.liing u])on London. At 
tli(' same time a Jicforni meeting held at Binning- 


ham was dispersed, a constable being shot by 
workmen endeavouring to rescue one of the 
arrested speakers. 

It must be admitted that the classes were 
not conciliatory. Their representatives in high 
places scorned the masses as the " swinish multi- 
tude," and did not propose any political changes. 

Still, the methods of the mob-rulers were 
extremely provocative and alarming. Whatever 
else they Avere, or were not, Hunt and Bamford, 
leading spirits among the Reformers, were intelli- 
gent men, and should have been able to forecast 
the probable effect the drilling of the multitude 
would have upon the Government. It was very 
well to argue that the drilling that went on at 
night Avas merely intended to enable great bodies 
of men to march to and from mass-meetings in 
order. The leaders were philosophical Radicals, 
and did not for a moment contemplate force; and 
their followers were very generally of the same 
mind ; but we may easily see into the mind of 
Governments, which themselves only employ 
drilling to one end : that of reducing brute force 
to a scientific form of defence and attack ; and 
undoubtedly these exercises, even without arms, 
were alarming, for who was to tell whence 
Aveapons might not be procured at any given 
moment. In short, the Administration imagined 
the country to be on the brink of revolution : a 
thing not so Avildly improbable when meetings 
were enlivened by banners bearing the inscriptions, 
"Annual Parliaments," "Universal Suffrage," 


and "No Corn Laws"; and when that oifciisivc 
(Mnhh'ni, a Cap of Lihorty, carried on a pok?, was 
proininont. The authorities iniai^ined themselves 
face to face with an ornanised attempt at a suh- 
version of the Constitution, and, in that helief, 
it behoved them to he on their i^uard. 

" Orator Hunt " and Samuel Bamford, who 
had already, in 1817, been arrested on suspicion 
of high treason in connection with the Reform 
movement, were active in the agitation of 1819. 
They had drilled thousands of men in readiness 
for a peaceful mass-meeting to he held in the 
small open space then called " St. Peter's Field," 
at the end of Mosley Street, Manchester, on 
August lOtli, and the whole countryside was 
ao'os: with excitement and the wildest rumours. 
Rustic folk, going home in the darkness, had 
heard the words of military command, " face 
right," "face left," " right wheel," " left wheel," 
and so forth, and extravagant notions of what 
was afoot very naturally spread. In readiness 
for the day, the magistrates enrolled a force of 
special constables, and a strong force of Yeomanry 
and military was kept near at call. 

In from Middleton marched Bamford, at the 
head of (),000 men, to "St. Peter's Field," and 
from other quarters came many columns ; so that 
by tlie time ap})ointed for the opening of the 
meeting in that narrow space of two or three 
acres, soin(^ 80, ()()() ])ei-sons wvvo ass(Miil)led. 'Vhc 
polices ludd a \vai*ran<, lor the arrest of Jlmil on 
a charge of seditious assem])ly, but, in the face 


of this huge crowd, declared themselves unable 
to execute it, and called upon the magistrates 
for military assistance. A more tactful method 
would have been to wait until the close of the 
meeting, when Hunt could 2^i'ot)ably have been 
easily secured ; but tact is not a common pos- 

Close by was a force of one hundred and forty 
of the Manchester and Salford Yeomanry Cavalry, 
hidden away in Pickford's yard, and to them Avas 
entrusted the task of driving a way through the 
crowd, to seize Hunt. It was an unfortunate 
choice, for the Yeomanry were, to a man, master 
manufacturers, whose interests had been assailed 
violently by tlie mob. The regular troops near 
at hand would have been less prejudiced, and 
would have acted more gently ; but the Yeomanry 
charged into the midst of the masses of people 
laying about them with the edge and point of 
their swords. Many inoffensive j^^'i'sons, men, 
Avomen, and children, were cut and slashed and 
trampled down ; but the crowd w^as so tightly 
packed that it could not have given way if it 
would, and the Yeomanry were not only stopped, 
but began to be severely handled ; which, after 
all, was no more than they deserved. Then 
Hulton, prominent among the magistrates, lost 
his head, and ordered up the Hussars to the aid 
of the Yeomanry. Peoj^le were ridden down by 
the hundred, the platforms were stormed, the 
banners torn down, and the field cleared. Vast 
croAvds of weeping and cursing fugitives, many 


of tluMU wounded, flod from the scciio and out 
(>r JManclicstcr into the country : afraid of arrest. 
Eleven people lay dcnid, thirty dani^erously 
Avoiinded, and forty "much injured." Hunt, 
Eamford, and others were arrested. Thus ended 
the great Reform meeting in St. Peter's Field. 
It was only four years from the time Avhen 
Waterloo had been fought, and the people speedily 
found the name of " Peterloo " for this Yeomanry 
and Hussar victory. It was alternatively, with 
facile alliteration, known as the " Manchester 
massacre." The site is now St. Peter's Square, 
and on a j^oi'tion of the ground stands the Free 
Trade Hall. 

One cannot feel overmuch sympathy with the 
jiolitical agitation of that time. The history of 
all politics, in all ages, and still in progress, tells 
us that you succeed only in abolishing one tyranny 
to replace it with another : destroying the tyranny 
of aristocracy to rejilace it with that of wealth, 
which in its turn is overthrown by the worse 
tyranny of Socialism and the impossible doctrine 
of the essential equality of man. That Avhich 
dominates will inevitably tyrannise, whether it be 
the strong over the weak, the aristocrat over the 
})lebeian, or the wealthy ov(;r the poor ; aiul 
sympathy with the downtrodden is a little blighted 
wlien it is realis(;d that, when the poor grow rich 
and the humblc! powerful, they, too, begin to 
hector and to brow-beat. The cotton o])erative, 
rising by inn;it(^ capacity from the position of a 
vvagocarner to that ol" an einjjloyiM-, finds the 


centre of his interests shifted, and throws in his 
lot with the class to which he has won his Avay. 

The necessity for Parliamentary and constitu- 
tional reform was acknowledged by Pitt, Earl of 
Chatham, so far hack as 1782 ; and " radical 
reform " — i.e. reform going to the root of things — 
was demanded by the country in 1797-8 ; but it 
was left to agitators to bring the question of re- 
form so greatly into disrepute that, in common 
speech, we hear always of a thing being " radically 
wrong" ; never, by any chance, " radically right," 
although the alliterative ease of either form is 
equal to the other. 

The " Manchester School " of politics, founded 
in 1838 by Cobden and Bright, was a very virulent 
tyjDC of Radicalism, and, in some of its tenets, a 
singular creed for a commercial community of 
manufacturers and exporters to profess. It was 
nurtured on an agitation for the repeal of the 
Corn Law, and on a passion for Pree Trade ; it 
advocated peace-at-any-price, and regarded the 
Colonies with hatred. " It will be a happy day," 
said Cobden, " when England has not an acre of 
territory in Continental Asia." In these extra- 
ordinary aspirations John Bright shared to the 

To reconcile the political creed of John Bright 
Avith his practice as a manufacturer is one of those 
tasks Avhose difficulties approach the impossible. 
He Avas an Apostle of Little Englandism : the 
passionate author of the phrase " Perish India I " ; 
the ardent visionary of a day AA'lien " England " 


should ceaso to moan anythini*- but this islo. 
Wliat ail ideal on which to dwell ! Said ho : " It 
may ho a vision, yot I will cherish it." lie had 
what he termed the " noble vision " of Canada 
surrendered to the United States : 

" From the frozen nortli to the glowing south, 
from the stormy waves of the Atlantic to the 
calmer waters of the Pacific main, I see one 
j)eoplo, speaking one language, owning one law 
and holding one religion, and over all the flag of 
freedom, a refuge for the oppressed of every 
nation and of every clime." 

The " flag of freedom " was, if you please, 
the Stars and Stripes, and that " refuge for the 
oppressed " the land whose people are smarting 
under the tyrannies of the Trusts, and of the 
municipal disciples of the gospel of graft, as 
severely as any people ever suffered in the 
" oppressed " nations of Europe. At any rate, 
these are articles of belief to which few are now 
found to subscribe. That, with such aspirations 
as these. Bright could not endure the idea of 
Home Rule for Ireland, and so in 1886 broke 
with Gladstone; and joined the Unionist i)arty, is 
one of those extraordinary and illogical changes 
of front to which the careers of modern politicians 
of all shades of thought have so accustomed us 
that there are no surprises left. 

Dc^magogues and silv(n'-tongued orators liave 
boon tin; curse; in mo(l(irn times ol' this country. 
Tlioy and their audiences, grow n drunken on their 
own wild words, have thrown ov(M' all consistencv. 


In Erii^ht you had a Radical politician opposed to 
the holding of an Enijiire, yet, as a manufacturer 
and exporter of cotton goods, having his interests 
largely bound up with the retention of our 
dependencies. It seemed honesty at the expense 
of sanity. But less honest was Bright's bitter 
objection to any State interference with the 
factories. In 1836 he resented any attempt to 
control the hours of labour, and wrote a counter- 
blast to Eielden's "Curse of the Eactory System." 
To the last, he opposed the reduction of factory 
hours. In 1861 he attributed the evils attendant 
upon over-production, in which he himself was 
engaged, to anything but their real cause ; but, 
on the other hand, it must not be forgotten that, 
although himself a heavy loser by the Cotton 
Eamine, he nobly championed the cause of the 
North in its darkest hours. Looking back ujjon 
things accomplished since he entered the political 
scene, his Radicalism seems to have been 
singularly diluted with Whiggism : inevitable, no 
doubt, from his position as a large employer of 
labour. As a Quaker, he was for Disestablish- 
ment ; being a landowner, he endeavoured to bring 
about the abolition of the Game Laws ; he was, 
as we have already seen, bitterly opposed, through- 
ou^t his life, to State regulation of factories. He 
denounced Chartism, of which most of the points 
of reform demanded have long since been con- 
ceded, and, in reply to the demands of the factory 
hands for l)etter payment, invented the compre- 
hensive generality that " with bad trade, wages 


cannot rise"; tracing- all evils to tlu^ Cnvw Law, 
that LvlVectual red-herring* drawn across many 
trails. Always the Corn LaAV, until its abolition 
in 1819. It Avas responsible for almost everything 
ill, short of earthquakes. 

Bright opposed compulsory education — for that 
would probably educate the factory hands into 
discontent with their station ; and was eager to 
extend the cultivation of cotton in India. When 
that project did not meet with the support he 
expected, and when his protest against the Indian 
protective duties failed to open India to cotton 
goods free of duty, " Perish India " became more 
than ever a pious wish. Perhaps one of his 
greatest mistakes was his contempt for the bogey 
of Papal aggression ; not such a mere illuminated 
turnip on a post as he and his contemporaries 
believed. Home stalks through the land, ag- 
gressive, at this day. 


Many versions exist as to the origin of the ex- 
pression, a " Manchester man," but it is evident 
(mough that the phrase, like that of a " Lancashire 
lad," is a natural alliterative growth. The most 
widely accepted story, however, is that which 
tells of a coachman, who, asked " Who has ta 
gotten in t' coach, lad?" replied, " Wlia, tiien, 
tiler's a g(;ntl(;inan fra liiverpool, a man IVa 
]Vlaiicli(^st(!r, a cluip IVa Bolton, an' a felly Ira 


A Laucasliire boy's definition of a gentleman 
should not at tliis point be forgotten. It Avas 
»iyen many years since, and was, " one what 
weers at watch, an' ligs by hisself." So now 
we know that gentility, in these days of cheap 
watches and a prejudice against sharing a bed, 
may be Avitliin the reach of all. 

It is no small thing to be a " Manchester 
man." The name has a self-reliant ring about 
it that fits the men of Manchester like a gloye, 
whateyer may be the fitness of the other descrip- 
tions, or of that other which tells of " Oldham 

The Manchester manufacturer of about 1750, 
as described by contemporaries, was a humble 
person, of the greatest simjDlicity, working like 
a journeyman among his hands ; beginning the 
day before six o'clock in the morning and ending 
it proportionably earlier, as the habits of the time 
and the primitiye means of artificial lighting 
dictated. He both produced the goods and 
warehoused them, and his combined warehouse 
and factory Ayas also his home. He not only 
worked with his weayers, but sat at meals with 
them, and all helped themselyes out of a common 
bowl of water-porridge, and a dish of milk. Xo 
one among the manufacturers had such a thing 
as a " priyate residence," and speech was indeed 
so simple that none of them probably would haye 
understood the term unless put in more homely 

So much for the mid-eighteenth century 


C()tt()n-s|)imi('r. Let us soc^ how his descendant 
of ahout ISdO appeared to liis contemporaries. A 
Avriter in a po])uUir magazine of that date, holding 
forth more or less eloquently on the characteristics 
of Manchester men and Liverpool gentlemen, 
descrihed a " Liverpool gentleman " as a mag- 
nificent person who traded beyond his means and 
abused his credit, finally, when the inevitable 
crash came, comjiounding with his creditors on 
the basis of three shillings in the jiound, and 
continuing his splendid life with almost undimmed 
splendour. But a " Manchester man," according 
to this apologist, when he breaks, breaks utterly, 
and, surrendering his all, starts again from be- 
low. How these distinctions have borne the test 
of time I will not pretend to say. At that period, 
according to this same writer, the typical Man- 
chester man was an imaginary person he chose 
to style " John Brown." Putting aside the fact 
that there is no true or exclusive Lancashire 
ring about the name of Brown, we will pass 
on to the career of tliis typical person, as figured 
in that bygone writer's keen imagination. 

John Brown was originally a poor lad in a 
cotton mill. His father and mother were — the 
Lord ahme knows whom, for his known career 
b(;gan with his being found as an infant one 
winter's night on a do()i-st(;j), wrap])e(l in a flannel 
petticoat marked ".J. J5." TIu; foundling Avas 
tak(;n to the workhouse and was fed, clotlied, and 
educated at tlie ])iil)lic cliarg(^, I'mMlly being sent, 
as a, bid, to th(5 nc^arest cotton factory, where, 


by his ability and industry, he speedily rose to 
be a foreman. He married, early, one Mary 
Smith, who was captured and enslaved by his 
noble whiskers, and (being probably well versed 
in penny novelettes, in which the infants of the 
aristocracy are not uncommonly abandoned on 
doorsteps) secretly thought him of gentle blood. 
John Brown, like the Industrious Apprentice in 
the moral tales, continually rose higher, and 
became a cotton-spinner on his own account, and 
a wealthy man, with a magnificent villa at 
Higher Broughton, or some other place at that 
time still semi-rural. He knew nothing of Art, 
but, as it seemed to be the conventional thing 
for a man in his position to do, he bought pictures, 
chiefly, it must be confessed, on the basis of so 
much per square foot. He rose at six, was at 
the mill by eight o'clock ; and had dinner at 
midday in town. He was home to tea, which he 
took with his " owd wumman " in the back- 
kitchen, leaving the magnificent dining-room for 
uncomfortable state occasions. He was in bed 
by nine o'clock. 

I do not know if any wealthy Manchester 
commercial men of the late 'sixties recognised them- 
selves in this effort of the imagination ; but at any 
rate it would not hold good nowadays. I do not 
perceive, at the present time, actually or imagin- 
atively, any great cotton-sj)inner taking tea in 
the back-kitchen or retiring at 9, and, 
although the art patron idea vigorously survives, 
it is music that pre-eminently distinguishes 


Manchester in its higher recreations: Liverpool 
l)i'ini;' really the greater art centre, devoted, above 
all thing's of cnlture, to tlie 2>leasing of the eye 
ratlier than of the ear. 

To the tyi)ical Manchester man of that time, 
hirth and g-entility were nothing. He was, above 
all things, unsentimental and matter-of-fact, and 
provokingly literal. It was a Manchester man 
Avho, when a jjassage of poetry was read from 
Coleridge, declared that the reading, " The 
swallow was a-cold," was incorrect, and should 
be " had a cold." 

" Day is breaking " remarked some one to a 
cotton-spinner. " Let it break," he replied, " it 
owes me nothing." 

It Avas an inhabitant of some town jealous of 
Manchester — and there are plenty of them — who 
declared that a Manchester man, viewing Nelson's 
bloodstained coat and waistcoat at Greenwich 
Hospital, would feel little patriotic emotion. He 
wonders first what cloth they were made of. It is a 
cruel saying, but it has at least this foundation : 
that Little Englandism and the old Manchester 
School of politics were one. Jf^ere one, for the 
Manchester School of Bright and Cobden is dead 
and its corps(; dishonoured. It is true tliat what 
looked like a incuital al)erration overtook Man- 
chest(;r and tlie country in general at tlie election 
of 1900, l)ut tJiat was, Ihuh; at any rate, not so 
mucli political conviction as your straiglitforward, 
rfortliright Lancasliin; man's indignation at tlie 
want of lionest,y, the pitiful pc^iti logging, that 

vol,. II 4 


characterised the Balfour Administration. There 
Avas, moreover, a feeling that the country had not 
heen fairly treated in 1903, when Lord Salishury 
resigned his office into the hands of his nejDhew. 
The policy of " keeping it in the family," as 
thousrh the o-overnance of the country were a 
prerogative of the Cecil family, Avas very rightly 
resented, even to Manchester's overwhelmino^ 
rejection of the chief pettifogger himself. 



Tex millions of people inhahit the manufacturing 
districts of which Manchester is the centre. It 
is at once the wealthiest and the poorest district 
in England, where wealth has an increasing 
tendency to accumulate in the hands of the few, 
and where, according to official returns, there are, 
at the other extreme, more paupers than anywhere 
else in the land, with the single exception of 
Middlesex, including London. The inevitable 
reverse to the medal of great commercial prosperity 
is wretched poverty existing side by side with it. 
It is only in poor agricultural, non-manufacturing 
countries that poverty is comparatively happy and 
endurable. If there is a remedy for such a state 
of things in the industrial centres, no one has 
yet found or apj)lied it. There is always a large 
proportion here of the classes it has become the 
fashion to style " submerged," and in times when 
prosperity Avanes it increases so as to include most 
of the Avage-earners, and to bring the smaller 


shopkeepers to the verge ol' ruin. Many of these 
periods of dcjjression have been beyond human 
l)ower to foresee or to avert, but others have been 
induced by the action of tlie manufacturers, in 
competition with one another. Eut in almost 
every instance of hard times the nearest remedy 
has been sought, on one side or the other, in the 
strike or the lock-out. Lancashire is the home of 
these crude remedies. 

Next to the shortage, or the high price, of raw 
material, or the slackness of trade, the greatest 
evil is that of the glutted market, caused by 
over-jDroduction, hardly possible before the days of 
machinery ; an evil wliich is most often caused 
by the competition of manufacturers, who continue 
to manufacture, each one in the hope that, 
whoever else suffers, he at least will not. Over- 
production has in the past been carried on to such 
an extent that goods have had to be sold in bulk 
for very considerably lower than the cost of 
manufacture. Selling at a heavy loss, the manu- 
facturers have sought the nearest means handy 
to reduce their deficit ; and this has usually been 
found in the reduction of wages, rather than in 
decreasing the output. A five or ten per cent, 
reduction has generally l)rought about a strike, 
which has, before now, been welcome to gnnit firms, 
ill alVoi'ding an excuse for ceasing to manul'acture 
at a ruinous loss. To provoke a strike on tliese 
terms lias been tlic; only way out of an impossible 
situation ; and tli(5 indinnant workpeojjle have 
thus, instead ol" cinbaiTassing the masters, 


unwittingly saved them from bankruptcy. The 
middle course is the expedient of "short time." 

These are large and serious questions, happily 
not of late years pushed forward by circumstances 
so greatly as of yore ; l)ut once very prominent 
indeed. The literature of cotton-spinning and 
strikes is a very extensive one, and written upon 
larsrelv bv no less an authoritv than Mr. John 
Morley, who is of opinion that " some of them (the 
manufacturers) are idle, some are incompetent, 
and some of them are blackguards." This is 
severe criticism indeed to pass upon as enterprising 
and as upright a body of commercial men as it 
is possible to find in England : men, too, not so 
long since, generally of his own brand of politics. 
They do not seem the words of a philosojoher. 

The greatest period of over-production was 
that culminating in the oporged markets of 1861. 
The years 1859-60 had been times of '" terrific 
prosperity," in which new mills had sprung up 
numerously, and had, in common with the older, 
been working overtime. In the beginning of 
1861 there were 2.270 factories in Lancashire, 
Derbyshire, and Cheshire, working at high pressure. 
As a result of the supposition that those good 
times would last, manufacturers strained every 
nerve to work their i:)lant and their hands to their 
utmost cajDacity, and in doing so produced such 
a bulk of i^oods that bv their own efforts they 
brought prosperity to an end. India and China, 
the great markets for shirtings and yarn, were full 
up, and ceased to be buyers ; and all the while, 


the warehouses of Manchester Averc bursting with 
an increasing" stock of unsaleable goods. The 
result Avas " short time " in October 1801. Even 
liad tlun'e been no war in America, bad times 
A\ ould have come ; but with the oj)ening of the 
civil Avar betAveen North and South, the Cotton 
Pamine of 1862-3, brought about by the cessation 
of the supply of raAV cotton from the Southern 
States, brought Avealthy cotton-sjiinners to the 
verge of ruin, and misery and starvation to 
hundreds of thousands. Every one in the manu- 
facturing districts suffered, for the classes are 
dependent one upon another. To manufacturers, 
Avorkpeople, shopkeepers, professional men, the 
Cotton Eamine AA^as a very grim reality. By 
December 1862, no fewer than 247,000 hands Avere 
out of employment, and more than half that 
number on " short time." The huge number of 
234,000 Avere in receipt of poor-relief, and the 
average poor-rates for the manufacturing districts 
rose from 7^d. in the £, to 2s. 2^d. The Relief 
Eunds subscribed amounted to over £2,000,000, 
and the trade losses due to the Cotton Eamine 
were calculated at £70,000,000. 

Th(; newspapers of that dreadful time Avere full 
ol" pen-pictures of the Eamine, and they are readily 
to be referred to, but no good 2)urpose Avould be 
s(;rved by recounting those sad tales. Yet, in 
spit(; of all ilicir siillVi-ings, in spite ol" li;iviiig 
ev(M'yt]iing to gain IVom liic success ol" tlu^ South, 
tb(; essential stiirdincss, iiidcpcndciice, and honesty 
of the Lancasiiij-e peoj)le's character ke})t their 


original opinions firm : that the Xorth was right 
in fighting against slavery. It Avas essenti- 
ally the peojDle's opinion. Knowing something 
themselves of slavery in the days before the 
Factory Acts, they were sympathetic, and were 
solid for the Xorth. Other classes were, at best, 
divided, and England as a whole was for the 

Manchester long ago ceased to be a cotton- 
manufacturini? centre. The ijrowth of the industry, 
the growth of the city, and the increase of rent, 
rates, and taxes within it, all led to Manchester 
becoming the metropolis of cotton, in which it is 
no longer worked up from the raw material, but 
Avhere the finished jDroduct is warehoused. Ware- 
houses, and not factories, are the prominent build- 
ings of " Cottonopolis " ; which is now a city of 
merchants and middlemen, and the metropolis of 
the Lancashire industrial towns, where all pro- 
fessions and trades are represented. To see the 
cotton mills, you need go to Stockport, Bolton, 
Blackburn, Oldham, and Preston : but Avhenever 
they suffer, ^lanchester will share in their trials. 

The magnitude of the cotton-spinning trade 
is too great to be readily grasped. In the com- 
j)aratively early stages of its history, in the years 
1703—1821, the value of the total ex23orts was 
£365,000,000, or an average of, say, twelve millions 
sterling a year, and that of the raw material 
imported £128,000,000. In 1887, the total value 
of the annual exports had risen to £70,957,000; 
or. in other words, it had srown almost six-fold. 


'riuM-o woro tlion 7()0,()()0 operatives, and a sum 
of £21), LOO, 000 Avas paid annually in wages. 
According' to the returns for 1005, the exports 
of cotton goods in that year Avere valued at 
£92,000,000, showing an annual increase since 
1887 of considerably over a million sterling a year. 
And still the tide of commercial prosperity is 
rising ; no fcAver than eighty new cotton mills 
having been built in Lancashire in the eighteen 
months comprising 1906 and the first half of 
1907 : with the result that there is more work 
to be done than hands to do it. When in due 
course the usual over-production ensues, and the 
scarcity of labour is replaced by lack of work, 
the l)ulk of misery and suffering will be propor- 
tionately increased ; and should there ever come 
another Cotton Pamine, the horrors of 1863 will 
fade into comparative insignificance. 


"What Lancashire thinks to-day, England will 
think to-morrow." That is a political byword, 
not always supported by events ; but if we enlarge 
the scope into a plenary comprehension of atl'airs, 
tli(^ truth of it becomes much more evident. 
Jiailways, in tlu; opcmi ng of tlu; Manchester and 
I Liverpool Railway, August 26th, 1830, the first 
in l^]ngland, originatcnl in Lancasliire, and spread 
IVoMi it ; and canals, altlioiigh tlie first was made 
(!ls(!wher(;, at Mancliester first becanu3 ol" import- 
ance. The opening of the Duke of liridgewatcr's 


canal in 1761, and that of the Manchester Ship 
Canal in 1891, mark the beginnings of two different 
eras : the second of the two freighted with no 
one yet knows what tremendons possibilities, 
Manchester is a port, and has become so by an 
exertion of local patriotism not eqnalled elscAvhere. 
When shares in the proposed Ship Canal were 
offered in the financial world and no one Avould 
find the capital, the future of the project looked 
hopeless. The powers for its construction, granted 
by Act of Parliament, were nearly lapsing, and 
the promoters were reduced to stumping the 
surrounding country and holding meetings to 
advertise the scheme. In that dark hour many 
working-men of Manchester put their sa^dngs into 
the Company, and the Corporation itself became 
very largely concerned in it. When the success 
of the issue appeared assured, the giants of finance 
plucked up a little courage, the situation was 
saved at the eleventh hour, and the Canal became 
at last, after an expenditure of fifteen millions 
and a quarter sterling, an accomj)lislied fact. It 
has only recently yielded any return upon that 
huge expenditure, but the direct access to the 
sea it gives has enormously increased Manchester's 
wealth and importance. The useful and the 
beautiful, we are told, are one, but the Manchester 
Ship Canal is not a beautiful object. Its waters 
are black and smell to Heaven on hot daj^s, and 
the great locks, swing-bridges, and the like, 
although wonderful engineering feats, are not 
improvements upon the landscape. But they have 


a inajosty of thoir own, and if you voyage down 
t\\v Ship Canal, duly holding your nose, you will 
he much impressed. You will be even more 
impressed if you don't hold it. A succession of 
docks, lairages, grain elevators and coal-shoots lines 
this Aclierontean tideway : everything equipped 
with machinery that performs marvels in a quiet, 
unostentatious, matter-of-fact manner. And the 
great ocean-going steamers come surging slowly 
up to Manchester, bellowing for the swing bridges 
to swing open, and crowds of interested idlers, and 
the impatient traffic, held up at the flung-up 
bridges, look upon the sight with never-satiated 
gaze. It is a perennial wonder, a sensation that 
never stales. 

In some ways even more wonderful are the 
changes that have overtaken Trafford Park, 
at the head of the Canal. Time was, and not 
so long since, when the park railings, along the 
Chester Uoad, at the outskirts of Manchester, 
disclosed broad stretches of wooded lawns, sloping 
to the Irwell, but it is now as though some 
magician's wand had waved away the trees and 
the lawns and in one act had replaced them with 
a close imitation of the East India Docks, where 
sky scraping blocks of fireproof warehouses and 
mazes of railway sidings form amazing evidences 
of what tlio Canal lias already done for Manchester. 
It has c(u*tainly "done for" any lingering rural 

I vv(^ll reniciinlxM' in iJn^ long ago Ix'ing (lmn))ed 
down by tin; railway in JVIanehest(;r, as a strangcM", 


Avith no friends in the sreat city, and with that 
dim sense of locality only a railway journey can 
give. Coming by road into any such place, you 
bring topographical continuity with you, and know 
where the grim houses end and the smiling country 
begins ; but to be set down solitary in midst of 
these miles of streets, and then on some leisure 
day to essay the enterprise of Avalking out to 
where the last house fronts upon the fields, and 
to walk on and on, and never seem to come any 
nearer the fringe of the frowning houses, is an 
experience whose horror only De Quincey could 
hope to portray. London is larger, but its streets 
have a more varied interest. Here, away from 
the midst of Manchester, whose central architec- 
ture is ornate, if black, the mean, featureless streets 
sear your very soul. It was before the days of 
electric tramways, and I Avalked on and on, and 
still on, without coming to the end of Manchester, 
and then at Old Trafford, obsessed with a dread 
of it all, walked back ; thinking, rather wildly, 
did it ever come to an end. 

Having since then come to it and left it by 
several roads, I am now fully informed as to its 
limits, and, with that knowledge, the houses look 
a little kindlier, the streets do not seem quite 
interminable. But I am still impressed with the 
extraordinary length to which the paved roads 
and lanes — paved with granite setts — run. There 
is a lane — a country lane, for it is bordered with 
hedges — wliich I found when exploring the neigh- 
bourhood on a bicycle, and that lane went on and 


onwards, ever Aviiiding*, for milos, and always, 
altlioiig'li extraordinarily lonely, and witli never 
a house nor a wayfarer, paved with granite setts 
which it must have cost a considerable fortune 
to lay there. It began in the neighbourhood of 
Warburton and ended at a misbegotten place 
called Broad Heath, and still it was more than 
six and a half miles to Manchester. I was 
never before so genuinely astonished in all my 

At Old Trafford are the Botanical Gardens, 
once admirably placed, but now as incongruous as 
though, say, St. James's Park were set beside the 
Commercial E-oad. Manchester amused itself in 
a genteel way there ; but to see how Manchester 
can intensely enjoy itself after a spell of dogged 
work, the Belle Vue Gardens, Longsight, should 
be visited at holiday time. The place is the, 
superlatively the, popular resort, and is Hamp- 
stead Heath, Rosherville, and the Crystal Palace 

There is no end to describing Manchester : it 
is so vast and so varied, and its story presents so 
many chapters. One might say something of the 
Penian outrage of September IStli, 1807, when 
S(5rg(;ant Brett, in charge of the prison-van con- 
v(5ying prisoners to Belle Vue Gaol, was shot in 
tli(; llyd(} Boad l)y a desj)erate gang of forty arnu'd 
men endeavouring to rch^asc; tln^ ci-iniinals, Kelly 
;uid I)(!asy. Oi" tli()S(^ arrcsjcd, A lien, Ijarkin, and 
()Min'(!n vv(;r(5 sent(Mic(Ml to dealb, and liangcnl at 
tlie New Jiailey Pds(m, Salford ; lignring since in 


the perverted Irish Valhalla of heroes as " the 
Manchester Martyrs." 

Ill another glance at Manchester the great 
Town Hall, in Alhert Square, demands notice, not 
merely because it cost considerably over a million 
pounds, but because it is one of the chief archi- 
tectural embellishments of the city. Opened in 
1877, it Avas, like many other modern public 
buildings here, the work of Alfred Waterhouse. 
The style is an enriched Early English and the 
exterior stately to a degree. But what shall 
Ave say of the beautiful but dark interior, with its 
maze of corridors, its unexpected stej)s up and 
stejDS doAvn ? The stranger to Manchester, how- 
ever, must needs entrust himself to the perils of 
that wilderness, for in the very fine and striking 
series of tAvelve fresco paintings by Eord Madox 
EroAvn he aaIII find not only a justification of pre- 
Raphaelite methods, allied with some fine colour- 
in"- and some very quaint draAving, but an 
illuminating pictorial commentary upon the 
history of the city. 

It is not, hoAvever, all culture at Manchester : 
there are all sorts here, as in every great city. 
Some think the Cheetham Hill suburb the last 
Avord in dignity and ease : others extol "\\^halley 
Range, but all unite in reviling the Redbank 
district and Angel MeadoAv, or Angel Street as I 
belieA'e it is noAV styled. Any intimate acquain- 
tance Avith large towns and the flagrant purlieus 
in them, usually styled Providence Place, Pleasant 
View, and the like, Avill prepare the reader for 


the statemont that angels do not inhabit Angel 
Meadow, any more than they do Seven Dials in 
London. Cnltnre does not linger here. There is 
obliqne testimony to this in a recent resolution of 
the Watch Committee to sup23ly a police-constable 
with a new " set of teeth, to take the place of 
those he has lost in the discharge of his duty." 
They were the celestials of the Angel Meadow 
district who knocked the constable's teeth out. 
Hallelujah ! The place is not so far from the 
Cathedral and the Strangeways Gaol, but neither 
the promise of present punishment that the gaol 
holds forth for evil courses, nor the hope of 
Heaven for the repentant that the Cathedral 
typifies, suffices to blanch the scarlet sins of 
Redbank, or to win the inhabitants of Angel 
Meadow to a better life. 

If one thing is more certain than another in 
any great town, it is that the stranger should not 
explore back streets. Civic pride will see eye 
to eye with me there. Eor, indeed, the stranger 
in back streets sees strange sights, hears weird 
language, and smells still weirder odours that are 
not mentioned in conventional council chambers. 
The back stn^ets converse in a speech of their 
own : tlu^y read a literature th(;ir own, and feed 
on food of wliich tin; J'ront streets know nothing. 
Jn fact, in ])aek streets and front you have two 
worlds tbat arc; entir(dy dissimilar, and know 
litth;, and won Id pi'ol)al)ly like to know even less, 
Ol* OIK! MMoiliei-. 



In despair at picturing Manchester in hrief — for 
it is not to be done — I will devote some pages to 
a few Avords as to coaching times, and then con- 
clude. Little can with advantage be said of those 
times, because the inns to and from which the 
coaches and waggons came and went are nearly 
all of the 2^ast, and because old inns of any kind 
are rare in Manchester nowadays. The ancient 
"Seven Stars" in With}^ Grove is, however, not 
only much older than the oldest coach, but looks 
it too, in its timbered gables and stout Avails, and 
is even of age remote enough for it to be claimed 
that the Collegiate Church itself is junior to it. 
Nay, it even pretends to be the " Oldest Licensed 
House in Great Britain." Xear it is the equally 
picturesque and ancient " Old Rover's Return." 
The " Bull's Head," in a neighbouring alley, Avith 
the finely moulded head of a bull by Avay of sign, 
has conviA'ial memories and associations Avith early 
postal times, and there stands a grotesquely out- 
of-plumb timbered and lath-and-plastered old 
tenement in Lons: ]\EilliJ'ate that Avas once the 
" Sun " inn, the place Avliere Ben Brierley and 
his felloAV dialect-poets found inspiration in the 
chimney-corner. The initials " W. A. P. " and the 
date 104^7, are found upon the old building, but 
it is obviously at least a century older than that. 
Xo longer an inn, it is still known as " Poets' 
Corner," and in its rather vague celel^rity the 



ciiri()-(lo;ilor wlio now occujiics the premises doubt- 
less finds his account. 

TIio foremost coaching- inn at Manchester was 
the " 13ridgc water Arms," near the corner of Hii'-h 
Street and Market Street. To it came the Royal 
Mail. In later years H. C. Lacy removed to 

grander premises, at the corncn^ of Mosley Street 
and Market Street : a house tliat Ivad in its day 
been a imo private mansion, and then still had 
the advanta^(^ of possessini»; a very lar^^e, well- 
stocked ^-arden in ihe i-car. lie styled this 
hous(^ the " lioyal Hotel and New IJridi^-ewater 
Arms," and to il, canu^ as well as th(^ Mail, the 
" Dcifiance " and otiier smart coaches. It has 
vol,. II 5 


long since disappeared, and the present " Royal 
Hotel " stands on the site ; but the old original 
" Bridgewater Arms " still exists, although now, 
and for many a year past, occupied as Avarehouses. 
The initials B. I. M. and date 1736 are on a spout- 
head that looks down upon Bridgewater Place, 
the narrow alley upon which the Avarehouse fronts. 
It is a fustian warehouse in these days, but a 
poetic tribute by a former guest of the house, 
torn from the arms of his lady-love, remains, 
scratched on the glass of an upper window. He 
had his own ideas of where capital letters and 
punctuation should occur : 

Adieu, ye streams that smoothly fiow ; 
Ye vernal airs that gently blow ; 
Ye fields, by flowing spring arraid ; 
Ye birds, that warble in the shade. 

Unhurt From you my soul could fly, 
Nor drop one tear, nor heave one sigh ; 
But forced, from C(elia)'s charms, to part, 
All joy, forsakes my drooping heart. 


This enriched pane is very carefully preserved 
from injury by being covered with wire, and 
thus the lover's lament will probably remain so 
long as the house stands. 

The " Peacock," resorted to by the " Peveril 
of the Peak " ; the " Swan," where the " Indepen- 
dent " pulled up ; the "Star," rendezvous of the 
" Manchester Telegraph," are noAV merely names; 
and the times they l)elonged to are perhaps more 
thoroughly forgotten at Manchester than in any 
other city. Looking upon the maze of branching 

THE IIlINJ)Ri:i) OJ' SALl'ORI) 67 

traniliiios and tho hiiiidrods oJ' swiftly running 
electric cars that begin at five o'clock in the 
morning and do not c(;ase until after midnight, 
and are driven more recklessly and at a greater 
si)ee(l than elsewhere, you clearly perceive that 
Manchester has no time for the past and not 
much leisure to expend upon the present. 

Crossing the Irwell by Elackfriars Bridge, 
Salford is reached ; a distinction, so far as the 
pilgrim is concerned, without a difference. Just 
as, to outward appearance, London and Southwark, 
and Brighton and Hove are one, so are Manchester 
and Salford. But in local politics they are all 
separate and independent, and if an observant eye 
is turned upon the very tramway cars here, it 
will be seen that there is not only a Corporation 
of Manchester but a Corporation also of Salford ; 
and, if the comparative gorgeousness of the 
Salford tramcars were any criterion, Salford 
should be the more important place of the two. 
Their comparative rank is, howciver, to be judged 
by the fact that a Lord Mayor heads the Town 
Council of Manchester and a Mayor that of 
Salford ; l)ut the curious anomaly still exists 
that Manchester stands in the Hundred of S.-ilford, 
and thus the lai-gei- is, in that resp(;ct at least, 
inciud(!(l withiu ilie smalhu*. ^I^liis singulMr 
anachronism is a relic of Ihosc^ vi'vy aueient tinuvs 
when the Ji.undi'e(ls \\r\c Wwuwd. in that vva 


Manchester itself was a place largely lying in 
ruin, the result of Norse fire and sword, and 
Salford, sprung up on the other side of the river, 
away from the scene of desolation, bid fair to 
be its successor in all the ages. 

The thunder of railway trains overhead, and 
the crash and rum1)le of heavy-laden lorries along 
the road, accompany the exj)lorer along his way 
through Salford. But there is an oasis in all this 
at the Crescent, where the Irwell, in one of its 
far-flung loops, approaches and the extensive Peel 
Park appears. Beyond this again comes unlovely 
Pendleton, and then the Bolton Boad and Irlam- 
o'-th'-Height — that is to say, Irwellham-on-the-Hill 
— not so romantic in appearance as in name. Here 
the road rises to those always grim uplands ex- 
tending to Bolton and giving that place its old 
name of Bolton-le-Moors : more grim now than 
ever, for here is the great coal-field that has 
made Manchester possible. 

Passing through Pendlebury, with the old 
Duke of Bridgewater's collieries of Worsley away 
to the left, we plunge into the district of coal- 
pits at Clifton, where the hoisting-gear of the 
Clifton Hall Colliery, the marshalled coal-waggons, 
the rails across the road, and the spoil-banks where 
starved vegetation takes a precarious hold, make 
a desolation beside the way. On the left are the 
sullen moors, with perhajis a solitary cow grazing 
in one of the few remaining fields, just to 
emphasise the change that has come over the 
scene; while on the right, far down, flows the 


Ii'woU, amid a curious medley ol' beautiful country, 
ancient halls and manor-houses, and innumerable 
collieries and mills whose chimney-stacks spout 
smoke and steam over all the valley. When a 
steady rain comes doAvn, on Avindless days, and 
diffuses the mingled steam and smoke over the 
landscajie in a grey, woolly mass of vapour, the 
scene is Aveird in the extreme; while a wet day 
at Kearsley or Earn worth, places of grey houses 
and drab shops, is a desolation in which even 
the public-houses that have superseded the inns 
fail to radiate a meretricious cheerfulness. 

Moses Gate, now a kind of succursal to 
Bolton, and with a railway station of its own, 
was once a toll-gate on the turnpike road. Who 
was Moses, except perhaps the j^ikeman, I do 
not know, nor does any one locally evince the 
least curiosity. The name is accepted as a matter 
of course, together with the unlovely circum- 
stances ; but railway passengers passing to more 
favoured places are as a rule extremely amused 
by it. 

Bolton was formerly surrounded by " dreary 
and inhospitable " moors, l)ut the stranger may 
doubt their ev(5r being as dreary as the present 
surroundings of the great black, squalid, and 
unljeautiful town. In the very far-oil' days when 
those surrounding moors first saw this settlement, 
it was "Bothelton," liom tlie word " liotl," 
whicli means a honu^stead. ^Fliere an^ several 
'Mmtl," "bothal" and "bottle" prefixes or 
t(;rmiiiati()ns ol' place-names in these nortberu 


counties : notahly Walhottle, near Newcastle, 
situated on the Eoman Avail ; and " Bothel " 
occurs near Mor2:)etli and in the neighbourhood 
of Keswick. " Bootle " has a similar origin. 

At last the name became worn down to 
Bolton : " Bolton-le-Moors," to distinguish it 
from Bolton-le-Sands, on Morecambe Bay ; but 
it is many a long year since this distinguishing 
mark was last used. 

There was once a time when Bolton was a 
cleanly little town that manufactured woollen 
cloths, fustian, and dimities, under idyllic con- 
ditions. Those industries were in full j^i'ogi'ess 
when the quarrels of King and Parliament broke 
rudely in upon the scene, in 1644 : the Parlia- 
mentary party having garrisoned the place, which, 
unfortunately for itself, was a walled town. On 
came Lord Strange, afterwards Earl of Derby, 
from Wigan, with a force to take it by assault, 
but he was repulsed with heavy loss, and with- 
drew ; the garrison being afterwards reinforced 
from Manchester, and its strength brought up to 
3,000. Again the assault was pressed, and this 
time the Lord Strange was aided by Prince 
Rupert with 10,000 men. Two hundred devoted 
Cavaliers crept up under the walls, while 
treachery, it was said, admitted the cavalry. 
The storming of Bolton that ensued was one of 
the bloodiest affaii's of the war, and few were 
spared from the fury of the Boyalists. More 
than seven years later, the then Earl of Derby 
suffered for the excesses he, with Prince Eupert, 



permitted on tliis occasion ; lor, luivini;" been 
captured at the Battle of Worcester, he was 
hrouu'ht to Ikilton and beheaded on October 15th, 
1(551, at the Market Cross in Church Gate, opposite^ 
the " Okl Man and Scytlie " inn : with a grim 
fitness on the scene of the bh)odshed himself 


liad approved. An inscription on tlie front of tlie 
lious(; narrates liow " In tliis ancient hostelry 
James Stanley, s(5V(^nth Earl oi* Derby, s])ent the 
last, few bours oi" liis lile ])i'evious to liis ex(»cu- 
tion." ^rb(5 house;, built in 1(115(5, was indeed a 
portion of liis (;xt(;nsive Holton property. AVhat- 
v.vvr ihi) orij^'inai sii^n ol' tbe liouse, tlie present 


is doubtless an allusion to the famous exploit 
of William Tralf ord of Swithamley-, whose pretence 
of being an idiot saved his property from being 
plundered by the Puritan soldiery. They dis- 
covered him wielding a flail in his barn, and 
monotonously repeating " Now thus," and so, 
unable to make him comprehend anything, they 
left. Beneath the threshing-floor where this 
suj)posed " natural " Avas gibbering lay his chief 
valuables. His trick is alluded to in the sign 
of the " Old Rock House " inn at Barton, near 
Manchester, where he is represented in a counter- 
charged suit, alternately red and Avhite, and Avith 
his flail, inscribed " Now thus." Here at Bolton, 
while the chequered red and white dress, some- 
what resembling that of a jester, or fool, is retained, 
and while he wears a similar fool's cap, his flail 
has in the course of years become a scythe. 

The " original " heading-axe that decapitated 
the bloody Earl, who richly deserved his fate, is 
shown in the inn, which is merely a public-house, 
together with tlie cliair he sat upon. But a 
chair also purporting to be the identical one 
is amonc? the relics at the Earl of Derbv's seat 
at Knowsley, where there is probably another 
heading-axe. The only way out of this awkward 
impasse, to please every one, is to suggest that, 
being an important personage, he was given two 
chairs to sit upon and Avas executed tAvice, by 
tAvo executioners ! One can say no fairer than 

The "Old Man and Scythe," it should be 


added, looks in tlic illustration a liii^^hly pictur- 
esque half-timbered building' : but it is really 
commonjjlace brick, and the " timbering " is but 
a product of the house-painter's brush. 

