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Whalley, Mr. G. H.

15

Whittlesey Mere

19

PART THE FIRST.

City Toll Gates.—How Toll was Levied.—The Infirmary.—Old City Breweries.—The Calculating Boy.—Starting the Railways.—Frisby’s Feat.—Tales of the Coaching Days.—Tally-Ho Coach.—A Contrast.—A Story of Lord Fitzwilliam.—Smothering the Cathedral.—The Old Mill.—Simpson’s Packet.—Mr. Whalley’s Joke.—Postal Charges.—Franking Letters.—The City Beadle.—Parish Constables and Gaol.—A Notorious Family.—Fairs.—City Bells.—Sedan Chairs.—Whittlesey Mere.

When I came to Peterboro’ in Oct., 1833, I think our population was five or six thousand.  In the month of August I came down to make arrangements for my being articled to the late Mr. Gates.  I was taken charge of by my father, and protected by my sister, and we drove from Northampton, where my father was a medical man having an extensive practice, and could only spare one day.  During the night a most extraordinary storm sprang up.  We had to go back during that storm.  There was an enormous destruction of timber on the road between here and Northampton, and in many other parts of the country.  It was a storm such as very seldom rages in these latitudes in the summer months.  In one part of the journey was a great avenue of trees, a considerable portion of which was destroyed.  It was the property of a worthy squire, and I remember hearing it remarked, “How much Mr. So-and-So will feel the destruction of his avenue.”  “Oh dear no,” said the person spoken to, “don’t you know that that property is settled property, and he has no power of cutting timber, and he will be highly delighted.  He thinks the avenue is much improved, as it puts a very good sum of money into his pocket, which is very welcome to him.”  You see it is an ill wind that blows nobody good.

When I got here, the first thing I saw when I looked round the town was that it was confined by toll bars.  There was a toll bar just over the bridge, where the little house since converted into shops then was.  At the other end of the town, on the Lincoln Road, was another toll bar; on the Thorney Road was another, and at the back of Westgate another.  Our town had four gates drawn across the four entrances; on the road now known as Lincoln Road East, then Crawthorne Lane, there was a side bar to prevent anyone getting out of the town without paying contributions.  One enquired what these meant, because within a mile or two on each of the main roads you would find another toll bar, at which they duly took toll, and the only villages that could get into Peterborough without paying toll were Yaxley, Farcet, and Stanground, as the turnpike road toll on that road, the old London Road, was near Norman Cross.  Otherwise, our system was so ingeniously contrived that you could not get into or out of Peterborough without paying town toll at the end of the street, which were tolls for the pavement.  This was rather a peculiar system.  I do not wish to quote Scripture, but you will recollect the enquiry, “Of whom do the Kings of the earth take tribute?  Of their own children or of strangers, and they said ‘of strangers.’  Then the comment was ‘Then are the children free!’”

The system that our forefathers adopted for encouraging communication and traffic was this: They put a toll on for their pavements, from the payment of which they exempted themselves, and took it from the strangers that came into the place.  The only exceptions were when the inhabitants of the place travelled on Sundays.  Toll collectors were then authorised to take toll from them, and also from those who hired vehicles in the place, the result being if you were an inhabitant of the place, and had the luck to keep your carriage or gig or wagon, or whatever it was, you might use the pavement as much as you pleased, and pay nothing.  But if you were a poor person, or could only treat yourself occasionally with the luxury of a gig, or were obliged to hire a trap for business, yon were immediately taken toll of.

The present Hospital or Infirmary was then a private dwelling-house.  The Dispensary which existed then was a small house opposite the Old Burial Ground, the one now occupied by Mr. Payling, the dentist.  After some years, it was removed from this place to what is now the Police Station in Newtown.  Soon after this, the Earl Fitzwilliam purchased the present building and presented it to the City, a monument of his appreciation of the good that had been done in a small way by the existing buildings, and which, I think, in the present arrangements, fully carried out his Lordship’s benevolent wishes.

There were two considerable features of Peterborough which have entirely disappeared.  Where Queen Street and North Street now stand were two large breweries, known as Buckle’s Brewery and Squires’s Brewery.  They were quite institutions of the place, and it always strikes me as a very strange thing that they should have entirely disappeared, as one of them would have been larger than all the breweries now in Peterborough.  Buckles’ Brewery was certainly a very remarkable one, and carried on with great energy and spirit.  There was one peculiarity they had—that some friends of the partners could assemble on Easter Monday and spend the afternoon in playing at marbles.  I have spent pleasant afternoons there on Easter Mondays.  There were two large tuns or barrels in which the beer was kept, one of which was called Mrs. Clarke, and the other the Duke of York, to perpetuate a scandal at the time when they were constructed.  A very hospitable time always followed the game at marbles.

Buckles’ Brewery was the cause of another peculiar circumstance.  On one occasion there visited the town for the amusement of the people, a calculating boy.  He went through, his entertainment with great success, and at last one of our worthy inhabitants got up and asked