RECOLLECTIONS

OF A

BUSY LIFE.

RECOLLECTIONS
OF A BUSY LIFE

BEING THE

REMINISCENCES

OF A

LIVERPOOL MERCHANT

1840-1910.

BY

SIR WILLIAM B. FORWOOD
D.L. J.P.

ILLUSTRATED WITH SEVENTEEN PLATES

LIVERPOOL:
HENRY YOUNG & SONS
1910.

To my Children

and

Grandchildren.

PREFACE.

Many of the following pages were written for private circulation. Influential friends have, however, urged me to publish them, as they may appeal to a wider circle of readers. I have consented, with diffidence, but have availed myself of the opportunity to add some chapters upon local affairs, which I trust may be of public interest, and recall pleasing memories of bygone times.

W. B. F.

Bromborough Hall,
 December 1st, 1910.

A FOREWORD.

There are but few men whose lives are worthy to be written for general publication, but there are many who have accumulated recollections and experiences which must be interesting and instructive to those of their own kith and kin, and it is for these I am about to jot down a few reminiscences of a life which has been largely spent in public work—in helping to build up the fortunes of a great seaport, in the local government of an important Municipality, and in the administration of Justice. Should these pages fall into the hands of friends I am sure they will be read with kindly and sympathetic feelings, and strangers will, I hope, accord to them the consideration and indulgence due to a narrative written only for private publication.

Life is said to be short, but when I look back upon the events which have crowded into mine I seem to have lived a long time, and one cannot but reflect that if the prospect had always looked as long as the retrospect, how much more patience and deliberation might have been thrown into the ordering of one's affairs, and how entirely this might have altered the course of events and changed the goal of one's endeavours. It is perhaps a merciful and wise ordinance that no man can reckon beyond the day that is before him, and therefore each day should be so lived as to be typical of our life; for it is the only portion of time of which we may truly say it is our own, and at our own disposal for good or for evil.

As each life, therefore, has its ambitions—small or great—its conquests, its trials, and its failures, so each day has to bear its own burden of trials and anxieties; and as the daily life is lived, and the daily task accomplished, so will our life's work be fulfilled; but how few there are who can look back and say their lives have been a success, and that they have accomplished all they should or all they might have done.

A great philosopher and thinker, who passed away only recently, stated, on the Jubilee of his Professorship, when his contemporaries were saying that future generations would proclaim him as having accomplished greater things than Sir Isaac Newton, that "his life had not been a success, that he had given his time and his mental powers to the solution of practical problems of everyday life rather than to the claims of the higher philosophy;" and so, in our more humble spheres each of us must feel that we have neglected opportunities, and perhaps the opportunities which we most regret having neglected are those by which we could have done good to our fellow-men, and not those which made for the satisfying of our ambition.

There can be no isolation more dreary than the isolation of an old age, cut off by the lack of training and habit from sympathy with humanity, alone in its selfishness, untouched by the joy of feeling and caring for others. But even short of this isolation of a selfish old age, there must come to all of us a feeling of disappointment that our part in helping forward the well-being of others has not been larger and more fruitful:

I will, however, cease to moralise, and will conclude with this thought which, I think, forms an appropriate preface to an autobiography.

How much greater would be the sum total of human happiness if men would accept as their guide the experience of those who had gone before! How many disasters might be avoided! How many successful careers might be shaped and built up! But I suppose as long as men are as they are they will refuse to accept the experience of others, but will make their own, and through blunders and mistakes a certain proportion will arrive at success, but a larger proportion will struggle on, on the ragged edge and under the cold shade of adversity until the end of their days.

W. B. F.

Bromborough Hall,
 Cheshire,
 January 21st, 1910.

CONTENTS.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

CHAPTER I. EARLY YEARS.

A Great City—its people and its institutions, as seen by a contemporary presents incidents that do not specially appeal to the historian, who is more concerned with the larger features and events which mark its growth; but those incidents may serve as sidelights upon the movements and the spirit of the times, and woven round the outlines of a life which has been threaded in the weft of its activities, may afford a background to bring into more prominent relief and give juster proportion to the characters and the actions of the men who have built up its prosperity.