At " Bowton," more than anywhere else along 
the road, you hear the Lancashire talk, and the 
people of the town are as rough-and-ready as any 
in the county, both in manners and in appearance. 
Even in Lancashire they talk of a " rough Bolton 
chap," and as less refined than the people of 
Wigan, St. Helens, or Widnes ; which is very like 
Wahvorth reflecting upon the lack of culture in 
Whitechapel. A good deal of this apparent 
brusqueness and rudeness is, however, more 
apparent than real. The Londoner, come from 
a place where a great deal of insincerity, and 
even callousness, is hidden by the veneer of 
conventional behaviour, is startled and shocked 
by the forthright manners and the very frank 
speech of Bolton and other manufacturing towns, 
but there is a heartiness about the people there 
is no mistaking. That typical character, " John 
Blunt," has certainly peopled Lancashire with 
his kin. 

TIk; clogs still clatter on the pavements of 
Bolton, and shawled girls are yet to be seen 
going to and from the mills, l)ut even in i\m last 
fift(;en years JJoltoii has grown enormously, not 
only in population but towards a higlier standard 
of \\\{\. Y(!t, to til is wj'iter at least, the tliouglit of 
Holton will evei" rcicali the odour of fried lisli ; 
for it was on a winter's ev(;nijig, long ago, that 


he first came into the grim town. Fried-fish 
sho2)s filled the air with a revolting reek, and 
everywhere along the pavements walked those 
who Avithout ceremony ate their supjoers out of 
newspapers. High above, yellow in the dark sky, 
like bilious eyes, gloAvered the illuminated dials 
of the Town Hall clock, while ever and again 
the quarters chimed and the hours growled out. 
Bolton is especially proud of its Town Hall, 


which was opened in 1873, and was the first of 
those immense buildings, of a monumental char- 
acter, that of late vears have been built in 
hundreds of towns, less to fill a need than to 
please the vanity of mayors and aldermen. Xo 
wonder, when municijialities build 2^^1a<^es for 
themselves, and house every department royally 
and regardless of cost, the rates go mounting 
ever higher. 

The Town Hall of Bolton, designed in a 


composite classic style, is, in most of its cii'ciim- 
stanccs, a i>'()()(l deal more im2)()siii^' tlian uscl'iil. 
A weary flight of steps leads leiii^-tliily up to the 
colonnaded portico, and although it looks magni- 
ficent, is, practically, a sorrow to all who have 
often to scale it. 

A clock-tower, 220 feet in height, surmounts 
this elephantine building, which cost £170,000, 
and has so imposing an ajipearance that it has 
been the parent of many others ; the design 
having been so admired that it was closely copied 
in every detail by Leeds, Portsmouth, and other 
towns ; Paddington also proposing to build itself 
one upon the same model. But the Bolton parent 
of them all has become very grim ; being, by 
reason of the smoke from the two hundred or 
so lofty factory chimneys of the town, " as Ijlack 
as your hat." 


The most interesting places in Bolton are — to 
speak in paradox — just outside it. On the Bury 
road, where the electric tramcars race, you may 
with some difliculty find the little turning at 
Pirwood, wher(^ the liuml)le birtliplacc of Samuel 
Crompton still stands. Along the main road tin* 
mod(^i-n lioiises march prosaically on to Jinry, l)ut 
down this litth; tiii'ning, whicli descends steeply 
and lias the; most, extravagantly niu^ven [)aviiig 
any wli('i'(^ in the neigliboiirliood, you lind a nook 
very much in tiie condition ol" the whoh^ eoiintry- 


side ill Crompton's day. Ahvays excepting, of 
course, the big cotton-mill that stands here. 
Looking down towards Bolton there are still 
fragments of woods and tangled brakes — fir-woods, 
or others — but on the skyline, as ever in Lanca- 
shire, are factory chimneys, wreathing fantastic 
smoke-trails. Among the three cottages here, 


Crompton's early home is identified by a stone 
tablet inscribed — 

Birthplace of 


Born Deer. 3rd, 1753. 

I look at that humble. 

something of reverence 

stone-built cot with 
It did not, however, 
witness his bringing-up, for Avhen he was but five 
years of age, his parents removed to Hall-i'-th'- 
Wood, an ancient mansion from which the owners 
had migrated to a more modern residence. Here 


the Cronn)tons I'armcHl in a small way, and here 
Samuel's fatlier early died. 

ILall-i'-tli'-AVood (the Lancashire j^i'onunciation 
may he written doAvn " Ilauleythwood ") stands 
in a situation still romantic, in the parish of 
Tonge, one mile from Eolton, on the Blackhurn 
road. The great and ancient woods of oak that 
once surrounded the old house are gone since 
then, hut the Eagley Brook yet comes foaming 
down in little cascades amid the rocks of the 
jiicturesque gorge ahove whose crest the Hall is 
situated ; and there are patches of Avoodland 
remaining to inform the scene with sylvan 
beauty. It is, frankly, a surprise, set as it is 
at the very edge of the roaring traffic of a high 
road wdth shops where housewives are hidden l)y 
leather-lunged Initchers " Buy, buy, buy " : and as 
delightful as surprising. 

The Hall in the Wood is not only interesting 
as the place Avhere Samuel Crompton invented 
the Spinning Mule : it is one of the finest 
examples among the many ancient Halls of 
Lancashire, and is singularly varied in its archi- 
t(;cture ; having been built in two separate and 
distinct periods, and in each period of entirely 
diff(;r(5nt materials. It was on(* Lawrence* Browne- 
low who built th(^ original luilf'-timlxn'cd portion, 

in 1591, as apjxvirs hy iho initials of himsell' 

and liis wile Hridi'e^t, and ihr diiiv, '- '> carvcnl 

on a stone mantel. In KI.'JT llie properly was 
sold to Cbristopiier Nori'cs, woollon-draper, of 


Bolton, who was succeeded by his son, Alexander, 
a partisan of King Charles in the Civil War. 
Norres escaped lightly from the victorious Parlia- 
ment, with a fine of £15 and the taking of the 
Covenant and other oaths ; and then settled down 
here, building the stone wing that bears the date 
16 i8. AVith him, however, ended the Xorres reign, 
for his daughter Alice married a John Starkie, 
whose descendants resided here until near the 
middle of the eighteenth century. Their punning 
heraldic cognisance, six storks for Starkie, may 
still be seen, done in plaster. 

It Avas a neglected and dilaj^idated old house 
to which the Cromptons came in 1758. Por 
economical reasons — -the window-tax then prevailed 
— all the unnecessary windows, and some that 
really Avere necessary, had been bricked up, rain 
came through the roof, and rats ran unchecked 
from room to room. There, in a house a world 
too large for them, the Avidowed Mrs. Crompton 
and her little lad liA^ed upon the proceeds of a 
small farm and the insignificant gains she made 
from spinning yarn, by hand, as all yarn then 
Avas spun. Samuel helped in the spinning, much, 
it may be supposed, against his Avill ; and in the 
drudgery of it his inventive poAvers Avere Avakened, 
in the direction of labour-saving. Hargreaves' 
spinning-] enny of 1768 and ArkAvright's invention 
Avere ncAv Avhen he began to plan, and his machine 
took the form of an improvement combining the 
principles of both. He AA^as tA\enty-one years of 
age before he began the Avork, and not until five 


years were ^onc \vm\ lie C()iH])lctLMl it. 'Vhv times 
were not jji-opitious for inventors, bands ol" in- 
furiated Aveavers roaminij^ the districts round 
al)out, destroyin«>* everywliere the spinnini^-jenni(?s 
that they imagined Avere depriving them of work ; 
and Crompton was obliged constantly to take his 
model to pieces and hide it in the garret roofs 
of his Avind-swept, rat-haunted home. But at 
length the weavers' fury spent itself, and then he 
could experiment without fear of house and model 
being wrecked. Then, however, arose a newer 
danger, Crompton, it became gradually known, 
had a wond(U'ful ncAV machine in the old place, 
and many Avere those Avho sought in souk; way 
to surprise the secret of it, among them the crafty 
Arkwright, inventor and man of business too : an 
unusual combination of talents that Crompton, un- 
fortunately for himself, did not possess. In the 
result, the secret was given away for a miserable 
pittance, and not even patented. Factories were 
equipped with his invention, and manufacturers 
combined to subscribe, as an act of grace, a 
hundred guineas that should, multiplied a 
thousandfold, have been his by right. In 1812, 
Crompton found that the number of s])indlcs 
work(;d on his principle totalled five millions. 
In that year a revvard s<'emed almost Avithin liis 
grasp, for a vote of £20, ()()(), in recognition of his 
services was propositi, and was (o liave Ix'eii 
submitted to Parliament l)y Spencer rerccval, llie 
I'rinu; M iiiist(w ; hwi tbat very day, in tiic act 
of carrying a memorandum to that elVeet in bis 
vol.. II 6 


hand, Perceval was assassinated hv Bellingliam 
in the lohhy of the House of Commons, and the 
proposal was not renewed. But by the interven- 
tion of some friends a memorial to Parliament 
was prepared, which was signed by the principal 
manufacturers of the kingdom, with the result 
that the sum of £5,000 was granted to him. Let 
us here observe the excj^uisite humour of the thing. 
The " jDrincipal manufacturers " had become such, 
and had amassed great wealth by aid of CromjD ton's 
mule, but they meanly went to Government, and 
thus taxed the whole nation for a sum themselves 
should haA'e raised. 

With this sum Crompton established his sons 
in the bleaching business ; but the establishment 
failed, and the inventor was again in straitened 
circumstances. A second subscription was raised, 
and a life annuity jmrchased for Crompton, pro- 
ducing about £63 per annum. He enjoyed it 
only two years, for he died in 1827, aged seventy- 
three, and was buried in Bolton parish churchyard. 

The last stroke of cynic fortune was not dealt 
until 1862, Avhen the hapless inventor had been 
thirty-five years in his grave. Then the toAvn of 
Bolton, whose manufacturers had, living, denied 
him a livelihood, set up a statue to the man who 
had made their town, and twenty other towns, 
great and prosperous. Among those present at 
the unveiling, and shrinking in his j^overty from 
the robed and finely apparelled magnates, was 
Crompton's surviving son, then aged seventy-two, 
and in the poorest circumstances. Palmerston 


eventually sent him a dole from the lloyal JJounty 

If the spirits of the departed can know what 
goes forward in the Avorld they have left, there 
must be bitter ironic laughter in the Eeyond. 
Plundered and neglected in life, Crompton is 
tardily honoured in death. The darkling, moulder- 
ing old Hall has, through the munificence of Mr. 
W. H. Lever, been purchased from the represen- 
tatives of the Starkie family, finely restored, stored 
with j^ersonal relics of Cromj)ton, and presented, 
as a lasting memorial, to the town of Bolton. It 
is open, freely, every day. There you see Cromp- 
ton's old violin, his Bible, and chair, and a model 
of his Spinning Mule. But there is much else 
besides. Old portraits and old prints decorate 
the panelled walls, and ancient furniture fills the 
room. Panelling has been brought from an 
ancient house at Hare Street, near Buntingford, 
and a finely moulded plaster ceiling copied from 
the " Old Woolpack " inn, Deansgate, Bolton, pulled 
down in 1880. Prom the stone-flagged terrace of the 
garden you look across to Bolton itself and the 
clustered chimneys whose murk att'ronts the sky. 


TiiKRK are two ways out of JJolton, to Chorley 
iiud J^reston ; known severally as the Chorley 
Old and New lioads. 'V]\o old road ascends w iudy 
beii^lits, and altlioiigh still a practicable bighway, 
is of siicii a character that aiiv travel lei' not 


being a professional explorer of old roads — who 
finds himself on it, and perceives the neAV road 
going flat, below, is deeply sorry for himself. 
The way into this old road is l)y the group of 
houses called Dorf cocker — where the " Tempest 
Arms " displays the Tempest cognisance and their 
motto, " Loywf as thow Fynds " — and along Boot 
Lane. Thence comes a steep steady ascent j)a,st 
the " Bob's Smithy " inn and the cottages of Scant 
BoAv — well-named in its meagre, hungry look — 
to the " HorAvich Moorgate " inn with the sub- 
sidiary title of tlie " Blundell Arms." Did any 
authority compensate these unfortunate inns when 
the traffic was diverted into the " New " road ? 
Let us hope so, for the doing of it deprived them 
— not of a livelihood, else how could they have 
continued to live ? — but certainly of all save the 
merest means of existence. There remains yet 
a look about the " Moorgate " inn which tells 
you that not always did it rub meanly along on 
selling beer to rustics or mill-hands. Alas ! 

Henceforward, having reached the summit, 
and not wishing to remain on this Avind-swept 
height, it is necessary to descend : that is obvious 
enough. But not easily is that descent made. 
To Avernus the transition is reputed to be easy 
and comfortable : to Horwich, where the old and 
new roads join, it is martyrdom, especially if it 
be undertaken on a cycle. And so descending, 
cautiously and with alternate jirayers and curses, 
over the agonising pits and gullies in the ne- 
glected setts of the Chorley Old Road, to the 



only loss fiMi'l'iil siirlacu^ ol' ilic Cliorlcy Now Jload 
at llorwicli, avc^ come at the two hundredth 
mile from London to the great lake-like reservoirs 
of the Liverpool Waterworks, formed in 1818, 
stretching for a long Avay alongside the road, and 
occupying the site of Anglezarko Moor. To a 
height of 1,515 feet rises the sullen mass of Riving- 
ton Pike, in the hackground, crowned with its 
masonry heacon. There are at least two dozen 
other reservoirs of different sizes up there, in 


the vast gloomy moors where the Pike presides : 
reservoirs in solitudes looking down ii])on tlie 
circhi of ])usy towns coni})rising Bolton, Bury, 
Wigan, JJlackl)urn, and Preston, and su2)plying 
tlieii- ne(!ds. 

The great reservoirs Ix^sith* tlie I'oad, fenced 
from it hy an ugly dwai-l' wall and iron railing, 
arc full of fisli, and in most i'es])eets like natural 
lak(is ; hilt tlic scenery, hold Ihoiigh ii he, is 
scruhhy and hard-leatiinul, and tht; scant trees 
looi\ to those used to the softer and inoi'c luxuriant 


vegetation of the south, starved. But if one ha^ 
courage sufficient to follow the waggonette-loads 
of beanfeasters from Bolton, who favour these 
scenes, there will be found a quite charming 
wooded glen and waterfall at Dean, beyond 
Bivington village. 

That, however, is by no means the way to 
Chorley ; but rather a side dish : albeit a good 
deal more appetising than the main road itself. 
Chorley was in Leland's time, the matter of four 
hundred years ago, down in doleful dumps. 
" Chorle," he notes, painstaking traveller that he 
was, " wonderful poor, having no market." This 
is where your modern Chorleian smiles the smile 
of conscious worth, for the place is the antithesis 
of Avhat it was then and is Avonderfully rich and 
populous. At the same time, I do not find any- 
thing at all to say about it, except that continual 
tale of cotton-mills, supplemented here by calico- 
printing. There is an ancient parish church, with 
relics of St. Lawrence, its patron saint, brought 
from Normandy in 1442 by Sir Rowland Standish, 
and enclosed doubly behind glass and an iron 
grille ; and Avith the elaborate canopied pew of 
the Standish family of Duxbury Park, near by. 
The Standishes number among their ancestors 
such diverse characters as that loyal squire, John 
Standish, who helped to dispatch Wat Tyler ; and 
the much more famous Miles Standish, " a blunt 
old sea-captain, a man not of words, but of 
actions," who, born in 1584, sailed with the 
Pilgrim Pathers to America in the Mayfloicer, 



in 1020. The Cliorlcy parish register of bai)tisms 
in 1584, in which his name should occur, is de- 
faced, lending some supj)ort to the theory that 
his claim to be the rightful heir to the Duxbury 
estate was feared by his contemporary relatives, 
who are in this manner suspected of seeking to 
invalidate it. Whatever his prospects of success, 
he relinquished them in sailing for New England, 
where he became the best-known of those early 


colonists, and has found apotheosis in Longfellow's 
Courtship of Miles Standish. The poet re- 
presents him as the elderly widowed Governor 
of Plymouth, in love with Priscilla, and, at once 
too shy and too busy to do his own love-making, 
despatcliing his youthful s(;cretary, John Alden — 
himself in love with Priscilla — to woo her, " the 
loveliest maiden in Plymoutli," by proxy. Poor 
.John went on liis mission, as lie was l)i(l, and 
loynily fulfilled it. Jiut w itiiout avail. Aliles, 
ill -loliii's arginuents, appeared to every advantage. 


He Avas a great man, the greatest in the colony, 
and heir to vast estates ; a gentleman, like all 
the Standishes, AAith a silver cock, red-combed and 
wattled, for arms, and all the rest of it. But 
these great gifts were nothing to Priscilla, who 
no more than anv other srirl could endure love- 
making h\ deputy, and, seeing the true condition 
of affairs, asked, " Why don't you sjDeak for 
yourself, John P " 

A monument, 120 feet in height, stands on 
Cajitain's Hill, Duxhury, to the memory of this 
stout hut hashful sailor, and when the elements 
are kindly forms a consjDicuous landmark. But 
rain is your portion in these latitudes, which 
perhajis is the reason why the present Avriter, 
not alone in this disability, failed to find that 
" Sea View " of which the sign of a wayside 
inn on the road from Chorley to Preston speaks. 
But after all, rain or shine, that is no Avonder, 
for measured on the maji, across the flattest of 
country, it is seven miles thence to the sea. 

Hard by, on the right hand, is Whittle-le- 
Woods — there should be elements of humour in 
the name to Americans, that nation of whittlers 
— celebrated (a strictly local celebrity) for its 
alkaline springs, sovereign, so they say, for 
rheumatic affections, but more potent, it Avould 
ap2)ear, in breAving, for " Whittle Springs Ale " 
— a kind of stingo — obtrudes upon you, on sign 
and hoarding, all the Avay into Preston. 

Clayton Green is an outlying settlement of 
Clayton-le-Woods, one of the scA'eral unimjiortant 



villages in tlio neij^lihoiirJiood with that foreign 
conjunction. There is nothhii:'' whatever to be 
said of Clayton Green, which has a place in my 
memory only as the spot where, in an inclement 
summer, I stood sheltering under the dripping trees 
at the entrance to a park, and saw, as I shivered 
there in the cold wet blast, a hundred-legged 
insect happily crawl into his warm, snug crevice 


between tlu^ stones of the dry walling, out of the 
miserable day. And the cold wind blew, the rain 
{'oU, and th(5 motors swashed by in the ankle-deep 
slush of tli(5 muddy road, and it was yet over iivc 
miles to tlu) outskirts of Treston. 

Jiamb(!i' .Hri(lg(;, wlu^rt^ you see, not the rustic 
})ri(lge across tlie ti-ibutary of the Kihhh' tliat 
conferred llie name upon th(^ |)lae(', l)ut instead a 
V(!ry husy and dirty railway i(U'ei-er(>ssing, is now 


a something in the likeness of a busy town of 
cotton-spinning mills. Beyond it, the road comes 
to the E,ibhle itself, and to Darwen Bridge, rebuilt 
in 1901, the latest successor of the original bridge 
built in 1366 and rebuilt in 1752. 

Walton-le-Dale, the village on the right, looks 
a peaceable place enough, and it has little liistory, 
but it came very near being the scene of a blood- 
stained struggle between Catholics and Presby- 
terians in the Old Pretender's rising of 1715. 
Nearly the whole of the Catholic gentry of 
Lancashire had turned out to aid the Pretender's 
forces, and the rebellion was almost on the point 
of changing from a dynastic conflict and a clash 
between Whig and Tory ideals into the very much 
more serious matter of a religious war. The 
rising of the Tories and the Catholics stirred to 
furious antagonism the Whigs and the Low 
Churchmen, but most of them blew off their rage 
in violent language. Not so the valiant Boanerges 
of the dissenting chapel of Chowbent, near Bolton, 
who not only breathed fire and slaughter, l)ut took 
the lead of eighty among his congregation, whom 
he marched off to the front ; the front being the 
passage of the Bil)ble, over against Preston. 
There the embattled minister — this valiant Parson 
Woods, " General Woods " as they called him — 
posted his men to withstand the crossing of the 
river, and was said to have drawn his sword and 
sworn he would run through the body the first 
man who showed signs of timidity. Having 
arrived there, armed only with what Baines, the 


Liiiicasliirc liisloi-iaii, calls '' im])lomciits of Imshaii- 
dry " — what a beautiful phrase, covering the un- 
gainliness of the poor crooked scythe and spade ! — 
in front of a strong* force of rebels, arnuHl with 
implements of war, they doubtless were timid ; 
but the l)old advance of General Wills saved the 
situation, and Parson Woods had no excuse to 
cmbrue his hands in gore. But King George the 
First, recognising his earnestness, sent a gratuity 
of £100, which Woods promptly divided among 
his men ; they in their turn handing it over to- 
wards rebuilding their chapel. 

Eor the rest, there remains but to remark 
upon this singular epitaph, dated 1685, in Walton- 
le-Dale church, before we have over the bridge 
into Preston : 

" Here lyeth the body of a pure virgin, espoused 
to the man Xt Jesus, Mrs. Cordelia Hoghton, 
whose honorable descent you know. Know now 
her ascent." 


CROSSING the Pibble and looking backwards, the 
view along the dale to where Walton stands is 
chai-ming ; but with the extraordinary expansion 
of the Lancashire; c()tton-sj)inniiig industry, and 
tbc building h(;re of many uvw mills, it seems like 
to b(5 an <!xpiring charm of scciu'ry. Already the 
mills hav(; conu; across I'roui flic iioi-lli to llie 
soutb bank of the river. 


Preston has always been known as " proud.' 
The ohl rhyme ran : 

Proud Preston, 
Poor people, 
High church, 
Low steeple. 

But the rhyme long since Avent out of date. 
One would hesitate to declare that Preston is in 
any sense poor, Avhile certainly the reproach of 
its church having a low steeple has been removed 
these many years past ; for the spire of St. 
Werburgh is a particularly fine and lofty one, 
rising to a height of 303 feet. If it be necessary 
to find an origin for that supposed pride of Proud 
Preston, I should look for it in the fact that the 
town has always been the capital of the Duchy of 
Lancaster, and not in the story of its ladies once 
considering themselves too superior to mate with 
the commercial men of the neighbourhood. 

"Proud Preston" occuf)ies a j^roud position, 
on lofty ground overlooking the Nibble and its 
extensive flats. Its name, " Priest's Town," derives 
from the site having been the proj)erty of a 
Benedictine priory once situated here, but before 
the time of the priory, it was named " Amounder- 
ness," from the ridge, or ness, then, even more 
than now, a striking object across the levels. 
Penwortham, on the oj)j)osite side of the river, 
was in that early period the chief place, for there 
stood the great castle of the Earls of Chester, 
giving security to peaceable folk against the 
incursions of the Scots ; but when the county of 



Lancaster was made a Duchy, and the defence 
centred at Lancaster, Penwortham decayed and 
Preston grew populons. The unwisdom of tliis 
move across the river to a site withont strong 
defences was immediately made apj^arent, for no 
sooner had Preston grown into an important town 
than the Scots, under Robert Bruce, came and 
l)urnt nearly the Avhole of it. 

Charters to the number of fifteen, ranging from 
the time of Henry the Pirst to that of Charles 
the Second, have been conferred upon Preston ; 
mostly in recognition of its importance as capital 
of the Duchy of Lancaster ; and desirable privileges, 
such as the right of gaol and gibbet, tum])ril and 
pillory, were added, so that Preston might deal, 
quite indejiendently of Lancaster, with cases 
arising here, that demanded those engines of 

Still, it was ever a prosperous and busy town, 
as the antiquity of its guilds proves ; and suffered 
considerable loss in the Parliamentary war, when 
it was the scene of two struggles l)etAveen Royalists 
and Roundheads. The first was in 1643, when 
the townsfolk were divided in opinion, and fight- 
ing took place in the streets : the second in 10 19, 
when a Royalist army, commanded by Sir Mar- 
maduke Langdale and the Duke of Hamilton, 
was driven from Clitlu;roe to Ril)bleton Moor, on 
tli(^ outskirts of tlie town, by ('roinwcll, witli a 
nuuHu-ically inferior force. 

'V\\(' n(!.\t taste of warlike times was in ITL"*, 
wJiicli was like to be a verv serious time for 


Preston ; for in the Jacohite rebellion that made 
tliis year memorable, the townsfolk figured more 
than a thought too prominently as well-wishers 
to the cause. English rebels, as well as Scotch, 
made this incursion from Scotland something new 
in the moving annals of such things. In olden 
times the Scots had come from the north as 
enemies ; now the Old Pretender, " James the 
Seventh of Scotland and Third of England," was 
proclaimed at the market-cross with every mark 
of approval, and the hospitality of the townsfolk 
and the smiles of the young ladies were extended 
to those Avho, it Avas thought, were presently to 
upset " the Elector " in London. 

This kindly reception Avrought disaster to the 
rebels. They had reached Preston on November 
9th, but, instead of marching onward and fight- 
ing, idled aAvay the precious days in feasting and 
flirting : and, as it proved, these hospitable 
burgesses and pretty girls formed Avhat military 
strategists might call a " containing force " really 
helpful to the Royal armies hurrying uji to meet 
the rebels, AA'ho were caught in Preston toAvn, as 
neatly as possible. The iuA'aders had numbered 
two thousand, but it is typical of the mismanage- 
ment of this ill-fated rebellion that e^er since 
October 6th, Avhen the Northumbrian Jacobites 
had assembled at Rothbury, their counsels had 
been divided. Later, Avhen they had joined forces 
with a body of Scottish rebels, and had marched 
along the Borders, and so doAvn into Lancashire, 
there was little authority and no discipline. The 


Scots wanted to lig'lit in Scotland, and the Englisli, 
for their part, declined to conduct the revolt there. 
So, grumbling and dissatisfied, thoy came south, 
under the leadership of Porster of Etherston, 
elected " General," hut a person of no native 
capacity or acquired military knowledge, and 
simply one of the famous, long-descended North- 
umbrian Porsters ; famed less on account of their 
merits than that they had existed in Northumber- 
land so long, and owned so many of its acres. 

Disheartened by the feebleness of the invasion, 
five hundred of the insurgents left, and marched 
away home again. The remaining fifteen hundred 
were reinforced at Preston by the Roman Catholic 
gentry of Lancashire, their servants and tenantry, 
to the number of twelve hundred, but they 
appear to have been an embarrassment rather than 
of use. 

Towards Preston, by way of Manchester and 
Wigan, came General Wills, on behalf of King 
George. His force numbered only a thousand 
men, and had the invaders been commanded by a 
soldier, or even by a civilian of ordinary courage 
and determination, it is possible the rebellion of 
1715 might have been successful. But Porster 
was a pitiful fellow. He did not even place 
Preston in a proper state of defence. It was 
not a walled town, and barricades were hastilv 
nin ii|) on Wills's ap2)roach b(Mng made known; 
but, no advantage was taken of the; excellent 
(lelcnsiblc position in advance of {\n\ town, Avliei'<' 
tli(' road lan in a liollow way, and where the 


T)ridge across the river in itself could have been 
successfully held hy few. 

Eorster, on hearing of Wills's march, did cer- 
tainly a more extraordinary thing than ever any 
other military commander is reported to have 
done on the approach of the enemy : he went to 
bed ! I believe we could have resj)ected him 
more had he run away. How it was that the 
other leaders, the Earls of Derwentwater and 
Kenmure, merely roused him from his couch, 
and did not take stronger measures, is a mystery. 
Better, perhaps, had they done so ; for although 
the barricaded town repulsed the attack made by 
Wills on the 12th, and indeed inflicted severe loss 
upon him, Eorster agreed to surrender uncon- 
ditionally, and delivering Lord Derwentwater 
and Colonel Macintosh as hostages, did actually 
deliver up the town on the 15tli. Meanwhile, the 
Lancashire Roman Catholics had run away, and 
none saw the going of them. 

Eighting at Sheriffmuir and elsewhere in Scot- 
land followed before the rebellion was crushed, 
but the surrender at Preston marked the end of 
this incursion upon English soil. Eourteen hun- 
dred prisoners were taken, many of considerable 
standing. Some among them being half-pay 
officers, were treated as deserters, and were 
summarily shot : hundreds Avere consigned to 
Chester Castle and afterwards sold into slavery 
overseas ; but those who had been the moving 
spirits were taken to London. Among them were 
the egregious Eorster, Lords Derwentwater, Ken- 


mure, Nithsdalc, Carnwath, Widdringtoii, Wiii- 
toiin, and Nairn. They reached London on 
Decemher 9th ; riding horseback from Highgate 
Avitli tli(Mr arms tied heliind their backs, to the 
sound of the drum : a mock " public entry," 
to satirise the liopes they had expressed, in a 
liappier hour, ot" a triumphal j^i'ocession into 

On th(; whole, the Government acted with 
leniency. Derwentwater and Kenmure were exe- 
cuted, twenty-tAvo rel)els w^ere hanged in Lan- 
cashire, and four in London ; but Lord Nithsdale, 
exchanging clothes with his w^ife, fled from the 
Tower, and others Avere permitted to escape, or 
were pardoned after an interval. 

Forster escaped from Newgate by an ingenious 
ruse, only possible in days when prisons were 
conducted very much like hotels. He had in- 
veigled Pitts, the Governor, into his room and 
the two sat drinking Avine there while Porster's 
servant locked the head-gaoh^r's attendant in the 
cellar. Forster then left the room, ostensildy for 
a moment, but did not return, and the Governor, 
alarmed, arose to find himself locked in. Already, 
while he was vainly shouting and thumping upon 
th(i thick oak door, Forster and liis trusty servant 
had enlarged tlnmiselves from gaol, and were 
making for llocliford on the Essex coast, whence 
they embarked lor I'lanec;. 

I^V)rstei" took no riiitlicr part in public alVairs, 
but travelled to Italy, and died at Nome in 17'{'^. 
J I ad lie shown gcnd'alsliip at Treston e([ual to 
VOL. 11 7 


this of liis flight, all might have gone well with 
the Pretender. 

The rebellion of 1745 came nearer success than 
this of thirty years earlier, hut we do not find 
Preston harbouring and encouraging the rebels of 
that time, to anything like the same extent. The 
gaiety of Preston was not, this time, for them. 
But what, after all, did that gaiety amount to ? 
A great deal, perhaps, judged by the standard of 
the wild Highlanders, come but lately from their 
solitary glens ; but very little, it would seem, 
reckoned from an English standpoint, if the busi- 
ness then done by the sole wine-merchant of the 
town may serve for comparison. It would appear 
that the merchant Avho supplied Manchester lived 
at Preston, as the resort of the gentry, and AA'as 
rarely asked to supply more than a gallon of Avine 
at a time : and that a time Avhich did not com- 
monly stint itself in drink. 

It was a very small place in those days, and 
numbered little more than 6,000 inhabitants ; but 
when the factory system was introduced into the 
cotton manufacture, it grew rapidly, and is now a 
great town of more than 113,000 people. Xothing 
else so vividly shows us how far removed we are 
from those days, in circumstances and sj^irit, than 
the simple juxtaposition of those eloquent figures, 
which sj)eak far more eloquently than the most 
impassioned descriptive writing. 

There remains a certain stateliness in the 
streets and houses of Preston : an aristocratic 
" countv town " environment that not all the ex- 


]).'iiusion of iiulust.i'ialism has hocii able to oiii^'ull' : an 
(Mi;lito(Mitli-coiitui'y a])poaraHCo tliat calmly (l(3clines 
to !)(' liustl(Ml out of oxistence. Tlio refinements 
of lit'(% in so far as they are reflected hy many 
dainty tca-sliops and restaurants, are not lacking 
at Preston ; hut let the stranger come into the 
town on a Saturday night, and he will see another 
phase of existence, for then the place is typical of 
all Lancashire towns on that supreme marketing 
occasion. The streets are thronged with the j)eople 
of Preston and all the villages round ahout : it is 
a marketing and pleasuring saturnalia, wherein 
the brilliantly lighted shoj)s, the barrows, and the 
shows compete for the custom of thousands of 
good-humoured mill-hands whose weekly wages 
are burning holes in their pockets. 

Preston Town Hall was long pre-eminent 
among the town halls of Lancashire, and a source 
of peculiar pride to the townsfolk, but others have 
since eclipsed it. Designed by Sir Gilbert Scott, 
it looks like an instalment of St. Pancras station, in 
London, also designed by him, unaccountably mis- 
laid in the provinces. Manchestcn-, the biggest town, 
holding, bleji entciKlu, all the tricks, has rightly 
gone Naj) on town halls, aiid has won the game. 
KvcMi in I'reslon its ))i-e-eminenc(; has since been 
chalhuiged. Tor in the scdf-sanie scjuain^ there stands 
tlie immense building of the Harris Institute and 
Pnblic Libi-ary, designed in the Ionic order ol" 
archit(5ctun^ : a Xi'vy severe (Jreek eonli-ast w i(h the 
gay h]arly h]nglisli of the Town Hall. Hnl there 
ar(^ ev('n later eom|)<'l ilors, the Sessions Mouse and 


the Post Office, to challenge attention. Of these 
two, the tirst is in the present fashionable Eclectic 
Renaissance, while the Post Office is the product 
of the Office of Works, and of no style at all. The 
great square in which these various l)uildings 
stand is, therefore, nowadays very much an ex- 
hibition of architectural methods, 
incongruous and mutually de- 

Outside Preston, j^robaljly 
not one person in a thousand 
knoAvs how the word " teetotal " 
sprang into j^op^il^^'i' i^se. It is 
said to have been, to all in- 
tents and purposes, deliberately 
invented by " Dicky Turner," 
a reformed drunkard, who, 
speaking at a meeting held in 
September, 1833, at the Old 
Cockpit, declaimed vehemently 
against the arguments of the 
moderate drinkers, and insisted 
upon total abstinence. " I'll have nowt to 
dee Avi' this moderation botheration pledge, " he 
said : "I'll be reet down out — an' — out tee — tee 
— total for ever and ever." 

" Well done," shouted the meeting, and the 
Avord AA'as adopted, aa ith enthusiasm. 

It bore no reference to tea, as often supposed, 
nor AA^as it the result of a stuttering attemj)t at the 
word " total " ; for Turner was not a stutterer, but 
was AA^ell knoAA^n as a coiner of AA^ords, at any 

" TEETOTAL " 103 

oiiicri^viicy ; to sav iioiliiiig- oi' being- a pcrix^trator 
of what ill an Irishman would he called " bulls " : 
of which the following is a supreme example. 
Speaking; in fntherance of the temperance move- 
ment, he said, " We will go with our axes on our 
shoulders and plough U]} the great deep, and then 
the ship of temperance shall sail gallantly over the 

A stone in St. Peter's churchyard, to his 
memory and to that of fellow-workers in their 
cause, is inscribed 


this stone are 

deposited the Remains of 


author of the word Teetotal, 

as applied to abstinence from 

all intoxicating Liquors, 

who departed this life on the 

27th day of October, 1846, 

Aged 56 years. 

Here — where did you get that hat ? — you see the 
fearsome spectacle (according to modern ideas) 
that Dicky Turner presented. 

It will 1)(; observed that in this claim to the 
origin of " teetotal " there is a qualification not 
generally admitt(»d. ^riiis reservation is generally 
ov(;rlook(!d, but is impoi-tant. lie was iiKhnnl 
only author of tlu^ word in its application to total 
abstinence, for it was at that time; well known 
in Ireland, and is to b(i found in tlie writings of 
l)(! (^,uinc(7 and JVlaginn. Hut. i'vcvy tale is good 
until the next is told, and in aiiotber version 


" teetotal " is said to have originated in a general 
signing of a jiledge of moderate drinking : those 
who signed and were prepared for total abstention 
adding a T, for "total," to their signatnres. 

To conclude with Preston, it was here that 
the inspiration was given to Focardi, then an 
unknown and needy sculptor, for his group, long 
since famous, " You Dirty Boy ! " 

Lodging in a humble purlieu of the town, he 
Avitnessed the scene of the old Avonian scrul)l)ino' 
the writhing urchin and rubbing the soaji into 
him, and realising the humorous j^ossibilities of 
such a group, secured the two as models and at 
once set to Avork. He could not have foreseen the 
price of £500 at which the statuary was purchased, 
nor the world-wide advertising celebrity it was 
given, in pictures and in replica terra-cotta 
statuettes, by the proprietors of Pears' soaj). 


The twenty-two miles between Preston and 
Lancaster are more remarkable for the excellence 
of the road than for the interest of the way. 
When you have achieved the pull-uj^ past Gallows 
Hill — or Avliat Avas once knoAvn by that name— 
Avhere numbers of the rebels of 1715 expiated 
their error of judgment, and haA^e come to a\ here 
the traniAvays cease, tJie road becomes undulating, 
and is neighboured, first on one side and then 
on the other, by the raihvay and the Lancaster 
Canal. At IIoUoAvforth Avhat looks like an ancient 


10 = 

"•atowav was built in 1851) I'l-oin tlio stones oi' an 
old obelisk formerly standing in Preston market- 
place. The little river Wyre is twice crossed, at 
Brock's ]5ridi;*e and Garstani;". At Myerscougb, 
where the pull-ujo was formerly very trying for 
horses, the inscrijjtion may be read : 

To relieve the suflerings 

Of animals labouring in our service 

The steep ascent of this hill 

Was lowered 

At the expense of Mary and Margaret Cross 

of Myerscough, 

A.D. 1869. 

This deed of mercy appeals to every 

Passer-by, that he too show Mercy to 

The creatures God has put under his hand 

Garstang, that stands rather finely on the road, 
Avitli its old " E.oyal Oak "inn and ancient market- 

ci'oss, biiiliiig, not remotely (o tiiose who care I'oi' 
iliese things, ol' better days, was in fact once a. 
mai'kei-lowii. |{iit (Jai'staiig has oul lived its 
ancient imporlance. 'I'im(^ was when it owned 
a. iMa\or and ('()i-|)oral ion, who prondiv dated 


back to 131i. Even in 1080 it was sufficiently 
important to win a renewal of its ancient charter 
of incorporation, but it has long lost any relics of 
its old state. The interfering besoms of the Local 
Govei'nment Board swept away the Mayor and 
his subordinates in 1883, and joresented Garstang 
instead with a nice new Town Trust. It all 
sounds very improving and wonderful, but the 
plain man suspects only the difference between 
Tweedledum and Tweedledee in all this ; with, 
of course, the inevitable legal charges for making 
the wonderful change. 

In the days when Garstang did a large cattle 
trade, that singular seventeenth-century character, 
Richard Braithwaite, avIio styled himself "Drunken 
Barnaby," came staggering through, with his usual 
skinful, on his way from Lancaster. 

Thence to Garstang, pray you hark it, 
Ent'ring there a great beast market ; 
As 1 jogged along the street 
'Twas my fortune for to meet 
A young heifer, who before her 
Took me up, and threw me o'er her. 

There are two jokes belonging to Garstang. 
One is the parish church, situated a mile and a 
half away, in a lonely situation, and the other is 
the railway that here crosses the road. To-day, 
those of the inhabitants upon Avhose hands time 
hangs heavily haunt the street with fell intent to 
inflict the Gjeat Railway Joke upon the unsuspect- 
ing stranger who, maybe, halts to examine the 
cross. Thev fix him, as did the Ancient Mariner 

" ;m y horse *' 107 

the Wedding Guest, witli their s^littering, or 
rheumy, eye, as the case may be, and with 
hoarse voice and pointing finger ask him if he sees 
that railway. Assured that he does, comes then 
the answer, with weird chuckh\s : " the longest 
railway in England, the ' Garstang and Not End.' " 
Now the " Garstano" and Knott End llailwav " is 
probably the very shortest, being not quite seven 
miles in length : hence this stupendous funniment. 
Where it does end, however, is at Pilling, Some 
day, when the long-projected five-miles' extension 
to Eleetwood, and a junction with the railway there, 
is accomplished, the joke will be extinct and the 
humour of Garstang dowsed in blackest night. 

Beyond Garstang, the Bleasdale Pells appear, 
away to the right. The old importance of the road, 
before the railway that now runs so swift and fre- 
quent a service, is seen in the various inns on the 
way. There are the "New Holly," "Middle 
Holly," and " Old Holly," or " Haniilton Arms," 
inns. The " New Holly," at Porton, replaces an 
older house of the same name, still standing, at 
Hollins Hill, on the left, on the old road that 
went out of use in 1825. Even the wayside " Bay 
Horse " railway station takes its name from an 
inn that was once a change-house for tlic coaches. 
In 1825 the " l^ay Horse" inn was closed, and re- 
o|)ened in 1892. 

(jialgat(5 and Scotloi'lJi demand no notice, 
except that tlu; former is thought to have ol)taine(l 
its name IVoni " (iacd-gaet,' a passage for IlieiJacIs, 
or Scots, and Ihat llic ii.MUie of Scol Toil li carri(vs a 


similar meaniii!^. For we are come now within 
hail of the land that was in the old times always 
seething in Border raids : the district that Lancaster 
Castle, at the easy passage of the Lnne, was hnilt 
to defend. 


Lancaster is a fine name, if it is hnt jironounced 
as it shonld be ; hut the traveller who may chance 
to he something of a connoisseur in fine old 
place-names is a little shocked to find the town 
locally known as " Lankystir " and the county 
as " Lanky shire." The old stirring history of 
the place wilts and droops in that horrible pro- 

There is, after all, a very great deal in a name. 
A "Lancashire man" has a commercial sound: 
you detect the chink of coin in it, and it has, in 
truth, a modern appropriateness, for Lancashire 
is nowadavs nothino; if not commercial. Call 
him, however, a " Lancastrian," and he becomes 
at once to the imagination an embattled warrior 
Avorthy of figuring, with all the circumstances of 
chivalry, in the Wars of the Koses. 

There are still some few traces of the Roman 
antiquity of Lancaster, in the castle — the castle 
on the river Lnne, that gave the place its name — 
but it is in Norman and niediseval circumstances 
that it chiefly figures. The castle, the very be- 
ginning and origin of Lancaster, stands on a bold 
hill rising above the Lune in so convenient a 
situation for defence that Nature might almost 


have thoug:htfully provided it for the purpose, and 
represents the strong'hohl built hy Roller of 
Poictou, Avlio hehl all Lancashire from William 
the Conqueror. Exactly how much of the once 
formidable Iloman castrum he found here cannot 
be known, for the Normans were more intent 
upon conquering and securing their military suc- 
cesses Avith fortresses, than upon preserving anti- 
quities. The cult of the auti(|ue Avas, in fact, not 
yet born ; and Avlien, about 1091, the great Roger 
began to l)uild the grim keep that still remains 
the chief feature of Lancaster Castle, he spared 
nothing in the way of Roman altars and sculptured 
relics that might in any way serve his turn. To 
him and his builders they were relics of old, for- 
gotten things, already dead and damned with 
Paganism and the Roman rule, some six hundred 
years : as remote a period, for example, as from 
our day backwards to that of Edward the Second, 
which seems to ourselves no inconsiderable space 
of time. 

So into the foundations of his immensely thick 
castle walls, and into the rubl)le core of them 
went many Roman inscril)ed stones that anti- 
quaries would now dearly prize. Adrian's Tower, 
with the W(dl Tower, was built originally in 
Roman times : tlu^ iii*st so early as a.]j. 12;"), 
and the Well 'I'ower in a. J). IJOn, by Constantius 
Chlonis. Roger, th(^ Nonuaii, seems to have 
r(;paired and added to tbese. In Roman times 
the basem(;nt of Adrian's Tow(m* was ji jjlacc 
wh(;r(5 the corn for tlic^ garrison was iiromui. 


Later it l)ecame a bakery, and has since 1892 been 
a museum. In the excavations of 1890, an old 
floor and a considerable deal of rubbish were 
removed, to a depth of eight and a half feet, 
revealing the original level. In the course of 
these works a portion of the Iloman millstone for 
o;rindin£r corn was discovered, and here it remains, 
in company with such diverse objects as a Iloman 
altar, found in the foundations of the Shire Hall 
in 1797 ; some pikes captured from the Scottish 
rebels of 1715, forbidding festoons of fetters, and 
a "madman's chair," fitted with bolts and chains, 
as used at the time Avhen the dark lower chambers 
of the keej) served the purpose of county lunatic 
asylum, and, together with the fearful treatment 
accorded the lunatics, served only to confirm them 
in their lunacy. There are indeed some very 
fearful things in tliis old fortress, place of judg- 
ment, and prison of Lancaster Castle, which has 
been everything, from the home of kings down to 
debtors' prison and county gaol. 

As Shire Hall, Sessions House, Assize Courts, 
and gaol it still remains. Prominent among the 
gruesome sights of the castle are the dungeons in 
the AYell Tower, one below the other, in the 
basement, where prisoners lay in darkness, secured 
to the floor by the iron rings that still remain. The 
roof of the upper dungeon bears witness to the 
method of its construction. The earth having 
been first spread with a strongly made layer of 
wattled osiers, liquid cement was then run over 
them, and in drying formed a compact mass. 



Tho earth was then easily excavated heneath tlie 
iiip^eniousl}^ constructed roof. Some few of the 
osiers still remain in it. 

