Chapter XI: Blackpool (1)

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Blackpool is situated in the township of Layton-with-Warbreck, and occupies a station on the west coast, about midway between the estuaries of the rivers Ribble and Wyre. The watering-place of to-day with its noble promenade, elegant piers, handsome hotels, and princely terraces, forms a wonderful and pleasing contrast to the meagre group of thatched cabins which once reared their lowly heads near the peaty pool, whose dark waters gave rise to the name of the town. This pool, which was located at the south end of Blackpool, is stated to have been half a mile in breadth, and was due to the accumulation of black, or more correctly speaking, chocolate-coloured waters,[129] from Marton Mere and the turf fields composing the swampy region usually designated the “Moss.” It remained until the supplies were cut off by diverting their currents towards other and more convenient outlets, when its contents gradually decreased, finally leaving no trace of their former site beyond a small streamlet, which now discharges itself with the flows of Spendike into the sea, opposite the point where the Lytham Road branches from the promenade. The principal portion of the town stands a little removed from the edge of a long line of cliffs, whose altitude, trifling at first, considerably increases as they travel northwards; and from that broad range of frontage streets and houses in compact masses run backwards towards the country, covering an annually extending area.

One of the oldest and most interesting relics of antiquity is still preserved in the Fox Hall Hotel, or Vaux Hall, as it is sometimes, but we opine, for reasons stated hereafter, incorrectly written, although its name, site, and long cobble wall are nearly the only mementoes that time and change have failed to remove. It was here in the reign of Charles II. that Edward, the son of the gallant and loyal Sir Thomas Tyldesley who was slain at the battle of Wigan-lane in 1651, having been led to expect a grant of the lands of Layton Hawes, or Heys Side, from the king, after the restoration, in return for his own and his father’s staunch adherence to the royal cause, built a small sequestered residence as a summer retreat for his family. Modest and unpretending as the dimensions appear to have been, no doubt at that time it was regarded as a stately mansion, and looked upon with becoming respect and admiration by the inhabitants of the few clay-built and rush-roofed huts which were scattered around it. The house itself was a three gabled structure with a species of tower, affording an extensive survey over the neighbouring country; there were four or five rooms on each story, and one wing of the building was fitted up and used as a chapel, the officiating priest being most probably the Rev. W. Westby, the “W. W.” of the diary kept by Thomas Tyldesley during the years he resided there. The chapel portion of the old house was at a later period, when the remainder, after experiencing various fortunes, had fallen into decay, converted into a cottage. Over the chief entrance Edward had inscribed the words—“Seris factura Nepotibus,” the motto of an order of Knighthood, called the Royal Oak, which Charles II. contemplated establishing when first he regained his throne, but afterwards for certain reasons[130] altered his mind, as he also appears to have done in regard to the Hawes property, for it never passed into the possession of the Tyldesleys by royal favour, or in any other way. A fox secured by a chain was allowed to ramble for a short distance in front of the doorway, and whether the presence of that animal, together with the use of the Hall as a hunting seat, as well as a summer retreat, originated its name, or its first title was Vaux, and by an easy and simple process of change became altered to Fox, the reader must decide for himself; but after he has perused the following extract from the Tyldesley Diary, in which the priest already mentioned is alluded to as “W. W.”, he will, we venture to think, have little difficulty in concluding that the cognomen Vaux is merely a modern adaptation when applied to this Hall:—

“May 14, 1712.—Left Lanʳ about ffive; pᵈ 3d. ffor a shooe at
Thurnham Cocking, having lost one. Thence to Great Singleton
to prayers, and ffrom thence to Litham to dinʳ, ffound Mr.
Blackborne, of Orford; stayed there 11 at night. Soe to ffox
hall. Gave W: W: 1s.”

Edward Tyldesley surrounded the Hall with a high and massive wall of cobble stones, strongly cemented together, as a protection very needful in those times of turmoil and persecution. A large portion of the wall still exists in an almost perfect state of preservation, notwithstanding the fierce gales and boisterous tides that have, at intervals, battered against it for more than two centuries. This, with the additional safeguards that nature had provided by means of the broad sea to the front, a small stream running over swampy, almost impassable, ground to the south, and a pool[131] under its east side, rendered the house a secure asylum for those who were constrained to practise

“The better part of valour,”

and remove themselves for a season from the eyes of the world and their enemies. Over the high gateway at the south end of the enclosure he placed a stone carved with the crest of the Tyldesley family—a pelican feeding its young—encircled by the loyal and patriotic motto—“Tantum valet amor regis et patriæ”: for long the roughly finished piece of carving was visible in the wall of an outbuilding, from which, however, it has recently been removed. Fox Hall was not without its plot of garden ground, a considerable space, being devoted to the useful products, was known as the kitchen garden, whilst another space was devoted to an apiary, and flowers must be supposed to have been an accompanyment of bees. It also boasted a bowling green and an ancient fig tree.

Thomas, the son of Edward Tyldesley, born in 1657, succeeded to the family estates on the death of his father, and later married, as his second wife, Mary, sister and co-heiress, with Elizabeth Colley, of Sir Alexander Rigby, knt., of Layton Hall, High-sheriff of the county of Lancashire in 1691, whose father had erected a monument to the memory of Sir Thomas Tyldesley near the spot where he was slain.