My story will therefore be of the men and the incidents of my time, which I think may perhaps possess more than a passing interest, and I hope serve to awaken pleasant memories.

As I do not intend to write a record of my family life, which with its abounding happiness—some great sorrows—successes and disappointments—must be a sacred thing, I shall only make such references to my family, or to those friends still happily with us, as may be necessary to my narrative.

My great-grandfather, who was born at Plymouth, was a Lieutenant in the Royal Navy and served on board the "Foudroyant." He was killed in action, and his widow, in recognition of his courage, was awarded a Post Captain's pension. She had one son, my grandfather, George Forwood, who came to Liverpool, where in 1812 he joined Mr. John Moss as partner in the Otterspool Oil Works (Mr. Moss was the father of the late Sir Thomas Moss, Bart.). My grandfather appears to have been a man of considerable ability. Mr. Hughes, in his History of Liverpool Bankers, describes him as "an exceedingly able man, possessing some public spirit." His published letters and pamphlets on economic subjects show that he took much interest in the pressing questions of the day, and was very active in promoting the repeal of the Corn Laws and in the amendment of the Poor Laws.

My father, the late Thomas Brittain Forwood, was born in Russell Street in 1810, and was educated at Dr. Prior's school in Pembroke Place; he received what was known as a good classical education, and up to the close of his life his knowledge of Latin was fresh and accurate, and he could quote freely and aptly from Latin authors.

He was gifted with a love for mechanics, and he claimed to have made a locomotive when a boy, using as cylinders two surgical syringes.

He entered the office of Leech, Harrison and Co. in 1824, when he was 14 years of age, became a partner at the age of 27, and retired in 1862, when he purchased the estate of Thornton Manor, in Cheshire; here he resided for the remainder of his life. My father was endowed with a quick and bright intelligence, and was a most excellent correspondent in days when letter writing was a fine art. He had a love and capacity for hard work.

He was too much absorbed in his own business to take an active part in public life, but he was for a time a vice-president of the Chamber of Commerce, and took a leading part in the effort to obtain a reduction in the railway charges levied upon Liverpool traffic. He was for twenty-two years a member of the Mersey Dock Board, and chairman of the Traffic Committee. After he retired from business he became a magistrate for the county of Cheshire, and greatly interested himself in the restoration of Chester cathedral.

He died at his London house, in Regent's Park, December 18th, 1884, and was buried at Thornton Hough, Cheshire. My mother was a daughter of William Bower, the founder of the firm of William Bower and Sons, cotton brokers. My grandmother, Mrs. Bower, was left a widow when quite young, but must have been a woman of much ability, for during the minority of her eldest son, for several years she carried on the business, going down to the office every day. In this she was actively assisted by the late Mr. Geo. Holt, the founder of the firm of Geo. Holt and Co., with the result that when her son came of age the business was one of the largest and most prosperous on the Cotton Exchange. I often heard her speak with gratitude of the noble self-sacrifice of Mr. Holt during all these years.

I was born at Edge Hill, Liverpool, in 1840—it gives some perspective to this date when we remember that the year 1839 witnessed the first publication of Bradshaw's Railway Guide, and the inauguration of the penny post. It was the year after the accession and marriage of Queen Victoria, and one of the last of the dark years of the fiscal policy of Protection in England; so that I may claim that my seventy years have witnessed a material progress on every side, which has been simply marvellous, and has eclipsed in the brilliancy of achievement any former period in the history of our country. The use of the steam-engine has been increased and extended until it has become the handmaiden of every industrial occupation; and following in its train we have seen the development of the spinning jenny, and the blast furnace. And to-day we see that steam is being dethroned from its high position by the electrical dynamo and the hydraulic ram, and the turbine is taking the place of the reciprocating engine. The internal combustion engine has been invented, and the motor-car is rapidly superseding the horse-drawn vehicle; while the biplane and monoplane have given a reality to aviation which never entered the most visionary dreams of a few years ago.