More modern . resources of justice are seen in 
the Drop Room, and in the Crown Court itself, 
where, at the back of the dock, may yet he seen 
the " Holdfast " and the branding-iron once used 
in branding malefactors with an M on the brawn 
of the left thumb. The operation was performed 


in Court and the success of it announced by the 
Head Gaoler in the formula, " A fair mark, my 

Tiie tragical memories of Lancaster Castle 
range from mediaeval dc^eds of blood down to the 
executions of prisoiici-s taken in tlu^ Jacobite re- 
bellions, and to tbc niei-ely sordid ex(5eutions since 
it lias l)('(Mi a gaol. I'rom 171V.) to LSSI), avIhmi the 
castl(5 (;eas('d to be a gaol for tlie nliole of Laiiea- 
sliirc, no rcvvci' tlian 22S ciiniinals wci'c liangcd 

vol,, n 8 


He is a fortunate visitor who comes to Lan- 
caster at the opening of Assize (unless he conies 
for trial), for old times live again in the pageant of 
the Judges' reception by the Javelin-men, in their 

costume of blue and yel- 
loAv, who escort them to 
their lodgings, and stand 
attendant in Court at the 
opening of the commis- 
sion of Over and Ter- 


impressive ap- 
to Lancaster 
Castle is by way of John 
o' Gaunt's gateway, one 
of the many Avorks added 
by that historic jierson- 
age, Shakespeare's "time- 
honoured Lancaster," 
when his father, Edward 
the Third, created him 
Duke of Lancaster and 
raised Lancashire in con- 
sequence to the condition 
of County Palatine. The 
" time-honoured " one 
himself stands in effigy in a niche over the door- 
way. One would like to think the statue con- 
temporary with him, but the guide-books, from 
which no derogatory secrets are hid, tell the 
disappointing tale that it dates only from 1822. 
John o' Gaunt is not to be avoided in Lancaster, 




castle or town. He is, jikUhmI, to ho round ju'ctty 
AV(4l all over tho country, for lie was not nicu'cly 
Duke of Ijancastor (althouf^h that Avas no small 
matter), but o\yned manors in almost every part 
of England. IMoreover, from him sprani;' the 
House of Lancaster, the lied Hose, Aviiose struggdes 
with the Yorkist White Rose form so long and 
hloody a series of chapters in Enij;lisli history. 


Here, in Jjancast(n% from " John o' Gaunt's Chair," 
the topmost turret of the castle kee]), down to 
Horseshoe Corner, the i^-niat Duke is exci-v where, 
and figures on j)icture-postcards, china, and silver 
spoons witli a line impartiality. l-foi'scvshoe 
Cornel' is an otherwise common place crossing 
of sti'eets where, in the middle of the roadAvay, 
a hoi'seshoe is inserted. It is the r('|)resentat ive, 
at this long interval of time,*)!" a. sho(^ cast hy 


John o' Gaunt's horse on the spot, and is renewed 
every seven years. 

St. Mary's Church, adjoining the castle, and 
separated from it only hy that sad spot on the 
terrace where criminals Avere hanged in the times 
of public executions, is a fine hold structure of 
Perjiendicular character, and possibly a good deal 
might he said of it in the architectural way ; hut 
it interests me chiefly as containing a memorial 
brass, now very much the worse for wear, to 
Thomas Covell, Governor of the castle fortv-eisiht 
years, Coroner forty- six years, and six times 
Ma} or of Lancaster. He died in 1639, aged seventy- 
eight, and is the subject of the following 
encomiastic verse : 

Cease, cease to mourne, all teares are vaine to aide, 
Hee's fledd, not dead ; dissolved, not destroy'd. 
In Heaven his soule doth rest, his bbdie heere 
Sleepes in this dust, and his fame everie where 
Triumphs ; the towne, the country farther forth. 
The land throughout proclaimes his noble worth. 
Speake of a man soe kinde, soe courteous, 
So free and every waie magnanimous, 
That storie told at large heere doe you see, 
Epitomiz'd in briefe : Covell was hee. 

He is rej)resented standing, Avitli hands clasped in 
prayer ; a long robe, open in front, disclosing his 
tall military jack-boots. 

No merrier fellow^ than the good Covell ever 
presided over dungeon and little-ease. Prisoners 
who were fortunate enough to be consigned to 
Lancaster Castle used it as a country house ; and, 
so that they fairly gave their parole to return, went 


and came very much as they pleased. Some of 
them, that is to say. Popisli recusants were sure 
of the hest attention, and the Bishop of Carlisle, 
writing with some heat upon the sul)ject, declared 
" they have liherty to g-o when and whither they 
list ; to hunt, hawk, and go to horse-races." 
Enjoying life himself, Covell was kindly disposed 
to others of like temperament. To Burton, however, 
one of the Puritans Avho was sent to Lancaster 
Castle to have his ears cropped, this high-spirited 
Governor was a "beastly man." 

" Drunken Barnaby" was not of that opinion. 
Doubtless the two drank many a noggin together ; 
Barnaby writing him down — 

A Jaylor ripe and mellow 

The world hath not suche a fellow. 

John Taylor, the so-called " Water Poet," who 
on his " Pennyless Pilgrimage " to Edinburgh and 
back levied toll on many men's hospitable tables, 
tells how 

The layler kept an Inne, good beds, good cheere, 
Where, jiaying nothing, I found nothing deerc ; 

and ill short he was very much, in the amateur 
way, what his brother was professionally, who 
kept the " George " inn, in the town ; and, strange 
to say, his wife was no less hospitable than him- 
self. ' 

We ar(^ not accustomed lo thinlv of Ijancaster 
as a seaport, hut it was once niiieh more ini|)ort;int 
in that, way than Livei-pool itself. To Ix' sure, 
tli;it. was loni:' ago, but not. so \rr\, \('r\ lonii' : 


no further back, indeed, than the time of Charles 
the First, who, in levvinir what has been called 
the " objectionable " tax — but what tax is not, to 
the taxee r — of Ship Money, assessed Lancaster at 
£30, Liverpool at £25, and Preston at £20. AVhat 
Manchester has laboriously and expensively done 
in its Ship Canal might more easily and cheaply 
be elfected by Preston and Lancaster, lying nearer 
the sea : and doubtless a time will come — but with 
that we have no concern. Meanwhile there are 
salmon in the Lune, as wanderers along the river- 
side by Crook o' Lune may discover, and Lancaster 
as yet knows nothing of great commercial docks. 
With modern developments, however, the Town 
Council has felt the need of a borough motto. 
" Time-honoured Lancaster " Avas suggested, but 
the Heralds' College, sticklers for accuracy, point- 
ing out that this referred to John o' Gaunt and 
not to the town, suggested "Luck to Loyne " 
instead ; and accordingly, " Luck to Loyne " 
it is. 

The finest view of Lancaster is from the Skerton 
Bridge crossing the river Lune at a point Avhere 
the castle and the old church of St. Mary group 
finely on the castle hill, and rightly form the 
most prominent objects, historical as they are. 
Unfortunately for the vieAv, railway develoj^ments 
have done a good deal to destroy its majestic 
simplicity. A railway bridge of the most atrocious 
lattice-girder type, crossing from the point known 
by the curious name of " Green Ayre,"' cuts the 
finest picture in half, and a number of sidings 


liavo iiholislicd the verdant l)aiiks of the Lime for 
a good distance and form undesirable neighbours 
to the embowered beauty of Ladies' Walk. 

Skerton Bridge, which takes the road out of 
Lancaster to Carlisle, in 1900 replaced the old 
Lune Bridge built in 1788, Avliich itself replaced a 
much older structure. 

But the commercial spirit has seized historic 
Lancaster, and factories of various kinds thrust 
their chimneys into the sky. Oilcloth-making by 
hand was started in a small way many years ago, 
in an old shed rented by a journeyman house- 
painter, Williamson by name. The enterprise 
quickly 23rosj)ered and grew into a wealth-producing 
wholesale business. The journeyman painter's son 
is now Baron Ashton, much to the dissatisfaction 
of many jealous folk who gave his father a job 
in the days of small things. It is a romance of 
industry, and has helped to change the appearance 
of Lancaster, the quiet, grave country-town of 
yore. There was until recent years a bleak and 
barren upland known as Lancaster Moor, overlook- 
ing the town : it is now transformed, with trees 
and shrubs, as the "Williamson Park." A huge 
new Town Hall is also a Williamson product, 
and overlooking all Lancaster and dwarfing tlie 
im])ortance of tlie old casth^ itself, a mammoth 
l)Ugl)ear of a thing calked tlie "Ashton Memorial " 
arrests the ey(5 from far and near, like a St. Paul's 
dome on tlie liilllop. h]iileriiig Lancaster from 
the north, yon can no niorf^ miss seeing it than 
von eonhl miss seeini;- St. I'anrs from Lndiiate 


Hill. American tourists ask, in their picturesque 
Avay, " Who in thunder built it ? " and they are 
told that it is built to the honour and glory of the 
Williamson family. It arouses terrible thoughts 
of ^vhat may yet be in store for the historic places 
of Old England, when each ennobled maker of 
wall-papers, drain-pipes, and the like shall feel 
that the merits of his race demand advertising as 
prominently as his wares. 


The suburb of Skerton, on the north side of Skerton 
Bridge, leads to the hamlet of Slyne, i)erched on 
a hill overlooking Morecambe Bay. The place- 
name "Slyne" looks as unpleasant in j^i'i^t as 
do the personal names of Silas, Matthias, or Jabez, 
and the meaning of it, as of the similar place- 
names " Slindon" and " Slinfold," in Sussex, 
seems to have escaped research. A quaint old 
manor-house, now a farm, with an odd doorway 


inscribed c m stands facins; the road, and with 

IGSl ' ° 

the old " Cross Keys" inn, dated 1727, comj)rises 
nearly all there is of Slyne. Here comes the left- 
hand turning to Hest Bank, on the shore of 
Morecambe Bay, whence old travellers, greatly 
daring, took a short cut across the treacherous 
quicksands at low Avater, to Grange and Cartmel, 
instead of going the roundabout way of Carnforth 
and Milnthorpe. Lancashire is here cleft into 
two separate and distinct portions, Lonsdale south 



of the sands, cUid Ijousclale north ; a great wedge oi' 
Westmorland coming in between. 

The geogra2)hy of the district surrounding 
I^incastc^r is by no means simple. It is a country 
bordering upon the sea, which here and there 
advances into the land, in the shapes of great 

1 w 1 

lU y 


KENDftL sX/ 





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ULVER.STOK jll/%' 



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/^jTsolton- ,#*==^ 



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sandy bays and long, tongue-like estuaries of short 
but turbulent riv(M's that, taking their origin 
as mountain-tori-eiits amid tlu' gloomy lieights of 
tli(5 (eternal liilis and mountains of Lakcdand, liave 
tlieir siiddcii moods, diclaled by llie m(dtiiig of the 
snows, and hy I'ain-storms. Tlie distant landscape 
in the neijiiihoiirhood of Lancaster is aiwavs chised 


in l)y mountain heights, and the flat shores of 
Morecambe Bay look the more flat, and the far-off 
fells ajDj^ear the more rugged, in these several 

A considerable number of these little rivers 
come pouring down from the Lakes to the sea : the 
Lune, the £ent, the Keer, the AVinster, the Leven, 
the Crake, and the Duddon. The road on to Kendal 
and Carlisle avoids all the estuaries, and goes 
uneventfully onwards; but travellers who wished 
to pass expeditiously between Lancaster, Furness, 
and Ulverston had no choice but to make their 
perilous way "Over Sands," across the inner bight 
of Morecambe Bay, at Ioav tide. The alternative 
was the unwelcome, and ancientlv the dans^rerous, 
one of going the extravagantly long way round by 
Milnthorpe, Crosthwaite, and Xewby Bridge, under 
AYhitbarrow, where the treacherous Mosses, almost 
as dangerous as the sands of the seashore, sjDread, 
and where the lawless and desperate cattle-reivers 
lurked. Confronted with these j^roblems, old-time 
wayfarers generally chose the sands. 

The story of " Lancaster Sands," as they are 
often called, is romantic and melancholy. The 
hazardous crossing was made between Hest Bank 
and Kent's Bank, a distance of eleven miles, 
over a wet sandy waste that is twelve feet deep in 
sea-water, at high tide. In these days of railway 
travel, and since 186i, when the Llverston and 
liancaster Eailway Avas opened, the Over-Sands 
route is less frequently used, and princiiDally 
by farmers' carts and by inquisitive tourists ; but 


in all the oarlicr centuries it was nc^cessary, and 
i;reat pains wci*{> taken to ensure, so lar as might 
liumanly be, tlie safety of travellers across. 

The sands are first mentioned by Tacitus, in 
his history of the second campaign Avaged by 
Agricola against the Western Brigantes, the tribes 
inhabiting Purness and the northern detached 
district of Lancashire now known as North 
Lonsdale. The Romans, with their usual com- 
bined thoroughness and prudence, appear to have 
made causeways crossing the estuaries of the 
Kent, the Leven, and the Duddon, considerably 
inshore from the exposed Over-Sands route and 
somewhat on the route of the present railway 
bridges ; but traces of their handiwork are now^ 
very few. 

The next historical reference is not met with 
until 1325, when the Abbot of Furness petitioned 
the King that his jurisdiction might be extended 
in this district, to comprehend the Leven Sands, 
which were so dangerous that many travellers, 
sixteen on one occasion, and six on another, had 
been overtaken by the tide, and drowned. His 
petition was granted, and the Abbot established, 
on an island half-way across the estuary, a little 
cliajxd in whicli tlie monks pray(>d all round tlu^ 
twenty-four bours for the safety, or lor the souls, 
as tin; cas(^ migbt be, of those who souglit to 
cross. It is, liovv(;ver, scairc to be supposed tliat 
the y\bb(\y privileges would have been thus e\- 
tendful had tlu^ aid to travellers been uiei(dy 
that of prayers. A more practical note was the 


addition of a lighthouse, or beacon tower, to 
the chapel, combined with the readiness of the 
monks to guide strangers. Since 1820, the guide 
across Leven Sands has received an annual salary 
of £22 from the Duchy of Lancaster, with a 
grant of three acres of land. He enjoys, in 
addition, under the provisions of the Ulverston 
and Lancaster Hallway Act of 1851, a further 
£20 a year, in compensation for loss of fees 
caused by the opening of the railway ; for al- 
though he is a public official, he commonly 
received gifts and free-will fees from those he 
guided across in pre-railway days. 

The more lengthy journey, from Hest Bank 
to Kent's Eank, was under the especial care of 
the Priory of Cartmel, which from an early period 
maintained an official guide who was paid out of 
a grant made to the Priory from Peter's Pence 
for the especial purpose of performing this public 
service. Travellers here also had the benefit of 
the monks' prayers, Avhicli in truth they often 

This very necessary ofiice of guide did by no 
means fall into decay with the dissolution of the 
monasteries under Henry the Eighth. Provision 
was made by the expenses being charged to the 
Duchy of Lancaster : " the Carter over the Kent," 
as the guide was called, being paid £20 per annum 
by the Heceiver-General, and the guide across the 
shorter passage of the Keer being paid £10. The 
Carter no doubt performed his duty, but the Sands 
every now and then claimed their victims. Thus, 


ill i\w rog'istei's ol' Cartmol may bo road the 
l'olloAvin<;" tragical entries : 

" 1570, Sept. 12. One young man buryed, 
Avhicli was drowned in the Ijrod water." 

" 1582, Af((/. 1, was buryod a son of Leonard 
Rollinson, of Eurnoss Pell, drowned at the 
Grainge, the 28tli daye of July." 

" 1610, Feb. 4, John ifell, son of Augustine, 
of Birkbie, drowned on Conysed Sands." 

" 1630, Aug. 10, Wm. Best, gent., drowned 
on Melthorp Sands." 

The registers of Cartmel alone testify to over 
120 j^ersons having lost their lives while crossing 
the channels of these treacherous shores. 

The race of secular guides across the Kent 
began, after the surrender of Cartmel Priory, with 
Thomas Tempest. Son succeeded father in the 
office, but they seem soon afterwards to have 
become Carters ; probably having adoj)ted the 
name from their official title. 

The poet Gray, touring the Lake Country in 
1769, relates a pathetic story of a family over- 
taken ])y the mists half-way across the Sands : 
" An old fisherman told me, in his dialect, a 
moving story, how a brother of the trade— a 
cockhM", as he styled him — driving a little cart 
with his two daughters (women grown) in it, and 
his wile on horseback fol lowing, set out one day 
to cross the Sands, as tli(\y had Ix'cni frequently 
us(;d io do (lor nobody in llio village knew tliem 
beilcr than tin; old man did). W'Ikmi lliey were 
about liall'-way over, a, jliiek log rose, and as they 


advanced they found the water much deeper than 
they expected. The ohl man was puzzled. He 
stopped, and said he wouhl go a little way to 
find some mark he Avas acquainted with. They 
stayed awhile for him, hut in yain. They called 
aloud, hut no rejily. At last the young women 
pressed their mother to think where they were, 
and go on. She would not leave the place. She 
wandered ahout, forlorn and amazed. She Avould 
not quit her horse and get into the cart with 
them. They determined, after much time Avasted, 
to turn hack, and gave themselves up to the 
sruidance of their horses. The elder woman was 
soon washed off, and perished. The girls clung 
close to their cart, and the horse, sometimes 
wading and sometimes swimming, brought them 
hack to land alive, hut senseless with terror and 
distress, and unable for many davs to s^ive an 
account of themselves. The bodies of the parents 
were found the next ebb, that of the father a very 
few paces distant from the sjDot Avhere he had 
left them." 

The story is still remembered how, in the 
days Avhen coaches crossed Grange Sands at low 
water, an outside passenger lost his portmanteau 
and excitedly jumped doAvn after it, becoming 
half-engulfed in the treacherous quicksands. He 
would probably have perished, had the guard, 
used to the place, not come to his rescue, and 
pulled him out, Avith a resounding " cluck." 
similar to the noise made AA'lien draAA'ing a cork. 

But a more serious affair Avas that of 1811, 


"vvhen tlic Ovcr-Saiuls coach, the Lancaster stage, 
was overturned in tlic Kent Channel, throui^h 
the liorses turning- restive. They hrought the 
coach to a stop, and the current washing away 
the sand under the wheels of one side, the M^hole 
aifair turned completely over. It was very nearly 
a tragedy, for there were fifteen passengers, 
inside and out, tlung floundering in the sand 
and Avater at a vei-y dangerous place. A young 
lady, floating on voluminous clothes down the 
Channel, was grabbed by the guard, and the 
passengers huddled together on the side of 
the overturned coach ; l^ut all the loose luggage 
was swept away and lost, and two pointer dogs 
Avere drowned. The passengers were brought to 
land on the backs of the coach-horses, the last 
being taken off none too soon ; for the coach was 
gradually sinking, and was eventually completely 
engulfed in the sands. 

A narrow escajoe Avas that of Major Eigland, 
who Avas crossing one dark evening in his gig 
from Lancaster, intending to reach Cartmel. He 
drove toAvards the sea instead, and only by extreme 
good fortune managed to land near Conishead. 
A post-cliaise Avas lost and the postboy and one 
of the liorses drowned near Hest Bank in 1821, 
and in 1825 the liaiicast(;r coach Avas blown over, 
midway, and a lioisf^ droAvned. T\m passengers 
were only with (iiHicnlty sa\(Ml. In 1SIJ2 tlie 
identical coach was sunk in a (|uicksaiul. M ucli 
lat(;r, iti 1S|.(», nine iiici'i'v liolid.i v-niakers, return- 
ing IVoiii llic VViiilsiin lair at I ' l\ crsloii, drove 

vol, II y 


into a treacherous spot near Black Scar, on the 
Leven Sands, and were all immediately drowned : 
and a similar disaster occurred to a party of seven 
farm-hands crossini^ the Kent Sands to Lancaster 
in 1857, the year the Purness Railway Avas opened, 
and the Over-Sands coach discontinued. In every 
case, the bodies Avere easily found ; lending point 
to the grim story told of an ancient mariner 
wlio, asked if guides were ever lost on the sands, 
answered with simplicity : " I never knew any 
lost. There's one or two drowned, now and again, 
hut they're generally found Avhen the tide goes 

About 1785 a coach Avas started betAveen 
Ulverston and Lancaster, going daily across the 
sands. The scene at its crossing Avas curious. 
The Carter, on horseback, headed it, and in its 
Avake generally followed a number of carts and 
other country vehicles, forming a procession not 
unlike an Eastern caravan crossing the deserts 
of Arabia. The Carter's guidance Avas absolutely 
necessary, for although the track might at CA^ery 
ebb be beaten out by a multitude, the incoming 
tide inevitably obliterated every trace of it, and 
the channels were constantly shifting, A con- 
temporary account says : " The Carter seems a 
cheerful and pleasant felloAV. He Avore a rough 
great-coat and a jiair of jack-boots, and Avas 
mounted on a good horse, which aj^peared to have 
been up to the ribs in water. When Ave came 
to him, he recommended us to Avait till the arriA'al 
of the coach, Avhich Avas nearly a mile distant, 


as the tide would then he gone further out. When 
the coach came up, we took the water in procession, 
and crossed two channels in one of which the 
water was up to the horses' hellies. The coach 
passed over Avithout the least difficulty, heing 
drawn by fine, tall horses. Arrived at the other 
side, the Carter received our gratuities and we 
rode on, keeping close to a line of rods which 
have been planted in the sands to indicate the 
track. The channel is seldom two days together 
in the same place. You may make the chart 
one day, and before the ink is dry it will have 

A sufficient testimony to the dangers of the 
sands is found in the fact that those who have 
known them best have ever been the ones to most 
dread them and the " cruel crawling tide " that 
with the shifting of the wind can readily change 
from a crawl to a hissing seething gallop across 
the perilous flats. 

It is the shout of the coming foe, 
Ride, ride for thy life, Sir John ; 

But still the waters deci)er grew 
The wild sea foam rushed on. 

Tlie proper time to attc^mpt tlu' crossing is 
live hours ii\'Un- liigh water, but even then only 
in iiiHi weathei". A strong sea-breeze will bring 
the Hood ill, liilly an hour Ixd'ore (lie tide-tables ; 
whil(! alicr licaAy rains the crossing is iin|)()ssible, 
ovviiig to tli(^ Mood-water IVoiii flie rivers permeat- 
ing <li(^ sands in owvy direction and converting 
tin; whole; i-outc; into oik; vast (piicksund. iNever 


at any time should the stranger attempt the 
passage without competent assistance. 

The dangers of the Lancashire coast Avere illus- 
trated once more at the very moment of these 
lines heing written, in the inquest held, September 
1907, on John Ptichardson, a farm-labourer who 
was engulfed in the quicksands at Broadfleet 
Bridge, Pilling, near Garstang. AYliile walking 
on the sands, he sank to the waist, and being far 
from any human habitation, his cries could not 
be heard ; with the result that he met a fearful 
death 1)y slow drowning, as the cruel tide crept 
up across the lonely shore. 

Turner's picture of the coach crossing the sands 
is dramatic, but nothino^ in the way of drama is 
enacted tliere now. It is a grey and sullen scene. 
On the skyline to the left is the tall ugly tower 
at Morecambe, and dimly on the right the moun- 
tains of Lakeland. The London and Xorth-Western 
Bailway runs along the shore, at its Hest Bank 
station cutting off proper access, and only by the 
rarest chance is the Oyer-Sands route now taken. 


The yillage of Bolton-le-Sands, standing on the 
Lancaster Canal, and near the shore, is a small 
place of many inns — the " Blue Anchor," " Black 
Bull " and others — and an old church, surrounded 
and almost overhung by trees. Succeeding it is 
Carnforth, groAving almost Avhile you wait, in the 
new-found jH'Osperity of its irouAvorks, Avhere a 

Til!': liVCKSTONl': 


o'oodly quantity of tho luiMuatitc ore of tlic ad- 
joining' -b'lirness district is smoltod. Boyond it, 
in a choice of routes to Kendal, l)y Milnthorpe 
or by Burton-in-Kendal, we take the second, 
])ast the " Lonc^hinds " inn ; where traces of an 
ohler road to Kendal are to be found. A mile 
onward, a considcn-able stretch of it, on the left 
hand of the present highway, exists as a deserted 


lane, very narrow here and there, and overgrown 
with grass. In general, however, farmers have 
gradually abolished it and added it to tlieir ])astures, 
and even this surviving stretcli is in process of 
being similarly swallowed and digestcnl. Portions 
of it are not without tlieir romantic asp(>cts : as 
where a hug(5 granit(i crag, called from time 
immemorial " the Huckstone," stands in the licdge- 
row and nnralls tlie ti-ials of ti'aveMers in a I)ygon(^ 
age, when roads were lilth' heller than winding 
t,i"acl<s and sign-posts did not exist. 'Thev went, 


those palpitating travellers, as directed, " past the 
Buckstone," standing for centuries as sure a land- 
mark as anything in this countryside. And noAV 
it is forgotten, excejit by the farming and field- 
folk and those whose business or pleasure is in 
the byways and the hedges. Many surrounding 
houses and natural objects are named after the 
wild deer that once roamed the district : among 
them lloanad Hill, and Hilderstone and Deer- 
slack farms. 

From the Buckstone you see the rugged terraced 
hill of Farleton Knott, styled l)y the county his- 
torian " the Gil)raltar of Westmoreland," and, down 
beneath, the clustered houses of Burton-in-Kendal ; 
but before you reach that, decayed town the old 
road is cut off and a modern lane leads on the 
right into the highway, past Dalton Park, through 
whose grounds the old road ran its Avinding way. 
Still, a few yards within the Park wall, may be 
seen, amid the trees, a rude milestone bearing 
nothing by way of inscription save the figure 
" 10." This, if you please, was the curt way of 
informing travellers that they were ten miles 
from Lancaster. It is obvious that old-time 
Avayfarers had to bring some native understand- 
ing with them. 

The old l)oundary of Westmoreland and Lan- 
cashire, someAvhat varied in recent times, is seen 
marked on a brass plate on the Avay to Burton-in- 
Kendal, opposite a group of old cottages standing 
in a hollow beside the modern raised road. The 
place is called Heron Syke, and the deep hollow 



and siirviviiii>' IVaoni(»nt of old road illiistrato the 
aiK'i(Mit name, indieatini^' a marsliy ])lac(5 with a 
l)n)()k, once frequented by herons. 

And here we ar(» in Westmoreland. Authorities 
have not yet done disputing* Avhether it was 
orig-inally '' W^estmoreland," or " Westmereland," 
for the moors and the meres, i.e. the lakes, are 
equally prominent in the county ; and, by the 


sanu? token, there is no settled spelling of the 
name, " Westmoreland " ; with two " e's " or with 
one. The one " e " appears to be now the more 
favoured of tJiesc^ versions, but, for my part, I 
jdiimp foi- tlie more; romantic-looking' old style. 

'Vho old vvo()l-mark(^t of l^urfoii-in-Kendal is 
(;xtinct, and tliat is a. \i'vy ([uiet uneventful places 
nowadays, in vvliich a, iiaii'ow street of grey ston(» 
lioiises opens into ;i lillle s(|iiai'(' w liere ilie granite 
pillar <)|" ;i, niarlsci -cross, reared upon three steps. 


stands, bearing witness to an importance otherwise 
not only past, but almost forgotten. The market- 
cross was by way of being stocks and pillory as 
well, for the steps were fitted with contrivances 
by which l)etty offenders were literally " laid by 
the heels." There were two pairs of them, as 



the inquisitive may readily see : and there, thus 
securely fastened, the rogues and vagabonds .of 
Burton's busier days were exj)osed to gibe, insult, 
and missile. 

On the night of April 30tli, 1812, some evil- 
disposed persons placed no fcAver than eleven 
gates across the road between Lancaster and 



Biii'toii-iii-Keudal, with intent to npsot tlio mail ; 
which indeed only narrowly escaped. These 
scoimdrels were never caug'lit. 

Burton is, or was, a loyal place, and does what 
it can to celehrate national events. It cannot, in 
the very nature of things, with the slender 
resources at its command, do much, and its higli- 
water-mark of effort is seen in a very ordinary 



gas-lamp, erected to commemorate the wedding 
of the Prince of Wales in 1863. 

Farleton Knott — most hills in these parts are 
" Knotts " — strikingly overhangs the road to 
Kendal, rising in grey scarps, ridges, and terraces 
ahove a level stretch, where the humble old white- 
washed " Duke ol* (^innlx'rlaiid " inn stands Ix-siih* 
tlui loju'ly way. ^I^liis is followed, at a consider- 
able intcn'val, by Crook Iniids inn, willi th(> church 
of Preston Patrick on <li<' I'iglit, .-ind I lie lianih't 
of i']ii(l Moor, nil scjih'd in, or overlook ing, a. green 
and jci'tih! valley, wIkt*' a silvery beck winds away 


in shininj^ loops. The scene, with its rich grass 
and fine trees, might he in one of the hokler parts 
of Surrey, rather than in the north. 

Now Kendal is approached, its ruined castle 
surmounting a rounded green hill and thrusting 
out ragged walls almost in the likeness of some 
rocky outcrop. Kendal Castle seems to have 
been so threatening a fortress — and it still looks 
especially formidable from the north, whence most 


of its possible enemies could come — that no one 
appears ever to have attacked it. They went 
round the other way, if another way could be 
found, or — better still — stopped at home. 

At Kendal was born the much-married 
Katherine Parr, whose family at the time were 
lords of the castle. Thirdly, she was married by 
Henry the Eighth, and was so fortunate as to 
survive him. How little she regretted that Royal 
husband we may judge by the fact that, two 
months after his death she married, fourthly an 

K UN DAL 139 

old ilanio, Admiral Lord Sc^yinoiir ol' Sudcley, and 
then, a year later, died, a^ed tliirty-six. 

On the Milntliorpe road, a mile short of Kendal, 
stands the little maii()i--h()use of Collin Field, a 
haltinii-pUice for th(^ niulit often used hv that 
formidahle lady, Ann, Countess of Pembroke, on 
her journeys between her various residences. It 
was purchased in 1000 by her secretary, George 
Sedgwick, Avho long lived there and occupied his 
leisure in writing of his great mistress. The 
house is an admirable specimen of the semi-fortified 
smaller residences of that age. 


And so into Kendal, across the river. 

Kendal, originally Kirkby Kendal, i.e. Kirk- 
by-Kent Dale, is indeed very much among the 
waters, for here the river Kent, reinforced by 
tributary streams pouring down from the misty 
fells, foams doAvn in weirs, and is crossed, in high- 
way and byway, l)y no fewer than three bridges. 
There is good fishing for the " gentle " angler in 
th(;se waters. Though why " g(mtle " and where 
th(; gentleiu'ss is more than I can compreliend. 
lA)r sj)ort, the angler l)aits his cru(d line and, if 
sport be good, he, himself an exem])lar of " luitiire, 
red in tooth aiul claw," liooks, witli his rKMidish 
l)arb, some unfoi-tiiiiatc trout oi* grayling in the 

TIk^ streets of Ivencbil ar(^ most ly " gates," as 
Stramongate and St.rieklandgatc, and wcit once 


picturesque, in the stern way of these northern 
latitudes ; hut Kendal, in these days a highly 
prosperous agricultural town, and in a favourable 
position at the gate of the Lake Country, is being 
greatly rebuilt, and looks, to those who hurry by, 
little removed from, the common run of provincial 
towns. Motor-tourists to and from the Lakes do 
not deign to halt at Kendal, and he who does may 
notice, any day of summer and autumn, a veritable 
procession of cars hurrying to and from those 
resorts and regarding Kendal as an unwelcome 
incident, containing inhabitants and dogs, which 
are to be run over only at risk to car and purse. 

The srreat church of Kendal lies low, by the 
river, and is great, not in height, nor in any 
imj)Osing architectural design, but in the sheer 
ground-sj)ace it covers. It has no fewer than 
five aisles, and by consequence of them looks 
squat. It is a kind of Westmoreland Westminster 
Abbey, the place of sepulture of barons and squires 
innumerable from the castle on the hill yonder 
and from the country round about. Their private 
chapels, where Parrs andBellinghams,Stricklands, 
Howards, and others lie, are now not a little the 
worse for Avear, and no longer private ; and their 
mortuary glories obscured. But to one of the old 
school of county historians or patient genealogists, 
the interior of Kendal church would be, in the 
way of hatchments, heraldic carvings, and flatulent 
epitaphs, the study of years. More to my 2:>ur- 
pose are the strange incidents and the odd inscrijD- 
tions of the place. 


There haiii^'s, for (^xam2)le, in the once private 
eliapel of the dead and i^one Bellini^hams a helmet 
"with a story. Once, it seems, in tlie days when 
Cavalier and R-onndhead fought out their disj^ute, 
there flourished a family of Philipsons in the 
AVindermere district, with a notorious person, 
llajor Robert Philipson, at their head : so wild 
and reckless that he was commonly known as 
" Robin the Devil." It is hardly necessary to 
add that he was not a Puritan. This rumlmstious 
character, greatly incensed that the Puritans 
should have estaljlished themselves in the town, 
under one Colonel Briggs, set out one Sunday with 
a number of horsemen, to kill the colonel in 
church. Hapi^ily for Briggs, he had not attended 
service that day, and Philipson, rampaging with 
drawn sword over the building, was baulked of 
his prey : although it does not seem quite certain 
that Robin would have been fortunate had Briggs 
been present, for even without their commander 
the people present made liim run, and in his haste 
to go his helmet was knocked off against an arch- 
way. He did not stop to recover it, Ijut made off 
as quick as he could go. So much for your dare- 
devils. The helmet was hung up as a tropliy. 
But Smelfungus, the antiquary, who must for 
always l)(5 s])oiling tli(^ best, stories witli liis dry 
facts, tells us that tli(^ lielinet is really a portion 
of the furKM'al armour of Sir Roger Hclliiighaiii, 
SLispendcid ovei* his tomb. 

Among tJic, iiitci'est iiig items in Kendal Clini'eli 
livo pieces of an ancient, cross, dated about A. I). SM), 


and the monument to over one hundred and fifty 
officers and men of the 55th (Westmoreland) 
Regiment, who fell in that most stupid of 
blunders, the Crimean AVar, from which none, 
save the Army contractors, ever reaped any ad- 
vantage. Here, too, is a Chinese "Dragon Flag," 
caj^tured at Chusan, and deposited in the church 
in 1874. 

Here, also, is a monument to the unfortunate 
Sir Augustine Nichols, Chief Justice of the 
Common Pleas, poisoned when on circuit at 
Kendal in 1616. But the most curious object in 
Kendal Church is the epitaph upon a former vicar, 
the Heverend Ralph Tyrer, B.D., who died in 
June 1627. The curious rhymes of which it is 
composed are said to have been written by him- 
self ; but, however that may be, it is certain that 
whoever was the author of them Avas keenly 
desirous of puzzling posterity. He has done it 
effectually, too. He has set out, in his rugged 
and uncouth way, that — 

London bred me, Westminstei* fed nie, 

Cambridge .sped me, My sister wed me, 

Study taught me. Living sought me, 

Learning brought me, Kendal caught me. 

Labour pressed me, Sickness distressed me, 

Death oppressed me, The grave possessed me, 

God first gave me, Christ did save me, 

Earth did crave me, Heaven Avould have me. 

" My sister wed me " : that is the crux of the 
matter ; but it does not appear that this is to be 
taken seriously, in its ordinary meaning. As to 
the real interiDretation, we are offered at least two 


stories : the one that liis sister, findiiif^ him too 
husy or too diffidont a man to do his own Avooiii"-, 
conducted his courtship tor him and jJrovidod him 
Avith a wife of her own choosing. In that case, 
she dared much. Tlie alternative theory is that 
tlie Avord " sister," as used here, is intended to 
bear an academical meaning-, and to indicate that 
he was educated at Caml)ridge but admitted ad 
enndetu afterwards to the " sister University " of 

The people of Kendal were turbulent folk in 
the old days, and varied the humdrum existence 
of woollen manufacture and the printing of cottons 
by rioting : keeping up their reputation in this 
sort until tlie early years of the nineteenth 
century, when the first Parliamentary election 
was excuse sufficient for an outl)reak. The 
making and the dyeing of the once famous 
" Kendal green " cloth is a thing of the past, and 
peace is now the characteristic of Kendal, ])ut the 
reputation of the neighbourhood for incisive wit 
remains, in the ancient story of the horseman who 
asked a countryman the time o' day. " Twelve 
o'clock," said the man, lookiDg at that rural 
chronomet(u*, tin; sky. 

" ^l\v(dvc ! " exclaimed tlic traveller. "1 
tlioiiglit it Avas more," 

" Did y'(5ver know it to be moor iioi* twelve ? " 
rejoiiH'd th(; man, turning away. 

TIk! traveUer, struck witli this miiisiial i-iislic 
facility lor rep.'U'tee, sent his servant al'lcr iiim, 
to know ir lie woiihi like a sil nation as a jcslcr. 


" Here, felloAY," said the servant, " my master 
wants to know if you ayouIcI like a place as fool." 

The rej)ly was disheartening : " Does he want 
tAvo on 'em, then, or are you going to leave ? " 

The turbulent people of Kendal no doubt 
acquired their character from the old-time circum- 
stances of the place, ever subject to incursions of 
Scottish raiders. Sturdy independence, and a 
readiness to hold their own, thus become traits in 
these men of the dales and fells. Something of 
the ancient trials of Kendal town may yet be 
seen, behind the modern smug facing of shops in 
the older streets, where houses and cottages are 
built around courtyards approached only by 
narrow alleys easily to be defended, in case of 

The last occasion when these old defences 
seemed like to })rove again useful was in iT'io, 
when Prince Charlie, in memories of whose 
enterprise this road is so rich, came with his 
ill-disciplined following. Eut nothing serious 
happened : the Prince stayed the night in Strick- 
landgate, at the old mansion still standing, 
numbered 93, and rested there again on his 
retreat. Next day came the Duke of Cumberland, 
in hot pursuit, and he also halted at the old 
house, pleasantly remarking that they had enter- 
tained his cousin there, the day before. I suspect 
the more or less unwilling host of Prince and 
Duke, in fear of consequences, exj^lained, as 
politely as he could, that he entertained whom he 



TluMV is, aftov all, singularly little pictorial 
quality in Koudal. The old town-house of the 
liolliiii^liauis, in Stmnionii'ate, built in 1516, still 
exists, altliouii,'h the family is extinct ; but it 
turns the commonplace front of an ironmonger's 
shop to the street. Indeed, old Kendal is only 
to be pictured in that line rugged building, the 
Castle Dairy, in Wildman Street. It is supposed 


to have been the dairy of the old castle, and still 
contains a few of th(^ many ancient and curious 
relics found in old cupboards and secret 2)laces 
in its immensely thick walls, together with some 
fragments of stained glass bearing the arms of 
the; Stanhiys, Eai'ls of Derby, liut the curious 
g(Miealogy of llic Saxon kings, and the ohl 
illuminated Roman mass-book, have; been removed 
to tli(^ I'lihlie Lil)i'arv. 

vor,. M 




Between Kendal and Penrith, a distance of 
twenty-six miles, is situated the bleakest and most 
trying stretch of country in all the distance from 
London and Glasgow. It is the district of that 
high-perched table-land, 1,100 feet above sea-level, 
dreaded by the old coachmen, and the passengers 
too, as " Shap Pell." All the weather of West- 
moreland is brewed amid the inhospitable altitudes 
of Stainmoor and Shap Pell, which are, in addition, 
afflicted with the local phenomenon known as 
the " Helm Wind." This, perhaps fortunately 
for travellers, is not a winter's gale, but a 
playful blast that characterises the days of May 
and June. When the tourist reads that it is 
strong enough to overturn horses and carriages, 
and that the noise of it may be heard twenty 
miles off, like thunder, or the roar of a cataract, 
he entertains serious thoughts of accomplishing 
this stage of his journey l)y rail. The Helm 
Wind derives its name from the "helm," or caj), 
of light clouds that rests immovably for hours 
in the sky at the time of its blowing. It blows 
across the fells of Westmoreland and Cumberland, 
rushing down their steep sides and lashing the 
waters of the Lakes into furious waves and driven 

The ascent to this not very promising region 
begins by a gentle rise at Mint Bridge, one mile 
from Kendal. It continues, Avith increasingly 
steep gradients, but with two short intervals of 


doAvn g:raclieiit, lor n\nv. and a lialf miles, when 
the summit is reached. Althoug'h Shap Pell 
has so ug'ly a name, the rise at no 2ioint exceeds 
1 in 10. It is rather the long-continued 
character of the ascent to the exposed summit 
that makes the road remarkahle. 

The coaching accidents on this stage were 
remarkably few. The principal happening of 
this kind was when a country mail was uj^set at 
Kirhythore Bridge, on Hucks Brow, owing to 
the horses shying at a quite inoffensive water- 
wheel. The coach fell eight feet, and a horse was 
killed, but there the damage ended. A stalwart 
Yorkshire wool-stapler, who was riding outside, 
was flung off and made to perform a complete 
somersault, but he alighted safely on his feet, 
and just in time to catch, at " mid-off," a parcel 
which shot with wondrous velocity out of a 
woman's arms, and proved on inspection to l)e a 
baby. He said, dryly, when they congratulated 
him on his fielding, that " a stray baby isn't 
generally a good catch for a man." 

It was only right and proper that on such a 
I'oad as tliis amateur coachmen were few. It 
would, indeed, have sounded a higher note of 
j)ro))riety had th(n'e l)een nonc^ at all. AVitli 
regard to tbe mails, the i'osi Olliee regulations, 
not only on this road, but- on roads in general, 
strictly forbade eoa-clmien allowing anialcnrs to 
driv(% and expected tlie guards to interpose, to 
pi'cvent aii^V tiling ol' llie kind. ( )n one occasion, 
vvln'n young 'I'ealinu', ol" '{'eatlwr iV- Son, the 


niciil-coutractors, had taken the coachman's phice, 
and was about to drive his own horses, a half- 
indignant and half-terrified passenger seized the 
reins because the guard would not veto the ar- 
rangement. TTliat would have hapj^ened to that 
guard for not fulfilling his instructions to the 
letter we do not know, for there happened to 
be a change of Government at the time, and 
when the guard somewhat imjDudently desired to 
know Avhich of the two Postmasters-G-eneral — the 
in-coming or retiring — he was to address in his 
defence, the matter was allowed to drop. 

One of the few privileged amateurs was Mr. 
James Parkin, who generally worked on Teather's 
ground out of Penrith, towards Carlisle. He was 
one of those who would drive only the best of 
teams, and so gave up when the railways en- 
croached and the horses on the shorter journeys 
became inferior. He was wont to say he did not 
care to be a " screw-driver." He was a very 
steady but slow-going whip : too slow for the 
Mail, and lacked energy to make his horses slip 
along over the galloping ground, where really 
scientific coachmen always made up for lost time. 
The guard, in fact, was perpetually holding up 
his watch, admonishing him to " send 'em along." 

Ramsay of Barnton was a good enough Avhip 
when the cattle were good, but he liked to choose 
his ground. Nightingale, the great coursing judge 
of that day, was the one to " take a coach through 
the country." He took the horses as they came, 
— kickers or jibbers — and, thanks to his fine 



nerves and delicate liandlini>' of tli<' ribbons, kept 
his time to a second. 

Parson Bird Avas also said to 1)0 " well up to 
his work," and was so good-hearted a fellow that 
when the regular coachman from Keswick to 
Kendal broke his leg, he took his place for six 
weeks, and collected the fees for him. A story 
is told of a lady giving the parson-coachman 
half-a-crown at the end of the journey one 
afternoon, and being introduced to him at a l)all 
the same evening at Kendal. He at once asked 
for a dance, but she was highly indignant that a 
coachman should so presume. However, the 
matter was explained, and to such satisfaction 
that not only did she dance, but eventually became 
Mrs. Bird. 

Among the regular coachmen, John Beed took 
a very high place. He was a stout and a very 
silent man : all for his horses and nothing to his 
passengers. He drove the Glasgow Mail from 
Carlisle to Abington, never tasted ale or wine, 
and never had an accident. This was the more 
remarkable as Mr. Johnstone of Hallheaths, 
owner of Charles XII., horsed the Mail ah)ng one 
stage with notliing but thoroughl)reds ; and, had 
they " taken oif," not even Beed, strong-wristed 
though he was, could liave lield them in. 

Jolin IJi-yden was tlie very reverse of Jolnv 
lieed. and fiill of jollily and good stoi-ies on the 
box. 'Die two DrydcMs were even more dashing 
in tlieir styh' : one had Ww ml of leaching his 
horses to tj-ot when most men would haNc had 


tliem on the gallojD ; the other was a wonderful 
singer. Whenever the Mail reached a long ascent 
and he had to slacken speed, he would beguile the 
way with " She Wore a Wreath of Hoses," or "I 
Know a Flower within mv Garden Growing," in 
a rich tenor that would have secured him a good 
concert-room engagement in these times. 

Another notable coachman was " Little Isaac 
Johnson." He kept on the box for thirty-five 
years, and never had an accident. He was 
supreme with a kicking horse, and always took 
care to make him his near-side leader. When 
such an one was put there, he could punish him 
more severely, and liked to hit restive animals 
inside the thi2:h. He could *' fairly wale them 
up," if they continued to rebel. 