During the year 1690, when the dethroned monarch James II. invaded Ireland in the hope of regaining his crown, Thomas Tyldesley prepared a secret chamber for his reception in the interior of the Hall. The closet or hiding-place was afterwards known as the King’s Cupboard. The Pretender, also, was reported to have been concealed for some time within Fox Hall, and although it is certain that this aspirant to the British throne was never within its friendly walls, still the secret recesses, called “priests’ holes,” with which it appears to have been liberally provided, formed excellent refuges for the clergy and other members of the Romish Church, who on the slightest alarm were enclosed therein, and so secluded from the prying eyes of their hostile countrymen until the danger had passed. These latter incidents did not take place until after the decease of Thomas Tyldesley, who died in 1715, shortly before the outbreak of the rebellion, and was buried at Churchtown, near Garstang. His son Edward, who succeeded him, was arrested for taking part with the rebels, and escaped conviction and punishment only by the mercy or sympathy of the jury, who after returning their verdict of acquittal were severely censured by the presiding judge for their incompetency and disaffection. Edward Tyldesley died in 1725.[132] At what date Fox Hall passed out of the hands of the Tyldesleys, it is impossible to trace, but it is doubtful whether the Edward here named ever resided there, as he is always described as of Myerscough Lodge, another seat of the family. Mary Tyldesley, the widow of his father, whom it will be remembered he married as his second wife, was living there as owner in 1720, and from that circumstance we must infer that the Blackpool house was bequeathed to her by her husband Thomas Tyldesley, and that the other portion only of the estates fell to Edward, the son of his first marriage and his heir. Poverty seems to have overtaken the family with rapid strides; their different lands and residences were either mortgaged or sold, and whether Fox Hall descended to the children of Mary Tyldesley, or returned again into the more direct line, it is certain that not many years after the death of Thomas Tyldesley it had ceased to be one of their possessions.

Thus, the annals of the founders of this solitary mansion carry us back to the period between 1660 and 1685, that is from the restoration to the death of Charles II., but certain entries in the register of Bispham church show that there must have been dwellings and a population, however thinly scattered, on the soil anterior to that period, sometime during the sixteenth century, and it was doubtless the descendants of these people who inhabited the neighbourhood when Edward Tyldesley appeared upon the scene and erected Fox Hall. The primitive structures forming the habitations of these aborigines were built of clay, roughly plastered on to wattles, and thatched with rushes more frequently than straw, the whole fabric being supported on crooks driven into the ground. About the epoch of Thomas Tyldesley drainage and cultivation began to render the aspect of the country more inviting, and fresh families were tempted to come down to the coast and rear their humble abodes under the wing of the great mansion, so that after a while a small hamlet of clustering huts was formed. It is more than probable that the morals and conduct of the dwellers in these huts were influenced in some way or other by the sojourners at the Hall, but whether for good or evil we are unable to say, as the time is now so hopelessly remote and no records of their habits and doings are extant, so that in the absence of any proof to the contrary, it is only fair and charitable to surmise that their lives were as simple as their surroundings.

Whether the Tyldesleys were induced to locate themselves on this spot solely by a prospect of possessing some of the territory around, or were actuated also by a desire to have a retreat far removed from the scenes of disturbance with which the different factions were constantly vexing the land, is a matter of little importance, but to their presence it was due that the natural beauties of Blackpool were brought before the people at an early date. There can be no doubt that the priests and others, who had fled to the Hall as a harbour of refuge, would, on returning to their own districts, circulate glowing and eulogistic accounts of the place they had been visiting—of the glorious beauty of the sea, the endless stretch of level sands, and the bracing purity of the breeze. In such manner a desire would readily be implanted in the bosoms of their auditory to become personally acquainted with the new land, which had created such a deep and favourable impression on the minds of men, whose positions and education warranted the genuineness of their statements and enhanced the value of their opinions. There is one other circumstance worthy to be mentioned as having in all likelihood aided considerably in bringing the place into notice, and that is an annual race meeting, held for long on Layton Hawes. The proximity of the site to the residences of so many families of wealth and distinction, as the Allens of Rossall, the Westbys of Burn Hall, the Rigbys of Layton Hall, the Veales of Whinney Heys, the Heskeths of Mains, the Cliftons of Lytham, and the Tyldesleys of Blackpool, must have rendered the assembly one of no mean importance, and we may picture in our minds the gay and brilliant scene presented each year on the outskirts of the present town, when our ancestors in their antique and many-hued costumes congregated to witness the contests of their favourite steeds, and the level turf echoed to the fleet hoofs of the horses as the varied colours of their riders flashed round the course.