My father's house at Edge Hill overlooked the grounds of Mount Vernon Hall and the gardens of the vicarage; to the east were open fields, with a few large villas dotted about. Fashionable Liverpool still dwelt in the large Georgian houses fringing Everton Hill, which looked down upon one of the loveliest views imaginable. In the foreground were the trees and woods which ran along what is now Netherfield Road; beyond these the river flowed; in the distance the Wirral peninsula stretched out, backed by the Welsh hills. But the town of Liverpool was pushing its way up to Everton, and San Domingo Road was ceasing to be fashionable; while Aigburth, Prince's Park, and Edge Lane were rapidly becoming the most popular suburbs of the fast-rising seaport.

Soon after I was born my father removed to Marsh Lane, Bootle, and there were few more charming spots at that time. I remember the grand trees which encircled Bootle Hall and overarched Marsh Lane; here dwelt in sylvan retreats the Mathers, the Birches, and the Tyrers. The trees extended down to the sea-shore, where Miller's Castle stood sentinel—a modern building remarkable for its keep and battlemented walls. About half a mile nearer Liverpool there was a row of large houses, known as Fort Terrace; here one of my uncles lived. The garden ran down to the sea-shore, and we as boys passed out of the garden to bathe. The Canada dock is built on the site of Fort Terrace.

My father removed again, further out, to Seaforth, to a large house on the Crosby Road, facing an open space known as "Potter's Field," which was bounded on the further side by the shore. I was sent to school at Mrs. Carter's, a celebrated dame's school, where many young Liverpool boys were educated. Mr. Arthur Earle was one of my classmates. Seaforth was a very prettily wooded village, fine elm trees margining the highway right up to the canal at Litherland. The village at that time contained two other important schools, Miss Davenport's and the Rev. Mr. Rawson's. Mr. Rawson was Vicar of the Parish. Mr. Gladstone, Lord Cross, and Dean Stanley were educated at Mr. Rawson's. Mr. Rawson was very fond of telling the story of Mr. Gladstone, when a boy, spending his holiday afternoons lying before the fire reading Virgil; even in those days he had formed great expectations of his pupil's future career. Seaforth vicarage stood between the church and the railway, and was surrounded by large gardens. Litherland was also a charming rural village, containing many grand old elm trees, and several large houses. Waterloo was a rising seaside place, very fashionable in the summer; here Liverpool merchants occupied cottages, for in those times a cottage at the seaside was the usual method of spending the summer: fishings in Norway, moors in Scotland, and tours all over the world not then being in vogue.

Our home at Seaforth commanded a very beautiful marine view. I remember seeing the "Great Britain" sail, and the same night she was stranded on the coast of Ireland. For years the "Great Britain" was regarded as one of the wonders of the world. She was considered to be such a leviathan that people said she would never pay, and I believe she never did; her tonnage was under 4,000 tons. She remained the largest ship afloat for many years. The "Great Britain" went ashore in Dundrum Bay on the 22nd September, 1846, and was refloated and towed to Liverpool, August 25th, 1847. She remained for some time in the North Atlantic trade, was afterwards engaged in the Australian trade, and subsequently was converted into a four-masted sailing ship. Her final use was as a coal hulk at the Falkland Islands.

I also saw the Glasgow steamer "Orion" sail on her fatal voyage. She was stranded on the Mull of Galloway, and many lives were lost; this was in 1850.

Very frequently after the prevalence of easterly winds, the entire channel between the Rock Light and the Crosby Lightship was crowded with ships, large and small, working their way out to sea—a lovely sight. I have frequently counted over 300 sail in sight at one time.