The Telfers were coachmen of the same severe 
school, and Avell knoAvn over Shap way. Jem 
Barnes, on the other hand, was fat and lumber- 
some and lacked fire ; so that people did say he 
had his sleeping-ground as well as his galloping- 
ground. But, one night, at least, Avhen he was 
driving north over Shap Fell, there was little 
chance of sleeping. He had on that occasion not 
only to gallop at all the snow-drifts, but to put 
a post1)oy and a jiair on in front. The pole-hook 
l)roke in midst of the blinding, snow-wreathed 
journey, and the hand of his almost namesake, 
Jem Byrns, the guard, was nearly frozen to the 
screw-wrench when he brought out a spare pole- 
hook and fastened it on. The snow was falling 
in flakes as large as crown-pieces all the while, 


and \\\v only comic relief Avas the voice of a 
" heavy swell " issuini^- from the box seat, heneath 
a ])erfcct tortoise-shell coverini^ of capes and furs, 
" JFhat are you fellows keeping me here in the 
cold for, and toarming your own hands at the 
lamp / " 

George Eade, another of this distinguished 
company, Avas very deaf, but with hearing enough 
to be cognisant of a great many objurgations from 
Mr. Richardson, of the " Grej^hound " at Shap, 
for taking it out of his horses. One day Richard- 
son came out and was particularly bland — nothing 
to complain of at all — but George, unable to 
distinguish anything, and concluding he Avas on 
the old subject, had his back up in an instant. 
" Hang you ! " said he, " Vm not before my time ; 
Til bet you £5 of it ; look at my loatoh ! " 

Jack Pooley was a great character. When he 
retired from the box, he joined the Yeomanry and 
entered his horse for a cavalry plate at a race- 
meeting. Two of the conditions of entry Avere 
that it must never have Avon £50, and also must 
])e half-bred. Some; objections being raised, it 
b(!came necessary to examine bim Ix'forc; the 
committ(;e. To the first question, Avliether liis 
lioi-s(! liad (5ver Avon €50, he n^plied, " No, indeed ! 
but he's liclpcd to los(! many a fifty — ^he ran three 
years in an opposition coach." The next ({uestion 
Avas, " VVIiai is lie l)y, Mr. Pooh'y ? " " I^v ? " 
said .la(^k, " V should say be Avas by a sliortiiorn 
hull, lie's snch a d(wil of a ioju'cm'." 'I^Ik^ answ«'rs, 
we arc told, wcii'c ('onsidcrcd cniiiicnt I v satisfMclorN . 


The mail-coachnien on the Shap and Penrith 
stasre Avere for some time afflicted Avith a marc 
that stopi)ed with every one of them in turn at 
the end of two miles. At last they all wearied 
of her, and orders were issued that if she refused 
asrain, she was not to be hrou^•llt back alive. On 
this fateful journey she started, and, accordin*^ 
to her use and wont, suddenly sulked and sat 
down on her haunches in the middle of the road, 
like a dog, with her fore-legs straight out in front. 
The coachman, armed by the contractor with 
power of life or death, did not proceed to tragical 
extremities. He got down, took a rail out of the 
hedge, and struck her nine times below the knees 
with the flat side of it. This treatment proved 
eflPectual, not only for that journey, but for all 
time, and she was docile and willing ever after. 

How bravelv and dosrsredlv the mails and 
stages battled on winter nights against the howling 
blasts of Shap and Stainmoor, sometimes con- 
tending with snowstorms and drifts in which not 
only the coachman and guard, but the passengers 
also, bore a hand at the snow-shovels and dug 
and delved until hands and feet, previously 
numbed with cold, glowed again ! How anxiously, 
AA'hen that digging and delving seemed almost 
ineifectual and the drifts impassable, did they 
strain their vision to catch a glimpse through 
the murky night, filled with driving snowflakes 
for the cheerful lights of that roadside inn, the 
"Welcome into Cumberland," telling travellers 
accustomed to this road not only of comfort 



avnilablo at liaiid, l)iit of a I'arowcll to tlio terrors 
of Wcstinoroland and aiJjjroacli to tlic slioltcred 
little town of renritli. 


At four miles and tliree-quarters from Kendal, at 
Watchgate, the finest vieAv opens, along Sleddale. 

-":^^=f;.-''^'-^ ■ 


Beyond it comes the " Plough " inn, with pictorial 
sign and tlie couplet — 

Ho that by the Plough would thrive, 
Himself must either hold or drive, 

a statement to Avhieli farmei's do not unanimously 

Jieyond tin's again comes llucks Brow, ihe end 
of tiie first stage out of Keudai, aud h'orest Mall, 
vvliicli, wiiii the Ahhcy i'\Mriu ai Sliap, foruis oue 
of the two largest siicep-faruis iu \\ Csl luorelaud. 


Another rise of a mile aud a half, and a steep 
descent leads to Boroughbridge, a hamlet where 
an ancient bridge spans a mountain stream and is 
neighboured by a few cottages and the " Bay 
Horse " inn. From this jioint the final and most 
tryin£r ascent is made. An old road aroes windinsr 
away in the valley below, past Hausefoot Farm, 
but it has long ceased to be of any but strictly 
local use. 

The road across Sliap summit is built upon 
peat bags, and needs constant repair. The boggy 
nature of the foundation is not aj)parent to the 
casual wayfarer, but may readily be discovered 
hj standing beside it at the passing of a motor-car, 
when it very perceptibly shakes. 

At the descent from the summit towards Shap 
village, the old road crosses to the right hand, and 
away to the right, half a mile across the moors, 
the hotel of Shap Wells is seen, rising from its 
Avooded liolloAv. 

Dr. Granville, who wrote a work on English 
spas in 18J?5, came in due course to Shap AVells, 
and remarks justly upon the wild and remote 
situation of the wells and the hotel, but he does 
not lay any stress ujion the truly awful ancient- 
egg flavour of the medicinal waters, which, if their 
medicinal virtues be in proportion to their taste, 
must needs be very remarkably curative. He 
talks rather of the colour scheme of the water, 
than of bouquet, and waxes eloquent on its bluish, 
opalescent hue. He was here in the height of 
summer, and found at the hotel a " lady sitting at 



a roasting fire (of AAliicli by-tlie-by I was glad 
to partake also) on the Otli of August." But 
notwithstanding the curious taste and flavour of 
the waters, the hotel is greatly frequented. It is 
not the waters, but the bracing air, that now forms 
the attraction. 

The village of Shap, although itself of no mean 
altitude, seems quite shel- 
tered after the four miles' 
run doAvn from the sum- 
mit. Still stands the old 
" Greyhound " inn of 
coachini? daA^s, as vou 
enter the village. And 
not only of coaching 
days, but of times earlier, 
as the tablet over the 
door, dated 1703, pro- 
claims. This was the 
inn, doubtless, at which 
Prince Cliarlie called, on his way, and found 
the landlady a " sad imposing wife." The weird 
greyhound sculptured on the tablet somewhat 
resem1)les the Saxon idea of a horse, as carved 
on White ITorse Hill, in Berkshire. 

Shap is a larg(; village, witii cattle-market, and 
an odd squat I)uil(liiig styled a " mark(»t cross," 
now used as a parisb room, but it is ciiiclly famous 
amoni^ tourists foi- its Abbcv, which exists onlv in 
scanty ruin, a mile away, in a lonely situation : 
lonely, that is to say, exce|)( for its great Ablx'V 
i'arm. You approach it^ over a sheep down and 



across a narrow bridge built by the old inouks 
so well that it stands soundly to this day and does 
not let my Lord Lonsdale through when he drives 
visitors across in his big motor-car, to see the 
ruined tower, practically all that remains of the 
Abbey. Shelter Avas more to the point when 
I came here, chased by rain-storms and thunder- 
storms that sjDouted and rumbled among the hills, 
and I know more of the kindly hospitality of the 


,r -J 



farm than of the antiquities of the Abbey, which, 
after all, are fcAv beyond broken columns and the 
stone coffins of departed and forgotten abbots and 
brethren. The Abbev was resigned in 1541 bv 
Eichard Evenwode, the last Abbot. Its revenue 
was then £154 per annum, a good deal in those 
days. To-day black -faced, horned Scotch mountain- 
sheep roam the Abbey lands. 

Hackthorpe village, with an old hall, now 
a farmhouse, beside the road, brings us to the 
neighbourhood of Lowther Castle and its beautiful 


]);ii'lv, scvit of the Eai'l of Lons(lal(\ The mansion 
itself, built hy Smirke in 1808, is mag-nificent, 
in the sense that it is liiig-e and was costly to build 
and is princely in its appointments, but it is not a 
castle nor is it Gothic architecture, although the 
architect who designed it, and the second Lord 
Lonsdale, for whom it was designed, fondly 
imagined it to be so. 

The wicked Lowther, the " bad Lord Lonsdale," 
i.e. the first Earl (1736-1802), once haunted this 
superstitious countryside, after he had run his 
earthly course Avith sinful eclat, and Avas a 
dreaded "boggle" — Avhicli is Westmoreland and 
Cumberland for " ghost." This once notorious 
character, "this brutal fellow," as BosAvell styled 
him, AYas eccentric to a degree, and actually 
acknoAvledged himself to be " truly a madman, 
though too rich to be confined." One of his 
eccentricities AA^as the keeping of Avild horses, 
instead of deer, in his park at LoAvther. Too 
rich and poAverful to care a rap AAliat Avas thought 
of him, he drove about in gloomy, out-of-date 
majesty in an ancient mildcAved carriage drawn 
by shaggy, unclip])ed horses. The entry of tliis 
(M[m'page into I'eiiritb, Avliei-(^ Ive owned most of 
the i)i'oj)erty and, i)()liti('ally sjx'akiiig, all the 
inhabitants, AVas regarded witli awful expectation 
of what h(^ would do next, and was f(\-ire(l almost 
as much as tlie coniini;- of some media'Nal judge 
armed with a commission to try rcbcds. 

in life representative of the worst and coarsest 
feudal harons of llie Middle Aii'cs, he was ludd in 


still greater terror in his death. The awe-stricken 
rustics long continued to tell how he was with 
difficulty buried, and how, while the clero:Yman 
Avas praying oyer him, his mischieyous disembodied 
spirit yery nearly knocked the astonished cleric 
from his desk. Disturbances at the Hall and 
noises in the stables followed, and men and horses 
had no rest. The Hall became almost uninhabit- 
able, and out of doors there Avas constant danger 
of meeting the noble but malignant spook, either 
driving in his ghostly " coach and six," or walking 
along the dark roads. In a desperate case of this 
kind, a Catholic priest was thought to be essential 
as a spirit-layer. The Established Church would 
not serve, and as for Dissenters — bah I The priest 
came and prayed, but Jemmy was obstinate and 
stood a long siege, and when conjured by all that 
was hoh", Avas only Avillin"; to be banished to the 
Red Sea — to which troublesome spirits are rusti- 
cated, as a sort of spiritual Botany Bay- — for a 
year and a day. This Avas not considered good 
enough. The district had experienced too much 
of him in life, and ardently Avished to be shot of 
his ghost for good and all, and so the priest Avas 
urged to pray for all he Avas worth, Avhich he did, 
finally overpowering the tyrant. Instead of trans- 
porting him to the Bed Sea, he Avas laid under 
the great rock of Walla Crag, HaAvesAvater, for 
ever ! 

It is at Clifton, just south of Penrith, that the 
real Borderland begins. We are still thirty-five 
miles short of the actual border-line, but we have 


come now within the " spliorc ol' influence " (as 
internatiojial jioliticians niii>ht now plirase it) of 
the ohl mossti'oopinij;', eattkvliftini^-, and ])lunder- 
ini;' and burning" rascals from the Scottish side, 
who ever and again came across the Solway in 
well-mounted hands that numbered perhaps twenty, 
or perhaps five hundred, and often swept the 
countryside clean of stock ; returning as swiftly 
as they had come, and leaving burning home- 
steads behind them. Those times have left plen- 
tiful traces, still plain to see, in the old domestic 
architecture of mansion and farmstead. Castles 
we have here, as elsewhere, but this borderland 
is the country of the peel-tower. In ages when 
the south of England lived in security, and men 
no longer built homes that were half fortresses, 
these oft-raided northern counties still lived in 
constant and well-founded aj)2irehensions, and 
every one who had anything to lose had his ov/n 
stronghold, in the little jieel- tower that was, 
according to circumstances, his entire home, or a 
considerable part of it. Many of the peel-towers 
remain, as uninhabited ruins : others form the 
central poi'tion of houses and mansions since en- 
larged. Ai (Jlirton stands such an one. 

It is a fair type of the defences once abso- 
lutely necessary. Vou sec tlic eai'c takcMi to build 
strongly, with tliick walls tbal 110 sw il'tly moving 
])and ol" rai(b'rs could liave leisure lo deniolisb ; 
and you sec, loo, tliat ii \v;i.s c(|ually impossible 
to burn. The gi-ouii(l lloor was not oiilv e\cc|)- 
iioiiaJI V solid, but it had no en I ranee IVou) w il houl , 


and was reached only by a traj)-door in the floor 

So soon as the farmer or the squireen of those, 
days had taken alarm, he drove his stock into the 
barmkin, or enclosure, attached to his tower of 
refuge, and, summoning all his family and secur- 
ing his valuables, ascended Avith them by a ladder 
to the first floor, and, withdrawing the ladder after 
him, awaited events. Eor defence he had a store 
of heavy stones on the leads above the second 
floor; or from the narrow-slitted windows could 
shift to shoot arrows, or fling hot water, boiling 
tar, or domestic sewage upon enemies Avho came 
near enough. 

But the cattle were still in danger, and the 
men of the house were usually concerned to 
garrison the tower with the women and children, 
and to give fight, if the odds were not over- 
whelming, outside ; and many a Westmoreland 
and Cumberland farmer has died in protecting 
his stock. 

Clifton should be marked on maps with the 
conventional crossed swords indicating the site of 
a battle, for it was here, on the evening of 
December 18th, 1715, that the Battle of Clifton 
Moor, the last ever fought on English ground, 
Avas decided. It is true that, judged by the 
standard of killed and wounded, it was no great 
affair, but it probably gave a final turn to the 
fortunes of the Young Pretender. It was fought 
midway in the panic-stricken retreat from Derby, 
and AAas a rearguard action, covering the retire- 



ment of the main body upon Penrith and Carlisle. 
Some tAvo thousand Higlilanders made a stand 
here, in the muddy road and fields, in advance of 
the village, as the sun went down, and the Duke 
of Cumberland's force, consisting chiefly of Kerr's, 
Eland's, Montagu's, Kingston's, and Cobham's 
dragoons, attacked them in the growing darkness. 
The rel)el cavalry were off at once. According 
to the account of Lord George Murray, on the 


Scottish side, " our horsemen, on seeing the 
enemy, went to Penrith " : an innocent phrase, 
which rath(;r obscures the prudent, if inglorious, 
fact that they "bunked," as a scliooll)oy would 
say, or " did a guy," as the slangy would remark : 
leaving tlie Jliglilaiid infantry to do the best they 
could. It was a liapha/ard liurly-burly that 
ensued. No one could see anyone. Tlie llii;li- 
]and(M's were (juiic invisil)le, ami tlu^ l']nglisli 
dragoons only to \n) seen by tbe gleam of their 
bulV bells in the darkiu'ss. Mr. Thomas Savage, 
a Quaker, whose honse was in the Ihiek ol" the 
vor.. II II 


encounter, was anxious for himself, and for his 
cattle, which interposed betAveen the combatants, 
but he had really little cause for alarm ; for 
both sides fired so high and so wide that not even 
a cow was killed, and after all tlie shooting* and 
the hacking was done, and the rebels had fled, 
leaving the more or less stricken field in the 
possession of the enemy, it was found that but 
twelve (or according to one account, five) High- 
landers had been killed and some forty to seventy 
made prisoners. On the English side, eleven 
dragoons were killed, and twenty-nine Avounded. 
Many a railway accident has wrought more 

The registers of Clifton church bear witness 
to this event, in the following entries : 

" The 19th of December, 1745, Ten Dragoons, 
to wit, six of Bland's, three of Cobham's, and oqc 
of Mark Kerr's Regiment, buried, who was killed 
y^ evening before by y*" Rebels in y^ skirmish 
between y^ Duke of Cumberland's army and them 
at y*" end of Clifton Moor next y^ town." 

" Robert Atkins, a private Dragoon of General 
Bland's Regiment, buried y" 8tli Day of January, 

This last was obviously one of the wounded. 

The Duke of Cumberland wanted a lodiiin^ 
for the night, and stayed accordingly in the house 
of Mr. Savage, who, during the progress of the 
aft'air, had locked himself in, while his daugliter- 
in-law hid in the kitchen cupboard. The Quaker's 
account of the Duke was, "pleasant agreeable 


company ho was — a man of parts, very friendly, 
and no pride in him." 

None came so well out of that fight as Colonel 
Iloneywood of Howgill, wlio secnns to have l)een 
a host in himself, and would have done even 
better had it not been for an accident l)y which 
even the bravest of the brave mii^lit be brought 
ingloriously to earth. His prowess was vouched 
for by a Highlander, who, asked how his people 
got on, quaintly replied : " We gat on vary weel, 
till the lang man in the muckle boots cam ower 
the dyke, but his fut slipped on a turd, and we 
gat him down." Tlie Highlanders nearly did for 
the " lang man," for they gave liim three sword 
cuts on the head, and then left. He seems to 
have lived a charmed life, for he was at that time 
invalided home from Continental warfare, in 
which, at the Battle of Dettingen, he had received 
no fewer than twenty-three broadsword cuts and 
two musket balls. 

His hurts do not seem to have jiermanently 
harmed him, for he lived forty years longer. 


In the lowlands l)oneath Clifton stands Hrougliam 
Hall, and n(5ar it JJroiigbam Castle, botli besidi^ 
tlie Eairiont riven*. A good deal of I lie llall is 
anci(!nt, but most oT tlui (^\t(U'ior, recased in a 
baroiiial way, looks lik(» (wliat it is) an academic 
aticmpt at recovering the aicliilecl iiial sl\l(> of 
tli(! fourtecMitb century. W'beii it is said tlial (lie 


Avork was done in the early part of the nineteenth 
century, it will be supposed, with a good deal of 
truth, that the result is dull and lifeless. 
Anciently the seat of the Broughams, it came at 
length to the Bird family, from whom the property 
was purchased in 1727 by the grandfather of the 
Lord Brougham who was Lord Chancellor and a 
great political figure in the days of George the 
Fourth, William the Fourth, and Queen Victoria. 
Dr. Granville, traAclling hereabouts in the middle 
of the nineteenth century, sampling medicinal 
spas, looked upon the Hall with awe, as the 
residence of that statesman. 

The Doctor cherished a remarkable veneration 
for that able, but eccentric personage, and was 
perhaps the only person to do so. Says he, " Like 
the Chateau de Vernet, Brougham Hall, when the 
grave shall have swept aAvay prejudices and 
political animosities, will be visited by thousands, 
eager to behold the chateau of the English 
Voltaire ; he who, to the encyclopaedic knowledge 
and pungent wit of the French philosopher, joined 
the impassioned and fiery eloquence of Mirabeau." 
Thus the enthusiastic Granville. 

Eloquence ? Brougham could tear a passion 
to tatters with any one, but he ranted. It is true 
that the post-boys used to drive the chaises of 
travellers in these regions somewhat out of the 
direct road, in order to glimpse the residence of 
Lord Brougham ; but those travellers viewed the 
place, and Brougham himself, with curiosity, just 
as one might an Icelandic geyser, to which, 


indeod, lie is not iiia])tly to l)o compared. His 
s])outing's were as plentiful and as hot. 

Not every one looked u])on Brouj^liain Avitli awe, 
as the caricatures of his grotesque physiognomy 
prove. Jemmy Anderson, a well-known post-hoy 
in this district, was not abashed by him ; but then 
post-boys venerated no one. It was in the days 
when the future Lord Chancellor was still Mr. 
Henry Brougham, Q.C., that Jemmy Anderson 
drove him, post, from Shap to Penrith, and " took 
him down " an unwonted peg. Jemmy jogged 
quietly along at about seven miles an hour, mounted 
upon an almost broken-down wheeler, until the 
fiery spirit within the post-chaise could stand it 
no longer. Letting down the front window the 
future Lord Chancellor vociferated : " Post-boy, I 
shan't give you a farthing, for you have driven 
me like a snail." " Indeed," replied the shrewd 
Cumbrian, " thee wunna gie me a farden, wunna 
thee ? Then ah've coomed far enow for nowt ! " 
With that he slowly dismounted and began to 
detach his horses from the chaise, until an appeal- 
ing voice from within led to a compromise, by 
which the angry lawyer, who had been sjx^cially 
r(!tain(Hl to appc^ar in a cau>in a'dehre at Penrith, 
capitulat(Ml, and upon ])aying his money down — 
upon which the olTended ])ost-hoy insisted Jennny 
Anderson was pei'siiaded to linisli tlic stage. 

The Hrougliain family, still owning the Hall, 
trac(; tl)(ni' (l(\scent from Saxon times, and one of 
their ancestors, refcned to as " Hnim," l\)rtilie(l iiis 
I'esidence here so lonu' aiio as I 2-S 1.. 


An early ancestor was Udarcl De Broham, a 
crusader, who died in 11S5. " His soul is with 
the saints, we trust " ; but his skull, ravished from 
his grave in Broug-ham Church, grins from its 
glass case in the Hall, and his trusty sword, that 
had been buried with him, is near by. It was 

in 1846, Avhen repairs 
were in progress at the 
church, that the skeleton 
of Udard was discovered, 
beneath the inscribed slab 
pictured here, a mere 
two feet deep. He had 
l)een laid here cross- 
legged and spurred on 
one heel. AVitli him had 
been buried a fragment 
of glass of Phoenician 
manufacture, blue inside, 
but externally patterned 
in black and white stripes 
not unlike the striped 
peppermint sweets still 
dear to rural youth. This 
was considered a talisman, or luck-compelling 
object, in the superstitious age in Avhich Udard 
flourished, and was doubtless brought by him 
from Palestine and buried with him as his most 
prized possession. 

Nine ancient De Brohams in all were dis- 
covered at this time, including the remains of 
Gilbert, son of Udard, a man of gigantic size, 

sepxtlchraIj slab of udard 
de broham. 


wlio died in 1230. A curious onamclled metal 
circlet, of beautiful workmanship, and in perfect 
2)reservation, lay beside him; and his grave was 
duly rifled of it. 

Eut Brougham Castle is finer than the Hall, 
or than memories of De Brohams. Brougham 
derives its name, down the long alleys of time, 
from Brovacum, a Roman station in these outposts 
of the Roman dominion, thickly studded with 
such. And a military post of the first importance 
it continued to be until the time of Henry the 
Fourth. Normans built the keep of the old castle, 
and the families of Vipont and De Clifford added 
to it, and held the marchlands against the Scots, 
or warred for or against their sovereigns, with 
more or less success, until their line ended in a 
woman : the famous Ann Clifford, Countess of 
Dorset, Pembroke, and Montgomery, who was as 
good a man as any. She was born in 1590, and 
enjoyed length of days and strength of mind 
during the Avhole of them, dying at last in 1070. 
Marrying twice, and unhappily on both occasions, 
she was twice widowed, and left with an only 
daughter. Upon her second widowhood she retired 
to these scen(;s of her youtli, and busied herself 
ill ichiiildiug licr ancient and ruined castles of 
Jh'ougliam, Apple])y, Skipton, liardon Tower, 
P(;ri(lragoii, and Bi-ougli ; together Avith tlie restora- 
tion of nuuHU'ous eluM'ches, and Uw ej'eetion of 
monumcnits to various peo|)h', including herscMl". 
SIk; was as ceascdess and busy a binlder as old 
liess of I lard wick bci'srlf, and an iin|KM-i()ns and 


masterful old lady who even withstood Crom- 
well. He declared he would ding down her 
castles as soon as she built them up, l)ut she 
merely replied that they Avould be rebuilt every 
time, and Cromwell was obliged to give in. " Let 
her build an she will, for me " he said, and build 
she accordingly did 

She is described as having 



been a " perfect mistress of forecast and aftercast," 
who " knew well how to converse of all things, 
from predestination to slea-silk ; " and she certainly 
was tenacious of her rights, or what she conceived 
to be her rights ; being as remarkable a litigant 
as she was a builder. By all accounts, she was 
nothing less than an unmitigated terror, and the 
plain man, who reads of her autocratic ways, is 
apt to think that the unhappiness of her marriages 



was felt by her husbands a good deal more than 
by herself, 

A^'e know a great deal about this extraordinary 
woman, for among her activities was the writing, 
at tremendous length, about herself and her 
ancestors ; and in those pages she dwells with 
an amusing complacency upon the early beauties 
of her face, her form, and mind. 


.c:<J tf-vi^e 

. 1^^ .- 


It was in 1(552 that she so thoroughly repaired 
Brougham Castle, making it afterwards lier 
principal residence ; but the day of castles was 
done, and, as sh(5 i-cally must have foreseen, licr 
works werc^ left, alter lier death, to decay. Her 
only dauglit(;r had man-icd tlu^ Earl of 'IMianet, 
wlio in 172S caused the most part of Hronglnnn 
('astl(i j() he (Icniolislicd, mikI (lie nialcrials sold. 
And Ikmn! it stands to-d.iN , a roollcss slicll. 


" Thys made Roger " are the Avorcls boldly 
carved over the gateway ; telling us that the first 
Lord Clifford was the great builder of the castle. 
His grandson added largely to it ; and a mighty 
place it must have been. Cliffords of Brougham 
and a dozen other strongholds dared with impunity 
Avhat smaller men would have been ruined to 
attempt the tenth part of ; and the messengers of 


Kings, sent with formidable scaled documents, 
have been set down to dine at Brougham Castle 
upon tlie wax and parchment of the commands 
they brought, and have made a hearty, but involun- 
tary, meal upon those unappetising materials under 
the grim eyes of my lord, without wine to wash 
thern down or condiment to flavour them withal. 

And now the scene is merely the subject for 
an artist ; and a beautiful subject, too. The 
old ruins stand in an ideal situation, in an 
undulating grassy meadow, sloping towards the 


sparkling Eamont, framod in with trees, and 
with distant mountains closing in the scene. 

Such is the present condition of the old 
Countess .Vnn's pride ; hut something of her 
passion tor commemoration remains, not so far 
away, in the monument knov/n in all this country- 
side as the Countess Pillar ; built by her in 
1656. It is adorned with her arms and those 
of allied families, and bears this inscrijition : 

This Pillar was erected Anno 1656 by ye Rt. Hono''''' 
Anne C!ountess Dowager of Pembi'ook, daughter and 
sole heireof ye Rt. Hono*"*' George, Earl of Cumberland, 
for a memorial of her last parting in this place with 
her good and pious mother, ye Rt. Hono^'" Margaret, 
Countes Dowager of Cumberland, ye 2'' of April, 1616, 
in memory whereof she also left an annuity of four 
pounds, to be distributed to ye poor within this parrish 
of Brougham euery 2'' day of April for euer vpon ye 
stone table here hard by. 


The Eamont, the Eden, and the Lowther were 
well guarded, as the fortified houses by the 
fords still prove. Yanwath Hall, an ancient 
home of the Threlkelds, is a fine example of 
a peel-tower added to and elaborated into a 
residence. It is one of the earliest and most 
intcn-esting, having ])een built midway in the 
fourt(M'iith c(;Mtiiry. '\'hc original tower, strong 
ill its walls, six ieet thick and emljattled, stands 
fifty-live; tVet liigli and looks down into a I'onrt- 
yard, tlic bai-inkin, or inner bailey, wliere the 
ancient oakcMi, iron-banded, and studded doors 
aad windows guarded by thick stanchions sliow 


how concerned the okl owners were for their 
personal security in insecure times. 

Cliburn, Sockbridge, and Barton Kirke were 
all fortified houses, disposed by these rivers like 
the castles upon a chess-board. Finest of these 
old fortified mansions is the romantically situated 

\ '>'^--v-'^r'\-^-'V^-'"v-a~r^ 

^ FORHVSPflM)ftATflHVfl 


and picturesquely designed Askham Hall, noAv 
the rectory of LoAvther, but situated in Askham 
village. It stands high above the wooded Lowther, 
foaming down among its rocks under Lowther 
Park, and was originally the castellated seat of 
the Sandford family. The front is dour and 
forbidding enough, and the interior^ although 
oak panelled and converted into a residence 


after the ideas tliat were modern two hundred 
and fifty years ago, does not commend itself as 
a cheerful residence. But the additions made at 
the side hy Thomas Sandford in 1574 are ex- 
quisitely sketchahle. They comprise a gatehouse 
and out])uildings enclosing a courtyard. The 
drip-moulding over the archway is in a peculiar 
style, resembling a cable ; its ends finished off 
in the likeness of ammonites. Over .the arch 
are the Sandford arms, Avitli those of Crackanthorpe 
and Lancaster of Howgill, and this inscription, 
done in letters run oddly together : 

Thomas • SaiKiford • Esqvyr, 
Forthys • payd • meatahyr ^ 
The • year • of • ovr • Savyore 
XV • hvndreth • seventyfovr. 

Tlie Sandfords ended at last, after three 
hundred years, in 1680. 


Returning to the road from these quests, the 
Lowther is crossed at Lowther Eridge. Beside 
the river and immediately skirting the road, is 
the earthwork known as " King Artliur's Hound 
Table," an ancient I'aised platform whose purpose 
can only Ix^ guessed at. No! King vVrfliur, l)ui 
the Norse settlers, are Iield to have Ixmmi the 
oi'iginatoi's of it, as tlie stage whereon theii- 
rude displays of anus were hehl : in |):ii-t a 
(Inel known as " liolnicgang," a species of ghidia- 

' Mtal ami hire. 


torial combat in which the opponents were 
armed with knives, hound together, and then 
compelled to fight to the death. Such are the 
fearful memories of this now peaceful scene. 
On the opposite side of the road, within a belt 


of trees, is an arena ascribed to the no less tragical 
rites of the Druids. 

King Arthur is further celebrated in a huge 
circular red sandstone tank standins^ in the yard 
of the " CroAvn " inn, adjoining. It is known 
locally as " King Arthur's Drinking Cup," and 
has a capacity of about eighty gallons, sufficient 
to quench the thirst, not merely of King Arthur, 


hut of a megatlieriuin. But quite apart from 
any wildly absurd lesrends, the thiniz; is astonishino? 
ill these days of zinc cisterns. Who so painfully 
scoo2)ed this tank out of a solid block of stone, 
and when, and how lonj^ the work occupied 
him, are alike unknown. 

On the embankment enclosing the prehistoric 
cam]) there has been placed in the last few years a 
monument, in the shape of an lona cross, to the pat- 
riotism of four natives of Eamont Bridge. But let 
the inscription on the cross itself tell the tale : ''At 
that crisis in the history of the Emj)ire, when 
volunteers were invited for active service in the 
South African War, this village of Eamont Bridge 
sent four : John Hindson, William Todd, and 
Arthur Warwick, of the 24th Coy. (Westmoreland 
and Cumberland) Imperial Yeomanry, and 
William Hindson, of the Volunteer Coy. of the 
Border Begt. Of these John Hindson and 
William Todd were killed in action at Eaber's 
Put, 30th May, 1900. This monument was erected 
by public subscription on this historic spot granted 
by Lord Brougham and Vaux, 11)01. Didcc et 
decorum est iwo patria mori.'' 

The old bridg(% l)uilt in 1125, spanning the 
Eamont River, has given its name to the village 
tliat has in the course of years sprung iij) liere. 
It is a small, scattered place, l)ut some ol' the 
lioiis(!s livi) old, and several I)ear iiiseript ions. 
" ()miH; solum I'orti |)atria est," says one, with 
initials " II. I*." and date " 1(»7I " appended. 
"II. r." was rvidcntly a student of ()\idius Nuso. 


The road over Eamoiit Bridge is very steep 
and narrow and the ascent beyond it steeper still ; 
so that the stranger, observing the fury Avith 
"which the drivers of the excursion wagonettes and 
motor chars-a-banc take the ascents and descents 
on their wild way to and from Penrith and 
TJlls water, confidently expects an accident " while 
he waits." But whether it be skill, or luck, the 
accidents do not happen, and expectant strangers, 
to have their expectations realised, would have 
to wait on the spot until the moss grew on them. 

According to the writers of guide-books, there 
maj^ be found, carved on the parapet of the bridge, 
the hospitable phrase, " Welcome into Cumber- 
land." You, in fact, in crossing it leave 
Westmoreland for. Cumberland, and, having read 
so much of this kindly sentiment, you seek 
diligently for the inscription. Alas ! in vain. 
There is not, nor was there ever, anything of 
the kind. Instead, what meets your eye is an inn 
whose sign, " The Welcome into Cumberland," 
is adorned Avith a representation of pipes and 
punch-bowl, and with a weird picture of a Person- 
age — he must be a Personage, for he wears frock- 
coat and silk hat — effusively greeting a Highlander 
arrayed in full Highland fig. Each looks astonished 
at the other, and the pilgrim of the roads, gazing 
fascinated, is astonished at both. This, then, is 
the " Welcome," and one by no means so disin- 
terested as you were led to expect. Another 
vanished illusion ! 

Even the inn bears its moral tag, for over the 




door you read " Struimusin Diem, sed Nox venit," 
Avitli the date " MDCCXVII," and the names 
of Nathan and Elizabeth Gower. One " R. L. 
Wharton " ap]3ears to have endorsed the sentiment 
(having duly inquired what the Latin meant) and 
subscribed his name and the date 1781, in 


Penrith derives its name, -originally Pen-rhydd, 
" the red hill," from Beacon Hill, 937 feet high, 
under whose shelter this place of narrow and 
huddled streets lies. The Beacon Hill was in the 
old days a protection to the surrounding country, 
for from its crest flared those warning flames that 
advised many a mile of threatened Westmoreland 
of the approach of the invading Scots. 

But although Penrith is sheltered by its great 
godfather hill, it was never at any time eff'ectually 
protected against the invader. Carlisle, eighteen 
miles away to the north, was its great bulwark, 
and if tliat fortified city fell, or were ch^verly 
avoided, then tin; case of P(Mirith was sorry indexed, 
as in tlic; notable instance of IfM;"), wlien the Scots, 
numbering 26,000 men, came |)()uring across the 
JJorder, and bin-iii the town and many neighbour- 
ing vilbigu's ; taking prisoners w itli tliem, on (beir 
retuin, as many Jiah; and iuiarty men as tbey eonld 
find, to be sold as sbives to th(^ higbest bi(bh'rs. 
Siu;b was lile on tbe Hin-dcrs in I lie lonrtccntb 
century, and, reading Ihesc things, we are inclined 


to agree with Taylor the "Water-poet's" con- 
clusion : 

Whoso then did in the Borders dwell 
Lived little happier than those in Hell. 

The next year, the remaining inhabitants of 
Penrith, graciously permitted by the King to pro- 
tect themselves, built a communal castle, and each 
townsman, so far as was possible to him, rebuilt 
his own dwelling-house in a strong and defensible 
Avay. Hence the grim, thick-walled houses that 
even now line many of the narrow streets. 

That the Castle was at least once rebuilt seems 
certain. One of these rebuildings was that by 
E-ichard, Duke of Gloucester, who, before he 
became that inimical character of history, Richard 
the Third, was Governor of these marches, and 
resided here in everv circumstance of mas^nificence. 
NoAv the place is a ruin, a condition it oAves to 
the Penrith people themselves, Avho early in the 
time of Queen Elizabeth considered they had a 
more pressing need for a ju'ison than for a fortress, 
and accordino^ly with thirty loads of stone, erected 
a very secure, if not very comfortable, gaol. 
At the same period, Robert Bartram, a merchant 
of the town, built himself a house from the same 
materials ; and there it stands to tliis day in 
the churchyard, inscribed " R. P., 1563." 

There is thus nothing pictorial in the bare, 
roofless red Avails of the Castle. It has little, 
or no story, and stands in the unromantic 
neighbourhood of the raihyay station, in a lofty 
situation on a hilltop above the town. 


The l)iik(^ of Gloucostor, although ho rebuilt 
the Castle, is chietiy associated with a much more 
sheltered situation, in the town itself. There 
were intervals between the acts of even Richard 
the Third's melodrama, when, turning from battle, 
and from compassing the death of his relatives, 
he sought repose and refreshment, and he found 
them here in Avhat must have been the exceedingly 
comfortable quarters of what was once Dockwray 
Hall, an ancient building that stands in the 
square called Great Dockwray, and is now, in 
memory of him, the " Gloucester Arms " inn. 

The old house does not wear so prepossessing 
an exterior as, under these historic circumstances, 
it should. That is largely due to its stucco 
facing, j)ainted the colour of decaying liver. The 
only exterior sign of the house being anything 
out of the ordinary is the carved and emblazoned 
shield over the door, displaying the arms of 
Richard himself, supported by two white boars 
with gilded names. Another doorway has a 
shield with three greyhounds, " in pale, courant," 
as a herald would say, and the inscription 
"I. W., 1580:" tlie initials standing for "John 
Wh<d))dal(!," who made; extensive alterations to 
the building. 

The pilgi'im wlio siij)s not merely on gross 
food M,(i(l drink, hut I'ccmIs tlic (iiu'r tissues of 
liis l)(Mng on historic sccmics and antiijue ])anell(»d 
rooms, will find much delii;-ht in the " (Iloncester 
Arrns." Ildnuiy sleep where tli;it gory IJiehard 
slept and, it may he lio|>ed, with a heller eon- 


science, and may look upon a banqueting-liall, 
now unfortunately subdivided, wherein our 
ancestors feasted on swans and other curious 
dishes long obsolete, washed down with nasty 
drinks unknoAvn to the present age. 

Equally interesting is the old " Two Lions " 
inn near by. It looks out up the street in a 
shy manner, being hidden upon a narrow entry, 
in a fashion that to a southron seems a strangely 
retiring pose for an ancient mansion of the landed 
classes ; a complexion from which, in fact, the 
house has, since ancient times, declined. Time 
was — in the reign of the more or less good Queen 
Bess, to be precise— when what is now the " Two 
Lions " was the " town house " of Gerard Lowther, 
a notal)le member of the always rich and powerful 
Lowther family ; and little though the exterior 
may attract, there is a very wealth of interest 
within. The fireplace of the hall has three 
heraldic shields, and the banqueting-room, now 
the smoking-room, has an enriched plaster ceiling, 
dated 1585 and disjDlaying ten shields of the arms 
of Lowthers and allied families. In an upstairs 
room is another ceiling heraldically adorned with 
the arms of Lowther and Dudley, dated 1586, 
and with the initials of Gerard Lowther himself 
and Lucy, his wife. More to the purpose of the 
smaller tradesmen of Penrith, who are the chief 
frequenters of the " Two Lions," is the tine 
bowling-green — bowling rhyming with " howling," 
in the speech of the older folk — at the back of 
the house. 


There is not much left of the ancient church 
of Penritli, l)csi(U5 its Gothic tower, for the hody 
of the huildiug dates only from 1722, and is in 
a classic style that seems rank heresy in a place 
so historic as this. Not even the monolithic Ionic 
columns of red marble that decorate the interior, 
nor the ornate gilded chandeliers presented by 
the Duke of Portland, in recognition of the 
loyalty of Penrith in 1745, can compensate the 
stranger for the loss ; although, to be sure, the 
toAvnsfolk are inordinately proud of them. But 
there are many ancient monuments in the church, 
and some interesting fragments of stained glass 
that have escaped destruction. Among them is 
represented golden-haired Cicely Neville, youngest 
of all the two-and-twenty children of Henry 
Neville, Earl of Westmoreland. This is that 
" Proud Cis of Raby " who was wife of E/ichard, 
Duke of York, and mother of Edward the Eourth 
and Richard the Third. Here, too, is seen a 
plaguey ill-favoured stained-glass " likeness " of 
Richard the Second, with hair of an unpleasant 
canary-yellow and a couple of chin-sprouts of the 
same colour. 

Still upon three sides of the church-tower you 
see sculptur(;d tlu; " bear and ragged stall' " 
device of the great l^]arl of Warwick, the King- 
maker, who in his time; was lord of Penritli, and 
i-('l)uilt tli(^ nppci- stage of tin; tower; l)ut nn- 
(loiil)t(!dly tlic chicil' interest — and mystery — of 
the s|)ot is tli(i so-called ** Giant's Grave," in llic 
oJjnrchyard. No one Knows who i-csis lieic, hut 


for choice it is the grave of a chief among 
those Scandinavian settlers who established them- 
selves in these northern counties in the tenth 
century. Legend, of course, stejis in to exj^lain 


that of which archaeology is ignorant. The in- 
vincible hardihood of legends is such as to 
command the astonished res2:)ect of the calmest 
mind ; and here we are bidden by old folk-lore 
to look Uj^on the grave of one Sir Hugh Csesarius, 


a man of colossal proportions, but as Li<^-liearted, 
lurtaphorically, as he was high, who cleared the 
surroiindini^ Inglewood Forest of the wild hoars 
that Avcre a terror to the people, at some period 
not specified. The tall grey sandstone pillars that 
stand over his grave, at a distance apart of fifteen 
feet, are supposed to mark his height, and are 
covered with Runic devices, greatly defaced and 
pitifully weather-worn. liude hunch-backed 
stones between them are pojmlarly supposed to 
represent the backs of boars. 

These hoary relics had a narrow escape of 
being totally destroyed by those who pulled down 
the old church ; and the work of breaking them 
into pieces had already begun when the indignant 
people of the town stopped it. The clamps marking 
where the broken pillars were mended are clearly 
to be seen. A stone, really the head of an ancient 
cross, near l)y, is said to mark the place where 
the giant's thumb is buried. 

Penrith has sufiered much in its time from 
wars and tumults, but it was afflicted in a dreadful 
manner by a great plague which almost depopu- 
lated the ncighl)ourhood between September 151)7 
and January 1591), as an inscription in the churcli 
relates. In P(3nritli itself 2,2()0 people died, and 
in Kendal 2,500. 

'V\\c du()\' sti'cets of tlie town hav(^ Ixhmi niiu'b 
modernised, but some old landmarks i-ewiiid I lie 
(lilig(uit. The " Prince ('liarles lleslauraiit," a 
baker's sliop, occupies the mansion where the 
Yoiin"' i'rcicndci- lodged, .-iiid sonic i)\i\ rcnritli 


merchants' houses remain : notably one in Ani^el 
Lane, on whose front tlie old local passion for 
remembrance, that usually finds expression in 
dates, initials, and improvinii^ maxims, develops 
into family history and epitajih, as thus : 

This acquir" by Rob' Miers 
Merc', who wae inter'^ the 
19'" of May 1722 His Wy= 
Marg' and Ann Sep'"' ye 19 
rebuilt in y" y' 1763 Sep''' ye 
30 by W. M. 

This is mysterious, beyond hojie of solution. 

On the building noAv an infants' school is the 
inscription " wil. robinson, civislondanno1670," 

oddly spaced, and over 

® o ^SZiS) ^^^^ entrance to an alley 

the initials " R. E. L. 
1697," with' sculptured 
shears above ; ju'obably 

r^ a relic of the Langhorn 
j family, cloth-merchants, 
whose earliest memen- 
to in this sort is the 

R z rCc)j 



inscription " T. E. L. 1584 


The Boer War of 1899—1902 has left a wayside 
memorial at the approach to Penrith, and another, 
in the shape of a beautiful bronze statue, personify- 
ing Victory conferring honour upon the fallen, 
stands by Middlegate, as you leave for the north. 
" Scotland Road," confronting you, indicates the 


not far distant Border, and then, at the " White 
Ox " inn, the ways divide : on the right the Okl 
Carlisk^ lload, on tlie left the new. Very steep 
and rongh goes the okl road for one mile. Prince 
Charlie marched it, and has my heartfelt sympathy. 
After passing the " Inglewood " inn, which seems 
forlornly to wonder what has become of the traffic, 
it rejoins the existing highway — ^which runs along 
the traces of an ancient Roman road — at Stony 
Beck. To the left hand, near Plumpton station, 
are some traces of the Roman station of Voreda, 
known as Castlesteads, or Old Penrith. It has 
yielded many relics. Of the ancient Inglewood 
Eorest, and the alarming wild boars that fre- 
quented it, there are no signs, and the road — 
as excellent a road as one Avould wish to find — 
goes with little incident away into Carlisle itself, 
the Petterill Brook on the left hand. The " Pack 
Horse " inn stands at the cross-road to Lazonby, 
where Salkeld toll-gate once stood, and then, two 
miles from High Hesket, on the left hand, rises 
the hill known suggestively as Thiefside : the 
thieves in question, no doubt, the old horse-thieves, 
cattle-raiders, and moss-trooping vagabonds of the 
Border. High Hesket is a tiny wayside village 
of the rough stone houses, generally whitewashed, 
that henceforward an; the feature of tlie road, 
through Cumb(;rlaii(l and into l)iiinrri(»ssliire. 
'V\\{^, clmrch of High llesla^t, (|uit(' a liinnl)le little 
building, with l)(;lleot(; in lieu of tower, stands, 
sliamf^laced in a coating of compo, l)y the way, 
near another dila2)idate(l old "White ()>l " inn. 


once busy with the traffic of a bygone day. The 
motor-cars disregard it, or merely halt for that 
last indignity to an inn, a pail of water wherewith 
to cool their engines. Dropping downhill to Low 
Ilesket, the road comes quickly to Carleton and 
then, by the frowzy street of Botchergate, into 
the midst of Carlisle. 

Carlisle was the first and stoutest bulwark 
gainst the northern foe, and maintained that 


character for close upon sixteen hundred years, 
from the remote time of the Roman dominion 
until the union of the kingdoms under James the 
First. The jDlace, standing as it does upon a rocky 
bluff, overlooking the levels of the Solway and the 
Eden, was, it would almost seem, intended by 
Nature for this office, and here accordingly the 
Roman wall of Hadrian was traced, running 
from sea to sea, from Wallsend near Newcastle, 
to Carlisle, and ending on the Solway Pirth 


at Eowness. Here tliey i'ound an early Celtic 
sottlomeiit, " Caer Lywelydd " ; but it was not 
the site of Carlisle, but rather Stanwix, its 
northern suburb, on the opposite bank of the 
Eden, that formed the Roman military station 
of LuguvallKW, i.e. the " station on the wall." 
What is now Carlisle was the civil settlement. 
When the R-omans withdrew, to defend their decay- 
ing Empire nearer home, Luguvallimi, peopled 
with half-breed Romano-British, who could not 
retire with them, made for years a hopeless fight 
with the savages out of Scotland on the one hand, 
and with the Saxons on the other. The Saxons, as 
almost everywhere else, prevailed in the end, and 
the town became in their tongue, " Caer Luel " ; 
whence the transition to " Carlisle " is one of 
the easiest. 