Although these incidents must have greatly tended to give publicity to Blackpool, its early advances towards popularity were dilatory, but this is to be attributed rather to the unsettled state of the times than to a tardy appreciation of its advantages by those who had enjoyed them or heard them described. During the reign of George I., 1714-1727, a mere sprinkling of visitors seems to have been attracted each summer to the hamlet, but a few years later, about 1735, they had become sufficiently numerous to induce one Ethart à Whiteside to prepare a cottage specially for their reception and entertainment. Common report whispers that he was further prompted to the venture by being the fortunate possessor of a wife whose skill in cookery far excelled that of any of her neighbours, but be that as it may, whether he espoused the Welsh maiden because her culinary accomplishments were an additional recommendation to him in the sphere in which he had embarked, or whether the lodging house was a cherished dream only converted into a reality on their discovery after marriage, one thing is certain, his speculation prospered, and at the end of fifty years he retired on what at that era was considered a fortune. The house in which he had laboured for half a century was situated in the fields now occupied by General Street and the neighbouring houses, on the site of what not long ago was a ladies’ school; in appearance, it was a very ordinary cottage with the usual straw thatch, somewhat oblong in form and possessing few attractions to tempt the stranger to prolong his stay, but in spite of all its disadvantages, the fascination of the sea and the novelty of the surroundings filled it with guests summer after summer. This dwelling claims the honour of having been the first ever fitted up and arranged as a lodging house in Blackpool. On the retirement of Whiteside, who a few years afterwards died at Layton, it passed into the hands of a noted aboriginal, called Tom the Cobbler, who appears to have held more ambitious views than his predecessor, and converted the cottage into an inn, or at least embellished its exterior with a rude lettered sign, and procured a license to supply exciseable commodities within. Those who had been accustomed to the scrupulous care and cleanliness of Whiteside and his thrifty wife, must have experienced a considerable shock from the eccentricities of the new proprietor; each day at the dinner hour he entered in working costume amongst the assembled guests, and with grimy fingers produced from the depths of his well rosined apron the allotted portion of bread for each. How this peculiarity was appreciated by his visitors there are no means of ascertaining, but as his dwelling did not develope in the course of years into a modern and commodious hotel like the other licensed houses which sprang up about that time and a little later, we are inclined to fear that some internal mismanagement caused its collapse.

In 1769 the whole hamlet comprised no more than twenty-eight houses, or more correctly speaking hovels, for, with the exception of four that had been raised to the dignity of slate roofs and a small inn on the site of the present Clifton Arms Hotel, they were little if any better. These were scattered widely apart along the beach, and one of them standing on the ground now occupied by the Lane Ends Hotel, and adjoining a small blacksmith’s shed, was a favourite resort of visitors in search of refreshment. Turf stacks fronted almost every door, and the refuse of the household was either carelessly thrown forth or else accumulated in putrifying heaps by the sides of the huts, so that nothing but their isolated situations and the constant currents of pure air from the sea sweeping over and around them could possibly have prevented the outbreak of some infectious and fatal disorder.

Bonny’s Hotel, then known as old Margery’s, and standing in the fields to the south, some distance from the sea, sprang up a little anterior to this time and received its share of patronage; later it was converted into a boys’ school and during recent years has been divided into cottages, etc. The Gynn House, erected northwards near the extremity or apex of a deep and wide fissure in the cliffs, formed another popular haunt during the season; the landlord at that hostel created much amusement by his oddities, and especially by his quaint method of casting up the reckoning on a horse-block in front of the door and speeding the “parting guest” with—“and Sir, remember the servants.” A true and remarkable anecdote is related about the old inn; sometime during the summer of 1833 a sudden and terrific storm burst over the western coast of this island, many vessels were lost and the shore off Blackpool was strewn with the battered fragments of unfortunate ships, which had either foundered in the deep or been dashed to pieces as they lay helplessly stranded on the outlying sandbanks. In the night as the gale raged with its utmost fury, a Scotch sloop was beating off the coast, vainly endeavouring to battle with the hurricane, and driven by the force of wind and wave nearer and nearer to the precipitous cliffs. When all hope had been abandoned and destruction seemed inevitable, some thoughtful person placed a lighted candle in the window of the Gynn House; guided by this faint glimmer, the vessel passed safely up the creek, and the exhausted sailors were rescued from a dreadful death. Next morning a sad and harrowing scene presented itself along the coast; no less than eleven vessels were lying within a short distance of each other, with their torn rigging and shattered spars hanging from their sides; brigs, sloops, and schooners, the short but fearful gale had left little of them beyond their damaged hulls. Nor were these the only victims of the storm, for as the tide receded to its lowest the masts of two others rose above the surface of the water; and during the next few days three large ships drifted past the town in an apparently waterlogged condition.

About that date, 1769, several heaps of mortar and other building materials, lying on the road which separated the front of the village from the edge of the cliffs, showed that more were anxious to follow in the footsteps of Whiteside and his earlier imitators.

Some idea may be formed of the class of people who visited Blackpool at that period from the charges made at Bonny’s Hotel and the Gynn, the two principal inns, for board and lodging; at the latter eightpence per day satisfied the modest demands of the host, while at the former the sum of tenpence was exacted, with a view no doubt of upholding its superior claims to respectability. In drawing our conclusions from these facts we must bear in mind that a shilling in those days represented much greater value than it does at present, so that the charges may not have been really so inadequate as they now appear. The village contained neither shop nor store where the necessaries or luxuries of life, if such things were ever dreamt of by the people, could be purchased, and large quantities of provisions had to be laid in at one time. Occasionally a sudden and unexpected influx of visitors occurred inopportunely, when the larder was low, and as a consequence the hungry guests were forced to wait, temporising with their appetites as best they could, until a journey had been made to Poulton and fresh supplies procured.