On the Bootle shore, somewhere about where the Hornby dock is situated, there stood two high landmarks—very conspicuous objects marking the fairway through the Rock Channel, then very much used; they linger in my memory, associated with many pleasant donkey rides around them. Bootle church in those days had two towers, and the old church was quite as ugly as the one now existing. The Dock Committee built the sea wall of the Canada dock some time before the docks were constructed. I remember about the year 1848 seeing seven ships wrecked against this sea wall; they had dragged their anchors and were driven ashore by a north-west gale. Wrecks on the Bootle and Seaforth shores were quite common occurrences. The farmers in the district fenced their fields with timber from ships stranded on the shore, and the villagers were not above pilfering their cargoes. The barque "Dickey Sam" with a cargo of tobacco from Virginia was stranded on the Seaforth sands in 1848, and an onslaught was made on her cargo by the villagers; and to protect it, my father organised a body of young men to stand guard over it—not an easy matter, as the hogsheads of tobacco were strewn along the beach for several miles. His efforts were rewarded by the underwriters presenting to him a silver salver with an appropriate inscription.

Access to Seaforth and Waterloo from Liverpool was afforded by a four-horse 'bus, which ran in the morning and evening; express boats also sailed along the canal in summer, starting from the bridge at Litherland. It was a pretty walk through the fields to Litherland, and a charming sail along the canal to the wharf in Great Howard Street.

Riding on horseback on the sea-shore was a very favourite pastime. Many business men rode into town, keeping to the shore as far as Sandhills Station.

On the road to Liverpool, and midway between Bootle and Liverpool, surrounded by fields, were the ruined walls of Bank Hall, which for 500 years had been the residence of the Moores, one of the most celebrated Liverpool families; they were large owners of property, and for that long period were closely identified with the public life of the little town.

The Hall had been pulled down and the materials used for the erection of the large stone farm buildings and an important farm-house. In my boyhood days the barns and farm-house still remained, and also the ancient garden wall, flanked with high stone gate-posts and surmounted by large carved stone urns, such as were common in the early Georgian period. A deep and wide ditch ran along the front of the wall, which was part of the old moat. The Ashcrofts were the tenants of the farm, and I can remember making hay in a field which would be about the site of the present Bankhall railway station. Further along again, in Great Howard Street, stood the jail, commonly called the French prison, many French prisoners of war having been confined there during the Peninsular war.

Near Sandhills Station there stood a large house, surrounded by trees, the residence of John Shaw Leigh, one of the founders of the present Liverpool. I remember being taken to see the icehouse in the grounds, which formed a sort of cave. Walton was a very pretty village, and remained so until a comparatively recent date; its lanes were shaded by stately trees, amid which there nestled the charming old thatched cottages which formed the village. The church, the mother church of Liverpool, was a landmark for miles, and amid its rustic and rural surroundings was picturesque and romantic. Near at hand were Skirving's nursery gardens, quite celebrated in their time.

The southern end of the town preserved its suburban aspect for a much longer period. Aigburth Road and its great elm trees remained untouched by the builder of cottages until quite recent times. Prince's Road was made in 1843, and was margined on either side by fields, which for long years remained in a more or less ragged condition, some of the land being occupied by squatters, living in wooden tenements such as we are familiar with when property lies derelict, past cultivation, but not yet ripe for the builder.

Aigburth Road and St. Michael's Hamlet retained their charming and picturesque features until such a recent period that I need not dwell upon them. Few towns had more attractive and beautiful suburbs; now the tramways have encouraged the building of small property in every direction, and suburban Liverpool is almost destroyed. The area available for residences has always been limited to the east and south, owing to the proximity of St. Helens, Wigan, Widnes, and Garston. It would have been a wise policy if our City Fathers had set apart a sanctuary for better-class houses, from which tramways were excluded, and thus avoid driving so many large ratepayers to the Cheshire side to find a home.

My sketch of Seaforth and its neighbourhood would not be complete unless I say a word about several rather celebrated houses which existed in the district. One was Seaforth Hall, long known as "Muspratt's folly." Mr. Muspratt, who built the house, and who lived and at the age of 96 died in it, had the prescience to see that the sandhills, which he bought for a nominal price, would some day become a part of Liverpool, and he had also the enterprise to erect one of the finest houses about Liverpool. Another important house was Seafield, near Waterloo, the residence of Dr. Hicks; it was surrounded by a large park. This has since been laid out and built over, and is now known as Waterloo Park. The third interesting house was Seaforth House, the residence of Sir John Gladstone, and where his famous son spent his young days. In the 'seventies Mr. Robertson Gladstone, the brother of the Premier, had a scheme to modernise the old family house, which his brother, Mr. W. E. Gladstone, who owned the property, allowed him to carry out. Mr. Robertson Gladstone was my colleague on the Watch Committee, and he invited me to go out with him to see the alterations he was making, which I found comprised the construction of a large circular saloon in the centre of the house. This was a very fine apartment, but it ruined the rest of the house, making all the other rooms small and ill-shaped. The house never found a tenant, and some years after, when Mr. W. E. Gladstone sold his Seaforth estate, it was pulled down.