Carlisle, the great mediaeval fortress-town, 
owes its origin to Rufus. The mighty Conqueror, 
who subdued most other portions of this land, 
rested short of Westmoreland and CumlxM'land, 
which had then for one hundred and twenty years 
been accounted Scottish soil ; but it was under 
his generally despised son tliat tliese l)r()ad lands 
were won back for l']n gland ; and the Scottisli 
King Malcolm, invading F]ngland on tlie east 
coast, in r(^v(5ng(\ was slain in lOD.S, at Alnwick. 
I*en,ee, n«i\v(5ver, was not to r(M'gn upon lliese con- 
tested lands loi' y<'t many a ccntnry ; Iml uliat 
eonld he done was acc()ni|)lislie(l, and Carlisle 
(Jastle a.rose, a, grim Noinian k<'('|», iijion the 
liigiiesi ;i|)c\ of the (own. It was in after \ears 


enlarged and strengthened, and the strong walls 
of the city connected with it ; and to-day, although 
the factory-buildings and the smoky chimneys in 
a distant view of Carlisle show, readily enough, 
that the city is now a place of commerce, the 
Norman castle-keep still darkly crowns the scene, 
sharing its pre-eminence only with the Cathedral. 

But in spite of its castle and the stout town 
walls, Carlisle has been, many more times than 
can readily be counted, the scene of warfare, and 
was often sacked and burnt. It was thus ever a 
place of arms. In all the country round about, 
men went armed to tbe plough, and the great lords 
held their lands from the King under the strictest 
obligations to military service, and were captained 
by the Lord Warden, whose duties included the 
firing of l)eacons and the mustering of all men 
between the ages of sixteen and sixty. Small 
tenants held their fields and farms under the 
name of "nag-tenements " and "foot-tenements," 
and were bound, according to their degree, to 
fight mounted or on foot. 

When the enemy crossed the Border, there was 
a stir in the city of Carlisle, like that which 
accompanies the overturning of an ant-heap. The 
muckle town-bell was rung, the citizens assembled 
under arms, and the women manned the walls (if 
the expression may be allowed) Avitli kettles, 
boiling- water, and apronfuls of stones. 

There was no worse time in this long history 
than the reign of Henry the Eighth. War with 
Scotland had brought to that country the crushing 


dofeat of Ploddcn, where, in the words of the 
Scottish himeiit, ." The flowers of the forest were 
a' weed aAva " ; hut the result was anarchy in the 
Borders, where thousands of lawless men lived, 
whom no man could restrain. The Warden's office 
Avas then no lig-lit task, and a Scot on the English 
side, or an Englishman on the Scottish, went in 
momentary danger of his life. Every man was 
required to explain his presence, and in the streets 
of Carlisle none might speak, without leave, to a 
Scot, and none of tliat nationality was permitted 
to live in the city. 

Carlisle Castle remained at this period, and 
for long after, a strong place, hut nothing is more 
astonishing than the ease with which raiders often 
surprised even the stoutest castles. Let us take, 
for instance, the affair of the " hold Buccleuch " 
and Kinmont Willie, in the times of Queen 
Elizal)eth. The horders had long heen free from 
war on the larger scale, hut the moss-trooping, 
reiving forays survived in much of their early 
severity, in spite of the amicahle appointment of 
English and Scottish Lords Wai'dens, who were 
siippos(^d to r(\sti-aiii tlie lawless folk on eitlnM" 
side of tli(! dehat('al)le lands between the marches. 
The Ward(;ns' Courts were strictly conducted in 
Uh) districts of llic Solway, and tliose assemhled 
at tlumi wer(5 guaranteed IVoin violence on eillu'r 
sid(;. liut in inDfJ, wlien tlie ('ourt assembled at 
Kersbo[)eburn to setth' grievances in connection 
witJi tlie greaJ, raids of the Armstrongs, w lio bad 
come across from Scotland to ( be niimbei- of I bree 


thousand and lifted all the stock for miles around, 
the feelings of the English were raw. A notable 
man among these cattle-thieves Avas this same 
" Kinmont Willie," and the English sorely longed 
to take vengeance upon him. At the Court, he 
Avas protected by the rules of that assemblage, 
but in riding aAvay he was reckless enough to go 
off alone, and what might have been expected 
happened. He was captured and consigned to a 
dungeon in Carlisle Castle. 

All the Scottish side of the Border was imme- 
diately in an uproar at this violation of agree- 
ments, and Sir Walter Scott of Buccleuch, Keej^er 
of Liddesdale, was moved to apply for the raider's 
release. Buccleuch was a law-abiding person, 
and Avould probably have been glad enough to 
see Kinmont Willie properly hanged on his own 
side, but this breach of the understanding between 
the Wardens was an outrage not to be endured. 

Lord Scrope, the English Warden, informed 
him the affair was so important that it must be 
referred to the Queen ; and she in turn ignored it 
altogether. Buccleuch therefore determined, at 
whatever cost, to rescue the prisoner, who would 
otherwise soon have been hanged, and he put 
himself at the head of two hundred and ten 
desj^erate spirits who at night crossed the Esk and 
silently drew near to Carlisle, two hours before 
peep o' day. They had brought with them, on 
horseback, scaling ladders for the castle walls, and 
pickaxes, and made a breach by the postern-gate. 
What were those sentinels doing, who were not 


alarmed ? Sleopinii;, doubtloss. At any rate, the 
i>'arrison knew nothing until Buccleuch's men had 
forced an entrance. The dungeon where the 
prisoner was immured was known, and he was 
hrought forth, chains and all, and hurried away. 
The whole party were speedily off again, and into 
their own country, before pursuit was properly 

The last raid took place actually in 1601, when 
the kingdoms were united by the accession of 
James the First, and Avhile he was at Berwick, 
journeying to London. Several hundreds of Scots 
then came plundering past Carlisle, and many 
were captured and duly hanged. James, anxious 
to unite the kingdoms in reality, ordered that 
the name of " the Border," standing for centuries 
of warfare, should give place to " the midlands," 
but the new style does not seem ever to have come 
into general use ; and the coming of the Stuarts 
meant in after years much more trouble for Carlisle 
and its surroundings ; for it was in 1611-5 that the 
city endured the longest and most severe siege 
in its history. It was held for the King, and be- 
leaguered for eight months by the Scottish General, 
L(Nslie. The citizens paid dt^arly for their loyalty, 
and were reduced to eating horses, dogs, and rats. 
Hungry folks chased currant cats hazardously 
aci'oss roof-tops, in vi(;w of tlie besiegers, wlio took 
long shots at th(;m ; and even hemp-seed became so 
d(5ar that only the wealtliy could alVord it. ^lonoy 
curnmt ill tlic city was coined fi-oin silver plate; 
but tluM-e was so litll<' food <o pin-chase (hat, as a 

vol.. II ij 


diarist of the time wrote, *'tlie citizens were so 
shrunk from starvation, they coukl not choose but 
laugh at one another, to see their clothes hang 
upon them as upon men on gibbets." 

It was upon the surrender ending this memor- 
able siege that Carlisle Cathedral suffered so 
greatly. The visitor who first sets eyes upon the 
venerable pile finds himself bewildered by its 
unusual proportions, and has some difficulty in 
distinguishing which end is east and which west. 
He has been used, everywhere else, to see the nave 
of a cathedral much longer than its choir, and to 
see the building stretching away westward from 
the central tower five and six times the length of 
the eastern, or choir, limb. Here, however, when 
he has definitely settled his bearings, he perceives 
the choir to be more than thrice the length of the 

This present odd aspect of the Cathedral, looking 
as though it had been twisted bodily round, is 
entirely owing to the fury with which the soldiery 
fell upon it, after the siege. Where there were 
once eight bays to the Early Norman nave, there 
are now but two : the rest all Avent as so much 
rough stone whereAvith to repair tlie walls of the 
city and to erect guard-houses : a curious reversal 
of its early use, for it was from the ancient Roman 
wall that these stones came in Norman times. 

But Carlisle was not done with trouble, even in 
the sacrilege of 16i5. It escaped in 1715, for the 
rebels avoided coming to clashes with a fortified 
city ; but it came to know intimately of the much 


more nearly successful rebellion of 1715. But 
what use are hattlemented walls of stone, if they 
be manned with faint hearts ? After all the brave 
doinjjfs of " merry Carlisle," it is sad to think how 
low the martial spirit had sunk by 1745, when the 
militia, assembled in the city, declined to fight the 


rebels under Prince Charlie. A bold front would 
have comp(^ned the invaders to leave Carlisle 
alone ; but Ibe l)r()ads\V()r(ls of tlie ILigli landers bad 
so much of wliat niilitarv bistorians term " moral 
eflect " tliat tbc militiannni positively refused to 
run tlie risk of Ixuny; cleaved b} tbat t«M riblc cold 


steel. Poor Colonel Durand, in command — if we 
may still call that a command Avhicli will not obey 
orders — might rave, and implore, and even weep, 
bnt it was nseless, and the city was surrendered. 
Prince Charlie was in camp at Brampton, eight 
miles away, and it must have been a proud moment 
for him — if a sorry humiliation for some — when 
mayor and corporation went out to him and on their 
knees offered the keys of the gates. The next day the 
Prince entered in triumph, on a milk-white horse, 
one hundred pipers piping before him. It must 
have been a fearful moment — for those Avho did 
not love the bagpipes. 

George the Second, at St. James's, began to 
reconsider his position at hearing of this signal 
failure of his sworn protectors, and many excellent, 
though time-serving, people in high places began 
to explain aAvay the disagreeable things the}' had 
said of the Stuarts. But in a fcAv Aveeks, as we 
know, the Highlanders Avere retreating ; and, 
trimming their sails anew, politicians and witlings 
Avere repeating again their protestations of loyalty 
to the House of Hanover, and refurbishing that old 
quotation from E^evelation, chapter xA^i. Averse 11, 
first current in 1715, by Avhich they affected to 
believe that James the Second of Ensrland and 
SeA'enth of Scotland, and his son, the Pretender 
{de jure James the Third and Eighth) Avere the 
subjects of prophecy : " And the beast that Avas, 
and is not, even he is the eighth, and is of the 
seven, and goeth into jierdition." 

An ingenious find, it must be alloAved, and 


siifTicient, providing- no one else could refer to 
Revelation and find another quotation, a little 
destructive of the first. But such an one was 
actually to hand in the preceding verse, which 
very curiously says, " And there are seven kings : 
five are fallen, and one is, and the other is not 
yet come ; and when he conieth, he must continue 
a short space." There were those excellent Whigs 
who, reading this, were not entirely happy until 
events demonstrated that the rebellion was abso- 
lutely hopeless. 

Tlie Duke of Cumberland with ease retook the 
city, and captured with it Prince Charlie's devoted 
rear-guard : the brave Colonel Townely and his 
120 men of the Manchester Regiment, together 
with over two hundred Highlanders, and some few 
Prenchmen. They were lodged in the Cathedral, 
and thence taken in a long melancholy procession 
to London, there, according to their degree, to be 
beheaded as genth^men, or hanged like common 
malefactors. Tb(!y rode, tied hand and foot, or 
walked, roped togc^ther, the whole bitter way. 

The Duke was not greatly impressed with the 
military value of the castle. He called it "an 
old hen-coop," l)ut it liehl securely enough the 
otbei' misei-able prisonei-s wlio were sent into 
(yarlish; after Cullodeii. l\)\iv liiiiidred of tlieni 
awaited tlKMrdooiu in tlie grim dungeons, tlirougli- 
out tli(; liot weatlier of 171'<), and in Octolx'r the 
(;x(!Cuiioris began. Nini^ty-six fell to liie li;»ng- 
man, juid others were traiispoi'ted bcvond seas. In 
baJcJics of liall-a-do/cM or a dozen at a I inic, I Iicn 


were called forth from their captivity and drawn 
on hurdles to that Hanoverian Golgotha, Gallows 
Hill, south of the city, where they were hanged 
and afterwards quartered, in the bloody-minded 
old way ; their heads afterwards set upon poles 
over the Scotch Gate. 

You may see relics of that savage time, even 
now, in the cell fashioned in the thick eastern 
wall of the keep : the prison occupied by Mac- 
donald of Keppoch. He whiled away the tedium 
of imprisonment by decorating the walls with 
designs, executed with a nail, and there they still 
remain. At this day Carlisle Castle is a somewhat 
shabby military depot. The outer bailey is a 
parade-ground skirted with barracks, and the 
inner ward and keep are War Office storehouses. 
But it is in the unexpected modern surroundings 
of the public library that the most tragical memento 
of that time brings the hazards of rebellion with 
greatest vividness before you. This is a plaster 
cast of a monument erected to Dr. Archibald 
Campbell in the Savoy Chapel, London. The 
Chapel was largely destroyed by fire in 1864, and 
with it the marble monument. The unfortunate 
doctor was a non-combatant who acted as surgeon 
to the rebels at CuUoden, and escajied abroad from 
that disastrous field. He returned, after seven 
years, to his Scottish home, thinking he might 
then safely do so ; but was informed against and 



The greatest figure in the coacliing Avorkl up 
north was Teather, who was principal contractor 
for mails and stage-coaches in all that lengthy 
territory of 1G6 miles ])etween Lancaster and 
Glasgow. The careers of the Teathers reflect 
the fortunes of the road. John Teather, the 
father, was originally landlord of the " Royal 
Oak," Keswick, which does not stand on the 
main route to the north ; but he left the com- 
parative obscurity of that Lakeland town for the 
bustling activities of Carlisle, and from that 
strategic coaching position worked the coaches 
sixty-five miles south to Lancaster, and 101 miles 
north, to Glasgow. 

Eight mails entered and left Carlisle daily, 
and seven stage-coaches ; and eighty horses were 
kept for the proper working of them. Teather 
and his son managed this important business : the 
younger succeeding to it in 1837 and, in the 
general wreck brought about by railway exten- 
sion, living to end where his father had begun, as 
landlord of the " Iloyal Oak " at Keswick. 

With the coming of the nineteenth century, 
some steps were taken to make Carlisle a port. 
It was thought that a sliip-canal IVom a ])lace 
called Pisher's Cross on the Solway, to Carlish*, a 
distance of twelve miles, won hi make tlie ancient 
city a place of coiinuercial iiii[)()rtance ; and ac- 
cordingly the canal was cut, ]Sl<)-2.*i, at a cost 
of , COO, 000, niid ImsIkt's Cross was di^iiilied i)V 


the new name of " Port Carlisle." The enterprise 
never paid its Avay, any steps that might in after 
years have heen taken to improve the position being 
rendered impossible by the coming of railways ; 
while the irony of fate long ago overtook the 
canal, in its conversion into a railway. 

It was in December 1846 that the first railway 
ran into Carlisle from the south. This was the 
Lancaster and Carlisle Railway, long since al)- 
sorbed into the London and North-Western. In 
September 1847 the Caledonian Railway, from 
Carlisle to Moifat, carried on the new methods 
another stasre, and in the followina^ Februarv it 
was further extended to Glasgow and Edinburgh. 
It was necessarily the death-blow of the coaches 
along the main route. My old friend, Mr. W. H. 
Duignan, of Walsall, Avho remembers that time, 
travelled from Carlisle to Glasgow by the last 
mail-coach. He went to the " Bush " hotel and 
booked a seat for the occasion. 

The bookkeeper remarked, when he gave his 
name, " I think I have often booked you before, 
sir, have I not ? " 

" Yes," the traveller replied. 

" Then, sir," rejoined the clerk, refusing the 

money, " Mr. " — mentioning the name of the 

hotel-keeper — " Avill feel it a pleasure if you Avill 
accept a seat, and order anything you please, at 
his expense." 

My friend declared that was the most gentle- 
manly-dying mail he ever knew. 

The " Bush " has since been rebuilt, but at 


Corby Castle, some two miles away, in what was 
once the " Haunted llooni," there hangs in a 
frame an interesting j^'^'^g of glass from one of 
its Avindows, inscribed by no less notable a traveller 
than Hume, the historian, with the satirical verse, 
reflecting upon the "Bush," the Cathedral, and 
Carlisle in general : 

Here chicks in eggs for breakfast sprawl ; 
Here godless boys God's glories squall ; 
Here heads of Scotchmen guard the wall, 
But Corby's walks atone for all. 

Sir Walter Scott saw this in 1825, and humorously 
remarked in a letter to his friend Morritt upon 
*' Hume's poetical w'orks." 

The reason that made Carlisle in early days 
the key of military dispositions, and in later 
times so important a coaching centre, acted even 
more powerfully in making it the busy centre 
of many railway systems that it is to-day. Carlisle 
has ever stood squarely in the way of those who 
would pass on the west between England and 
Scotland. To-day, the rival railways all run into 
one joint station : and thei-e the London and 
North-Western, the Midland, and tlieir r(\spective 
allies, the Caledonian, the North liritish, and the 
Glasgow and South-Western, after many a Par- 
liamciitai-y l)attle in the past, compose tlieir 

The cliicr ('oachliig-busiMcss was i-iiincd tlius 
early, l)iit tlic braiicli eoaelics yet remained, and 
th(^ last coach — that to Kdiiiburgli bv llawick — 
did not b'av(^ Cai'lislc on ils (inal joiinicv imlil 


August 31st, 1862. Coaching history, however, 
is as little illustrated in Carlisle by visible remains 
as the ancient story of the place, for Avhile the 
" Bush " has been rebuilt, the rival inn, the 
" Crown and Mitre," in Castle Street, has declined 
to the state of a coffee-tavern, and the " Blue 
Bell," in Scotch Street, has obviously seen its 
best days. 

If you seek frowning gateways, embattled walls, 
and the like, sufficient to clothe the stirring story 
of Carlisle, you will be freezing in the cold shade 
of disappointment, for the streets of Carlisle are 
wide, many of the houses are modern, and rail- 
ways are very much to the fore. The Cathedral 
is obscurely placed, and almost the only picturesque 
nook is the alley called St. Alban's Bow. Even 
the old upping-blocks that used to stand so 
plentifully by the kerbstones for the convenience 
of horsemen, and were a feature of Carlisle, have 
disappeared. Only the odd names of the streets 
and allevs occasionallv remain : amono; them 
Bickergate, Whippery, and Durham Ox Lane. 

Carlisle of to-day has a commercial reputation. 
It makes hats and whips, and textile fabrics, 
to sav nothins^ of dve-works, where the citizens 
of Carlisle are prepared (at a price) to dye for 
their country. The manufacture of gingham, too, 
the secret of it stolen long ago from Guingamp, 
its native place, in Brittany, occupies a good deal 
of attention, and the production of biscuits and 
cardboard-boxes makes up the tale of the city's 
activities. But Carlisle, for all these develop- 



mcnts, looks a poor j)lace, and hj no moans a 
merry. All the fun ceased when raiding and 
murdering went out of date, and the only merry- 
making nowadays to be seen and heard is not 
indigenous. It is to be found at the great Carlisle 
Joint Station, at unseasonal)le hours, and is 
provided, free, gratis, all for nothing, by travelling 


theatrical companies bound for Scotland. Por 
two generations past, the low comedians of the 
companies have whiled away the weary waiting 
sometimes to l)e done on Carlisle platforms, 
and astonislied tlie tired porters by dancing Seoteli 
reels and sword-dances, accomj)aiiied by iiendish 
yelf)s, or have (expressed a desire to luive a 
*' willi(^ vvauclit," lo "dee for Annie Lani-ie," to 
I)e " Ton tli(^ noo," or anytliing els(^ su])p()sedly 


Scottish. It is one of the most cherished con- 
ventions of the theatrical profession on tour. 

This great joint railway station — the Citadel 
Station, as it is called — is neighboured by two 
enormous mediaeval-looking drum towers of red 
sandstone, restorations of two of the same character 
built in the sixteenth century. They look none 
the less gloomy because they serve merely the 
purpose of Assize Courts, instead of fortifications. 
You must needs pass between them on entering 
Carlisle from the London road, and they are among 
the first things to dispel any idea the stranger 
may have brought with him that Carlisle is really 
" merry." 

There is that about the modern appearance of 
Carlisle which irresistibly reminds one of a ragged 
urchin clothed in some full-grown man's trousers. 
Many things are too large for its circumstances. 
Two prominent things among the many that 
suggest this comparison are the unnecessary 
electric tramways and the noble Eden Bridge, 
carrying the road across the river to Stanwix. 
The bridge, built a hundred years ago, is monu- 
mental, and even the lamp-standards, designed for 
it at the same time, are fine. But tlie over-head 
trolley-wires are an offence to the spirit of the 
thing, and the city of Carlisle cares so little for it 
that ugly electric light standards are 2)laced at 
intervals, and the fine old iron lamps that might 
so easily and liandsomely have been adapted, now 
serve no useful purpose. 



Crossing to Stanwix, wo aro at last on the Border, 
for here ran the Ilonian wall, on its way from 
Wallsend, near Newcastlo-on-Tyne, to Bowness, 
dividin": the civilisation of that time from the 
unknown savagery further north. Built about 
A.D. ] 21, at the instance of the Emperor Hadrian, 
it kept the painted, skin-clad " Picts " in their 
own wild country for over three hundred years, and 
employed a considerable garrison to patrol it and 
exercise a continual vigilance along those bitter, 
wind-swept miles. Many a gallant centurion, 
condemned to mountins; ffuard in these ancient 
marches, has doubtless in the long ago leant over 
the ramparts of the Wall, and gazing into the 
shaggy forest and brushwood beyond, called down 
curses upon the " forward policy " in Home, 
that pushed the limits of Empire into the frozen 
north, before the southernmost provinces were 
fully settled. Here was no society, and no 
glory in fighting with savages to be compared 
with that to be gained in campaigns against the 
armies of Carthage or of Greece. 

Here, at this wall-fortress of Convagata, there 
was, at any rate, the nc^ighbourhood of Lug uv all urn, , 
apparently well-settled, l)iit tlie solitary lite of 
these wardens of old ilomc^ in tlie lonely mile- 
castles of th(! wall must have Ixmmi so exceiulingly 
dull that tlie dang(u-s of an occasional Pict raid 
would be welcomed. 

Mv(ui in limes so coniparatively niodcrji as iho 


beginning of the seventeenth century the Border 
was little known. Camden spoke of the northern 
reaches of this road, before he visited Cumberland 
in 1607, as a part of the country " lying beyond 
the mountains toward the Western Ocean," and 
was greatly exercised with the hazards of even 
nearing these remote fastnesses. He approached 
the Lancashire people Avitli " a kind of dread " ; but, 
trusting to the protection of God, determined at 
last to " run the hazard of the attempt." He did 
indeed come to the Border, but found, in exploring 
the Roman Wall dividing England and Scotland, 
that the Wall was not only a division between 
two countries, but marked the confines of civili- 
sation. He accordingly returned, shivering with 
apprehension, leaving his projected work incom- 

Stanwix, site of Convagata, obtains its name 
from the " stone way " the Saxons found here. 
Truth to tell, modern Stanwix is a sorry spot 
on which to meditate upon the departed colonial 
fortunes of Imperial Rome, for the Wall is gone 
and Stanwix church and churchyard stand upon 
the site of the fort. A precious ugly church, too, 
it is that has been built here : Early English only 
by intention ; with a dismally crowded churchyard 
around it. A pathetic story is told by one of the 
epitajihs : " Here lie the mortal bodies of five little 
sisters, the much-loved children of A. C. Tait, 
Dean of Carlisle, and of Catherine, his wife, who 
were all cut off within five weeks," They died 
during an epidemic of scarlet-fever, in 1856. A 


iiK^norial Avindow to tliem is in the north transopt 
ol" the Cathedral. " A, C, Tait " was, of course, 
Archihakl Camplxdl Tait, afterwards Archhishop 
of Canterhury. 

But if Stanwix he so ugly and commonplace, 
the scenery in which it is placed is extremely 
heautiful. The greater, then, the crime of those 
who have made it what it is. There is a lovely 
steep grassy descent, plenteously wooded with noble 
trees, that falls away from the ridge of Stanwix 
down to the Eden, and thus skirts the river for a 
mile or more. " Rickerhy Holmes " is the name 
of this heautiful feature. From this point you 
gain the finest view of Carlisle. 

It is a flat, featureless country that stretches 
north from Stanwix across the nine miles to the 
Border-line. Miserable villages that are merely 
collections of gaunt cottages little better than 
hovels, often built of "dubbin," i.e. clay and 
straw, occur at intervals. Nearly all of com- 
paratively modern date, they point unmistakably 
to the fact that it is not so very long since to live 
in the Debatable Land was hazardous, and not 
to })e thought of l)y the law-abiding. Very well 
indeed for moss-trooping vagabonds and cow- 
stealers, l)ut not for tli(^ responsible, or thos(^ who 
wished for a qui(;t life. 

Passing Closlin Syke, wlierc a marsliy stream 
cross(;s t]i(! I'oad, we {'onu^ to Kingstown, where 
tlie rojul hranelu's right and h'l't. On this, the 
hast, stage to the I'order, tiiis pai'ling (tf the 
ways meant innch to chtping couples, honnd for 

vol.. II l.J 


Scotland and marriage immediately on reaching 
Scottish soil. 

The geography of Gretna and the Border is, so 
far as roads are concerned, somewhat involved, 
and requires careful explanation. Up to 1830, 
when the wide-spreading sands of the Esk were 
bridged, the way for coaches and all road-traffic 
lay circuitously through Longtown to the right 
of where the fork of the roads now occurs ; hut in 
that year the New E/Oad, or the " English Road," 
as it was commonly called, was opened, causing 
much interference with what the inhabitants of 
Springfield had almost come to regard as their 
"vested rights." For, as the accompanying plan 
will show, Springfield lay directly on the route 
into Scotland ; and Gretna Green merely to one 
side of it. But here again it behoves the historian 
to be careful and not rashly to assume that the 
early marriages were made at Springfield, and 
should therefore have been named after it. As a 
curious matter of fact, this village did not come 
into existence until 1791, when it was built by 
the then landowner. Sir William Maxwell, who 
named it from a farm standing tliere. It was 
then, and for long after, the home of people pro- 
fessing to be weavers, but really, almost without 
exception, a set of drunken Border blackguards 
Avho, when not helplessly intoxicated, were 
smugglers and poachers and wastrels generally, 
and, living in the marches of the two countries, 
respected the laws of neither. 

Springfield, immediately after its rise, took 



away most of the marrying business of Gretna, 
beins: nearer the maq-ical dividin2*-line. 

Bhickford, on the Longtown road, is of the 
one unvarying- jiattern here, and is followed by 
the hamlet of West Linton, by the river Lyne, 







Bur^K-upon Sdntli 

) Sfanwix 


when; a C()ttag(^ or so, a farm, and the wliite- 

vvashed " (Iraliam's Arms," with its motto, 

"N'Oublics" stand stodged in tlic mud. l-'ir- 

trees and a Iain(d-hordored road thru lead to tlie 


by-way where Arthuret church, standing solitary, 
serves for churchless Longtown, half a mile 

In Arthuret churchyard there is shown a 
broken cross, said to mark the graAC of Archie 
Armstrong, the famous Court fool of James the 
First and Charles the Pirst. James brought him 
south, from the Border, Avhere he had early dis- 
tinguished himself as a sheepstealer in Eskdale ; 
and his impudence and invincible effrontery 
brought him a long period of success at Court. 
But at last he overreached himself, in his enmity 
to Archbishop Laud. On one occasion, saying 
grace at AYhitehall, he exclaimed, " Great praise 
to God and little laud to the Devil," and all 
the Court sniggered ; but when, in 1637, he met 
Laud at a time when tlie Scots were rising 
against the Archbishop's attemjits at dictation 
in religious matters, and asked, " Wha's fool 
the noo ? " the jester's licence had grown beyond 
endurance, and he was dismissed. He lived many 
years longer, and earned the reputation of an 
extremely usurious lender of money, to whom no 
sharp practices came amiss. The cross shown as 
marking his resting-place is really portion of an 
ancient Scandinavian monument. 

Another character, very notorious in his day, 
lies in the churchyard : Sir James Graham of 
Netherby, who was Home Secretary in 1844, 
when the correspondence of Mazzini and other 
jjolitical refugees was opened at the General Post 
Office by his direction, and read. Graham re- 



ccived liis orders from the Earl of Aberdeen, 
Minister for Eoreign Alfairs, but it was Graham 
himself upon whom the whole of the public 
obloquy fell, and he remarked, in the true spirit 
of prophecy, that all else he had done would be 
forgotten, and he ANOuld be remembered only by 
this Avretched incident. It surely is a pitiful 
thing and a real tragedy of the public service 

C <y I^M>^i-U. 


that an honourable gentleman who in private life 
would liave scorned to do anything mean should 
go down in history as the man who violated the 
sanctity of private correspondence. 

^I'lieri! are no arcliitectural i»races in Lon^toAvn. 
I^]acb lioiise is lik(5 its fellow and every street 
res(Mnbles ev(M'y other street. How tlien do th(» 
straycMl i-evellcrs, r(^t iiniiiig lioiiie " Ton," liiid 
the way to (heir especial domiciles? An atteni|il 
to subdue I lie stark angulai'it \ ol' Loii^tow n, 


though not to give its streets variety, is seen in 
the somewhat recent planting of the roads with 

Many people suppose the river Esk at Long- 
town to be the division between England and 
Scotland. The supposition is reasonable enough, 
for the actual divisor, the Sark, four miles 
fui'ther on, apiDroaching Springfield, is a very 
insignificant stream in aj^pearance. The political 
and the social significances of it were, however, 
of very serious im2:)ort indeed. 

Solway Moss is joassed on the way. Turner 
has made it the sul^ject of one of the finest plates 
in his Liber SUidiorum, and has imported into 
the vicAv some mountains that are not there, 
together with some weather which, fortunately 
for the present writer, was equally absent when 
he passed this way. 

Solway Moss is marked on the maps with the 
conventional crossed swords that indicate a battle. 
It was not an epoch-making battle that was 
fought here,- November 24th, 1542, but it was 
one of the most complete of English victories, 
and the story of it is compact of a j^eculiar terror. 
The Scots had crossed the Border in force, and 
were proceeding on their usual lines of fire and 
pillage, to the assault of Carlisle, when they were 
met at Arthuret by an army under Sir Thomas 
Wharton, the stout "Warden of the "West Marches. 
The English onset disorganised the invaders, 
who fled in the gathering darkness. Ten thousand 
fugitives lost their way, and found themselves 



with the floAvini;' tide upon the fatal Sohvay 
Sands. Some Hung aAvay their arms and struggled 
tliroiigh, thousands were drowned, and many 
surrendered to women. Meanwhile, the main 
hody, pursued hy the English, wandered in the 
other direction across the Esk and jilunged into 
the hog of Solway Moss, and were swallowed up, 
slain, or taken j^risoners. " Never," says Froude, 
" in all the wars between England and Scotland, 


had there been a defeat more complete, more 
sudden, or more disgraceful." James the Fifth 
of Scotland died on December 14th, heart- 
broken at the disaster. It was a complete English 
revenge; for the defeat they had suifered at the 
Sark, hard by, in 1119, nearly a hundred years 

Turner tliereforc; does riglit in so romantically 
treating the subject, and 1 am merely a pictorial 
r(;porter, s(;tting down only what 1 see. JUit at 
any rate, wliilc 'riirncr might dissuade tlu; ))ilgriin, 
widi liis slonii overhead and his ralhoinless hoi"* 


beneath, whence apparently some wretches are 
just escaping with their lives, you see by the 
modern sketch that there is at least a hard high 
road running by. 

Having come now to the Sark, and across 
it into the long street of Springfield, and by 
the same token into Scotland, it is necessary 
to tell at length the story of " Gretna Green " 
marriages. It could scarce be told in more 
forbidding surroundings, for Springfield is one 
long street of gaunt, unrelieved commonplace, 
and neither the once notorious "Queen's Head" 
inn on the right, nor the " Maxwell Arms " on 
the left, helps to relieve it in the least degree. 
But the devil's in it if love can't throw a rosy 
tinge over even such a scene, and doubtless 
Springfield looked entrancing to some. 


The popularity of Gretna Green elopements dated 
from the passing of Lord Chancellor Hardwicke's 
Marriage Act of 1754, by which it was declared 
that " Any person solemnising matrimony in any 
other place than a church or public chapel, 
without banns, or other license, shall, on con- 
viction, be adjudged guilty of felony, and be 
transported for fourteen 5'ears, and all such 
marriages shall be void." 

This measure was expressly designed to put 
an end to the long-continued and growing 
scandals of the so-called " Fleet marriages," 


which liad first attiactod attention in 1G71. The 
Pleet marriages, j)erformetl by the chaphiins of 
the Fleet Prison, in London, led to many abuses. 
Made on the spur of the moment, between the 
prisoners there, incarcerated for debt or other 
misdemeanours, and the visitors permitted free 
access under the lax discipline of that time, 
the most fearful alliances were perpetrated by 
wholesale. Drunken prisoners, dissolute women, 
and parsons w^lio richly deserved being unfrocked 
were the actors in these scenes, almost exactly 
matched by tlie similar clandestine marriages 
performed on application, at all hours of day 
or night, by the chaplains of the Savoy, and by 
the clerical owners of proprietary chapels in 

These marriage-merchants earned amazing in- 
comes, the still-existing records of a Fleet j^arson's 
fees in 1748 showing that in the month of October 
alone he received no less than £69 12s. 9d. for 
his services. At the Fleet, on March 25th, 1754, 
the day before Lord Hardwicke's Act became law, 
there was a grand winding-up of the business, 
when 217 marriages were celebi*ated. 

The ])enalty provided by the Act Avas not, 
under tlie existing circumstances, too sevci-e ; lor, 
in view of the evils wrouglit by those practices, 
it was necessary to ])r()vid(5 tlie greatest dis- 
C()iii*agein(Mit ])ossil)l(^ to this trallic. Much more 
tluui than now, a marriage, once pci-rornicd, was 
irrevocable. I )i voire courts, I'oi' redress ol" 
matrimonial injuries, were unknown, and the 


drunken and the reckless who had taken part so 
lisjhtlv in a Fleet marria2;e were held to their 
bargain for life. 

But the Act, beneficent though it was, did not 
pass without great opposition, and even when it 
became law, its operation Avas confined to England ; 
with the result that the only difficulty in the 
way of a clandestine marriage that should be 
sufficiently legal was that of making a journey 
out of England ; Avhether across the English 
Channel to Calais, or into the Isle of Man, or 
across the Border into Scotland, was immaterial. 
The Isle of Man Avas for a brief period a favourite 
place, but the House of Keys, the legislature 
of that isle, in 1757 passed an Act forbidding 
marriages other than by banns or special license, 
Avith a penalty identical Avitli that provided by 
the English Act for clergymen Avho should 
infringe it ; Avhile any layman performing any 
such ceremony was very roughly dealt Avith : 
the penalties in his case being — 

1. To be pilloried. 

2. To lose his ears. 

3. To be imprisoned until the Governor saAV 
fit to release him, on payment of a fine not 
exceeding £50. 

After the passing of this Act Ave hear little 
or nothing of clandestine marriages being 
celebrated in the Isle of Man. 

The Channel Islands, and jiarticularly Guernsey, 
were then occasionally favoured, but the difficulties 
of access prevented them ever becoming popular 



with tlu* lovo-lorn, who YQvy s^oiKn'ally, while 
prepai'inl to sullVi* many tiling's, drew the line at 

The J3orcler, in fact, w^as destined to be, above 
all others, tJie place to which {d()])in<j^ couples sjied. 
" When Britain tirst at Heaven's command, arose 
from out the azure main," she was sealed to a 
high destiny ; and when the Border was set 


[After Roivlandson. 

between the kingdoms of England and Scotland, 
it seems, at different times and periods, to have 
been provided for the express ])urpose of affording 
a refuge and a living for moss-troopers, cattle- 
lifters, and tln^ generally lawless peo])Ie of the 
fi'ontiei's. It was thus cpiite in keeping with old 
lioj'der history tliat, wluMi l)rul(^ forces went out 
and legal (Uioi-mities look its pk-ure, it should be 
tJH^ refugee of eh)|)ing lovei's, of w lioin a v(M'y largo 
proportion were fortune hnnfing scamps running 
away with silly, seni inn'nlal schoolgirls. 


The flight into Scotland afforded exceptional 
facilities, for marrying across the Border has ever 
been (and still is) the simplest of affairs ; the 
chief difficulty being still, as Lord Eldon long 
ago observed, to find out what does 9iot constitute 
a marriage in Scotland. My lord himself spoke 
as doubly an expert, for he was not only the great 
legal authority of his time, but himself had been 
married across the Border. Indeed, Lord Deas 
Avas of oj^inion that mere consent, even in the 
absence of witnesses, constituted lawful wedlock, 
just as in those primitive days Avhen the man only 
went to the woman's home and took her to his 
own. Pope Innocent III., Avho does not appear 
to liaA'e been so innocent as his name would imply, 
in 1198 put an end to this sim2:)le plan. 

Preposterous although it may seem, the diffi- 
culty in Scotland is, not to get married, but 
hoAv not. The mere A'erbal acknoAvledgments 
exchanged, "This is my Avife," "This is my 
husband," are all-sutficient, and equally binding 
as the most formal marriage-license ever issued 
by a bishop to his " dearly beloA^ed " ; and even 
AA'ords spoken in jest, Avithout any Avish or desire 
that they should be seriously considered, are bind- 
ing. It is not to be supj^osed that novelists haA'e 
remained ignorant of these quaint customs, and 
indeed Gretna Green in particular, and the Scottish 
marriage-laAAS in general, give point to Wilkie 
Collins's " Man and Wife," Mrs. Henry Wood's 
"Lister's Folly," and J. M. Barrie's "Little 
Minister," among other novels. 


Bound intimately up Avitli these affairs, and 
thoiiii,'ht to have oris^inatod these singularly loose 
methods, was the old Scottish custom of " hand- 
fasting," still practised in the opening years of 
the nineteenth century, but with the increase of 
education, and still more the growth of comfort, 
then fast dying out. These barbaric customs, 
resembling in degree some old Welsh observances, 
mattered little to a peasantry sunk in ignorance, 
but Avith the growth of wage-earning and of 
property, and the consequent sense of respon- 
sibility, they could by no possibility survive. 
"Hand-fasting" was the selection, on apjDroval, 
of a wife or husband, who would live together for 
one year on trial. If mutually satisfactory at the 
close of the year, they became man and wife for 
good and all ; if not, they parted, and were free 
to choose again. Children, if there were any, 
were the charge of the non-content partner. 

The Border must have seemed a Heaven- 
provided resort to couples bent on evading Lord 
Hardwicke's Marriage Act, but, strangely enough, 
the sufficient virtue of the first step across the 
dividing-line was not at first generally recognised, 
and 11 (meting lovers were originally not content 
until th(;y had come, post haste, to Edinburgh, 
where, in the Canongate, they found a crowd of 
blackguardly scoundrels idling about in greasy 
and tatter(Hl Cleneva gowns and ))ret(Mi(ling to l)e 
chii'gymen, wlio did their business for tbcin at 
any pric(^s tiie circumstances seemed to wnrranf, 
Troni ,1, shilling and a glass of wliiskev, up lo live 


ofuineas. Thus were the runaway Lord Georsfe 
Lennox and Lady Louisa Ker, daughter of the 
Earl of Ancrum, married, in 1759. 

Thus, although even so early as 1753, the year 
before the Marriage Act became law, a " Gretna 
Green wedding " was performed by Joseph Paisley, 
the first " Gretna Priest," it Avas not until 1771 
that the marrvin^ at Gretna Green i?rew such a 
recognised institution that registers began to be 

Gretna stands to all the world for runaway 
matches, but although by far the most popular 
place, it was by no means the only one. Any 
spot on the long lonely seventy miles of Border 
served the same purpose, and Lamberton Toll, 
north of Berwick, and Coldstream were not with- 
out their advantages, especially from Newcastle- 
on-Tyne, to which they lay quite handy. The 
future Earl of Eldon, who ran away as a lad 
with his Bessie Surtees, got married at Lamberton 
or at Coldstream. 

On this West Coast, hoAvever, on the " new " 
road to Gretna, the actual crossing of the Border 
is at the passage of the little river Sark, half a 
mile before you come to that more famous hamlet. 
Although Gretna is pre-eminently famed, and 
Springfield, just short of it, comes second in 
popular estimation, a very good case might be 
made out for giving Sark Bar prominence in this 
straus^e historv. 

It is nothing but an old toll-house on the 
north, or Scottish side of the river. But there's 



the rub. It is the first spot on Scottish soil, and 
much virtue accordingly attaclicd to it. The 
name of Gretna obscured those of all other places 
in the minds of strangers, but those on the spot, 
together with every post-boy between Carlisle and 
the Border, knew better ; and those runaways who 
were so hard-pressed that the extra half-mile on 
to Springfield or Gretna meant all the difi'erence 
between success and failure had cause to bless 


Sark Toll Bar, or Alison's Bank Bar, as it is 
sometimes called. This was an inimical spot to 
parents and guardians, and a sad disillusion to 
all pursuers. Here fathers, hot on the heels of 
fugitives, were commonly foiled in the very cynthia 
of the minute. At tlie moment of triumpliantly 
thinking they would, in that furrhei- half-mile, 
overtake their prey, Simon Beattie, the toll-keeper, 
was spiriting tin; iliitt(M'ing young things into his 
innoc(!nt-looking vv liitewaslu'd toll-liouse, and in 
llie |)r(\sence of the necessary two \vitnoss(\s, in- 
cluding the grinning [)ost -hoy, was asking (hem 


the simple questions that sufficed : " Were they 
single ? " and " Did they wish to hecome man 
and wife ? " It was all over by the time the 
foaming enemy was cursing and kicking outside 
the barred and bolted door; and when Beattie 
unbolted it and introduced the newly-wed, there was 
nothing to do but try and look pleasant, or perhaps 
in extreme cases give young hopeful a horse- 
whipping ; which, after all, was scarce politic. 

Simon Beattie, between four o'clock on a Satur- 
day morning and the Sunday evening following, in 
November 18i2, married no fewer than forty-five 
couples at Sark Toll Bar, and his successor, John 
Murray, in one night performed the same office for 
sixty-one. No wonder Murray thought it j)ossible 
to amass a fortune here. He reared the " Sark 
Bar " inn close by, on the English side of the Sark, 
but he had not finished it when Lord Brougham's 
Act, of 1856, ruining all these fugitive proceedings, 
came into operation ; and there was an end of his 

But it was evidently in existence in 1852, for 
it is referred to in an article in Household JFords 
of that year, written by Blanchard Jerrold, who 
describes how he left Carlisle by train and came 
to Gretna station, Avhere he alighted and found a 
couple Avho alighted at the same time being 
" addressed easrerlv bv one or two men of common 
appearance. Are these individuals making offers 
for the conveyance of the couple's luggage ? The 
station-master looks on at the warm conference with 
a sardonic grin ; and with a quick twitch of thq 


head, dniAvs the attention of the guard to the inter- 
estinij;' group. The train goes forward, and the confer- 
ence breaks up. One of the men conducts the lady 
and gentleman to a little red-brick hotel close by ; 
and the others retire discontentedly. I inquire 
about this rivalry, and am informed that it is a 
clerical contest. The little red-brick hotel is the 
projDcrty of Mr. Murray, who also inhabits the 
famous toll-bar which is on the Scotch bank of 
the stream. Thus this sagacious toll-keeper pounces 
upon the couj)les at the station ; removes them to 
his ' Grretna Hotel,' and then drives them down 
a narrow lane, and over the bridge to the toll-bar, 
where he marries them. In this way it appears 
Murray has contrived to monopolise five-sixths of 
the trade matrimonial. It is to be observed, how- 
ever, that there is a Gretna station, and a Gretna 
Green station, and that the latter is the point 
which deposits happy couples opposite Gretna 

Competition was evidently most extraordinarily 
keen for it to have gone the length of inducing a 
Border mai-riage-monger to buikl an hotel on tlie 
English side of the Sark, and for liis agents and 
others to have wrangled and disputed for business 
on a railway jdatform, like so many cab-touts. 
The romance of Gretna o])vi()Usly de])arted, leav- 
ing only the sordid dregs, when tlie (Jlasgow 
and Soiitli-VVcsteni llailway was made, ]S1.S 50, 
and linked up with (yarlisle and tiu^ whole of 

l*;i,int(Ms and cniiravers fonnd the roinanee of 


Gretna greatly to their minds, and numerous 
pictures exist of scenes upon the road, and at 
Gretna itself. Two of the most striking are those 
by C. B. Newhouse, showing " A Ealse Alarm 
on the Road : 'Tis only the Mail," and " One 
Mile from Gretna : The Governor in sight, with 
a Screw loose." In the first we see the love-lorn 
ones, halted in front of a wayside inn, the post-hoys 
running out with fresh horses, Avhile with a rush 
the Royal Mail suddenly dashes by. They think 
for the moment they are overtaken, but sink back 
w^ith the heartfelt ejaculation, " 'Tis only the 
Mail." In the second picture w^e have the post- 
boys whipping and spurring on the frantic horses, 
and the prospective bridegroom standing up in the 
chaise, holding out a further inducement to speed, 
in the shape of a bag which, by the size of it, 
w^ould appear to contain a modest competency 
for life. On the summit of a distant hill the 
governor's chaise appears to have met with an 
accident, and the chase is virtually over. 