Ten years later the hamlet had grown somewhat in size, and the annually increasing numbers who flocked to its shores showed that its popularity was steadily gaining ground. Intercourse with the world beyond their own limited circle seems, however, to have had anything but an elevating or civilising effect upon the inhabitants, for we find amongst them at that time a band of professed atheists, whose blasphemous conduct called forth no rebuke or opposition from the rest, but was quietly tolerated, if not indeed approved. Each fortnight during the summer fairs were held on the Sabbath to provide refreshment and amusement for the visitors, who came in crowds to witness the magnificence of the highest spring tides. These gatherings usually terminated in disgraceful scenes of revelry and debauchery. Smuggling was carried on between the coast opposite the Star-hills and the Isle of Man, but never to a great extent or for any lengthened period. These huge mounds of sand, much more numerous than in our day, formed excellent store-houses for the contraband goods, generally spirits, which were packed in hampers, and so overlaid with fish that their presence was never even suspected. The illicit cargoes were brought across the channel in trading vessels, from which they were landed by means of light open boats, and at once secreted in the manner just indicated, until a suitable opportunity occurred for their removal to one of the neighbouring towns. The success attending these ventures induced the smugglers to construct a sloop of their own, with the intention of prosecuting so profitable a trade on a larger scale, but information of their proceedings having been conveyed by some one to official quarters, a detachment of soldiers was promptly despatched to put an end to the nefarious practices. So thoroughly did these men effect their purpose, that, although no capture is recorded as having taken place, the whole band was dispersed, and from that date no more offences of this character have been known on the coast.

In 1788 the houses of Blackpool had increased to about thirty-five, and these were arranged in an irregular line along the edge of the cliffs; the intervals between the habitations being with few exceptions so wide that this small number stretched out from north to south, over a distance of quite a mile. One group of six was especially remarkable as presenting a more respectable and modern exterior than any of the others, most of which still retained a great deal of their original defective appearances, as though their owners were unwilling or unable to adapt themselves and their abodes to the improved state of things springing up around them. The company during the busiest part of the season amounted to about four hundred persons, and a news-room had been established for their use in the small cottage, before mentioned, on the site of the Lane Ends Hotel, the smith’s shop adjoining having been converted into a coffee-room and kitchen, at which a public dinner was prepared each day during the summer, and served at a dining-room erected across the way. There were now four additional inns in the village, named respectively, Bailey’s, Forshaw’s, Hull’s, and the Yorkshire House. The first of these had sprung up on the cliffs towards the north, and was kept by an ancestor of its present proprietor; the second was the nucleus from which has grown the Clifton Arms Hotel, whilst the third stood on the site of the Royal Hotel. The roads leading to the hamlet were in such an unfinished state that after heavy falls of rain they could be travelled only with the greatest difficulty, and often with considerable danger both to the vehicle and its occupants; so that under these circumstances most people deemed it more prudent and expedient to perform the journey on horseback, some of them in the pillion fashion usual at that era. In an earlier part of this chapter we spoke of the troubled state of the times and the unsettled and harassed condition of the people as being the most probable causes why Blackpool was so long neglected by many who must have been well cognisant of its beauties in the days of the Tyldesleys, and with equal probability may we now conjecture that the dilapidated and frequently unsafe state of the highways had a serious effect in preventing numbers from visiting the place at this period. Regarding the matter from another point of view, we are led to infer that the four hundred composing the company of 1788, were people who, either in search of health or recreation, had willingly undergone the discomforts of a dreary and sometimes hazardous journey in order to make but a brief sojourn by the shores of Blackpool. Here, then, there is evidence of the great estimation in which the place was held at that early date by the dwellers in the inland towns, and of the rapidity with which its good fame was increasing and extending throughout a large section of the county. As may be naturally supposed, the large influxes of visitors and their turn-outs during the height of the season very much overtaxed the accommodation provided for them by the inhabitants, but that difficulty was easily surmounted by turning the horses loose into a field until their services were again required, whilst the surplus health or pleasure-seekers were lodged in barns or any outbuildings sufficiently protected from the weather. The village possessed two bowling greens of diminutive size, one of which occupied the land at the south-west corner of Lytham Street, whilst the other was in connection with the Yorkshire House, afterwards the York Hotel, and since purchased by a company of gentlemen, who razed it to the ground in order to erect more suitable buildings on the site. There was also a theatre, if that will bear the name which during nine months of the year existed under the more modest title of a barn; rows of benches were placed one behind another, and separated into a front and back division, designated respectively pit and gallery. This house is said to have been capable of holding six pounds, the prices of admission being one and two shillings. At that period bathing vans were scarce, the majority of bathers making use of boxes, which were placed for their convenience along the shore, and as the mode in which they secured privacy and a proper separation of the sexes during indulgence in this pastime was both ingenious and entertaining, we will give a brief sketch of their arrangements. At a certain hour each day, varying according to the changes of the tide, a bell was rung when the water had risen almost to its highest. On hearing the signal, the whole of the gentlemen, however agreeably occupied, were compelled, under a penalty of one bottle of wine for each offence, to vacate the shore and betake themselves to their several hotels or apartments, whilst the ladies, after sufficient time had elapsed for any stray member of the sterner sex to get safely and securely housed, emerged singly or in small groups from the different doorways, and, hurrying down to the edge of the sea, quickly threw off their loose bathing robes, and in a moment were sporting amid the waves like a colony of nereids or mermaids. When these had finished their revels and duly retired to their homes, the bell rang a second time, and the males, released from _durance vile_, made their way to the beach, and were not long in following the example of their fair predecessors.