When Mr. Robert Holt was Lord Mayor, in 1893, Mr. W. E. Gladstone visited Liverpool to receive the Freedom of the City. He sent for me to the Town Hall, and said he understood I was the chairman of the Overhead Railway, and he wanted to know where we had placed our station at Seaforth. I told him it was on the south side of the old Rimrose Brook, and gave him some further particulars. He at once replied, "I remember as a boy catching what we called 'snigs' in the Rimrose Brook, and from what you tell me your station is on the north side, and as a boy I played cricket in the adjoining field, from whence in the far, far distance we could see the smoke of Liverpool." From enquiries I have made I find Mr. Gladstone's memory as to the position of the brook was more accurate than my own. It was a considerable stream and the cobble-paved highway of Crosby Road was carried over it by a high white stone bridge. Before leaving the Town Hall Mr. Gladstone asked me if I knew Seaforth House. On my saying yes, he replied, "What a mess my brother Robertson made of it!"—alluding to the incident already mentioned.

Perhaps I may here interpose another recollection of Liverpool's great son. When the late Lord Derby was Lord Mayor I was deputed to assist him when my services were required. One day he sent for me and showed me a letter he had received from Mr. Gladstone expressing his wish to address a Liverpool Town's meeting on the Bulgarian Atrocities. Mr. Gladstone, in a magazine article, had recently used strong language in reference to the Sultan of Turkey, calling him an assassin. Lord Derby considered it would not be proper for such language to be used at a Town's meeting, but he added, "Mr. Gladstone was above everything a gentleman, and if he received his promise that he would avoid strong language he would be quite satisfied and would take the chair." Mr. Gladstone at once assented. The meeting was held in Hengler's Circus. It was crowded from floor to ceiling. Mr. Gladstone arrived with Mrs. Gladstone, and after a few introductory remarks by the Lord Mayor, Mr. Gladstone rose to speak. Walking with the aid of a stick to the front of the platform, placing his stick upon the table, he clutched hold of the rails and "let himself go," and for an hour and a quarter he poured out a perfect torrent of eloquence which held the audience spellbound. It was a great oration, remarkable not so much for what he said, as for the marvellous restraint he was evidently exercising to avoid expressing himself in the forcible language which he considered the circumstances demanded. He was much exhausted after this great effort; Mrs. Gladstone had, however, some egg-flip ready, which seemed to revive him. This was Mr. Gladstone's last great speech; it was fitting it should be delivered in his native city.

There was another house at Seaforth which I must also mention, Barkeley House, the residence of Mr. Smith, commonly known as "Square-the-Circle Smith," from the fact of his claiming to have solved this problem. Mr. Smith was the father of Mr. James Barkeley Smith, who for many years did good work in the City Council. A sketch of the Seaforth of those days would not be complete without a reference to Rector Rothwell of Sefton, reputed to be one of the most beautiful readers in the Church; he drove down to the shore in his yellow gig, winter and summer, and bathed in the sea. Another grand old man was Archdeacon Jones, who succeeded his son as the Incumbent of Christ Church, Waterloo, and who died at the age of 96. I look back upon his memory with reverence, for he was a charming man; his presence was dignified, his features refined, almost classical, and he was endowed with a soft, silvery voice, and, both as a reader and preacher, he was greatly appreciated. I must mention a touching little incident. About two years before he died he broke his leg. I called with my wife to see him; before leaving he begged us to kneel down and he gave us his blessing, expressed in simple but beautiful language, and spoken with deep feelings of love and kindness.