The "Deaf Postilion," pictured by George 
Cruikshank, seems to have been a real person, 
and the incident he illustrates to have really 
happened. He was stone-deaf, and when furiously 
driving an anxious couple towards the goal of 
their hopes, failed to notice that, in the lurching 
and plunging of the chaise, the springs had 
broken, leaving the body behind, while he hastened 
on, blissfully unconscious of the disaster, with the 




In the merry days of the road, Springfield was 
alert. Tlie two inns, the " King's Head " (as it 
was then) and the " MaxAvell Arms," combined the 

THE DEAli" rOHT-liOY. 

[After Cruikshiiid: 

parts of r('<^isi,i'ai-'s olllcc niid liosfclry : Mic iim- 
l\e(^j)('i-s (loiihling tli(; cliai'aciers of " priesis " and 
liosis: vvliil(! at (Ji'ctna (Ireen itself stood (ir(>(iia 


Hall, a most comfortable, and indeed aristocratic, 
hotel. But, indeed, any one could, would, and 
did marry all who asked, anywhere. There was 
absolute Free Trade in it ; only some Avere sharper 
than others to turn the privilege to account. 
Even women might perform the simple formula, 
although it does not appear that a woman ever 

The inns, of course, took the pick of the 
business ; for the convenience of coming, tired out 
with the long-continued excitement of being pur- 
sued out of one country into another, to be 
married and refreshed under one roof was so ob- 
vious that it need not be insisted upon. 

Prices, naturally enough, varied. They ruled 
low or high, according to whether you apj^eared 
to be poor or wealthy, moderately leisured, or in 
a frantic haste, and marriages have been " cele- 
brated " — the circumstances would hardly permit 
the use of the word " solemnised " — for the sake, 
at one extreme, of a glass of whiskey and a pleasant 
word, and, at the other extremity, for so high a 
fee as £100, and " D — n you, be quick al3out it ! " 
There have even been times when the offer of that 
sum has not availed ; not, we may be sure, because 
the keen-witted natives stood out for more, but 
solely on account of the excruciating circumstances. 
You are required to imagine such a case : the 
hour midnight ; the more or less innocent folk of 
Springfield and Gretna asleep. A chaise, driven 
at a headlong gallop, appears, closely followed by 
exultant parents. The village is aAvake in a trice. 


for it slecj)s always with one oar cocked ; and 
rival " priests " arc liurrying on their clothes, as 
quick as may he, eager to earn a fee, which, 
judging from the circumstances, should be a sub- 
stantial one. And even as they hurry, they hear 
a hoarse, despairing voice exclaiming in the 
empty street, " A hundred pounds to the man who 
marries me ! " It is the expectant bridegroom ; 
but before they can reach him and his bride-elect, 
the j)nrsuers have come up, and snatched the lady 

The " blacksmith " is a myth, deriving, no 
doubt, from the more or less poetic idea of indis- 
soluble bonds beino; foro-ed. There were no lilack- 
smiths' forges here then, and despite old prints 
showing couples being married over the anvil, 
with post-boy looking on, no blacksmith seems 
ever to have been known as a " priest." That 
term was, of course, absolutely an indefensible 
assumption ; but there is this excuse, perhaps, for 
the " blacksmith " idea. It seems that, among 
those who conducted weddings, was one " Tom 
the Piper," properly Thomas Little, of the 
" Maxwell Arms " inn, who, Avith his son, hit 
upon t]ieattractiv(5 title of the " Gretiui Wedding " 
\nn, and liuiig out a painted sign representing 
tin; aft(!rwards famous smithy scene. 

Paisley, ali'(^ady mentioned as tlie lirst " ])i'iest," 
was uolliiiig iiion^ tliau a drunken Morder thief 
juid ne'er-(lo-\V(dl. Colonel llnwkci-, writing of 
liini in ISl 2, says : " I si ion Id men lion tluit llie old 
jnan who oMiciated I'oi- ncailN loilv \('ius, at L'lO, 


£50, and sometimes £100 a job, never was a 
blacksmith. Old Joe Paisley, for that was his 
name, was by trade a tobacconist. He was a very 
large, heavy man, and might have died worth a 
great deal of money ; but from being an intolerable 
drunkard and a very unsteady fellow, his money 
went as lightly as it came, and after he had 
solemnised the marriages and dismissed his 
' couple of fools,' they could not possibly be 
more eager to follow their avocations than his 
reverence was to trudge off to a whisky-house." 

In 1791 Paisley, who up to that time lived 
in a cottage on the Green, removed to Springfield, 
a little nearer the Border, where he took the 
" King's Head " inn. With his removal his business 
largely increased. He was long an object of 
curiosity to travellers. At the time of his death, 
about 1814, he was an overgrown mass of fat, 
weighing at least thirty-five stone ; and was 
grossly ignorant in his mind and insufferably 
coarse in his manner. Although an habitual 
drunkard, he was seldom or never seen " the 
worse for " drink, and was accustomed during 
the last forty years of his life to drink a Scots 
pint, equal to three English quarts, of brandy a 

On one occasion a fellow spirit, one " Ned the 
Turner," sat down with him on a Monday morning 
to an anker of strong cognac, and before the 
evening of the succeeding Saturday they kicked 
the empty cask out of the door ; neither of them 
having been drunk, nor had the assistance of any 


one in drinking. Paisley was colcl)rate(l for his 
stontorian luniks and almost incredible muscnlar 
powers. He could with ease bend a strong poker 
over his arm, and had frequently been known 
to straighten an ordinary horse-shoe in its cold 

It was told of him that he had once, when 
two couples at the same time required his services, 
married the wrong brides and bridegrooms. They 
were dismayed, but not Paisley, " Weel, then, ye 
can jist soort yersels," said he. He was no ideal 
Cupid's officer, for he Avas used cynically to 
remark that, although Avell paid for performing 
marriages, his fortune would be made in a week 
if he could with equal ease pronounce divorces. 

We are not to suj^pose that eloping pairs just 
went off quietly to the Border and were allowed 
to take their time on the journey. Not at all ; 
and they usually, knowing that parents and 
guardians would soon be swiftly on their track, 
made what haste they could. Whether pursuers 
or pursued first reached the Border made all 
the difference, for although the Scots law would 
not help parents and guardians forbidding the 
ceremony, it was always possible for the choleric 
father of a s(;ntimental young lady to seize her 
and to give young Lochinvar the tast(* of a liorse- 

Some of \\\v raccss for (Iretiia (Jreeii were so 
near fJiat ilie Ix'tiing 011 \\\v eoiitciidanls was 
even .'uiiongst the excited spectators of tlie chase. 
A pedestrian on the l]nglisli liigb-road within a 


mile of the Scotch l)Oundary would be overtaken 
by a light travelling chariot, drawn at the rate 
of sixteen miles an hour by four of the fleetest 
post-horses that the host of Carlisle's chief inn 
could afford. Each postilion would give his whip- 
hand horse a cut with his whip at every bound 
of the infuriated creature, whilst as frequently 
he plunged his spurs into the reeking flanks of 
the animal he bestrode. And as the riders passed 
him at their perilous speed, pale as death in their 
faces, whilst they flogged and spurred like jockeys 
at the finish of a neck-and-neck Derby, he would 
see the bridegroom's head at the front window 
of the vehicle, and hear him screaming frantically, 
"Go it ! Go it ! We are £jettin£j awav from them ! 
Fifty guineas to each of you if Ave get there in 
time ! " Another five minutes and the pursuers 
— two red-faced elderly gentlemen, whirled along 
at the same mad pace in a similar chariot, drawn 
by equally fleet horses — would dash past him. 
" How far ahead ? Shall we catch them ? " 
"Five minutes before you — not more." The re- 
sponse would scarcely have been shouted out when 
the spectator Avould see the chase ended abruptly 
by the fall of a horse, the breaking of a trace, 
the uj)set of the carriage, or some other mishap 
that might just as well have befallen the fugitives 
and given the victory to their pursuers. 

The oldest-established and most famous "priest " 
after Paisley was Robert Elliot, who married 
Paisley's grand-daughter, Ann Graham, at the be- 
ginning of 1811, and lived at the former " King's 


Head " from tliat date. Wh(^n he piil)lished his 
" Memoirs " in 18 L2, he ckiimed that he had for 
the twenty-nine years past been the " sole and only 
parson of Gretna Green " ; an impudent falsehood 
dis2)roved by the existence to this day of the 
registers kept by David Lang, who from 1792 
until 1827 married a great number of people 
and was particularly famous as having married 
Edward Gibbon Wakefield and Miss Ellen Turner, 
Avhom he abducted in 1826. David Lang had 
been in his youth an itinerant draper. On his 
journeys southward, through Lancashire, he was 
spirited away by the Press Gang, to serve aboard 
His Majesty's ships. After many adventures, 
including that of being captured by Paul Jones, 
the pirate, he settled down here, and was in the 
course of time succeeded by his son, Simon, who 
died in 1872, and was described by Blanchard 
Jerrold, who visited Gretna in 1852, as " a 
spare old man, dressed with some pretensions to 
gentility." He in turn was succeeded by his son, 
William Lang, who was the local postman, and 
had some faint claims to be considered a " priest " ; 
whatever such claims may be worth in a place 
where, as already shown, any one has an undisputed 
right to marry any one else. 

Elliot, however, was by way of l)eing a literary 
character, and in history writ about (ilretna Green 
l)ulks larg<!, Ix'cause of liis ])riMt(ul spoutiiigs : the 
print(;d word bciii^-, even among those who ouglit 
to know hciicr, sacred. 'IMic siicri- (iMith of it is 
tJiat, at, one and the sam(5 time, Www wci'c no 


fewer than four prominent establishments devoted 
to the marrying trade. The fact is scarcely 
remarkable, when we consider the number of them 
that committed matrimony at Gretna or Spring- 
field ; at that time averaging four hundred 
annually. Elliot was but one. He gives a return 
of the numbers he married, beginning in 1811 with 
58, and ending in 1810 with 12. His busiest years 
were from 1821 to 1836, and the busiest 1821 
and 1825, when he married 196 and 198 couples. 
In all, he married no fewer than 3,872 couples. 
Elliot, in his " Memoirs," has a view of his inn, 
which he, Avith characteristic effrontery, styles 
"The Marriage House." Now if there was pre- 
eminently one marriage-house far and away 
superior to any other, it certainly was that of 
Gretna Hall, built in 1710 by one of the Johnstone 
family, Avhose elaborately sculptured coat of arms 
still remains over the doorwav, even thousrh the 
Johnstones vanished more than a century ago, 
and though in the interval the property has many 
times changed hands, and has been an inn and 
has reverted again to the condition of a private 
residence. It Avas about 1793 that Gretna Hall 
became an inn : a A^ery suj^erior inn, indeed, Avith 
three aA^enues approaching it : an inn Avhere the 
neatest of " neat post-chaises " Avere kept, and 
where the coaches halted. So it remained until 
1851. John Linton became landlord of Gretna 
Hall in 1825, and ruled for tAventy-six years. 
He had been A'alet to Sir James Graham of 
Netherby, and Avas generally considered a superior 



Tiian. He did not personally marry his guests, 
who Avere naturally gleaned from the front rank 
of fugitives ; but generally employed David Lang, 
and when that worthy died replaced him by one 
who was by trade a shoemaker, and thus perhaps 
predisposed to join tAvo ardent souls together. He 
paid his journeymen small sums for their journey- 
work, just as your dignified clergy pay curates 
for their labours. Notwithstanding this personal 


al)stention on Linton's part, he was generally 
known as "the Bishop." The nickname at once 
shows the superior estimation in which he and 
his establisliment were held, and carries an implied 
satire upon liight Reverend i^'athers in God. An 
account rendered by John Linton to his guests 
would ]h) a curiosity, if itcuiiised. A handsome 
sum was, doul)tless, s(^t down for l)eing married, 
among i\\v, insignificant items for food and liglits. 
Aitiiougli Ih5 (lid notolliciate, lie kept the regislcrs 
of marriages at liis liousc! ; and they are still in 
exist(Mice at A nnan. 

VOL. II l<» 


A marriage that was really an abduction, and, 
as such, became a matter of extraordinary notoriety, 
to match the amazing audacity of the man who 
perpetrated it, was that of Edward Gibbon Wake- 
field and Ellen Turner, in 1826. The form of 
marriage was performed at Gretna Hall, on 
March 8th. Wakefield was at the time a widoAver, 
aged thirty. He had been educated at Westminster 
School, and by the influence of his first wife's 
family had been given an appointment at the 
British Legation in Turin. This he resigned, and 
was living on his wits in Paris when he chanced 
to hear of Miss Turner, a beautiful girl sixteen 
years of age, and heiress to a great fortune. She 
was the daughter of a wealthy mercliant — after- 
wards M.P. for Blackburn, 1832-^.1— living at 
Pott Shrigley, in Cheshire, and was at the time 
at a boarding-school in Liverpool. Wakefield 
invented an ingenious and j^lausible story for 
marrying the girl and so securing her money. 
Coming to England, he called at the school in 
Liverpool with a letter purporting to be in her 
father's handwriting, stating that he was ill and 
she Avas to return home in company Avith the 
bearer of the letter. No susjDicions Avere aAvakeued, 
and the girl Avas alloAved to depart AAith him. 
During the journey by post-chaise, Wakefield, 
who seems to liaA'C been a scoundrel of Avonderf ul 
address, told her that her father's illness AAas 
really assumed, and that he AAas then, a ruined 
man, flying from his creditors to Scotland. They 
were to meet him at Carlisle and cross the Border 


tos^ethcr. At Carlisle, of course, no father was 
to 1)0 found, and Wakefield then declared that 
affairs were so serious that only a marriage Avith 
himself would save her jDarent from the horrors 
of a debtors' prison. If she married him, he would 
at once advance her father £60,000. The story 
seemed of the crudest and most unconvincing 
kind, hut it imposed upon Ellen Turner, and she 
agreed, in order to save her father, to marry 
Wakefield at Gretna. 

The day following the marriage, Wakefield 
hurried her with him across England, and to 
Calais. Erom that strategic point he proposed 
to communicate with the girl's father, and come 
to terms, but Wakefield very soon found himself 
arrested by the Erencli police and sent over to 
England, to stand his trial at the Lancaster 
Assizes, for abduction, Mr. Turner in the mean- 
while claiming his daughter. 

Wakefield and a l)rother who had aided him 
were awarded the very light sentence of three 
years' imprisonment apiece. In the following 
month the marriage was annulled by a special 
Act of Parliament. A curious point was raised 
during the trial, Serjeant Cross, for the prose- 
cution, stating that " Had the offence been com- 
mittcul oil I^]iiglish ground, <lie (k'fendants would 
in the course of tin; law luivo been condcmiKMl 
to an ignominious dcatli." 

Wakefudd afierwards (imigrat(Ml to Australia, 
and in 1HIJ8 acted as secn^tary to Lord Durham, 
in ('anada. Apologists have stated thai he 


redeemed his early faults by usefulness in the 
Colonies, but to most it will seem that he was 
an extremely dangerous man, only too leniently 
dealt with. He died in 1862. 


Elliot's most romantic clients Avere the Earl of 
Westmoreland and Miss Child, who eloped in 
1782. The father of the young lady was the 
famous London banker, whose great fortune, and 
the prospect of marrying it, dazzled the Earl 
quite as much as the beauty of his daughter and 
heiress. She fell in love with the noble suitor, 
whose proposal did not, however, commend itself 
to the banker. " Your blood, my lord, is good," 
said he, "but money is better"; and he refused 
his consent. But the disappointed suitor Avas not 
disheartened, and the lovers eloped in a four-horse 
chaise ; his canny lordship having arranged before- 
hand for relays of horses all the Avay : prudently, 
at the strategic point of Shap, hiring every horse 
to be found there. Mr. Child, enraged, lost no 
time in following. Using every effort that money 
could procure, he at last came up with the fugitives 
changing at High Hesket ; and, leaping from his 
chaise, drew a pistol and shot one of the leaders 
of their conveyance. At the same moment, one 
of the Earl's servants ran behind Mr. Child's 
carriage and cut the leather braces suspending 
the body. The Earl and his love proceeded with 
three horses, with the father pursuing. Not for 


loiii;", however, for presently the hody fell over, 
and pursuit became a laggard and hopeless rear- 
guard. One hundred guineas was the fee paid 
to the fortunate Elliot by the Earl. Mr. Child 
died within a year of the affair, it is supposed 
from disappointment and anger at his daughter's 
disobedience. Rowlandson has, in his caricature, 
" Filial Affection," drawn a more or less close 
commentary upon this incident. The banker took 
excellent care that neither of them should have 
his money, which he devised to any issue of the 
marriage. Lady Westmoreland died in 1793, 
leaving six children, and the Earl married again, 
at which one is instinctively revolted. 

The elder daughter of Lord and Lady West- 
moreland, Lady Sophia Eane, inherited the fortune, 
and married the Earl of Jersey; and their daughter, 
the Lady Adela Corisande Maud Villiers, followed 
the example set by her grandparents ; elojDing 
in 18i5, at the age of seventeen, with the youthful 
Captain Ib1)etson, of the lltli Hussars. It was 
a November night when the ardent pair flitted 
from the lady's home at Middh^ton Park, ]^icester. 
Th(^y did Jiot patronise Elliot, l)ut went to Gretna 
JIall. Th(\y reached Mr. Linton's establishment 
oil tli(^ ()ih, and were duly mai'i-ied, as the surviv- 
ing register shows. Lady vVdela died iifteen years 
later, but Captain ll)l)ets()ii survived until 1S!)S. 

.Jack Airislic, of Mie " Hush," Carlisle, was a 
sworn enemy to j)areMts aud guardians, lie \\as 
|)('r|)('tiially signing liis uaiuc as a. witness lo 
marriag(\s, ;iiid was in fact (piilc a eoiisiilliiig 


couDsel to love-lorn squires and damsels. To 
have him, in his yellow jacket, on the near 
wheeler was worth as many points to them as it 
was for attorneys to retain a leading K.C. When 
pushed hard. Jack knew of cunning bye-lanes 
and woods 1o hide the pursued couples in, and 
had occupation-roads across farms, and all that 
sort of geography, at his fingers' tips. 

On one occasion he altogether surpassed his 
previous doings. He had driven a runaway couple 
to Longtown, and as he thought they were taking 
it rather too easilv, stronsrlv advised them to cross 
the Border and get married before they dined. 
They were weary and would not be advised, and 
so he took his horses back to Carlisle and thought 
them ''just poor silly things." 

He had not long returned before the girl's 
mother and a Bow Street officer dashed up to the 
" Bush " in a post-chaise. There was not a second 
to lose, and so Jack, saying not a word to any one, 
jumj^ed on a horse and galloped to Longtown. 
He had barely time to see the dawdlers huddled 
into a post-chaise, and to take his seat and clear 
the " lang toun " when the pursuers loomed in 
sight. The pursuit Avas so hot that the only way 
was to turn sharj) down a lane. From it they 
saw the enemy fly past towards Gretna and so on 
to Annan, where they found themselves at fault 
and gave up the pursuit. The coast being thus 
cleared. Jack would stand no more nonsense, but 
saw his couple duly married and Avitnessed before 
he went back to Carlisle. The signatures of that 



niarriai;;-e were always looked at with a certain 
sad interest, for the hridegroom was killed the 
next year, at Waterloo. This was Jack's " leading 
case." He was long remembered as a " civil old 
felloAV, perhaps five feet seven if he was stretched 
out, and with such nice crooked legs." 

One of the most remarkable of these runaway 


weddings was that of the old and widowed ex- 
Lord Chancellor, Erskine, to Sarah Buck, his 
housek(;eper, an elderly widow witli a numerous 
family of cliildn^ii, avIio accompanied them. 

" In th(; year 1H18," says Elliot, " as near as 
I can rememlx^r, Lord Chief Justice b]iskine came 
to (jii-(!iiia ill a eliaiso and loiii' liorscs, dressed 
in woman's clotlies, accompaiiiiMl by an ehh'rly 
lady and lour cliildreii. VVIieii 1 llrsf saw them, 


I took the elderly lady for the mother of the 
children, and the learned Lord for the grand- 
mother. He asked me many questions relative 
to Gretna marriages, all of which I answered 
him as I would a female, until by chance I esjDied 
a button of his Avaistcoat through the opening 
of a neckerchief which he wore over his breast. 
After he found that I had discovered his sex, 
he smiled but made no remark. He afterwards 
changed his dress, and I married him to the 
female whom he had brought with him. I asked 
him why he had come in female attire ; he 
answered that he had his own reasons for it. He 
gave me twenty pounds, and again resumed his 
female dress. Twelve months after, at the in- 
stisration of his sons bv a former wife, he wished 
to divorce her by Scots law, but found, upon trial, 
that he could not." 

Erskine was not the first great lawyer, by very 
many, to exhibit a practical uncertainty as to 
the law, however certain he might theoretically 
be. He made no further attemjDt to upset the 
legality of the marriage, and in December 1821 
a son, christened Hampden Erskine, was born to 
this odd couple. Erskine died, in his seventy- 
third year, in 1823. 

Amonff the more famous clients of the cannv 
marriage-mongers of Gretna were the heroic 
Cochrane, tenth Earl of Dundonald, and Miss 
Katharine Barnes, in 1812. On their heels came 
Viscount Deerhurst, son of the Earl of Coventry, 
whose fee to the " priest " was £100. Very late 


in Gretna's history came the marriage of Lord 
Drumlanrig-, heir to the sixth Marquis of Qiieens- 
herry, and Miss Caroline Chiyton, in 1840. The 
hidy's father, General Clayton, had ol)jected to 
the marriage, on account of her youth, for she 
was only nineteen at the time ; and the coujdIc 
decided to hie over tlie Border on the first 
opportunity. This soon olfered, and, discarding 
the time-honoured post-chaise, they rode horseback 
all the way, reaching their haven on May 25th. 
This gallant cavalier became seventh Marquis 
of Queensberry, and Avas accidentally shot in 
1858, at Kinmont, when out rabbiting. The 
Marchioness long survived him, and died so 
recently as February 1904. 

The circumstances of the elopement of Lady 
Rose Somerset, daughter of the seventh Duke of 
Beaufort, in 184G, with Captain Francis Lovell, 
show that the old hazards were passing. They 
took railway tickets, and so, without foam-flecked 
horses or anxious post-boys, came to Gretna. 

But by far the most romantic incident in those 
annals of " yver the Border " (dopements was the 
marriage of Miss Penelope Smyth on May 7th, 
183G, at Gretna Hall to Charles Ferdinand 
]^ourbon, J^rincc of tlie two Sicilies and Capua, 
l)r()tli(M' and li(Mr-pr('siini|)(iv(^ to l^'erdinand tlie 
Second, King of Naj)les. The wliole alTair reads 
lil\e tin; va|)()iirings of some extravagant novelist 
ol'llirold /')n//l/// llcddcr type. Miss Smv(li was 
a Ix'aiiiiriil l']\('l(M- girl,aii(l .-ulditioMally attractive 
loan inipccnnioiis rrincc in llic factor possessing 


a fortune of £20,000. The circumstances of her 
being in Italy do not appear, but she seems to 
have been married to the Prince at Lucca, and 
again at Rome. The}^ fled from Italy to avoid 
the fury of the King of Naples, who denied the 
legality of the union, and claimed that no marriage 
could be contracted by a Prince of the Blood 
Koyal without the consent of the reigning 
sovereign. The Prince appears to have relied 
upon the affection of his sister, the Queen Regent 
of Spain, to smooth matters over, but Avas rebuffed 
at Madrid, the Queen refusing to receive either 
him or his bride. They then left for Paris, and 
afterwards for England, after a third ceremony 
had been performed, and flew to this inevitable 
refuge, the Border. Then, coming to London, they 
applied for a license at Doctor's Commons. 

Of the virtuous intentions of this anxious and 
much-married couple there can be no possible 
doubt whatever, and the part of " villain of the 
piece " is taken by the bold bad " Bomba," the 
notorious King of Naples, who acted to per- 
fection the character of tyrannical brother. He 
instructed the Sicilian Ambassador to protest 
against the license being issued, and it was 
accordingly refused. The dauntless couple were 
then married in the ordinary way, by banns, at 
St. George's, Hanover Square. 

The virtuous lived happily ever after, and the 
wicked met with the retribution that, by all the 
canons of dramatic art, was to be expected, for 
the kingdom of Naples Avas abolished in 1861, 



and with it Avent King- Eomba and all questions 
of succession. 

The contributor to Household Words in 1852, 
found John Linton dead, and the glory of Gretna 
Hall already departed; but Mrs. Linton was there, 
and he seems to have been provided with a not 
unpalatable dinner, while some few good cigars 


remained. Ikit it was not for dinner or for cigars 
he came. He wanted some juicy facts for liis 
articl(!. 11(5 i^'ot some, ])ut tlu^y wer<5 not so vcri/ 
juicy. Everything, you se(^ s])()ke ol" the Past, 
and he was reduc(Ml to being sliown llie " registers," 
wliich the widow liang vcsry jealously displayed 
to bini. Tliey were wrapped in an old silk 
}ian(lk('i-cliicr, and w lien tlicy were nnlicd and Ih> 


would have handled them, the suspicious old dame 
gently repulsed his hand, and turned over the 
leaves herself for his inspection. 

Everywhere in the house, vanished visitors 
had scraAvled their names, desj)ite the notice, 
" Please not to write on the walls, windows, or 
shutters," pasted on the looking-glass of the dining- 
room. Scrawled on a window-pane was the frank 
confession, perhaps made in disillusioned after 
years, " John Anderson made a fool of himself 
in Gretna, 1831 " ; and in a greasy visitors' book 
he found the usual ribald remarks. With the 
prevailing air of desolation heavy upon everything, 
he asked how long it was since the last marriage 
had been celebrated there, expecting a reply in 
terms of years ; but the landlady turned to the 
maid who was laying the cloth, and said, " "Was 
it Tuesday or Monday last, that coujile came ? " 
The maid said it Avas " Monday." 

Oh I Avhat a surprise. 

Gretna Green itself is a small place, and to- 
day a dull one, too. The Hall, situated in its 
private grounds, is just a country mansion. Xo 
longer do the officers from Carlisle garrison " come 
once a week to be married," as the lady there 
pleasantly suggested to me ; and no one will 
accost the stranger and hint that it is a fine day 
for a wedding, ^heu ! fugaces. 



The Dumfries coach branched off at Gretna, 
but nowadays only an occasional motor-car halts 
in the village, its driver perplexed by the multi- 
plicity of roads, and, if he be a Southron, no less 
perplexed by the broad Dumfriesshire accent in 
which his inquiries are answered. For, of a sudden 
— as suddenly as the dividing-line between the 
two countries — Scotch have succeeded to English 
people. At Longtown even, the people are English ; 
here and henceforward Scottish talk and Scottish 
physiognomies, if not the national dress, are pro- 
minent. There is no mingling, to this day. 

I do not suppose the Dumfriesshire folk will 
realise the existence of their Doric. They will be 
like the friends of that farmer who went south- 
wards and on returning home complained that the 
" Enklish " made " remairks " about his speech. 
* Mon,' said they, ' we didna ken ony o'us had 
ony auxent at a'.' " 

Scotland was of old an almost unknown land 
to the Englisli, and indeed it largely so remained 
until Queen Victoria's preference for North Britain 
brought about a fashionable exploitation of Cale- 
donia ; l)tit such ignorance as that of the lady Avho 
declanid she " never went to Scotland l)ecause tbe 
crossing made her sea-sick " cannot ever bave 
b(!en common. 

Tliomas Kirke, wlio sin-ely, IVom liis name, 
should liimseir liave ])eeii a Scot, publislied in 1()7*.> 
a " Modern AeeonnI ol" Scolland " wliicli was eit lier 


a joke (in bad taste) or an attempt to exploit this 
ignorance. "Scotland," he Avrote, "is compared 
to a louse, Avhose legs and engrailed edges re- 
present the promontories and buttings-out into 
the sea, with more nooks and angles than the 
most conceited of my Lord Mayor's Custards ; 
nor does the comparison determine here ; A Louse 
preys ujDon its own Eosterer and Preserver, and is 
productive of those Minute Animals called Nitts ; 
so Scotland, Avhose Proboscis joyns too close to 
England, has suckt away the nutriment from 
Northumberland . ' ' 

Thomas Kirke, it will be observed, did not love 
Scotsmen. But he could be a good deal more 
abusive than the specimen already quoted. 

" Nemo ne iniptme Lcecessit,^'' he continues : 
" true enough : whoever deals with them shall be 
sure to smart for it. . . . The thistle was nicely 
placed there, partly to show the ' fertility ' of 
the country, Nature alone producing plenty 
of these gay flowers ; and partly as an emblem of 
the people, the top thereof having some colour 
of a flower, but the bulk and substance of it 
is only sharp, and poysonous pricks." 

A good deal of fine, unreliable information 
may be culled from the classic pages of Thomas 
Kirke. Thus, " Scotland is from Scota, daughter 
of Pharaoh, King of Egypt. That the Scots de- 
rived from the Egyptians is not to be doubted, 
from divers considerable circumstances : the 
plagues of Egypt being entailed upon them : that 
of Lice (being a Judgment unrepealed) is an 


amj^le testimony. These loving animals accom- 
panied them from Ei^'ypt, and remain with them 
to this day, never forsaking them (but as E-ats 
leave a House) till they tumble into their Graves. 
The Plague of Biles and Blains is hereditary to 
them, as a distinguishing mark from the rest of 
the World, which (like the Devil's cloven hoof) 
warns all men to beware of them. The Judgment 
of Hail and Snow is naturalized and made free 
Denizan here, and continues with them from the 
Sun ; first ingress into Aries, till he has passed 
the 30th degree of Aquary. 

" The Plagues of Darkness was said to be thick 
darkness, to be felt, which most undoubtedly 
these people have a share in : the darkness being 
appliable to their gross and blockish understand- 
ings (as I had it from a scholar of their own 

" Woods they have none : that suits not with 
the frugality of the people, who are so far from 
propagating any, that they destroy those they had 
upon this politick State Maxim, that Corn will 
not grow on the land pestered with its Roots, and 
their branches harbour Birds, Animals above their 
humble conversation, that exceeds not that of 
Hornless Qiiadrupedes ; marry, })erliaps some of 
their houses link under the shcdter of a plump 
of trees (th(5 iiirds not (hiring so high a 2)resuinj)- 
tioji) like lliigli Peters Puss in her Majesty, or an 
Owl in an Ivy-Biisli. Some lir-vvoods there are 
in th(5 High-lands, but so iiiaceessible, tliat th(\v 
serve I'oi- jio other use tiiaii Deus lor tiiose ravc^nous 
V01-. 11 17 


Wolves with 2 hands, that prey upon their neigh- 
bourhood and shelter themselves under this Covert ; 
to whom the sight of a stranger is as surprizing as 
that of a Cockatrice. The Yallies for the most 
part are covered with Beer or Bigg, and the Hills 
with Snow. 

" If the air was not so pure and well-refined 
by its agitation, it would be so infected with the 
stinks of their Towns and the steam of the Nasty 
Inhabitants that it would be j^^stilential and 

" The j)eople are Proud, Arrogant, Vainglorious 
boasters ; Bloody, Barbarous and Inhuman Butchers. 
Couzenage and Theft is in iierfection among them, 
and they are perfect English-haters. Their spirits 
are so mean that they rarely rob, but they take 
away life first. Lying in Ambush, they send a 
brace of bullets through the traveller's body, and 
to make sure work they sheath their Durks in his 
liveless trunk. 

" Their cruelty descends to their Beasts, it being 
a custom in some places to feast upon a living 
Cow. They tie it in the middle of them, near a 
great fire, and then cut colloj)s oft" this poor living 
beast, and broil them on the fire, till they have 
mangled her all to pieces : nay, sometimes they 
will only cut oft" as much as will satisfy their 
present Appetites, and let her go till their greedy 
Stomachs call for a new supply : such horrible 
cruelty as can scarce be paralleled in the whole 

" The Highlanders talk only Erse, the Low- 


landers iiiulerstaiul and talk English, but they 
are so currish that if a stranger enquires the 
way in English they will certainly answer in 
Erse, and find no other language until you force 
it from them with a Cudgel." 

Let us hope, for the travellers' own sakes, that 
they did not take this advice. But let us follow 
Mr. Kirke indoors. This, according to him, was 
a Scottish interior : "To enter a kitchen is to 
enter Hell alive : the stew and stink enough 
to suffocate you," while " Musick they have, but 
not the Harmony of the Spheres, but loud Terrene 
noises, like the bellowing of beasts : the loud 
Bagpipe is their chief delight." 

As for the inns : " Change-houses they call 
them, poor small cottages, Avhere you must be 
content to take what you find, perhaps Eggs 
with Chicks in them, and some Long Cale ; at 
the better sort of them a dish of chop'd Chickens, 
which they esteem a dainty dish, and will take 
it unkindly if you do not eat very heartily of it." 

Oddly enough, he says nothing of porridge. 
But St. Jerome attril)uted the heresy of Pelagius 
to bis feeding u|)on oatmeal porridge, Avhicli may 
perlia])s be responsi])le for more religious dilU- 
culties than we are aware of. ^J'he licresy of 
Pelagius (vvhosc^ real iianic was Morgan, and 
biniseir tbcnifore ))resumal>lv a Welslnnan), was 
divided into six jjoinis, clnd' of iheni being w iiat 
one is t(un])t(;d to cbai'act(vrise as fbe "eonnnon- 
Kcnse " view that Adam's sin was conrmcd to 
liis own p(!rson. Tlir daring I'clagius was con- 


demned, a.d. 418, as au heretic, but he lived on, 
notwithstanding, to the age of threescore years 
and ten : a jolly, fat man, by all accounts, and 
of distinctly anti-celibate views. 

It is rarely, nowadays, you see a plaid, and 
not often a kilt. Nowhere is the sight now seen 
that once astonished travellers : the sight of 
countryfolk walking barefoot, carrying shoes and 
stockings in their hands, for sake of economy, 
until they reached the outskirts of a town, where, 
for sake of appearance, they put them on. The 
once poor country has groAvn a great deal beyond 
that. But kilts formed the only wear at the 
time of the rebellion of 1745, when one unhappy 
detachment of rebels found them rather em- 
barrassing. An English subaltern, in command 
of a few men, had the good fortune to secure 
a numerically superior body of rebels, and was 
sorely at a loss what to do with them on the 
march to Carlisle ; being afraid that they A\'ould 
on their way, finding themselves more powerful, 
turn upon his small force and wreak a terrible 
revenge. The happy idea struck him of having 
the waist-bands of the prisoners' kilts cut before 
the march was Ijegun : and thus they went ; the 
Scotsmen being too busily engaged in holding 
their petticoats up to be in any way dangerous. 

Only on festive occasions is the kilt in 
evidence, in all its barbaric varieties of tartan. 
The Royal Stuart tartan is an eye-searing affair 
of bright red, with a pattern of green, black, 
blue, and white stripes, calculated to make an 


nesthcte faint. The Macmillan tartan wonlcl 
ploaso tlio old negrcss who wanted " nothing 
startling: just plain red and yellow." It is 
brig-lit yellow with a plaid pattern in light red. 
One of the Macdonald clans sports a nice thing 
in red with bright green patterns. Such a taste 
in dress seems oddly at variance with the grey, 
Calvinistic religious temper of Scotland, and a 
direct challenge to dull northern skies. 

To argue from this old love of colour in dress 
a corresj^onding delight in flowers would he a 
mistake, for rural Scotland has few indeed of the 
English type of cottage, with clustered roses and 
jessamine and a very wealth of colour in its old- 
fashioned garden. All through Dumfriesshire and 
Lanarkshire, eighty-five miles along the road to 
Glasgow, the country cottages are merely un- 
ornamental living-boxes, and flower-gardens are 
vanities not indulged in. Perhaps we see in 
this, again, the Scottish practical character that 
has advanced Scotland so far along the road to 
material wealth, has made Glasgow what it is, 
and has set Scotsmen in commanding })ositions. 

The proverbial tenacity of the Scot has 
father(;d many good stories, of which that of 
the farmer returning from market is one of 
the best. Attacked by three burly rullians 
for sak(^ of th(^ gold he was su])pos(Ml to l)e 
cai'i'yiiig, he fought desjx'rately, lelliiig one of 
liis assaibiiits with a bh)W I hat knocked him 
seiis(iless, until at, last, a well-del i\cre(l butt in 
t,h(! stomacli laid him low ; wlieren|)on the loot- 


pads went thoroughly over his pockets. But 
searching diligently though they did, all they 
could find Avas a sixpenny-piece, instead of the 
expected wealth. 

"My goodness!" exclaimed one of them, 
feeling his bruised face, " if he'd had eighteen- 
pence he would have killed the three of us." 

The pawky " canny " qualities of the Scots 
were never more admirably illustrated than on 
that occasion in the football season of 1905, when 
the visit of the New Zealand team, known as 
the "All Blacks," was under arrangement. The 
Glasgow authorities had not at the time arrived 
at anything like a j)roper idea of the New 
Zealanders' qualities, nor of the great assemblage 
of sj)ectators that any game in which they were 
engaged Avould attract ; and so they cautiously 
refused the offer of half the gate-money and 
stipulated for a guarantee of £50 or so, conceding 
the "gate" to the visitors. 

An agreement was arrived at uj^on that basis, 
but as the season advanced and the extraordinary 
triumphs of the New Zealanders elsewhere made 
it abundantly evident that the "gate" at the 
Glasgow match would be phenomenal, the 
Glaswegians made heroic attempts to alter the 
arrangement — without success . 

An incredible number of saxpences went bang 
over that affair, for the Glasgow folks received 
£50 and paid over £1,000, taken at the gates. 
And the New Zealanders won the game, in 
addition to pouching the boodle. Scotland was 


sail' Immocliated the day, ye ken, and showed it 
sourly. The New Zeahinders came without a 
Avelcome into the city, were " booed " in the field, 
and left amid something like a hostile demon- 


There is nothing at all of the " Caledonia stern 
and wild " description of scenery along these first 
few miles. The country becomes pleasantly un- 
dulating, villages are placed here and there along 
the road, and a railway runs companionably by, 
with the stream of Kirtle Water neighbouring it. 
Kirkpatrick is the first village. Beyond it the 
old road of jire-Telford days goes off to the right, 
for nearly two miles, and joins the modern road 
again at Merkland, passing an ancient granite 
boundary-cross surrounded by holly-bushes. A 
very great deal of highly untrustAvorthy " history " 
may be acquired about this cross by him Avho seeks 
wayside information. At the roadside smithy, 
hard l)y, tlui blacksmiths tell you it is the 
memorial of a man who was shot from llobgillt 
^rower — or " Toe-er," in the local pronunciation. 
WhetlKU' the man who was shot was worth the 
memorial is more than any one can say, but the 
shot its(dr certainly would deserve a monument. 
A long shot, iiid(MMl, for it is a good mile away 
to liohgillt Towei- ! Honshaw 'l\)\ver, closer at 
hand, seems more likely. Aiiolliei- story, very 
j)()j)ular in the neigiiboiirhood, is lh;it (he nuMi 
of this district, sohl their wives liere. 


Passing Kirtlebridge and its railway station, 
and crossing Kirtle Water and Mein Water, we 
come by some very pretty woodbind and parklike 
scenery, to Ecclefechan : a very celebrated place 
now, and a place of pilgrimage since Thomas 
Carlyle died, in 1881. For Ecclefechan was the 
native village of that latter-day prophet, hero- 
worshipper, and apostle of work. 

. But there lies to the left of the road at the 
approach to Mein Water and the park of Burnfoot, 
a little-known Carlyle landmark that should be 
noted. The little graveyard of Pennersaughs 
contains the tombs of his grandfather and great- 
grandfather, among others. 

A great deal of argument has been expended 
upon the meaning of Ecclefechan, " Ecclesia 
Eechanis " is said to be the origin of the name; 
but who St. Eechan was, who is supposed to have 
founded the original church here, is more than 
any one is prepared to definitely say. The sceptical 
stoutly declare him a myth : a saintly " Mrs. 
Harris " ; while Welshmen might declare that 
" Ecclefechan " is " Eglwys vychan," i.e. " Little 
Church," and none would be able to prove himself 

Carlyle once, in a memorable outburst, declared 
that " the picturesque " to him was " a mere bore," 
and that " simple knolls and fields, with brooks 
and hedges among them," were best of all for his 
taste. If this was genuine, and not sheer Carlylean 
perversity, why then Ecclefechan, his native 
village, was the ideal birth2)lace, for it is the 



mere neg:ation of beauty and the picturesque. 
Yet it lias a certain interesting quality. It has 
"character." Por you could not pick out any 
individual house and point to its comeliness, but 
although Ecclefechan is in its component parts 
made ujd of precisely the same materials as fifty 
other Annandale villages, there is a distinctive 


personality in it which would be evident even if 
the stimulating association with Carlyle were not 
present. A rushing ])urn goes down one side of 
the street and th(; swifts fly and scream overhead. 
Among the unassertive whit(5-face(l aiul grey 
houses is one with an archway and above it a 
(juaint window of (iuasi-,)ac()l)ean character. It 
is the dw(!lliii^-li()iis(^ l)iiilt by Tboinns (\-ii-iyh'\s 
fatli(;r and uncles about 171)1, and on cr (lie door- 
way is the; ])lain inscription, " Mirt hplMcc of 
Carlyle, 4 ])(5C. 171).")." Hcsidc tlic doDiway its(>ir 
stands a houldcr-stoiic, now graven with a clianvc- 


teristic Carlylean quotation : " That idle crag " ; 
and always, above the shrilling of the swifts, you 
hear the murmur of the stream a few feet aAvay : 
" the little Kuhbach ^ushinsr kindlv hv." 

" The arch-house," as it is known locally, was 
built with that central archway for the con- 
venience of those three mason-brothers, James, 
Prank, and Tom, in storing the materials of their 
trade. There they reared their several families. 

"This umbrageous Man's nest," Carlyle styles 
it : and a very well-filled nest it was, too. To-day 
it is freely open to all comers, and many and 
diverse are those who come here. In the year 
ending August 31st, 1905, the house was visited 
by 1,700 people, who gazed with reverence, with 
curiosity, or with mere vacuity of mind — after 
their several sorts — upon the humble interiors. 

" And is this really the room in which Carlyle 
was born r " asked one in that first category, a 
srood manv A'ears asro, in an awestruck voice. 

"Aye," said the gudewife, who to be sure did 
not rightly comjirehend the inner meaning of all 
this hero-worship ; " an' oor Maggie Avas born 
here, too." 

Homeric laughter, doubtless, at this, in that 
place wliere the literary immortals foregather. 

Professor Wilson, "Christopher North," and 
his fellow-contributors to the Edinburgh Review, 
claimed to cultivate literature on a little oatmeal, 
but the claim might better be made for the author 
of " Frederick the Great " and " Sartor Resartus." 
Plain living and high-thinking, you cannot fail 



to see, formed his life. A very simple-living, 
homely man indeed, as all his intimate belongings 
clearly show. His plain, commonplace inkstand, 
with the last pen he used, his simple writing- 
table with its original table-cloth, his tobacco- 
jar, together with a tobacco-cutter with which he 
sliced his own tobacco, are all of the least ex- 
pensive kind, and, looking upon them, I feel 
vicariously ashamed for the modern authors of 
"masterpieces" who, according to the literary 


journals of the day, cannot feel "inspired" unless 
they are lapped round with every luxury . Carlyle's 
felt hat is enclosed under glass : his straw hat 
hangs upon the wall, and you may put it on 
your own head. Most people do. Prominent 
among the many tributes to his genius is the 
great laurel wreath sent in 1S95 by the German 
Emperor to mark tlie centenary of liis l)irtli. It 
was, of course, j)rimarily a tril)ut(^ to th(^ Ikm-o- 
worsbippiiig aiitlior of " h'rech'riek tli(^ (Jreat." 

CarlyN^ himself lies in tlic dour iiltie grave- 
yard of l']eelefeeliaii, aiMong Ins kin and away 
from his wife, whose grave is in llie roolless nave 


of Haddington Abbey. Like most Scottish kirk- 
yards, the gates of it are chained and locked. 

" Entepfuhl " as Carlyle in " Sartor Resartus " 
styles Ecclefechan, is proud of him, largely, I 
suspect, because it perceives that the world 
beyond Annandale thinks so much of "Tam 
Carl." There is a " Resartus Reading Room," 
rather shabby with decrepit chairs, themselves 
sadly wanting reseating, or, better still, renewing 

An oddly designed old house-tablet recently 
uncovered from the many coats of jilaster and 
whitewash that had long concealed it, is now a 
feature of the house adjoining the Carlyle birth- 
2:)lace, and is perhaps the only curious item in 
the village. 

There is a raihvay station nowadays at Eccle- 
fechan, but the village is probably a quieter place 
than it was in Carlyle's early days, when the 
Glasgow Mail dashed by, and the local coaches 
enlivened the street twice a day. Por one thing, 
the station lies at a considerable step away, up 
along what was the new road when Telford made 
it, so long ago, and called new to this day. 