Mr. Hutton, in his small pamphlet descriptive of Blackpool in 1788, says:—“The tables here are well supplied; if I say too well for the price I may please the innkeepers, but not their guests. Shrimps are plentiful; five or six people make it their business to catch them at low water, and produce several gallons a day, which satisfy all but the catchers. They excel in cooking, nor is it surprising, for forty pounds and her maintenance is given to a cook for the season only. Though salt water is brought in plenty to their very doors, yet this is not the case with fresh. The place yields only one spring for family use; and the water is carried by some half a mile, but is well worth carrying, for I thought it the most pleasant I ever tasted.”

The prices at the inns and boarding-houses had risen as the accommodation they offered had improved in quality and increased in extent, so that it was no longer possible to subsist on the daily expenditure of a few pence as in former times. In hotels of the first class 3s. 4d. per day, exclusive of liquors, was the charge for board and lodging; dinner and supper being charged 1s. each to the casual visitor, and tea or breakfast 8d. In those of the second-class and some of the lodging-houses, 2s. 6d. per day covered everything with the exception of tea, coffee, sugar, and liquors; whilst the smaller lodging-houses, generally crowded with visitors who were either willing or compelled to content themselves with the more frugal fare provided, charged only 1s. 6d. per day for each guest.

A promenade, six yards wide, carpeted with grass and separated from the road by white wooden railings, ran along the verge of the sea bank for a distance of two hundred yards, and was ornamented at one end with an alcove, whilst the other terminated abruptly at a rough clayey excavation, afterwards used as a brick croft. “Here,” says the topographer already quoted, “is a full display of beauty and of fashion. Here the eye faithful to its trust, conveys intelligence from the heart of one sex to that of the other; gentle tumults rise in the breast; intercourse opens in tender language; the softer passions are called into action; Hymen approaches, kindles his torch, and cements that union which continues for life. Here may be seen folly flushed with money, shoe-strings, and a phæton and four. Keen envy sparkles in the eye at the display of a new bonnet. The heiress of eighteen trimmed in black, and a hundred thousand pounds, plentifully squanders her looks of disdain, or the stale _Belle_, who has outstood her market, offers her fading charms upon easy terms.”

This parade was extended some years later by means of a bridge thrown from its south extremity over the road leading down to the shore, and on to the cliffs of the opposite side. Riding or walking, for those who were not fortunate enough to possess a horse or equipage, on the sands or promenade, and excursions into the country as far as the “Number 3 Hotel,” where many of the company amused themselves with drinking “fine ale,” were the favourite pastimes during the day, varied, however, with an occasional practice at the butts for bow and arrow shooting, the diurnal bathe, and contests on the bowling greens, to which we have already alluded; in the evening or during unfavourable weather cards and backgammon, or the theatre, were the means with which the visitors beguiled the wearisomeness of the quiet hours. The “Number 3 Hotel” above-mentioned stood behind the present building bearing that name, at the corner of the Layton and Marton roads.

Mr. Hutton relates several somewhat startling instances of the curative properties of the sea at Blackpool; amongst them that of a man, by trade a shoemaker and a resident of Lancaster, who having become, through some unexplained cause, totally blind, visited this watering-place for six weeks, during which he drank large quantities of the marine element, daily bathing his eyes in the same, and at the end of that time had so far recovered his sight that he could readily distinguish objects at a distance of two miles. Another case was that of a gentleman, who, having been seized with a paralytic attack, which deprived him of the use of one side, was ordered by his physician to Bath, but finding, after a fair trial, that he derived no benefit from the combined action of its climate and waters, he determined to travel northwards and make a short sojourn at Blackpool. Whilst there the invalid was daily carried into and out of the sea, and even after this process had been only twice repeated he had lost the violent pains in his joints, recovered his sleep, and in some considerable degree the muscular power of the affected side, but of his further progress there is no account.

The following lines, written by a visitor a few years after the incidents we have just narrated, also show in what great estimation the climate and sea of the village were held as remedial and invigorating agents:—

“Of all the gay places of public resort,
At Chatham, or Scarbro’, at Bath, or at Court,
There’s none like sweet Blackpool, of which I can boast,
So charming the sands, so healthful the coast;—
Rheumatics, scorbutics, and scrofulous kind,
Hysterics and vapours, disorders of mind,
By drinking and bathing you’re made quite anew,
As thousands have proved and know to be true.”

At this time Blackpool was not only without a church, but in the whole place there was no room where the inhabitants or visitors were accustomed to assemble together for divine worship, and it was not until 1821 that the sacred edifice of St. John was completed and opened. In 1789 a subscription was started for the purpose of erecting a church, but was soon closed for want of support, barely one hundred pounds having been promised. Some years later a large room at one of the hotels was used as a meeting house on each Sabbath, the officiating ministers being obtained alternately from Bispham and Poulton, and occasionally from amongst the visitors themselves.

