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.