It is a kind of mild hog's-back ascent out 
of Ecclefechan and so along the six miles to 
Lockerbie, passing on the way the farmhouse 
of Mainhill, where Thomas Carlyle's father at 
the age of fifty-seven started to be a farmer, 
striving there ten years, from 1815 to 1826. 
Then comes the beautiful park of Castlemilk, 
seat of the Jardine family, followed by Milk 


Bridi^'o ci'ossini;' the river of that name, and the 
smart suburban entrance to Lockerbie. 

The toAvn of Lockerbie is a thriving place, of 
a neatness and cleanliness altoo'ether remarkable : 
a change indeed from the time when this rhyme 
Avas jjossible : 

Lockerbie is a dirty place, 
A kirk without a steeple, 
A midden set at ilka door — 
But a cantie set 0' people. 

New in appearance, with a modern Town Hall in 
a florid version of the Scotch baronial style, and 
an air of abounding prosperity. Here, in this 
considerable place of shops, the Southron who 
knows not Scotland first discovers AA^hat the 
Scottish nation can do in the way of scones, seed- 
cakes, plum-cakes, baps, and bannocks, to say 
nothing of shortbread. It is a liberal education, 
in its especial way. 

Pive miles north of Lockerbie, Jardine Hall 
is passed, with the haunted ruin of Spedlin's 
Tower away across the 2)ark. In another mile, 
at Dinwoodie Green, the road again divides into 
old road and new. The old road, running to the 
right hand, through the town of Moil'at, over 
Ericstan(} Erae and down to J^^lvanfoot Jh'idg(», 
a distaiic(^ of tvv(Mity-tln'0(' miles, is an exceUent 
road still, l)ut it ascends rugged and mountainous 
heights, wliile the " new road," avoiding Moffat 
altogetluii-, is at its liigii(\st alliludc "»()(> feel ixdow 
th(^ summit of <lie old. nrlwccii (lie 1 wo roads 
on the way to AlolVal iiins (he river A iiiian, and 


here and there are glens that at different times 
gave shelter to Covenanters and horse-stealing 
rascals. Waniphray Glen was one of the fastnesses 
of the Johnstones : the locality having from 
time immemorial heen rich in Johnstones and 
Jardines. There was a Johnstone who lived in 
the old days at Lockerbie, in one of the numerous 
defensible towers of the district. He bore a more 
or less knightly part in the battle of Dryfe Sands, 
hard by, while at home his gentle lady with her 
own fair hands dinged in the head of Lord 
Maxwell with the castle keys. 

The new road continues, with few features 
on the way, on a gradual rise, to Beattock, 
crossing the Annan at Johnstone Bridge, a pretty 
wooded scene, with wayside post-office. Beattock 
was important in the old coaching days, for here, 
beside the road, in a spot otherwise lonely, stood 
Beattock Inn. Two miles down the road was 
Moffat. There was nothing else but that change- 
house for mail-coach and stage. The house 
remains even noAv, but no longer an inn, and 
adjoining it stands the Beattock station of the 
Caledonian Bail way, which abolished coaching 
on this road over fifty years ago. 

Nowadays there is no house of public enter- 
tainment in all the thirty miles between Lockerbie 
and Crawford, on this modern road avoiding Moffat, 
except the refreshment room at Beattock station : 
the village that has in latter days sprung up here 
being quite innocent of anything of the kind. 



The town of Moifat, down ])elow, had no jilace 
in the scheme of Telford's Carlisle and Glasgow 
Road. It had very little importance in the 
conncils of the Post Office ; Glasgow, Carlisle, 
Manchester, and London being places whose needs 
far outweighed any local discontent ; and the 
new road went straight away from Beattock, 
leaving the little town aside. 

Before the beginnings of coaching, when 
Glasgow made its need of direct and speedy 
communication with the south heard, the London 
mail went by mounted post-boys, through Edin- 
burgh. At that time the road to Glasgow went 
through Moffat and steeply up over Ericstane 
Brae, where it was improved or " turnpiked," 
about 1776, but improved, it would seem, in no 
very substantial manner, for it is recorded that 
" seventy carts of merchants' goods " using it 
weekly had caused it to fall into disrepair. Such 
remained the condition of affairs when mail- 
coaches wer(; established elsewli(n-e, and gave the 
growing commercial city of Glasgow hopes of 
actpiiring a direct service of its oAvn. Such a 
service meant mucli to <b(^ Glasgow of tliat day, 
already grown commei-cially important, [t was 
point(;d out to tlu; Post Ollicc tliat already, sinec^ 
1776, tin; (jilasgow and Carlisle Diligence bad 
round it j)ossil)l('! to travel this i-onte; and what 
was j)ossibb^ to privates enterj)rise should he 
possil)le also to (loveninient . To indiu'e the 


Post Office to establish a mail by this route, 
through Carlisle, the Glasgow merchants and 
the Chamber of Commerce went so far as to 
subscribe handsomely to eke out the slender pay 
offered contractors, and on this basis the mail 
was established in June 1788. But the Post 
Office was not content. The road in general was 
rough and stony, and the Secretary was for ever 
threatening to withdraw the coach, if the worst 
places were not repaired. In 1795, Provost 
Dunloji was informed that the Carlisle and 
Glasgow mail might have to be discontinued in 
favour of the old route by Edinburgh, involving 
a loss of one whole day. Glasgow appealed to 
the Government to stay this threatened calamity, 
and to repair the road south of Elvanfoot. It 
was pointed out that Lord Douglas had expended 
£4,000 on the road between Lesmahagow and the 
Hassockwell Burn, near the Devil's Beef Tub, 
and that the city had already done much for 
it. The road, it was added, was not, after all, 
a local highway, but part of the great national 
route, north and south, and, as such, rightly the 
especial charge of the Government. Going 
through the wild, little-travelled watershed be- 
tween Clyde and Annan, it could never be 
adequately repaired from the proceeds of any 
tolls it was possible to charge. It was further 
urged that the Government had itself impoverished 
the road, the mail-coaches being by law exempt 
from all tolls, and thus being able to carry 
passengers more cheaply than the stage-coaches, 


which paid heavily, and, unable to compete on 
equal terms, had, between 1788 and 1795, been 
driven oft' the route. Thus the turnpikes lost 
their dues at every turn. 

To all this the Post Office turned a deaf ear. 
The Department knew perfectly well how greatly 
Glasgow ajipreciated the expediting of its mails 
by one day, and was convinced that its merchants 
would make considerable sacrifices to retain the 
advantage. The Department was entirely correct. 
An Act was obtained, at the instance of the 
Glasgow Chamber of Commerce, empowering the 
Evan Water Trustees to make and maintain a 
new road over the watershed, in place of the old 
road at Ericstane Brae, described in the Act, 
George the Third, c. 21, 1798, as "very steep 
and hazardous for all wheel carriages, and 
dangerous for travellers." 

But it was one thing to " empower " the 
Trustees to do this, and quite another, and not 
so easy an one, to find the money. It was 
eventually raised by subscriptions. The mer- 
chants of Glasgow, the public institutions of the 
city, and a number of English mill-owners 
between them subscribed ,CG,()()0, and the road 
was begun ; firstly from Elvanfoot to Summit 
Level, and thence; down Evan Watcn* to J5cattock, 
th(M*(; joining the; Edinl)nrgh, MolTat, and Dninfries 
tui-n[)ik(; ; and secondly, a continuation ol" tins road 
by a diagonal line across tlie level Dale of Annan 
to Dinwoodie Green, cIcNrn miles soutli of iMoiVat, 
on tlie (Jiasgow, MolVat, and Cai-Jisle tnnipikc. 
vol.. II 18 


The works, as already said, were begun, and 
the first section, from Elvanfoot to Beattock, was 
completed in 1808 ; but then the funds became 
exhausted, and the Dumfriesshire people, Avho 
had been expected to do the rest, would not, or 
could not, do it. So the road had to go, after 
all, round by Moffat; turning sharply to the 
left at Langbedholm, two miles north of Beattock, 
and thence made its way by the Chapel Brae to 
Moffat, and south, as before, by Wamphray, 
Woodfoot, and Dinwoodie Green. 

Even this half-realised j)lan was preferable 
to the rugged round by Ericstane Muir ; but no 
sooner was the new road made than the old 
question of repairs was again raised. The tolls 
were insufficient to pay expenses, and the wear 
and tear of the elements and the traffic could 
not be made good. What it was like in 1812 
we learn from the writings of Colonel Hawker, 
who, travelling this way at that time, describes 
it as having been mended with large soft quarry- 
stones, at first like brickbats, and afterwards like 
sand. Bad as this was, it was the best that could 
be done with the resources available ; and the 
Post Office continued hard-hearted, Hasker, the 
Superintendent of Mail Coaches, threatening con- 
tinually to withdraw the mail and send it round 
by Edinburgh. In 1810, the various Trusts 
concerned had approached Parliament for a re- 
dress of their grievances, without result, but at 
last, in 1813, an Act was passed repealing the 
exemption of mail-coaches from toll in Scotland, 


where the popuhition Avas (it was at length con- 
ceded) scanty, and tolls yielded a miserably 
small sum. 

But the Post Office had as many turns as an 
old and often-hunted dog-fox, and, declining to 
be baulked, violated the spirit of this concession 
by an ingenious trick. What had been given by 
the Act, the Department took away again by the 
simple expedient of raising the postage on letters to 
Scotland by one halfpenny each, aggregating an 
increase of £6,000 per annum. It was quite like 
a game of chess. 

To this move the Scottish Trusts replied by 
raising their tolls against the mails, with the 
result that the Post Office was made to pay 
£12,000 per annum more. They cried metaphori- 
cally, if not actually, " Check ! " The next move 
w^as with the Superintendent, who responded by 
taking off a number of the mails, by way of 
warning to Glasgow. 

Checkmate ! 

This was, of course, very interesting as a trial 
of strength and endurance, but was, after all, a 
little unworthy, and scarcely the way to conduct 
the business of a nation. The fact, indeed, seems 
to have been soon realised, for the Government, on 
])ec(imber 7tli, IHM, took tlic^ wholes matter uj), 
and the Trcasiii-y instructed Telford to " make a 
proper survey, plan, and estimate " for amending 
th(5 wliole courses of tlic load hctwecn Carlisle and 
(ilasgow, and to r('|)ort lo a special House of 
Commons Conmiittets. Telloi-d surveyed the road, 


and in 1815 reported : " The existing declivities, 
direction, and construction are so bad that for 
many years the road has been with difficulty kept 
open." He submitted detailed plans for its im- 
provement, and assured the Committee that they 
would, if adopted, shorten the distance, then 
102|^ miles, by nearly 9 miles, and the time occu- 
pied in travelling by at least the equivalent of 9 

Hasker's evidence before the Committee 
showed that the Post Office seriously contemplated 
sendins: the mail bv Edinbura^h — a six-hours' 
longer journey each way. 

A commendable feature of those times was 
that when it did at last come to a Committee 
being appointed, results were very soon shown. 
On June 28th, 1815, not long after Telford's report 
had been received, the Committee in its turn 
rejDorted unanimously that his j)lan ought to be 
carried out, and that the Government should 
grant substantial aid toAvards the cost, estimated 
at £80,000. A year later— July 1st, 1816— an 
" Act for a grant of £50,000 for the Hoad from 
the City of GlasgOAV to the City of Carlisle" was 
passed ; the work to be managed by the already 
existing Commissioners of Highland Roads and 
Bridges. Voluminous reports, with plans, exist, 
among the Parliamentary papers of that age, 
showing how the Avork progressed to its comple- 
tion ; and the traveller of to-day who explores 
the districts between Carlisle and GlasgOAv will 
see for himself, in the contrast between the ex- 


travag-ant gradients of the old road in the neigh- 
bourhood of Molfat, and the easy rise and fall of 
Telford's new stretches of highway, how thoroughly 
the work Avas done. 


Moffat, in these days a neat and quiet townlet 
relying upon the waters of its Sulphur Well for 
its prosperity, lies in a hollow of the mountains. 
As to which is the neater and cleaner of the two — 
Lockerhie or Moffat — -I will not be so rash as to 
hazard an opinion, but no one is likely to disjoute 
the fact that " MoafPet " is the quieter. For one 
thing, this quietude is one of its principal assets, 
and although it has a railway station, the fact of 
its being merely the terminus of a two-mile branch 
from Beattock will be sufficient to prove that the 
quiet is not greatly disturbed by trains. 

There is nothing very striking in the appear- 
ance of Moffat, beyond this remarkable neatness 
and the breadth of its High Street ; the centre 
of the town, in its mingling of shops and villas, 
and the ever-present spaciousness, indeed, resem- 
bling the ordinary suburbs of less restful places. 
But o)i(^ singular object that has claims neither to 
antiquity nor beauty, stands in midst of the broad 
sti'(;(;t and tells tin; stranger that ]\Ion"at and its 
n(MglilM)urliO()d are celebrated for something els(» 
tlian a iiKulicinal spa and a great liydroj)atliic 
cstal)lislirnent. This is th(^ Colvin l'\)nnlain, \)vo- 
sentcd to 1h(^ town by \Villi;ini ('olxiii, of the 


neighbouring Craigielands, and surmounted by the 
effigy of a contemplative-looking ram, in allusion 
to the sheep-farming that has given prosperity to 
the district. 

The Auld Kirk of Moffat, belonging to an 
era very different from this, stands appropriately 
secluded in the old kirkyard that is locked and 
barred against casual entry. The Auld Kirk is in 
ruins, and that is apjiropriate too ; for what bond 
of sj'mpathy can there be betAveen the rather 
smug, self-satisfied character of the modern hypo- 
chondriacs who, metaphorically (and sometimes 
actually) lapped in cotton-wool, now resort to 
Moffat, and the stern Covenanters who were 
dragooned in the surrounding braes and on the 
inclement fells, and passed a night in prison in 
the Auld Kirk, before being conducted to the 
small mercies awaiting them in Edinburgh ? No : 
the historic building is rightly left alone to its 

But this thorough locking of the old church- 
yards in Scotland is a little revolting to an 
Englishman. It seems to emphasise, to the point 
of callousness, the fact that the day of the dead 
is indeed done ; and hints that they not only have 
no part in the world, but none in the thoughts of 
their own kin. 

Here lies the great road-reformer, John Loudon 
Macadam, and few are those Avho, turning aside 
to seek his epitaph, trouble further to have the 
gates unlocked. Macadam was born at Ayr in 
1756, and died at Duncrieff House, Moffat, in 

BURNS 281 

1830, after haviiii^ made an imperishable name 
in the annals of the road, and contributing a neAv 
verb, " to macadamise," to the language. 

Situated on one of the two roads from Carlisle 
to Edinburgh, Moffat had of old-time a goodly 
number of inns. Among them the " Annandale 
Arms " and the " Spur " were immediate com- 
petitors. There are Burns associations with the 
"Spur," but much more intimate ones with the 
" Old Black Bull " inn, which remains very much 
the same plain whitewashed stone house it Avas 
in the poet's day. The tale is told how he, with 
some cronies, was drinking in a Avindow-seat of 
the inn when they saw two ladies ride by on 
horseback ; one of them so pretty and so small 
that she was known as " one of the Graces in 
miniature." " Odd," said one of the public-house 
loungers, " that one should be so little and the 
other so big " ; Avhereupon Burns Avrotc on a 
window-pane : 

Ask why God made the gem so small, 

And why so huge the granite 1 
Because God meant mankind should set 

The greater value on it. 

A very pretty compliment to the little lady, l)ut 
uncommonly hard, by implication, on iho full- 
sized one. 'I'he ])ane of glass was long ago 
removcul, and is sup})os('d to be now at Dumfries. 

Tli(5 rarned Sul])lmr Well is situated a mile 
and a lialT away Iroin MolTat, in a Swiss-like 
clii\l(;t on a niggcMl liillside 30(1 lect ahovc Hie 
town. Some walk to it, others ride, and lor two- 


pence you can drink as much of the almost 
incredibly nasty water as you please. The first 
tumbler is, to taste and smell (it smells like 
" election eggs " or assafoetida), more than enough 
for the strongest stomach, and seems to be brewed 
in an inner laboratory of the infernal regions. 
But the second srlass — if vou are ill enous^h or 
courageous enough to take a second — seems not 
so bad, and visitors by degrees become perfect 
gluttons for it. The water is a specific for 
rheumatism and gout, among other things, and 
was known so long ago as 1633, when Rachel 
Whiteford, daughter of the parson of Moffat, bene- 
fited by it. In 1659, Dr. Matthew McKaile, of 
Edinburgh, wrote a pamphlet in Latin about its 
virtues, and thereafter the fame of the Well has 
taken care of itself. But the invigorating air of 
the mountains has, no doubt, at least an eqaal 
share in restoring many of the invalids to health. 

The rugged and forbidding scenery around 
Moffat culminates on the Edinburgh Hoad at the 
gloomy hollow of the hills called the •' Devil's 
Beef Tub," which is said to have acquired its 
name from this being a favourite place among the 
cattle- thieves of yore to hide their stolen cattle. 
The " Beef Tub " is really a deeper and more 
ruojffed version of the " Devil's Punch Bowl " on 


the Portsmouth Boad. Sir Walter Scott, who 
romantically says " It looks as if four hills were 
laying their heads together to shut daylight from 
the dark, hollow space between them," tells in 
" Redgauntlet " how a prisoner being marched 2>ast 


tho spot, breakiiii];; from his guards, escaped by 
throwing himself doAvn and rolling to the bottom. 

This wikl country was the scene of a mail- 
coach tragedy on February 1st, 1831, when the 
Dumfries and Edinburgh mail Avas snowed up at 
Moffat. Eager to perform their duty, the driver 
and guard jorocured saddle-horses and flung the 
mail-bags across them, but a fcAv minutes' effort 
proved that it was impossible to proceed with the 
horses, and the two undaunted men sent them 
back to Moffat, and went on by themselves, afoot. 
It was an enterprise of the most hopeless kind, 
impossible to be accomplished. They sank down 
exhausted, near this gorge, and perished in the 
snow. Their bodies were found, a week later, 
and the mail-bags they had carefully hung upon 
a wayside snow-post, hard by. 

To-day, in the old kirkyard of Moffat, two 
stones to the memory of these brave men, " faithful 
unto death," may be found, with the inscriptions : 

Erected by .Subscription in 1835. 
Sacred to the Memory of James MacGeorge, Giiard of the 
Dumfries and Edinburgh Royal Mail, who unfortunately 
perished at the age of 47, near Tweedshaws, after tlie most 
strenuous exertions in the iierformance of his duty, during 
that memorable snowstorm 1st February 1831, 


111 memory of Joliii ( Joodfcllitw, Driver of tiie I'ldiiilmrgli 

Mail Coach, who ptMJshed on i'lrriik Stane in a snowstorm 

on 1st l''ebriiary 1831, in kindly assisting liis fellow-sull'erer, 

tli(r ( I Hard, to carry furwani the Mail-Hags. 

Tlie local Conricr newspaper of llie lime, with 
more triitli iliaii feeliiig, dcsi-rihed the ael ol" (hoso 


devoted servants of the Post Office as " an ex- 
aggerated sense of duty." 

If YOU go far enough past the Devil's Beef 
Tub and Tweedshaws, where the river Tweed rises, 
you come, along this old road to Edinburgh, to 
the '' Crook " inn, where the poet Campbell had 
a curious experience. Taking a generous glass 
of toddy, he went to bed. Presently there came 
a knock at the door, and there entered the pretty 
maiden who had given him supjDer. " Please, 
sir, could ye tak' a neebour into your bed ? " 

" "With all my heart," exclaimed the poet, 
starting up gaily. 

" Thank you, sir ; for the Moffat carrier's come 
in, a' wat, and there's no' a single other place." 

This was not what the poet expected. Up 
came the big reeking man, and exit the little 


The old Glasgow road, that goes up from Moffat 
past Meikleholmside, and so across Ericstane 
Muir, is everything a road should not be. It is 
steep, narrow, exposed, and rugged, and, except 
as an object-lesson in what our ancestors had to 
put up with, is a very undesirable route and one 
in which no one would wish to find himself. It 
has not even the merit of being picturesque. 

The road that Telford made continues onward 
from Beattock in more suave fashion. It follows 
the glen of Evan Water for nine miles, and the 



three of thorn— road, river, and Cah'donian Railway 
— g-o amica})ly side by side under the hills, to 
Beattock Summit and down to Elvanfoot, where 
the Elvanfoot Inn of other days now stands as 
a shooting-lodge. 

Elvanfoot Bridge, that carries the road over 
the Evan (i.e. Avon) Water, looks down upon 
a pretty scene of rushing stream, boulders, and 


ferns, or " furruns," as a Scotsman would enunciate 
the word. 

It was here, late on the tempestuous and 
rainy niglit of Octo])er 25th, 180S, tliat the most 
terrifying and dramatic accident of any that ever 
l)ef(d the mail coach (\s occiiircd. It is not witli- 
out diu; tlioiiglit and clioice of words tliat we 
have call(!d it di-amatic, lor tlie Iiappriiiug was 
precis(^ly ol' tliat Ihi'illiiig spcclacular charaetcr 
cheriNlicd bv tlicatrical iiiaiiagcrs wiiosc public 
demands sciisal ion. 


The Evan Water Avas in flood this black and 
boisterous night, and, raving in its stony bed, 
tore furiously at the newly rebuilt bridge that 
spanned the torrent. Down through the wild 
obscurity from the heights above Douglas Mill 
came the mail from Glasgow for Carlisle, and no 
sooner did the horses place foot upon the bridge 
than it collapsed, as suddenly and completely as 
any stage property. It was near ten o'clock, 
the insides had composed themselves to that 
semblance of sleep Avhicli coach travellers could 
command, and the outsides had Avra2:)ped them- 
selves up in their greatcoats, and had so fixed 
their minds upon more pleasant circumstances 
than riding in the rain on a cold October night, 
that they w^ere j^i'^ctically oblivious of their 
surroundings, when they w^ere suddenly plunged, 
with the coach, coachman, horses, and guard, into 
the foaming water underneath the broken arch. 
There Avere two outside passengers : one a City 
merchant named Lund, the other a Mr. Brand 
of Ecclefechan. Both Avere instantly killed. The 
four insides, a lady and three gentlemen, Avere 
more fortunate, and escaped A\dth bruises and a 
fright. The horses suffered scA'erely, the leaders 
being killed in falling, and one of the AA^heelers 
crushed to death, as it lay beloAv^, by falling stones 
from the crumbling arch. The coach and harness 
Avere utterly destroyed, and Alexander Cooper, 
the coachman, although found protected from 
being Avashed aAAay by tAvo huge boulders, only 
surviA^ed by a fcAv Aveeks the injuries his spine 


liad rocoivod. The ii;mivd, Thomas Kingham, was 
found with his head cut open, but soon recovered. 
He always considered his escape from being killed 
was due to his not having strapped himself into 
his seat on that fatal night, so that, instead of 
being involved Avitli the coach, he was shot clear 
of it, into the water. 

It was due to the presence of mind shown 
by the lady passenger that the down mail, at 
that moment due to pass this tragical spot, did 
not meet the fate that had already overtaken this 
unfortunate coach. She had found a temporary 
refuge on a friendly rock rising amidst the 
surging water, and crouching there, saw the lamps 
of the oncomins^ coach i^^larins: throuo-h the mist 
and rain. Shrieking at the highest jiitch of her 
voice, she fortunately attracted the attention of 
the coachman, Avho drew up on the very verge 
of destruction. 

Tlie first care of the c^uard belono-ino; to the 
new arrival was to rescue this lady from her 
position. Hugh Campl)ell was not like the con- 
ventional heroes of the theatre, who make nothing 
of grasping the heroine round the waist, and, 
striking an attitude, so removing her to a place 
of safety with an air suggesting a Avhimsical 
combinatioji of a ('hest(5J'liel(l and a l)oI(l bad 
bandit. No, Ik^ set al)(>uf tlie task witli a. modest 
(liHidciiee w bicli somew liat exasperated tlie lady lier- 
scir. ( 'liiiihiiig (low 11 with the bi'okcii reins laslied 
togetlicr, so tliat (liosc^ above could haul licr up, 
he askrd doiihl fnl ly, " Wliaiir will I L;ii|) licr r " 


" Grip me whaur ve like," said she, " but grip 
me sicker " ; and he accordingly tied her up 
securely and she was hoisted to the road ahoye, 
without more ado. 

The down mail returned to Moffat with a 
heavy and mournful load, including the dead and 
injured passengers of the up coach. The only 
uninjured horse was led behind. 

For many years the bridge was not properly 
mended, funds being scarce on these roads ; and 
the mail, slowing for it, lost fiye minutes on eyery 
journey. The part that fell may still be traced 
by the shorter lime stalactites hansrin£r from the 
repaired arch. It is still known as " Broken 
Bridge," in addition to " Milestone Brig," from 
the milestone on it, marking the midway distance 
between Carlisle and Glasgow : " Carlisle 4.7J 
miles. Glasgow 4^7 miles." 

The Caledonian Railway, approaching this 
scene, crosses the Eyan Water on a bridge Ayhich 
looks as though a Xorman consulting architect 
had been raised from the dead to design. It 
passes in a shallow cutting oyer a scrubby moor, 
protected against being embedded in winter's 
snows by a close palisade of timber on either 

The road now, with Crawford in the distance, 
sharply bends, and crosses the infant Clyde at 
New Bridge. 

Crawford, situated in a wide stratli, or green 
yale, where several streams join the Clyde, is 
a scattered yillasre whose white houses show 



pleasantly at great distances. It is a favourite 
place among the wealthier Glasgow folk who like 
rural holidays. The New Crawford Inn of coach- 
ing days, a substantial, mansion-like building, 
oj)ened in 1822, on the completion of this portion 
of Telford's new road, is still in business as the 
" Cranstoun Hotel." The old road, from Elvan- 
foot, goes straighter than the new one to Abington, 
but with severe gradients ; while the new con- 


tinues its even way alongside the river, to Abington, 
where it bids good-bye to the Clyde altogether, 
until liotlivvell is r(!ached. 

Abiiigion is a ty2)ical Scottish anglers' resort: 
just a tiny places with an inn, a post-office, a lew 
cottages, and a I'nu; park or two; ycvy neat, very 
still, and looking vcu'y expensive and exclusive. 
A gameke(5|)er, or an angler in waders, with rod 
iuid cre(d, are almost the only figures seen hero, 
ill tlie road. 

vol.. II '•' 


Beyond Abington, the river and the rail alike 
turn aside and leave the road to solitude. Not 
even Telford's road-engineering genius could 
abolish the ghastly pull-up over the bleak and 
beastly moor that stretches between this point 
and Douglas Mill. You deceptively descend to 
it, to Denighton Bridge, crossing a little stream 
that comes down the valley from Crawfordjohn, 
but then rise to an exposed lonely j)lateau, bleaker 
than Shap and without its interest. Down at 
Denighton Bridge, Avhere the view ranges along 
the gloomy valley Avherein the Covenanters skulked 
and the troopers of Montrose hunted them, the 
sheep graze and the lambkins frisk in spring. 
Even a Avet and cold cyclist (who is not easily 
amused) must shriek with laughter at the antics 
of the lambs, Avhich are a good deal funnier than 
those of any low comedian I have ever seen. No 
need to encore them either, for they continue all 
day, or at least until, exhausted with laughter, 
you depart, to face the muir above. 

Heaven send the traveller who travels here by 
his own efforts has fine weather and a following 
wind, otherwise his progress is slow martyrdom 
along eight miles of shivery loneliness, and 
thrice welcome is the longed-for descent to 
Douglas Mill. 

The Douglas Water runs in a deep and beau- 
tifully wooded valley at Douglas Mill, where the 
wayside Douglas Mill Inn stood in the coaching 
era, and Avhere, behind an imjiosing gravelled 
sweep, the entrance to the beautiful park of the 


Earl of Homo is seen, Tor five miles another 
stretcli of old road goes to the right, across Broken 
Cross Miiir, as far as Lesmahagow : the new road 
pursuing an eventful course, past the Newfield 

Lesmahagow, i.e. the Court, or Place, of 
Maliego, an early Gaelic saint, was once the site 
of an Ahhey. It is now a small, hut prosperous, 
town, looking very new and neat, in spite of the 
fact that it is situated on the edge of the Lanark 
coal-field. The traveller who pursues a dogged 
way along the road, and looks to neither right 
nor left, will know nothing of Lesmahagow, which 
lies slightly to the left hand ; and I am sure he 
will not miss much. But, in the crossing of old 
and new roads here, at the bridging of the little 
river Nethan, and with the railway passing near 
by, a singular complexity of ways is produced. 

From this point, on to the very outskirts of 
Glasgow, the great industrial districts of Lanark 
display their activities before the traveller in no 
uncertain manner. Passing Blackwood, the centre 
of the colliery district is reached at Larkhall, and 
miners, going to and from work, are the chief 
wayfarers. Tlu^ coal of tlu^ Laiiai-ksliin^ pits is 
of an inlerior kind, and hy 110 means well-suited 
for d(mi(!stic use, burning dull, and a])t to lly in 
explosive; nul-liot emlxu's on to carpets and hearth- 
rugs. Hni it is not a gassy coal, and the miners 
are abh; to go to their woi-k with naived lights. 
Jlencc tJie little oil-l;un|) which, strnng to his cap, 
is the nijuk ol" every Lanai'k coal-getter. 


Hamilton, the capital of all this district, is 
a very considerable town, and an odd mixture 
of ducal dignity and striving industrialism. It 
stands at the gates of the Duke of Hamilton's 
great park, and jostles that dignified place in 
a way that would make the hermit Dukes of 
Bedford faint with horror. But the Dukes of 
Hamilton, who are Douglases, and of much more 


distinguished lineage than the Bussells, do not 
seem greatly to suffer from this contact with the 
world : although, to he sure, the magnificent 
Alexander, tenth Duke, found the old streets of 
the town so close to his residence that the colliers 
and the weavers of the place could easily observe 
his domestic affairs. This was too much, not 
merely for a Duke : even so comparatively 
grovelling a thing as an ordinary squire would 
have refused to put up with it: and so the too- 


n(M*^'lil)Ourly street, and even the old Tol])ooth, 
were purchased. The Tolbooth stands, even now, 
in the park, and the front walls of the otherwise 
demolished houses, with doors and windows filled 
up, form an odd boundary- wall. 

The tenth Duke Avas magnificent indeed. He 
knew what was due to his strawberry-leaves, and, 
being a man of immense wealth, saw that he got 
his due accordingly. A great deal is possible to 
a man with eighteen titles and five residences, 
and millions of money to properly support them. 
He added expensively to the Palace in 1828 and 
not only beautified it and filled it with wonderful 
collections of art and literature, but expended 
£130,000 on a grand mausoleum, so that he might 
be adequately housed in death. He even im- 
ported the black marble sarcophagus of an ancient 
Egyptian monarch ; who, however, appears to have 
been of shorter stature than the princely Duke 
Alexander, for the thing was a misfit, and when 
at length his Grace was gathered to his fathers, 
his body had to be doubled uj), in a very 
derogatory way. The immense collections in 
Hamilton Palace were at length sold in 1882, 
])y an extravagant and imj)ecuni()us successor of 
Duke Alexandei-, and realised £4iOO,000 at auction. 
'V\\{' pai'k aj)d tlie mausolemn may be seen at 
diK! seasons, and soineiimes (lie miniature castle 
ol* (vhA-tellnirault, built in 1732, in imitation 
of tli(5 castb" in h^i-ance \vhenc(» th(^ Dukes of 
Hamilton take tlicir i^'rencb tide of Dukes of 


Hamilton town is a cheery jilace, with colour 
and ornament in its new huildings : very different 
from the lowering streets of Glasgow, which we 
are now nearing. In its present prosjierous con- 
dition, many old huildings are heing removed, 
hut the passer-hy will note a quaint tahlet over 
an old house in the chief street, with three 
moustached lions' heads, the initials "A. S." and 
the inscription : 

The . airt . of . weaving . is . renouued . so . 
that . rich . nor . poor . without . it . cannot . go . 

A very hroad and well-kept stretch of road 
leads from Hamilton to the Clyde at Eothwell 
Bridge : the famous Brig where the hattle so 
immediately disastrous to the Covenanters was 
fought, June 22nd, 1G79. The bridge representing 
the one that spanned the river so long ago was 
built in 1826, and neither it nor the road resembles 
the old circumstances of the place in any but the 
remotest degree. The road across Bothwell Brig 
when the battle was fought was steep and but 
twelve feet wide. The Covenanters lost the day 
entirelv throusrh the internal dissensions amonsr 
their own forces. Each officer wanted to be com- 
mandant, and while thev were bitterlv Avrani]rlini? 
about this point, u}^ came the Royalist forces 
under the Duke of Monmouth and " bloody 
Claverse," otherwise Graham of Claverhouse, 
the "bonnie Dundee" of the famous ballad. 
The Covenanting army was well j^laced for de- 
fence, and the day might, in other circumstances, 



hayr c^ono in their favour, hut as it was, they 
Avcre defeated, with a shiui^hter of three hundred. 
Twelve hundred prisoners were taken. Of these, 
some were executed : many were shipped to the 
phintations in Barl)ado(^s, Thus was avenged 
the initial Royalist defeat hy the hands of the 
Covenanters at Drumclog, on the 1st of June. 
It was not until 1003 that the tall ohelisk 


now standing th(5 north sid(^ of the bridge Avas 
erected, to commemorate the Covenanters wlio 
fought and fell " in d(^f(;nc(^ of civil and religious 
lil)(;rty, for Clirist's ('rown and Covenant." 

lMi(^ hmI ruins of th(^ ancient castle of JJotlnveil 
stand in tlu^ ncighhonring park Ixdonging to the 
h:arl ol" ll()ni(>. Tlie little town of Hothwell, with 
its lin(!ly nihuilt clnirch, fringes the road: in the 
churcliyard a liiglily decorative mouunient of 


terra-cotta and mosaics to the memory of Joanna 
Eaillie, the poet, with quotations in j^raise of the 
scenery around Bothwell. The scenery is still 
(what is left of it) fine, but since the day when 
Joanna Baillie wandered in Bothwell's braes, 
and corresponded with Sir Walter Scott, the 
suburbs of Grlas2^ow have swept over the scene ; 
and henceforward the way to Glasgow is not 

Yet although Glasgow is, in its population, the 
*' second city of the Empire," coming next after 
London, it is by no means the centre of so great 
a number of smaller townships as Manchester, 
and by consequence the approach, along crowded 
streets to the centre of the city, is not so lengthy. 
Bothwell, at the very furthest, is the limit, and 
is nine miles from the -Exchange at Glasgow. 
Laurel Bank and the suburb of Uddingston follow, 
and to this fringe in these days the electric tram- 
ways extend. To these inarches of the city succeed 
Broomhouse and some busy outlying collieries of 
the Lanarkshire coal-fields, Mount Vernon railway 
station, and Tolcross. It was at the approach to 
Tolcross, soon after the mail-coach to London had 
been established, that a desperate attempt to 
wreck and rob the mail was made. The road at 
that time passed through a small fir Avood, where 
a strong rope was stretched across the highway 
and securely fastened at either end to tree-trunks, 
at the height of the places usually occupied by 
coachman and guard ; but, as it happened, a slow- 
moving hay-waggon came along first, instead of 


tlio more quickly moving^ van, and the waggoner 
got rather a surprise. 


At Tolcross, the traveller has at last arrived at 
Glasgow, and enters there, into the wealthy city, 
by the meanest of back-doors. Tolcross and its 
lengthy continuation, Gallowgate, are one long- 
drawn slum, and so conduct shamelessly to the 
very heart of things : the junction of Trongate, 
Saltmarket, and High Street, where stands the old 
centre of the city in coaching days, Glasgow Cross. 

Here Glasgow is at its busiest, and the 
hurrying crowds look as though they had little 
time for sentiment. Yet the Glasgow people 
have, of course, an interest in Sir Walter Scott, 
and some there are who can point out to the 
stranger the house, once an inn, in King Street, 
turning out of Trongate, Avliich Scott once fre- 
quented. It was perhaps the original of the 
"Luckie Elyter's Hostelry" in Bob Boy. The 
pilgrim will be })idden look at the iron ring to 
which Sir Walter, in conmion with many another 
traveller, secured his horse. 

J3ut th(5r(5 is little enough of this sort of thing : 
railways old and railways new ; railways abt)ve 
and railways l)elow, and (dcctric tranicars on tlu^ 
surlacci, are \\w chief things in evi(hMK'('. 

Hen; yoii see tlie Cross station of the under- 
ground railway, ch(M>k by jowl with the old 
equestrian statue of William tlw^ ^'hird, that tells 


you, without more ado, of Glasgow's old "Whiggish 
comjilexion of politics : the tall steeple of the old 
Tolbooth, raid straddling the sidewalk, the tower 
of the Troii Church. The Tron itself (it was a 
public weighing-machine) went rerv long ago, 
together with the pleasant custom of nailing to 
it the ears of those tradesfolk who gave short 

Between this point and Candleriggs were found 
the principal coach offices. Prom Walker's coach- 
office at the " Tontine,'" the mail-coach for London 
started at about 1 a.m., called at the Post Office 
in Glassford Street for the bags, left there at 
1.15, pulled up again at the "Tontine" for the 
way-bill, and then was off in earnest, its five 
lamps glaring through the darkness. Its first 
considerable pull-up was at Beattock Inn, where 
breakfast before a blazing fire, off Finnan haddock, 
chops, ham and eggs, baps and buttered toast made 
amends to the jiassengers for much. Such, until 
the beginning of 1818, were the initial circum- 
stances of the long journey to London. 

The coachins^ inns of Glasgow were distributed 
in the Gallowgate, the Cross, and Argyle Street. 
Chief among these was the "Saracen's Head," a 
large building, for its era, with a frontage of one 
hundred feet to Gallows^ate. Greatlv admired at 
the time of its being built, in 1751, it was, accord- 
ing to modern ideas, a singularly grim and hard- 
featured frontage of stone that greeted travellers 
who halted here, at what was then by far the 
foremost hostelrv in the citv of Glassrow. 



It stood liai'd by where the East Port in the 
GaHowgate marked the ancient limits of the; city 
in that direction, and owed its orii^-in to the 
expansion of Ghis<^ow following- upon the more 
settled times that ensued after the suppression 
of " the Porty-live." Tlie Glasgow magistrates 
caused the old Gallowgate Port to be removed 
in 17^9, and, in their zeal for extending the city, 
spared nothing ; demolishing the neighbouring 
fourteenth-century Archbishop's Palace, and dese- 
crating the chapel and kirkyard of St. Mungo 
without the walls. In 1754 they advertised their 
readiness to sell the old kirkyard for feuing, and 
offered especial inducements to any speculative 
person who would undertake the establishment 
of an hotel, then felt to be greatly needed in 
Glasgow ; where, up to that period, only inns of 
a doubtful character, and of an insanitary condition 
that admitted of no doubts Avhatever, existed. 
The speculator was duly forthcoming, in the 
person of Robert Tennent, landlord at the time 
of the " White Hart " inn, in the GalloAvgate, 
who on Novem])er 21th, 17r)l, purchased the land 
of the kirkyard, on the understanding tliat he 
built an hotel according to plans to be agreed 
iij)()n. As an (^\tra inducement, the vendors 
thr(!VV into tlie l)ai*gain tlie stones of tlie de- 
molisluMl Ai'cbbisliop's Palace, and from tliein llie 
"Saracen's Iltvid" was accordingly I)uilt. 

'renuent iiimurdiatt^ly began to build, and reared 
liis liolcl on th(5 site of tin; kirkyard ; grubbing 
up and d(!str()ying witliont. scruple tiu^ gra\ cstones 


of the old burgesses of two hundred years earlier. 
By December 1755 he had completed the building 
and removed from the " AYhite Hart " : advertis- 
ing in the Edinburgh Courant of December 18th 
that his new house was a " convenient and hand- 
some new inn," built by himself at the request 
of the magistrates of Glasgow. He took the oppor- 
tunity of acquainting " all Ladies and Gentlemen " 
that he had " 36 Fire Rooms now fit to receive 
lodgers. The Bed-chambers are all separate, none 
of them entering through another, and are so con- 
trived that there is no need of going out of Doors 
to get to them. The Beds are all very good, 
clean, and free from Bugs " — which obviously 
was not commonly the case, or there would have 
been no need for him to lay stress upon the fact. 

Xotwithstanding the peculiar advantages of his 
house — its independence of Keating or his prede- 
cessors, and the convenience of guests not being 
obliged to walk out of doors to reach their bed- 
rooms — Tennent's speculation was a failure, and 
on February 3rd, 1757, he died, heavily in debt. 
His creditors, at a loss what to do with the house, 
let it to his widow at a rent of £50 a year. "When 
she died, in 1768, it Avas sold to James Graham, of 
the " Black Bull," Avho carried it on, with much 
success, until his death in 1777. But although 
he Avas so successful with the " Saracen's Head," 
he was unfortunate in other directions and died 
bankrupt. He was succeeded by his Avidow, Avho 
in 1791 married one Buchanan, avIio seems to 
have been rather a wild person, and indeed him- 


self wont bankrupt in 1791, dying two years 

In 1792 the " Saracen's Head " was purchased 
by William Miller ; who, later, converted it into 
shops and tenements. 

The sign of the house was ail enormous half- 
length picture of a turbaned Saracen, with goggling 
eyes, represented as fiercely drawing his scimitar, 
and habited in a claret-coloured gown, decorated 
with a red sash. 

This house was exceptionally famous as a 
literary landmark. In October 1773, Johnson 
and Boswell stayed two nights, on their return 
from the Hebrides ; the poet Gray is thought to 
have met the brothers Eoulis, the famous Glasgow 
printers, and to have concluded arrangements 
here for their edition of his poems, including the 
famous Elegy ; Dorothy Wordsworth, in her 
"Journal," under August 22nd, 1803, tells how 
pleased she and her brother were at last to leave 
the weary coach and find themselves in " the quiet 
little back parlour " of the " Saracen's Head." 

The magistrates, in that age a convivial set of 
men, delighted to assemble in the " Magistrates' 
lloom," and their capacity Tor drinking deep may 
be judg(ul from tlu^ sizes of tlu^ fanioiis punch-bowl 
of the establishment, which held five gallons. 
AdorruMl with th(^ City arms, it was usually 
brought in, shoiiich'r-liigii, by the hiixUord liini- 
self, and with great C(M'(;mony phiced bclore 
t,li<^ ('liaii-nian and I lie niagisi rates, who were 
prohably thcnisclvcs carrifMl lionic at a lalrr slagc 


of the session, or left sleeping off the effects 
nnder th(^ table. The bowl has for many years 
been lost sight of. Last seen in ISGO, it is believed 
to be no longer in existence. 

The *' Saracen's Head " building finally dis- 
appeared in 190 1. 

The " Black Bull," second only to the "Saracen's 
Head," was built close by the West Port, in 
Argyle Street, in 1758, and took its name from an 
old inn on the opposite side of the road, kej^t at 
that time by James Graliam, who afterwards 
acquired the " Saracen's Head." The building 
of the "Black Bull" was a shrewd speculation 
of the Highland Society, which in 1757 purchased 
the freehold site for £260 lis. 6cL It contained 
twenty-three bedrooms, and six reception rooms, 
and w^as provided with an ample sufficiency of 
cellars : six in number. For a number of years 
the rent appears to have been £100 per annum. 
By 1788, it had risen to £110, and under a 
nineteen-y ears' lease from 1789 to 1808 was £215. 
In 1825, when shops were made on the ground- 
floor, the combined rental of shops and hotel had 
risen to £1,168 ; by which it would ap2)ear that 
the Highland Society had secured full measure 
and brimming over from its investment of £260 
in 1757. 

The year 1819 saw the closing of the " Black 
Bull," when it was converted into a drapery 
establishment. The building stands at the corner 
of Virginia Street, and is now occujDied by Messrs. 
Mann, Byars & Co. 

THE " TONTINE " 303 

Later in clat(% and more advanced in comforts, 
was the " TontiiK* Hotel," l)iiilt ori«;'inally as the 
Glasgow Exchange, in 1781-2. With the advan- 
tage of a central jDosition, at the Cross, it eventually 
became the foremost hotel in Glasgow. It Avas 
leased to one "Mr. Smart " in 1784, as an hotel ; 
a coffee-house and imposing reading-rooms form- 
ing important adjuncts. 

The arrival of the London newspapers at the 
Tontine Reading Rooms was in the old days the 
signal for riotous excitement. Immediately on 
receiving the hag of papers from the Post Office, 
the waiter locked himself up in the bar. After 
he had sorted the different j^apers and had made 
them up in a heap, he unlocked the door and, 
making a sudden rush into the middle of the 
room, tossed up the A\hole heap as high as the 
ceiling. Then came an irresistible rush and 
scramble of subscribers, every one darting forward 
to lay hold of a paper. Sometimes a lucky and 
agile fellow would secure five or six and run off 
into a corner, to select his favourite : always hotly 
pursued by half a doz(Mi of the disa])j)ointed 
scramblers, who without ceremony snatched away 
the first th(;y could lay hold of, regardless of its 
being torn in tlie contest. On tliosc^ occasions a 
heap of g(Mitlemen conld ol'tcMi be seen sprawling 
on tlie floor and clinil)ing over one anotlier's 
backs, like so many sclioolhoys. 

Tlie name of Mic liolcl dciivtMl fioni (he 
financial, lottery-like principle of I lie tontine, hy 
uliicb tlie biiildiiii;' riinds were raised. 