In 1799, the poorer inhabitants of Blackpool and its neighbourhood suffered severely, in common with others, from a failure in the grain and potato harvests. They, like most members of the working classes at that date, relied almost entirely upon good and plentiful crops of these important articles of diet, to furnish them with the means of sustenance throughout the year, so that a small yield, raising the prices exorbitantly, became a matter of serious moment to them, and in most instances, meant little less than ruin or starvation. After the cold and inclement approach of winter had banished the last stranger from their midst, the sums demanded for their accustomed provisions soon swallowed up the little these people had saved during the summer, and such occasional trifles as could be earned on the farm lands around whenever extra services were required. Their condition, deplorable from the first, gradually grew worse, until, reduced to the deepest distress, they became dependent for the bare necessaries of existence upon the charity of those whose positions, although seriously affected by the failure, were not placed in such great jeopardy as their own. After this precarious and pitiable state of things had lasted some time without any signs of amelioration, and it seemed difficult, if not impossible, to conjecture how the remaining months were to be provided for until the returning season brought fresh assistance to their homes, an unexpected, and, to them, providential occurrence relieved their sufferings. A large vessel laden with peas was wrecked upon the coast, and the cargo, washing out of the hold, was strewn upon the beach, supplying them with abundance of food until better days shone upon the impoverished village once more.

Reviewing the appearance of Blackpool at the opening of the nineteenth century we find that the whole hamlet was comprised between the Gynn to the north, and the ruins of the once aristocratic mansion of Fox Hall to the south. The houses with the exception of Bonny’s Hotel and a few scattered cottages, had all been erected along the sea bank, the great bulk lying to the south of Forshaw’s Hotel, and amounting to about thirty, whilst the space north of that spot as far as Bailey’s Hotel was only occupied by one or two dwellings of very humble dimensions. These with the Gynn and a few habitations standing south of it on Fumbler’s Hill, made up the number of houses to about forty. A detailed description of the different erections at that epoch is impossible, but we may state generally that those of modern origin, especially the hotels, although unpretending externally, were so arranged and provided that the comforts of the guests were fully insured, and in every way the accommodation they offered was immensely superior to any that could have been obtained thirty years before. The few old buildings that still remained had for the most part undergone considerable alterations, and been rendered more suitable for the purposes to which they were now devoted.

In 1801 the first official census of the inhabitants of the township of Layton-cum-Warbreck, in which Blackpool is situated, was taken, and furnished a total of 473 persons.

At that period many people attracted by the rising reputation of the watering-place were anxious to invest their capital in the purchase of land by its shores, and in the erection of houses adapted for the reception of visitors, but the proprietors of the hotels were the owners of a large portion of the soil, and fearing that the introduction of substantial and commodious apartments would interfere with the patronage of their inns, refused to dispose of any part of their lands, or at least placed such obstacles in the way of the would-be purchasers that bargains were seldom concluded. Had it not been for the energy and foresight displayed by one resident, Mr. H. Banks, who built several cottages and fitted them up with every convenience and requisite for summer dwellings, the prosperity of the village would have received a sudden check and doubtless a serious injury, for the provision made would have fallen far short of the requirements of an ever-increasing throng of visitors, and thus repeated disappointments would in the end have led to disgust and the absence of many when the following seasons rolled round. The probability of such a disastrous result seems at length to have been realised by the landlords themselves, who discovered that the plan to enlarge their own business was not to drive visitors away from the place by limiting the accommodation, but to offer them every inducement to come, and to have a sufficiency of houses ready to receive them when they had arrived. Under this new and more liberal impression greater facilities were offered both to purchasers of land and builders, so that the early error into which they had fallen was rectified before any great amount of harm had been done.

During the summer of 1808 the Preston volunteers were on duty at Blackpool for two weeks, and on the 4th of June celebrated the seventieth birthday of His Majesty George III. with many demonstrations of loyalty and rejoicing.

The small town now boasted five good class hotels, which, in their order from north to south, were named Dickson’s, Forshaw’s, Bank’s, Simpson’s, and the Yorkshire House. Simpson’s, formerly Hull’s, is now the Royal Hotel; Bank’s the Land Ends Hotel, and Dickson’s was the one already mentioned as Bailey’s Hotel. “Adjoining Forshaw’s Hotel,” writes a gentleman who visited Blackpool about that date; “there are two or three houses of genteel appearance, compared with the many small cottages leading thence to the street, which is the principal entrance from Preston. There is a promenade with an arbour at the end of it, and beyond it nearer to Dixon’s Hotel stands a cottage used as a warm bath. Beyond Dixon’s there is a public road where two four-wheeled vehicles can pass each other.” At a later period both the road and cottage alluded to had succumbed to the unchecked power of the advancing sea; and here it will be convenient to mention other and much more serious encroachments made by the same element in the course of years now long gone by. We can scarcely conceive, when gazing on the indolent deep in its placid mood, that at any time it could have been possessed with such a demon of fury and destruction as to swallow up broad fields, acres upon acres, of the foreland of the Fylde, and in its blind anger sweep away whole villages, levelling the house walls and uprooting the very foundations, so that no trace or vestige of their former existence should remain. History, however, points to a hamlet called Waddum Thorp, which once stood off the coast of Lytham, fenced from the sea by a broad area of green pasture-land, now known as the Horse-bank; and in more recent years a long range of star-hills ran southward from opposite the Royal Hotel, protecting a highway, fields, and four or five cottages from the waves, whilst a little further north a boat-house afterwards a shoemaker’s shop, stood in the centre of a grassy plot, all of which have vanished, and their sites are now covered and obliterated by the sand and pebbles of the beach. The several roads, which had been formed at different seasons, leading over the cliffs to Bispham, were sapped away and destroyed so rapidly by the incursions of the tide that one more inland and circuitous was obliged to be made. On the sands, about three miles to the north of Blackpool, and so far distant from the shore that it is only visible when the water has receded to its lowest ebb, stands the famous Penny-stone. Near the spot marked by the huge boulder, tradition affirms that in days of yore there existed a small road-side inn, celebrated far and wide for its strong ale, which was retailed at one penny per pot, and that whilst the thirsty traveller was refreshing himself within, and listening to the gossip of “mine host,” his horse was tethered to an iron ring fixed in this stone. It is stated that documents relating to the ancient hostelry are still preserved, but as the assertion is unsupported by any evidence of its veracity, we are prohibited from accepting it as conclusive proof that the inn owes its reputed existence to something more substantial than the lively imaginations of our ancestors. There is, certainly, one thing which gives some colouring of possibility, or perhaps, out of veneration for the antiquity of the tradition, we may advance a step and say, reasonable probability, to the story, and that is the historic fact, that at no very great distance from the locality there stood a village called Singleton Thorp until 1555, when it was submerged and annihilated by a sudden and fearful irruption of the sea. Several other boulders of various sizes are lying about in the neighbourhood of Penny-stone, bearing the names of Old Mother’s Head, Bear and Staff, Carlin and its Colts, Higher and Lower Jingle, each of which is covered in a greater or less degree with shells, corallines, anemonies, and other treasures of the deep.

In 1811 the census of the persons residing in the township before specified, was again taken, and amounted to 580, showing an increase of 107 in the number of inhabitants during the preceding ten years.

The year 1816 is remarkable as being the first in which public coaches ran regularly between Preston and Blackpool. Previously the chief communication between the village and outlying places had been by means of pack-horses, carts, and private vehicles, with only occasional coaches.

The following description of Blackpool about the year 1816 was furnished by one of its oldest inhabitants, and, although unavoidably entailing some repetition of what has been mentioned before, will, we trust, be interesting in itself, as well as useful in confirming the earlier parts of this history, which have necessarily been compiled from previous writings on the subject, and not from the evidence of living witnesses. The Gynn House formed the most northerly boundary of the village, and, passing from that hostelry in a southerly direction, the next dwelling arrived at was Hill-farm, which still exists, and is at present used as a laundry for the Imperial Hotel. A few gabled cottages stood on the eminence called Fumbler’s Hill, near the site of Carleton Terrace:—

“Old Ned, and Old Nanny, at Fumbler’s hill,
Will board you and lodge you e’en just as you will.”[133]

These cottages faced the south, as indeed did all the other dwellings at that time, with the exception of two or three of the hotels and a few of the more recent buildings. Bailey’s, or rather Dickson’s, Hotel was built in blocks of two and three stories, and possessed one bay window. It must be remembered that the stories of that day were much lower than those with which modern improvements have made us familiar. The next hotel was Forshaw’s, similar in its construction, but unadorned with even one bay window; between these two large inns were two or three small thatched cottages. Continuing our survey southwards were Dobson’s Row, consisting of several slated cottages, with a circulating library and billiard room; and the Lane Ends Hotel, containing three bay-windows, built, like the others, in parts of two and three stories each. In Lane Ends Street there was a general shop and lodging house combined, tenanted by a person named Nickson. The Royal, then commonly called the Houndhill Hotel, comes next in order, and a little distance behind it on the rising ground was a small thatched cottage for the reception of visitors. South Beach contained only a few thatched cottages, and on the site of the present Wellington Hotel stood a circular pinfold, built of cobble stone. Considerably west of the present line of frontage, and south of the pinfold, stood two rows of cottages almost on the edge of the shore; the last of these habitations was washed away or pulled down in 1827. Beyond the Yorkshire House and its bowling green was the dilapidated remains of Fox Hall, part of which had been converted into a small farm-cottage, in the occupation of a person named Wignall. Between Fox Hall and the Yorkshire House, but further removed from the beach, was a thatched cottage adjoining a stable, in which Mr. Butcher, of Raikes Hall, kept two or three racehorses, the field now occupied by the Manchester Hotel being used as an exercise ground for them. Chapel Street contained a small farm-house and several cottages, in addition to Bonny’s Hotel, which was situated in a field at the lower end of this lane. In Church Street there were only three or four cottages, two of which, standing at the south-west corner, were slated and used as shops. A few other cottages, whose exact sites could not be recalled with accuracy, were scattered here and there, but the above will furnish the reader with a fairly correct idea of the extent and appearance of Blackpool about the year 1816.