One hundred and seven shares of £50 each 
were subscribed in 1781 ; the interest upon the 
investment being paid at regular intervals, and 
the property gradually devolving, as the members 
of the tontine died, upon the survivors ; the 
lessening number of the persons to share out 
increasing ^;ro rata the value of the survivors' 

The " Tontine Hotel " ceased to be an hotel 
many years ago, and is now the warehouse of 
Messrs. Moore, Taggart & Co. 


Here, then, we are come to the end of this long 
journey, into the roaring, overcrowded streets of 
modern Glasgow. 

I shall not attempt to describe the Glaswegian : 
there are so many varieties of him. Nor his 
accent, which evades characterisation. The Lon- 
doner, accustomed to think his own city busy and 
crowded, will find, on coming to Glasgow, that 
he has still something to learn about congested 
streets. Let him, for example, resort to the 
Central station of the Caledonian Hallway (the 
whistles of whose Prussian-blue-paintod engines 
have an accent of their own) and he shall see a 
high tide of life new to him. 

As for ancient Glasgow, I know not where to 
bid you look for it, unless it be in the Cathedral, 
and that is ancient indeed. The rest is very new, 
yet very grey and gloomy, for the immense com- 


vol,. U 



mercial interests of Glasgow have not only com- 
pelled the extension of the city, but also the 
complete rebuilding- of its centre, and have caused 
it to be rebuilt exclusively in stone. The chief 
streets are of stone, are paved with stone, and 
have remarkably tall buildings, and so with the 
side streets : the sole difference being that while 
the principal thoroughfares contain the shops, 
every side street leading out of them is a more 
or less dirty slum, where dirty little bare-legged, 
ragged-tailed boys and girls play in the road or 
spit out of windows on the passing stranger. I 
suppose the respectable people do their business 
in the city, and live outside it. 

There is no colour in Glasgow, which, when 
once you are out of the noise and bustle of the 
business streets, is thus a very depressing place ; 
and I think the Scotsman's praise, " Man, ye 
should live in Glesca', there's such gran' faceelities 
for gettin' ooto't," must have taken unconscious 
count of this. 

In one way, and one only, Glasgow resembles 
London. This is in the way in which the Clyde 
divides it, north and south. North, you have old 
Glasgow and its immediate extensions ; south are 
the dependent districts of Hutchesontown, Laurie- 
ston, Gorbals, Govanhill, and a dozen others. 

The Clyde and the neighljourhood of the 
Lanarkshire coalfield are the determining factors 
that have made Glasgow what it is, yet although 
its wealth and size are of modern growth, it is 
no parvenu, upstart place without a history. St. 


Kentigern, or St. Miingo, the patron saint of 
Glasgow, came here so early as a.d. 543, but 
early as he was, Glasgow was already here, in 
the guise of one hamlet on the Molenclinar Burn, 
where the Cathedral now stands, and another 
nearer the Clyde. 

And here, with this mention of St. Kentigern, 
it is necessary for awhile to divert the stream of 
historical narrative into the interesting backwater 
of saintly biography, and thus learn the story 
of how the city came by its singular armorial 

Kentigern, the founder of the see, was born 
in A.D. 518, or 527, and was by birth a by no 
means humble person, having been the son of 
Ewen ap Urien, a prince of Strathclyde, and of 
Thenewth, daughter of Loth, King of Nortli- 
umbria. Kentigern was born at Culross, where, 
as a youth, he entered the Church, under the 
guidance and protection of St. Serf, the old 
Bishop of Culross, who showed great affection 
for him, and used to style him, intimately, 
"Munchu," a nickname said to derive from 
words signifying " dear, wc^ll-maniu'red litth* 
feHow." Kentigern was not only url)ane, but 
pious as well, and early of siicli liolijiess as to l)e 
a])le to perform miracles, Tlie lirst of tliese was 
tlie bringing again to life a pet robin Ix'longing 
to bis |)atron, wbich iiad been aeciibMitIv kiib'd 
by oih(;r lads in tbe monastery, wiio laid (be 
blame of tln^ accident (mi bim. Taking Die dead 
bird ill bis band, mid niaUiiig Ibe sii;n of tbt^ 


Cross, it reYiyed, and flew off, chiqiiing, to its 

The next miracle was exhibited to reprove his 
mischieTOus Toung companions, who, seeing him 
fall asleep over a consecrated fire Avliich it was 
his duty to attend, extinguished it. Kentigern 
merely, when he awoke, went outside and found 
a frozen hazel branch which he breathed upon, 
in the name of the Trinity, whereujion it burst 
into flame. 

The precocious sanctity and the amazing 
miracles of Kentigern so impressed St. Serf — as 
well they might — that when the cook attached 
to the monastery died suddenly at harvest time 
and the reapers were returning to a dinner that 
had not been j)i'epared, the Bishop merely gave 
him the choice of cooking the dinner, or raising 
the cook from the dead. Whatever else Kentigern 
was, he was no chef, and so did the easiest thing 
for him to perform, and resurrected the cook, 
who was doubtless grateful : but probably not 
so grateful as the reapers, Avho narrowly escaped 
having their dinner spoilt. 

But these were not his most celebrated ex- 
ploits ; and were mere side-shows compared with 
the famous adventure of the Queen of Cadzow, 
which he saved from becoming a tragedy. It 
seems that the Kinsr of Strathclvde had c^iven 
his consort a ring of great jirice and singular 
beauty, but she in turn presented it to a knight 
with whom she was on terms of peculiar friend- 
ship. As ill-fortune would have it, the King 



espied it on the knii^lit's finger, and, indignant 
that his gift should have been passed on, snatched 
it oft" and flung it into the Clyde, He then, 
saying nothing of what had happened, asked her 
for it. She made a temporary excuse, and in dis- 
tress turned to Kentigern, who listened patiently. 


and then instructed her to cause a fishing-line 
to })e cast iiilo tlie river, when the first lisli 
hooked would 1x5 found to have ihc missing ring 
in his stomach. 

'V\n'i lin(5 was cast, the lisli caiiglit, and tlic 
ring 'Inly lound and rctm-ncd to Mic King, w iio 
was thus com|)l(5tely hoodwinkcMl. Our sympalhics 
are ratlicr with tlie Kint;-, over this hnsiness, (haii 


with the Queen, or the saint, who does not seem 
to have been able to withstand a woman's tears 
or the desire of showing-ofp ; even though it were 
in a questionable cause. 

But he was equal to any emergency. Preaching 
once to a great crowd, to whom he was almost in- 
audible and invisible, owing to the flatness of the 
ground he stood on, he caused a mound to grow 
up beneath his feet, and prophesied that Glasgow 
should rise as the mound had done. 

Finally he died in a.d. 603, and was buried 
on the site where Glasgow Cathedral stands. 

The arms of Glasgow illustrate many of these 
stories, but were not adopted until toward the 
close of the sixteenth century, the earliest re- 
presentation of them being found sculptured over 
the entrance to the Tron Kirk, and dated 1592. 
They were heraldically formulated in modern 
times, and, in the language of heralds, are : 
" Argent, on a mount in base, an oak-tree proper : 
the stem and bole thereof surmounted by a salmon 
on its back, also proper, with a signet-ring in its 
mouth, or ; on tojD of the tree a redbreast, and 
on the sinister fess point an ancient bell, both 
also proper " : the bell referring to one he is said 
to have brought from Rome. The crest includes 
a half-length of the saint, in the act of benedic- 
tion, and the supporters are two salmon. 

Although the arms are modern, the same, or 
similar, devices appeared upon the common seal 
of Glasgow from an early period : the mound, 
however, being a comparatively recent addition, 


^ v\. 


necessitated by the hazel branch having become, 
by some unexplained species of evolution, an oak 
tree. The earliest representation of the mound 
is said to be that shown on the bell of Tron 
Kirk, Avhich also first exhibits the famous Glasgow 
motto, which, in its original and unexpurgated 
form : " Lord, let Glasgow flourish by the preach- 
ing of the Word and praising Thy name," is to 
be found over the entrance to Blackfriars Church. 

The theological and missionary com^^lexion of 
this asjoiration was completely obscured in 1699, 
when the abl)reviated form was first used as the 
city motto : the inference, to satirical minds, now 
beins: " Let Glasgow Flourish — bv all means." 

Popular disbelief in these miraculous things 
is expressed in the lines : 

This is the tree that never sprang, 
This is the bird that never sang, 
This is the bell that never rang, 
This is the fish that never swam. 

St. Enoch Church, built in 1780, and the St. 
Enoch terminus both, in a way, owe their names to 
Kentigern. St. Enoch is a name you Avill not find 
in the hierarchy of saints. There was never any 
such person, the name being merely a corruption 
of that of TheneAvth, the mother of Kentigern. 

The Cathedral itself is dedicated to Kentigern, 
under the pet name given him by St. Serf. 

St. Mungo's Cathedral, standing on the site 
where, by the " Glas-coed," or "dark wood" of 
the original settlement, the saint erected his 
wooden mission church some thirteen hundred and 


fifty years ai^o, is the successor of several buildings 
that have been erected on the spot, and in its 
present form dates from what we are accustomed 
to style the Early English period of the mid- 
thirteenth century. It consists of nave, 155 feet 
in length, and choir of 97 feet ; with aisles, Lady 
Chapel, and Chapter House ; while the crypt 
beneath the choir is one of the most striking 
features of the building. 

Occupying the highest point in Glasgow, the 
Cathedral was in olden days in midst of very 
beautiful scenery, but in these times it is sur- 
rounded by the poorest quarters and although it 
commands views of some extent, they are only 
of roofs and chimneys and of the once pretty 
hillside now thickly set with the larger or smaller 
monuments of the cemetery called the " Necro- 
polis." The old Molendinar Burn that ran in the 
hollow between the Cathedral and that crowded 
Golgotha was long ago covered up and its course 
converted into a road spanned by the bridge 
leading into the cemetery, called the " Bridge of 
Sighs." Prominent above all other monuments 
on that stricken liill is the tall column crowned 
l)y an effigy of John Knox. The Cathedral Yard 
itself is a dismal place. There, forming a close 
paving, are the memorials of many of Glasgow's 
d(^|)ai-ted citiz(Mis : the stoiuvs broken and mangy : 
merchants jostling cock-lairds and dunghill s(piires 
with tlieir luM'aldic acliievements weathered in 
most cases almost heyond rccogiiil ion ; and onr 
of Miose rcrocious dcnnnciatorv Cov<*nant(M\s' 


monuments Avith which every visitor to Scotland 
soon becomes familiar. 

They'll know, at Resurrection Day, 
To murder Saints was no sweet play. 

So runs the savage rhyme. 

The Cathedral, in common with other such 
ecclesiastical buildings in Scotland, is maintained 
by the Office of Works, and is opened at ten 
o'clock in the morning by an uniformed official. 
It is black without and extremely dark within : 
the crypt, by reason of the darkness and the 
maze of pillars, being a place wherein the stranger 
is reduced to groping his way about. In short, 
a building of exquisite beauty, but dank and 
dark to a degree. A great deal of this darkness 
is caused by the bad, semi-oj)aque, highly coloured 
heraldic and other stained glass inserted half a 
century ago. 

GlasgoAV has ever been proud of its Cathedral. 
Sir Walter Scott echoes this attitude in " Rob 
E,oy," where he makes Andrew Pairservice say : 
"A brave kirk — nane o' yer whigmaleeries and 
curliewurlies and opensteek hems about it — a' solid, 
weel-jointed mason-wark, that will stand as lang 
as the warld, keej^ hands and gunpowther aff it." 

It would have gone ill with this " solid, weel- 
jointed mason-wark " when the leaven of the Re- 
formation was working, had not the Glaswegians, 
prouder of the building than of the religion for 
which it stood, presented a bold front against the 
fury of the surrounding townships and their own 


siibiirl)s, eagor to destroy it altog;etlier. Again, 
in the words of Andrew Pairservice, " It wasna 
for love o' paperie — na, na ! nane could ever say 
that o' the trades o' GlasgoAv. Sae they suue 
came to an agreement to take a' the idolatrous 
statues o' sants (sorrow he on them) out o' their 
neuks. And sae the hits o' stane idols were broken 
in pieces hy Scripture warrant, and flung into 
the Molendinar Burn, and the auld kirk stood 
as crouse as a cat when the fleas are kaimed off 
her, and a'body was alike pleased." 

The Cathedral was then made to fulfil the 
needs of no fewer than three congregations : one 
meeting in the choir, another in the nave, and a 
third in the Laigh Kirk, or Low Church {i.e. the 
crypt). The ancient pile has not been without 
its dramatic moments, as Avlien, in October 1650, 
Cromwell himself sat here, unmoved, with Mr. 
Secretary Thurlow, while a furious preacher. 
Dr. Zachary Boyd, emulating a like exploit of 
John Knox before Queen Mary, many years 
before, for two hours preached at him, as " Sectary 
and Blasphemer." 

" Shall T hav(? him out by the ears and pistol 
him?" whispc^red Thurlow, his anger gaining the 
better of his lawyer instincts. 

" No," re})lied the man of force and arms, 
unvvont(ully, but roughly, (li|)l()matic'. " lie's a 
fool and you'n; another: I'll i)ay him out in Ins 
own coin." 

11(5 invited lioyd to dinnci', nnd alter llie nn^al 
olTcrcd np a.n cxliausling j)ravri' of Hirer liours' 


length. After this " like cures like " homoeo- 
pathic treatment, Dr. Boyd crept home, dazed, to 
bed and nightmare : but it would surely have 
been more prettily exasperating had Cromwell 
prayed his three hours before dinner. 

The Cathedral Square abuts upon one of the 
most squalid neighbourhoods in GlasgOAV, but it 
is here that the oldest domestic building in the 
city stands. The stranger's attention is first 
attracted to it by the legend, " Provand's Lord- 
ship," painted across the weathered stone frontage 
over the hairdresser's shop that occupies part of 
the ground floor. Then, glancing at the high- 
pitched roof and the corbie-stepped gables, charac- 
teristic of old Scottish architecture, he will per- 
ceive that he is indeed contemplating a very 
reverend building. It Avas, in fact, originally 
erected during the episcopacy of Bishop Muirhead, 
1455-73, as a manse for certain of the clergy of 
the Cathedral, and this portion of the building 
still exhibits a shield of the Bishop's arms : three 
acorns, on a bend. In 1570, shortly after the 
Reformation had dispossessed the clergy of their 
properties, William Baillie, who had been granted 
the Provand's Lordship lands and houses by Queen 
Mary in 1565, added the wing that now fronts 
upon the street. Here, in 1565, before that ad- 
dition was made, the Queen stayed on her visit 
to Glasgow. The visitor, exploring the ancient 
and interesting, but miserably uncomfortable, 
rooms, will, more than ever, suspect that the 
goodness of the " good old days " is a myth. 



You might 

But why " Provand's Lordship " ? 
stand all day in the crowded Cathedral Square, 
and canvass all who passed ; and yet no one would 
he ahle to tell you, unless indeed you happened 
upon one of the leading spirits of the " Provand's 


Lordship Literary Club," Dr. Robert B. Lothian, 
Messrs. B. H. Arnott, Thos. Lugton, and Jas. 
Murphy, who have just purchased the property. 

According to those, and other, authorities, the 
house Avas in the iirst instance erected as a 
residence for the priest in charge of St. Nicholas' 
Hospital, and afterwards became tlie residence of 
one of the Catliedi'al pi'el)endaries — tlie Prebendary 
of Jialarnock, vvliosc j)i'('l)(Mid included a long strip 
of land extending from the Cat hedi'al to Cowlairs 
and I'rovanliall, li\(' miles away to lliccasl, w licre 
the country-house ol' liiinsell and liiose wlio suc- 
cee(b'<l liim still stands. Me was Lord of tlie 


Manor of Provan, and so were his secular suc- 
cessors. Thus " Provaud's Lordship," a title Lord 
EiOsehery, speaking in October 1907 at a dinner 
given by the " Provand's Lordship Literary Club," 
professed himself unable to understand. But 
what that sorry fugitive figure of political failure 
cannot comiDrehend is not, it will be seen, after all, 
so difficult of comprehension. 


And now to revert to the secular story of Glasgow, 
which has been so long interrupted. The village 
had by 1136 become important enough for the 
site of the first Cathedral, and so through centuries 
it grew, retaining the reputation of being " an 
exceedingly beautiful little place " until the very 
daAvn of the eighteenth century. It early stood 
for law and order, and preferred the Hanoverians 
to the Stuarts, both in the '15 and the '45 : op- 
posing the Old Pretender on the first occasion with 
600 men, and Prince Charlie on the second with 
double that number. But the cit}" was made to 
supply the rebels of 1715 with £5,000 in gold and 
£500 worth of munitions. Its population was 
then about 50,000. In 1768, when the modern 
commercial career of Glasgow may be said to 
have commenced, in the works for the deei^ening 
of the Clyde then undertaken, the inhabitants 
numbered about 70,000. At the beginning of 
the nineteenth century, the figure had risen to 



83,709, in 1851 to 3()0,00(), and is now computed 
at close upon one million. 

The commercial genius and the farsighted 
energy of the Scottish people have transformed what 
was the shallow, muddy estuary of the Clyde into 
a busy waterway second to none in the world. As 
a river, the Clyde has never counted for much^ 
but as an estuary it has ever been of importance ; 
an importance, however, sadly neutralised by the 
shoals that from the earliest known times ob- 
structed the passage. Even in remote days Glas- 
gow made attempts to clear \\\q fairway, and in 
1565 efforts were devoted to increasing the depth 
of the channel, and to correcting its course, 
" aimless in its wanderings, and dangerous with 
banks and quicksands." But little was done, and 
in 1651 it was reported as every day more and 
more filling up At that time no considerable 
vessel could approach nearer Glasgow than Dum- 
barton, fourteen miles distant, and the tonnage of 
the port was a mere 957 tons. This condition of 
affairs remained until 1740, when John Golborne, 
a Chester engineer, was employed to dredge and 
build jetties. 

But in 1755, high-water at the Hiooiuiehiw 
still gav(; a dej)tli ol" only five feet, and at low- 
water th(5r(5 vv(;r(^ but (jigliteen iiiclies. To-day, on 
tlie sam(^ spot, thei'(5 is a twenty- liv<' feet (lej)lli of 
wat(U', and tlu^ larg(^st ocean-going steanuu's lie olf 
tlic (M-owdcd (|uays. 

liutllicrcis MO (inalify liere. 11" Hkm-c were, 
(jilasgow would Ix' lliinkinL;' ol" slinlliiig up slioj). 


Dredging is still in progress, and the bottomless 
Loch Long still receives the resultant harvest of 
mud. MeanAvhile, the revenue of the River Clyde 
Trust goes soaring up. One hundred and fifty years 
ago it was £1,500 per annum. In 1898 it was 
£430,000, and doubtless by noAv considerably 
exceeds half a million sterling. The Broomielaw, 
once, in a distant past, a wild waterside common 
where broom and heather flourished, is now a 
combination of Thames Street and Blackfriars, 
London, the resemblance heightened by the 
similarity of Glasgow Bridge and the lattice - 
girder railway-bridges to those spanning the 

The beauty of these lower reaches of the Clyde 
has, therefore, departed ; but although the river 
at Glasgow may look and smell very like a sewer, 
Glaswegians are proud of it, as they have every 
right to be, for it is their very own. The story is 
told of such a proprietary GlasgoAV man being 
assured by a Canadian that a dozen Clydes could 
be added to the St. Lawrence, and no difference 
be observed. " Weel, mebbe," the Glaswegian is 
reported to have said ; " the St. Lawrence is th' 
wark o' th' Almichty, but we made th' Clyde 

The Clyde shipbuilding yards are to-day the 
first in the world, and the riverside, from Glasgow 
city to Port Glasgow and Greenock, rings with 
the clang of the hammers and the noise of the 
riveters busily adding to the maritime tonnage of 
the nation. 



North of the Cathedral is the more than 
usually unlovely district of Port Dundas, where, 
beside the two canals that give the neighbourhood 
the rather magnificent name of " Port," are all 
manner of warehouses and manufactories. This 
also is the St. Hollox district. I do not know 
who St. E-ollox was, but his name suggest as 
canonised boating champion. The place is not- 
able for the tall chimney of Townsend's chemical 


works: "St. ]lollox's big stalk," 480 leot in 
height, said to l)e tlie tallest cliimney in tlu> world. 
[n a Furious gab; it sways like a ilagstaiT. After 
an existence; of fifty years, tin; lol'ty chimney was 
Ixiing rey)ointe(l in August 11)07 wlien -lohn (lohlie, 
a si('('|)l('ja(',lv, IVII from ihr sumniii and was of 
coiiisr^ killed, ev^(;ry bone in ivis body Ix'iiig 

'IMie south, as well as Ibe noilh, has ils in- 

V(»l.. II .•! 


dustrial sights. Across the river in Hutchesontown, 
is the well-known " Dixon's Blazes " : great iron- 
works that shed an infernal glow hy night over 
the street and the tranicars that run by. No 
Glaswegian ever willingly allows the stranger to 
depart without seeing " Dixon's Blazes " : but, 
after all, Middlesbrough can show bigger sights 
in that kind. 

After all, the most instructive views are 
Glasgow on a Saturday night and the same place 
(but so changed that you ask yourself. Can it be 
the same ?) on Sunday. At midnight on Saturday, 
Glasgow is roaring drunk and the neighbourhoods 
of the Trongate and the Central Station are 
veritable pandemoniums : but on Sunday those 
not thoughtful enough to have laid in a j^rivate 
store of alcoholic liquor must needs go thirsty, 
for Scotland is the land of rigorous Sunday closing. 
The only way to circumvent this barbarous ob- 
servance is to arm one's self with a prescription 
from a complaisant medical practitioner, indicating 
the following : 

Sp. Villi. Gall oz. i 

Aqua Sodse Eflfervesc oz. iv 


Presented at any chemist's, this results, strange 
to say, in a preparation not to be distinguished 
from what is sold on week-days across the public 
bars as " whiskey and soda." 

It is along the Great Western Eoad, and in 
the park at Kelvingrove, that Sunday finds 
Glasgow at its best : for there you are in the 


residential districts, and the finest feathers are 
then assumed for church-parade. It is the pictur- 
esque made more picturesque hy the stately group 
of the University buildings, erected between 1866 
and 1870. 

Glasgow having the reputation of being the 
" best-governed city in Great Britain," it behoves 
the stranger, if not to pry into its great tramways, 
gas and water and electric-lighting undertakings, 
and the like municipal activities, at least to see 
the civic centre of the place. This is George 
Square. A citizen of Glasgow — I think he was 
a Lord Provost, or at the very least of it a bailie — 
has written a history of George Square, from 
whose pages you may learn how (like Britain 
arising at Heaven's command from the azure 
main) George Square came into being from some 
pitiful malebolge, at the august will of the city 
council. It is a story touched to great issues, 
and if it does not make my heart beat to a quicker 
rate, that is my own insufficiency. 

To a Londoner, who cannot help his vice of 
comparison, George Square is anc^ther, and a 
smaller, Trafalgar Square. To aid the resem- 
blance and confirm the smallness of tlie scale, 
her(; is a column in the ceiitn^ Sir Walter Scott, 
and not Nelson, it is who in edigy occiipicvs the 
Huininit. Tli(^ tiling looks as tliough, witli a little 
judicious watering and cardiil culture, it might 
som(^ day grow to ])e a Nelson column. All 
around ai'e other statues: (Mpiest eHigi«'s of 
Queen Victoria and i'rinee AlheiM; and Colin 


Campbell, Thomas Campbell, Peel, Livingstone, 
Sir John Moore, Burns, and others on foot. One 
side of the Square is occupied by the " City 
Chambers": what in England we would term 
the Town Hall. This is a great pile designed by 
William Young, architect of the new War Office 
building in London ; and in the same classic 
renaissance style, with the same old pepper-castor 
pavilions at either end : the usual small ones (for 
cayenne) in the middle, and the inevitable pedi- 
ment and indispensable tower. The cost was 
£540,000, the building was open in 1888, and 
this, the third or fourth Glasgow Town Hall, each 
one in succession larger than its forebear, is 
already too small. So also is the inconvenient 
General Post Office building, near by, opened in 

In connection with the bronze Valhalla of 
heroes in George Square, it may be noted that 
Glasgow is, in general, great in statues and 
memorials. Probably the most majestic statue 
of Wellington in existence is that in front of the 
Exchange, an equestrian effigy by Marochetti. 
Nelson, on the other hand, is commemorated by 
a tall obelisk on Glass-ow Green. 



Abington, ii. 289 
AdHngton, i. 340, 3-46, 347-49 
Alvaston, i. 281 
Anglezarke Moor, ii. 85 
Annan, River, ii. 269, 270, 272 
Ardwick Green, i. 352 
Arthuret, ii. 212, 214 
Ashbourne, i. 76, 87, 306, 308-23 
Askham Hall, ii. 172 

Bamber Bridge, ii. 89 
Bamford, Samuel, i. 51-111 
Barnet,i. 56, HI, 119-21 

Fair, i. 116-119 

Barrow-on-Soar, i. 248, 253 
Bass family (brewers), i. 311 
Beattock, ii. 270, 273, 279, 

Bedford, Dukes of, i. 157-64; ii. 

Belgrave, i. 246, 251 
Blackford, ii. 211 
Blackwood, ii. 291 
Blore, i. 329 
iJollin, Kiv(rr, i. 345 
Hollirigtoii, i. 345 
liolton, ii. ()8-75 

■ -1()-Siui(Ih, ii. 132 

BonHhaw Tower, ii. 263 
hooMil.y, I'.-ticlope, i. 316-18 
Mor(>u^lil>ri(l)4(), ii. 153-54 
MoHley, i. 337 

Bothwell, ii. 295 

Bridge, Battle of, ii. 294 

Boughton, i. 198 

Green, i. 198 

Brailsford, i. 42, 308 

Brandreth, Jeremiah, rebel, i. 89, 

Bright, John, i. 22, 199 ; ii. 

Brixworth, i. 200-3 
Brougham, ii. 163-71 
Broughton, near Newport Pagnell, 

i. 166 
Buckstone, The, ii. 133-35 
Bullock Smithy (Hazel Grove), i. 

83, 350-52 
Burton-in-Kendal, ii. 133-37 

Calton Moor, i. 329 

Carloton, ii. 188 

Carlisle, i. 14, ii. 188-207, 214 

Carlyle, Thomas, ii. 264-68 

('arnforth, ii. 132 

( Carriers, i. 24, 311 

Cavcndisii BridK"', i. 266,279 

(-harlcs lOdwanI, Prince (see Ro- 

l.cili..M of 1745). 
('Ii(.il(\v, ii. «3, 86. SH 
Clmivii LiiiiKtoii. i. 2l7-2() 
( 'luiriii't, Kiver, i. 335 
( 'laylon (Jrccri, ii. HS 
Io-VVooiIh, ii. SH 




Clifton (near Manchester), ii. 68 

(near Penrith), ii. 158-63 

Chpston, i. 211 

Clyde, River, ii. 272, 288, 289, 294, 

307, 320 
Coaches : — 

Beehive, London and Man- 
chester, i. 41 

CarMsle Mail, i. 5-14 

Post Coach, i. 5 

Courier, London and Glasgow, 
i. 29 

Defiance, London and Man- 
chester, i. 32, 34, 37, 41, 
42, 308 ; ii. 65 

Derby Dilly, Manchester and 
Derby, i. 309 

Fly, Derby and London, 

i. 290 

Dumfries Coach, ii. 253, 255 

and Edinburgh Mail, ii. 


Estafette, London and Man- 
chester, i. 38 

Flying Coach (1754), London 
and Manchester, i. 23 

Machine, London and 

Manchester, i. 24 

Glasgow Mail, i. 5-21 ; ii. 149, 
200, 268, 270-79, 286-88 

and Carhsle Dihgence, ii. 


and Edinburgh Stage, i. 


Handforth, Howe, Glanville 
& Richardson's Man- 
chester and London 
Coach, i. 24 
Independent, London and 

Manchester, i. 33 
London Flying Machine ( 1 770) 
Manchester and London, 
i. 24 

Coaches {continued) : — 

London New and Elegant 

Diligence, Manchester and 

London, i. 25 

Manchester Mail, London and 

Manchester, i. 25, 116 ; 

ii. 65 

and Derby Mail, i. 310 

Telegraph, London and 

Manchester, i. 33, 37-9, 
41 ; ii. 66 
New Diligence, Manchester 

and London, i. 25 
Peveril of the Peak, London 
and Manchester, i. 22, 41, 
Plummer's Glasgow and Lon- 
don Coach, i. 5 
Prince Cobourg, London and 

Manchester, i. 32 
Red Rover, London and Man- 
chester, i. 41, 43 
Regulator, London and Man- 
chester, i. 33 
Royal Defiance, London and 
Manchester, i. 33 
Coaching, i. 2-51, 125, 289, 309 ; 
ii. 129-32, 137, 147-53, 199- 
202, 230, 253, 255, 270-72, 
274-79, 283-88, 296-98 

accidents, i. 14, 42 ; ii. 147, 

283, 285-88 
Coaching and Carrying Nota- 
bihties : — 

Ainslie, Jack, ii. 245-47 
Anderson, James, ii. 165 
Barnes, James, ii. 150 
Bass, Wilham, i. 311 
Baxendale, Joseph, i. 311 
Bird, " Parson," ii. 149 
Bryden, John, ii. 149 
Byrns, Jim, i. 50 ; ii. 150 
Campbell, Hugh, ii. 287 



Coaching and Carrying Notabi- 
lities {continued) '■ — 
Chaplin, William, i. 33, 43 
Davies, Tom, i. 47 
Douglas, Harry, i. 4G 
Drydens, the, ii. 149 
Eade, George, ii. 155 
Goodfellow, John, ii. 283 
Hoorn, WilUam, i. 3. 
Home, Benjamin Worthy, i. 

Inns, Samuel, i. 47 
Jervis, William, i. 48 
Johnson, Isaac, ii. 150 
Lacy, H. C, i. 25, 29 ; ii. 65 
MacGeorge, James, ii. 283 
Meecher, — , i. 47 
Nelson, Robert, i. 41 
Nightingale, — , ii. 148 
Parkin, James, ii. 148 
Pickford, Matthew, i. 24, 311 
Pooley, John, ii. 151 
Ramsay of Barn ton, ii. 148 
Reed, John, ii. 149 
Sherman, Edward, i. 34-38, 43 
Skaife, — , i. 50 
Snow, Bob, i. 46 
Teathcr, John, ii. 147, 199 
Telfers, the, ii. 150 
Venables, — , i. 49 
Walker, John, i. 4. 
Wall, Joe, i. 46 
Waterhouse, William, i. 33, 34 

Cockfosters, i. 121 

Compton, i. 309 

C'onv(u/(d(i, Stanwix, ii. 205 

Cook, 'J'honuiH (originator of rail- 
way cxcurHions), i. 244 

(lountcHHi'illar, ii. 16!), 171 

Crawford, ii. 270, 2HH 

(Jroiiipton, Huniiidl, iiivciitor, ii. 28, 

Cuck(j() HuhIi, i. 266 

Dane, River, i. 336, 337 
Denighton Bridge, ii. 290 
Derby, i. 75, 89, 281, 285-306 
Derventio, Derby, i. 285 
Derwent, River, i. 285, 304 
Devil's Beef Tub, ii. 272, 282 
Dinwoodie Green, ii. 269, 273 
Dorfcocker, ii. 84 
Douglas Mill, ii. 290 

Water, ii. 290 

Dove, River, i. 324, 329 
Dunstable, i. 61, 154 
Dyrham Park, i. 124 

Eakley (or Inckley) Lane, i. 173 
Eamont Bridge, ii. 175-79 

River, ii. 171, 175 

East Langton, i. 217-20 

Ecclefechan, ii. 264-68 

Eden, River, ii. 171, 204 

Elvanfoot, ii. 269, 272, 273 

Elvaston, i. 281-85 

End Moor, ii. 137 

Ericstane Brae, ii. 269, 271, 273, 

Esk, River, ii. 210, 214, 217 
Evan Water, ii. 273, 284-88 

Farleton Knott, ii. 134, 137 
Farnwortii, ii. 69 
Faxton, i. 208-10 
Finchley, i. 115 
Firwood, ii. 75 
Flamst-cad, i. 153 
Flash, i. 342-45 
Kotlon, ii. 107 
Foxton JjCMiks, i. 22() 
Friar'H Wash, i. 152 

Gulgat*', ii. 107 

(iarHlang, ii. 1(15-7 

(liiyliiirHl. i. 170 72 

(lianl'H (iniV(<, I lie, ii. IS3-8A 



Glasgow, ii. 296-324 

Glen Magna (or Great Glen), i. 

Gorhambury, i. 151 
Goslin Syke, ii. 209 
Gotham, i. 262-66 
Great Glen (or Glen Magna), i. 222 
Gretna Green, i. 14 ; ii. 210, 218, 

" Gretna Green " Marriages : — 
Bourbon, Prince Charles Fer- 
dinand, and Penelope 
Smyth, ii. 249 
Deerhiirst, Viscount, ii. 248 
Drumlanrig, Viscount, and 
Caroline Clayton, ii. 249 
Dundonald, Earl of, and 
Katharine Barnes, ii. 248 
Erskine, Lord Chief Justice, 
and Sarah Buck, ii. 247 
Ibbetson, Captain, and Lady 

Adela Villiers, ii. 245 
Lovell, Captain Francis, and 
Lady Rose Somerset, ii. 
Wakefield, Edward Gibbon, 
and Ellen Turner, ii. 
Westmoreland, Earl of, and 
Miss Child, ii. 244 
Grmdley Marsh, i. 352 
Gunpowder Plot, i. 171 

Hackleton, i. 177 
Hackthorpe, ii. 156 
Hadley Green, i. 124 
Hall-i'-th'-Wood, ii. 28, 76-83 
Hamilton, ii. 292-94 
Hamps, River, i. 330 
Hanging Bridge, i. 324-26, 329 
Hardingstone, i. 178 
Hassockwell Burn, ii. 272 
Hathem, i. 261 

Hazel Grove (BuUock Smithy), i. 

83, 349-52 
Heaton Chapel, near Stockport, i. 


Norris, i. 352 

Heaviley, i. 352 

Hehn Wind, the, ii. 146 

Heron Syke, ii. 134 

Hest Bank, ii. 120, 122, 129, 132 

Highgate, i. 55, 115 

High Hesket, ii. 187, 244 

Hockhffe, i. 3, 61, 155 

Hogstye End, i. 165 

Hope Green, i. 349 

Hopping Hill, i. 210 

Horton, i. 174, 176 

Horwich, ii. 84 

Hucks Brow, ii. 147, 153 

Tnckley (or Eakley), Lane, i. 173 
Inns (mentioned at length) : — 
Bay Horse, near Lanceister, 

ii. 107 
Beattock Inn, ii. 270, 298 
Bedford Arms, Woburn, i. 

109-11, 163 
Bell, Derby, i. 290 
Black Bull, Glasgow, ii. 302 
Black Swan, Mountsorrel, i. 

Bottom Inn, near Leek, i. 331 
Bridgewater Arms, Man- 
chester, i. 25, 26, 29, 33 ; 

ii. 65 
Bull and Mouth, St. Martm's- 

le-Grand, i. 19, 34, 37, 44 
Bull's Head, Eakley Lane, i. 


Loughborough, i. 260 

Manchester, ii. 64 

Salford, ii. 24 

Bush, Carhsle, i. 5 ; ii. 200, 

245, 246 



Inns, mentioned at length {con- 
tinued) :— 
Crewe and Harpur's Arms, 

Swarkestone, i. 278 
Crook, Tweedshaws, ii. 284 
Crown, Eamont Bridge, ii. 174 
Cuckoo Bush, Gotham, i. 266 
Fleur-de-lis, St. Albans, i. 

127, 128 
George and Dragon, Eakley 

Lane, i. 174 
Gloucester Arms, Penrith, ii. 

Green Man (Bottom Inn), i. 

Green Man and Black's Head, 

Ashbourne, i. 322 
Gretna Hall, ii. 229, 240-42, 

245, 249, 251 

Hotel, ii. 229 

Greyhound, Shap, ii. 151, 155 
Horton Inn, i. 174 
Horwich Moorgate, ii. 84 
Kedleston Inn, i. 306 
King's Head (now Queen's 

Head), Springfield, ii. 

233, 236, 238, 240 
Lathbury Inn, i. 169 
Maxwell Arms, Springfield, ii. 

233, 235 
New Inn, Hackleton, i. 177 
Old Black Bull, Mollat. ii. 281 
Old Man and Scythe, lioUoii, 

ii. 71-73 
Old Hover's ll(d.iirii, Miui- 

(tlicHt(!r, ii. ()4 
Old White Lion, Finc^lilcy, i. 


I'loiigli, Siiap Kcll, ii. 153 
Ked liion, Ifazc^l Grovi-, i. .351 
Royal ITotcl and New Hridgc- 

waUir Arms, Maii('heHl<T, 

i. 29 ; ii. 65 

Inns, mentioned at length (con- 
tinued) : — 
Saracen's Head, Glasgow, ii. 

Sark Bar, ii. 228 
Seven Stars, Manchester, ii. 

Sun (Poet's Corner), ii. 64 
Swan with Two Necks, Lad 

Lane, i. 25, 32, 33 
Tempest Arms, Horwich 

Moor, ii. 84 
Tontine, Glasgow, ii. 298, 303 
Two Lions, Penrith, ii. 182 
Welcome into Cumberland, 
Eamont Bridge, ii. 152, 
176, 179 
White Lion, Stockport, i. 357 
White Swan, Mountsorrel, i. 
Irk, River, ii. 5 
Irlam-o'-th' -Height, ii. 68 
Irwell, River, ii. 5, 67, 68 
Islington, i. 112 

Johnstone Bridge, ii. 270 

Kearsley, ii. 69 
Kedleston Hall, i. 3(t7 
Kegworth, i. 89, 91, 261 
Kelmarsh, i. 210 
Kendal, ii. 138-45 
Kent River, ii. 122, 125, 139 
Kent's Bank, ii. 122. 124 
Kentigern, Saint, ii. .308-12 
Kibwortli BeaMiliaiii|), i. 221 
King Artiuir's DiinUiiig ( 'up. ii. 174 

Round Tiililc, ii. 173 

Kingsthorpe, i. 196 
KingHtoii-on-Soar, i. 262 
Kingstown, ii. 209 
KirU Limgley. i. 306 
Kii'k|>iiti'i('k, ii. 2<i.'t 



Kirtlebridge, ii. 264 
Kirtle Water, ii. 263, 264 

Lamport, i. 203-7 
Lancaster, ii. 108-20 

Sands, ii. 122-32 

Langtons, the, i. 217-20 
Larkhall, ii. 291 
Lath bury, i. 169 
Leek, i. 85, 323, 331-35 
Leicester, i. 71, 95, 223-46 
Lesmahagow, ii. 272, 291 
Levenshulme, i. 352 
Lockerbie, ii. 269, 279 
Lockington, i. 266 
London Colney, i. 125 
Longsight, i. 352 
Longtown, ii. 211, 212, 213, 253 
Lonsdale, The " Bad Lord," ii. 157 
Loughborough, i. 73, 84, 91, 94, 

Low Hesket, ii. 188 
Lowther Castle, ii. 156-58 

River, ii. 171-73 

Luguvallum, Carlisle, ii. 189, 205 
Lune, River, ii. 108, 118 
Lyne, River, ii. 210 

Macadam, John Loudon, ii. 280 
Macaulay, Thomas Babington, i. 

Macclesfield, i. 84, 323, 326, 337-42 
Mackworth, i. 306 
Maidwell, i. 210 
Manchester, ii. 1-68 
Maticunium, Manchester, ii. 9 
Manifold, River, i. 330 
Market Harborough, i. 96, 212-17, 

Markyate Street, i. 61, 153 
Mayfield, i. 326 
Meikleholmside, ii. 284 
Mein Water, ii. 264 

Merkland, ii. 263 

Milk, River, ii. 269 

Milton Bryant, i. 157 

Moffat, ii. 269-71, 273, 274, 279-84 

Monken Hadley, i. 120, 122 

Moore, Thomas (poet), i. 262, 

Moses Gate, ii. 69 
Mountsorrel, i. 73, 95, 248-52 
Mungo, Saint, ii. 308-12 
Myerscough, ii. 105 

Naseby, Battle of, i. 211 

Nene, River, i. 185 

Nethan, River, ii. 291 

Newport Pagnell, i. 61, 109, 166-69 

Northampton, i. 66, 96, 175, 184-96 

Oadby, i. 223 

Old-time Travellers (in general), i. 
15-22, 51-111 

Bamford, Samuel, i. 51-111 
Boswell, James, i. 298, 321- 

23 ; ii. 301 
Bright, John, i. 22, 199 
Brougham, Lord, ii. 164 
Eldon, Earl of, ii. 226 
Granville, Dr., ii. 154, 164 
Gray, Tlios., ii. 125, 301 
Hawker, Col., i. 9 ; ii. 235, 274 
Hume, David, ii. 201 
Johnson, Dr., i. 298 ; ii. 301 
Mandeville, Sir John, i. 148- 

Sharpe, Charles Kirkpatrick, 

i. 16-19 
Wesley, Rev. John, i. 142, 

Wilson, Professor John, i. 6 

Old-time Travelling, i. 3-51, 125; 
ii. 222-53, 274, 298 

Osmaston Manor, i. 308 

Ouse, River, i. 109, 173 



Over Sands, ii. 122-32 
Oxendon, i. 212 

Peel Towers, ii. 159 

Pendlebury, ii. 68 

Pendleton, ii. 68 

Pennersaughs, ii. 264 

Penrith, i. 14 ; ii. 179-87 

Penworthara, ii. 92 

" Peterloo," i. 53, 326 ; ii. 39-41 

Petterill, River, ii. 187 

Pickford & Co., i. 310 

Piddington, i. 176 

Poynton, i. 349 

Prestbury, i. 345-47 

Preston, i. 84, 87 ; ii. 83, 90-105 

Prince Charles Edward (see Re- 

beUion of 1745). 
Pytchley Hunt, the, i. 199 

Quakers, the (origin of the name), 

1. 289 
Quarndon, i. 306 
Queen's Cross, near Northampton, 

i. 99, 178-84 
Quorn Hunt, the, i. 212, 253-57 
Quorndon, or Quorn, i. 95, 252-59, 


Railways, i. 43 ; ii. 55, 107, 122, 

124, 130, 132, 2(M), 228, 270, 

285, 288, 304 
Ratce (Joritanormn, Leicester, i. 

Rebellion of 1715, i. 270; ii. !»(), 

93-97, 104, 112, 196, 3I!> 
of 1745, i. 16!», 270-78, 287, 

319, 324, 334 ; ii. 21. 98, 103, 

144, 155, 160-63, 185, 187, 

li)5-»8, 260, 319 
Red bourne, i. Ill, 152 
Hibbic, Hivcr, ii. 90-92 
Jii.liiinl III., i. 2:18 ; ii. IKO 

Ring Cross, i. 112-15 
Rivington Pike, ii. 85, 87 
Rothley, i. 95, 246 

Temple, i. 246 

Rudyard Lake, i. 335 
Rushton Marsh, i. 336 

Spencer, i. 336 

Russell family, i. 157-64 

St. Albans, i. 56-61, HI, 125-50 

Salford, ii. 67 

Sark River, ii. 214, 217 

Bar, ii. 226-29 

Scotforth, ii. 107 
Shap, ii. 151, 155 

Abbey, ii. 156 

Fell, i. 54 ; ii. 146, 150 

Shardlow, i. 281 

Skerton, ii. 120 

" Slash, Captain," i. 198 

Slyne, ii. 120 

Soar, River, i. 244, 248, 262 

Sol way Moss, ii. 214-18 

South Mimms, i. 124 

Springfield, ii. 210, 214, 218, 226, 

227, 234-36 
Standish, Miles, ii. 86-88 
Stanton-by-Bridge, i. 267 
Stanwi.x, i. 11 ; ii. 189,204-9 
Stockport, i. 83, 323, 353-58 
Stoke (ioidington, i. 62, 99 
Swarkestone Bridge, i. 267, 270, 

273, 276-78 
Swinseoe, or Svvinecote, i. 329 

"Teetotal," origin of the word, i. 

Tcifonl, TlK.nias. i. 2. 10; ii. 263. 

26H. 271, 277-79 
Tliicfside. ii. 187. 1 88 
'I'olcroHH. ii. 296 
Trout. Kiver. i. 89. 251. 261, 266 

70, 278-81 



Turnpike Trusts, ii. 273-78 
Tyringham, i. 170 

Uddingston, ii. 296 

Verulamium, St. Albans, i. 130, 

Voreda, Old Penrith, ii. 187 

Waggons (Manchester and Lon- 
don) : — 
Bass's, i. 24 
Cooper's, i. 24 
HuLse's, i. 24 
Pickford's Flying Waggons, 

i. 24, 311 
Washington's, i. 24 
Wood's, i. 24 

Walton-le-Dale, ii. 90 
Wamphray, ii. 270, 274 
Wanlip, i. 246, 251 
Waterfall, i. 330 
Waterhouses, i. 330 
Wavendon, i. 166 
West Linton, ii. 211 
Whetstone, i. 56 
Whittle-le-Woods, ii. 88 
" Wise Men of Gotham," i. 262-66 
Wobum, i. 61, 109, 157, 163-65 

Abbey, i. 157-62 

Sands, i. 165 

Wolsey, Cardinal, i. 244 
Woodhouse Eaves, i. 253 

Yanwath Hall, ii. 170 

Printed and bound hy HazM, Watson & Viney, Ld., London a,id Ayle»bm-y. 



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University Research Library