The National Schools, at Raikes Hill, were the first provision made for the education of the young, and were built in 1817, chiefly through the exertions of Mr. Gisborne, then a temporary resident. They consist of two schools, for boys and girls respectively, with a teachers’ home between. The accommodation has since been considerably enlarged and the institution is now under government inspection.

The parish church of St. John, in course of erection in 1820, was built with bricks from a croft situated on the cliffs between Dickson’s Hotel and the promenade. This place of worship, originally an episcopal chapel under Bispham, with a perpetual curacy attached, was consecrated to St. John on July 6th, 1821, by Doctor Law, bishop of Chester. In 1860 a special district was assigned by order of Council to St. John’s, which in that manner became, under Lord Blanford’s Act, the parish church of Blackpool. The district thus cut off from the wide parochial area of Bispham, and constituted a distinct parish for all ecclesiastical purposes, was included between the Spen Dyke to the south and the central line of Talbot road to the north. The cost of the sacred edifice, which consisted, externally, of a plain brick structure, having a low embattled tower with pinnacles at the angles, amounted to £1,072, the whole of which was defrayed by voluntary subscriptions, the following individuals being the principal contributors:—

Mrs. Dickson £100
Mr. Robert Banks 100
” H. Banks 100
” John Hornby 100
A Friend 100
Mr. John Forshaw 100
” Robert Hesketh 50
” Fielding 50
” Jonathan Peel 50 10s.
” Bonny 50

The interior of the church, plain and neat, was lighted by small lamps for evening service during the winter, and contained a font which had once belonged to the old Roman Catholic chapel of Singleton; and, a few years later, an organ built by Wren, of Manchester. In 1832 this building was enlarged by drawing out the east end, into which a plain window was inserted. The still increasing popularity of the watering place demanded another enlargement, which took place in 1847; but it was not until 1851 that the present chancel, containing a handsome stained glass memorial window to H. Banks, esq., who died in 1847, was added. The window embraces representations of Christ, the four evangelists, and the infant Jesus, with Joseph and his mother, etc., below which is the following inscription, surmounted by a coat of arms and motto:—“In memoriam Henrii Banks de Blackpool patris, et unius ex hujus Ædis patronis, tres sui liberi hanc fenestram fieri fecerunt.” In 1862 it was thought desirable that further improvements should be made, and an open domed roof of pitch-pine was substituted for the old ceiling; the floors of the pews, previously covered with asphalt, were boarded; new windows of ground glass, and a fresh pulpit and reading desk were added to the church; whilst a substantial iron railing was erected round the yard in place of the cobble wall, which had stood since the opening of the edifice, and in the same year the burial space was increased by including the plot of land lying to the west of the church, and now abutting on the houses of Abingdon Street. Four years later, in 1866, a new and larger tower, furnished with a clock and a peal of eight bells, was completed on the site of the original one, which had been pulled down for this purpose. The interior of the church contains, in addition to the memorial window already alluded to, mural tablets _in memoriam_ of Robert Banks, gent., died May 27th, 1838, aged 76 years,—“Ever mindful of the calls of general duty, he was also a liberal promoter of the erection and endowment of this church, and by will bequeathed the sum of £100, for the perpetual support of the national school”; Edward, the son of Henry and Margaret Banks, died August 8th, 1845, aged 35 years; the Rev. Thomas Banks, “who was for thirty-five years incumbent of Singleton church, and an eminent instructor of youth,” died 1842, aged 73 years.

PERPETUAL CURATES AND VICARS OF ST. JOHN’S.

The present patrons of St. John’s church are the Rev. C. Hesketh, of North Meols; the Vicar of Bispham; J. Talbot Clifton, esq., of Lytham Hall; and the Raikes Hall Park, Gardens, and Aquarium Company.

In 1821 the census returns of the population of Layton-with-Warbreck showed a total of 749 persons. On the 19th of July in that year the coronation of George IV. was celebrated by the inhabitants and visitors of Blackpool “in a manner most grateful to every benevolent heart.” A handsome subscription, we are told by the gentleman whose words have just been quoted and who was present on the occasion, was expended in procuring one day’s festivity for the poor and needy, the aged and the young. About ten in the morning, the children of the township, amounting to one hundred and thirty-nine, assembled at the national school, erected near the church, where they were each presented with a coronation medal. Afterwards they paraded the beach, headed by two musicians, and sang the national anthem at all the principal houses, followed by ringing cheers; returning to the school-house, each child was regaled with a large bun, and spiced ale and coppers were distributed amongst them. When these had been dismissed to their homes, upwards of thirty old people met in the same room, where they sat down to an ample and excellent dinner, at the conclusion of which they each drank the king’s health in a pint of strong ale. The same kind-hearted ladies who had superintended the children in the procession, waited on this venerable company, and had their generosity rewarded by witnessing the amusing spectacle of three old women, upwards of seventy, who had probably danced at the coronation of George III., go through a Scotch reel, which they accomplished in excellent style.

On the 21st of March, 1825, the first stone of a small Independent chapel, situated at the lower end of Chapel Street, and lying on the south extremity of the village, was laid by the Rev. D. T. Carnson, and on the 6th of the ensuing July it was opened for public worship by the Rev. Dr. Raffles.

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History of the Fylde of LancashireChapter XI: Blackpool (1)

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