There are some interesting references to Lancashire and the manufacturing district in a volume of “Summer Excursions,” consisting of letters written by Miss E. I. Spence, published in 1809. Literary fame is not always permanent, and it may be necessary to explain that the author of these volumes and of “The Nobility of the Heart” and “The Wedding Day” was a well-known woman of letters in her own generation.

Elizabeth Isabella Spence was the daughter of a Durham physician, and the granddaughter of Dr. Fordyce. She was early orphaned, and was brought up in London by an uncle and aunt. On their death the literary tastes which had already made her a contributor to the press became useful in the gaining of a subsistence. She wrote nine novels or collections of stories, and three works of inland travel, devoted respectively to the North Highlands, Scotland, England, and Wales. She “lodged for the greater part of her life in a retired street at the west end of the town”—Weymouth Street, that is. Amongst her friends were the Benthams, Lady Margaret Bland Burges, Lady Anne Barnard (the authoress of “Auld Robin Gray”), Sir Humphrey Davy, L. E. L., and the venerable Mary Knowles, one of the few ladies who met Dr. Johnson on equal terms in argument, and could even claim a victory over that doughty champion. Miss Spence died on the 27th July, 1832.

Her impressions of the manufacturing district were not of a favourable kind. The inns of Warrington did not please her, and “the dirtiness of the people here exceeds,” she says, “what I could have believed in any part of this kingdom.” From Bolton she writes: “The apparel of the women in some of the villages we passed through was scarcely decent, and all the children were without shoes and stockings.” At Wigan she mentions the “celebrated spa” and the “cannel coal,” which was made into ornaments. “I have heard a dinner service was once made out of this coal, which, after the entertainment, was demolished in the fire.” Bolton she found to be situated on “a dreary moor,” but there was some compensation in “an extensive view of a fine open country.” The next stay was at Stand Hall, a mansion of which the beautiful situation and the hospitality of her friends, who were its inmates, made her pardon even the rainfall. Her host, “Mr. J——,” was Mr. John Johnson, steward for Lord Derby in the Bury district. “The large town of Manchester,” she says, “spreads along the valley in front of the house at some miles’ distance, and the less one of Bury is seen distinctly to the left, surrounded by villages with simple cottages dispersed along the plain. The hills of Lancashire, Derbyshire, Cheshire, and Yorkshire, rising in succession, spread in a vast amphitheatre till lost in the immensity of space; while the rugged tops of the Welsh mountains, which I gazed upon as old friends, hide their heads in the clouds, of which they seem to form a part. The dialect of this country is peculiarly unharmonious to the ear, and when spoken by the peasantry is scarcely to be understood. All the lower orders of the people are employed in the manufactories, and the dress worn by the women is a long bed-gown, black stockings, and a mob-cap hanging open from the ears.” The fidelity of her description of the former dress of the people will be recognised.

Miss Spence was taken by her friends to the Manchester theatre to see Mrs. Siddons as Lady Macbeth, and also as Catharine in “Catharine and Petruchio”—an adaptation of the “Taming of the Shrew.” Apparently the drama then, as now, was in a decline. “This pre-eminently great actress,” says Miss Spence, “has for several years been so entirely the theme of public admiration to the real amateurs of the drama (for some we still possess) that it would be superfluous to dwell on her exquisite powers—powers that even in former times, when the stage was in its meridian glory, could not be excelled, and would have awakened astonishment and admiration. But to give your Ladyship” (the letter is addressed to the Dowager Countess of Winterton) “an idea either of the little taste or the prudent economy of the inhabitants of Manchester in permitting her to perform to empty benches, I need only mention that after the other evening, on sharing the profits with the manager, she was rewarded with the sum (shall I commit it to paper?) of seven shillings!” But wishing to be just, even in such a case, she adds, “There may, indeed, have been a moral cause for this rather than a want of taste or parsimony.” And no doubt there were many in old Manchester who would not go to the theatre even to see the acting of Mrs. Siddons. In 1775, the establishment of a Theatre Royal was advocated by a noble peer as a means of “eradicating” Methodism in Manchester.

Miss Spence visited also Rochdale, and was impressed by the handsome houses of the manufacturers, “whose wealth appears as unbounded as the magnificence of their tables.” She notices with regret the fondness for card parties, and was surprised to find “the primitive hours of our ancestors still prevalent in Rochdale,” where one o’clock was the general dinner hour. Passing through the “miserable village”—as she styles it—of Whitworth, Miss Spence repeats an interesting account of its famous “doctors,” which was given to her by Mr. Johnson. “‘Old Sammie [it should be Jammie] in Whitworth’ was originally a common farrier, or cow doctor. His sons, however, John and George, though they continued the business of farriers, had a deal to do with the human race, and for many years were famous for the cure of cancers, and contracted or broken limbs, which they frequently effected at a very small expense, from the sum of two and sixpence to half a guinea. T——, Bishop of Durham, was a patient of theirs for a cancerous complaint; and it is well known that they prolonged his life for several months, though they did not cure him. To this obscure village both lords and commoners resort for relief; and in cancerous cases and contractions have undoubtedly succeeded when the regular bred men of the faculty have failed. The widow of George, son of old Sammie, and James, grandson of Sammie, are the present doctors, and are held in high estimation for the same cures. The widow of Doctor George is reckoned very clever, and takes a most active part amongst the patients of both sexes. They attend once a week at Rochdale, where they have a public open shop, and it is wonderful, though dreadful, to see the business they go through.”

The neighbourhood of Stand delighted her, and she has a good word for the Rector of Prestwich and for the Earl of Wilton. “What an edifying example does my Lord Wilton set by attending this church every Sunday, not only with the whole of his noble family, but also in being followed by the men and women of his household, who all conduct themselves with the most becoming reverence! This noble example of his Lordship tends to assemble a very numerous and respectable congregation, even from distant parts.” Some of our readers will remember that at a later date Fanny Kemble drew an interesting picture of the household at Heaton Park. She was impressed in the same manner as was Miss Spence, but she does not give expression to it in quite the same manner.

“Adjoining to the mansion of Stand Hall,” observes Miss Spence, “is a barn, which was once a chapel. It has a fine Gothic roof of English oak, and it is a singular fact, no one ever saw a spider’s web upon it; and it always looks as if it had just been swept down. Mr. J—— informed me no person he had ever met with could account for it, although all other barns are covered with spiders’ webs.”

Of Manchester she says, “It is a very large town, but the streets, for the most part, are inconveniently narrow, with very few noble buildings or handsome houses. The population is immense, and the traffic considerable; and it has acquired great celebrity from its extensive manufactories, so productive, all over the kingdom.” We need only make one more quotation. “I wish I could tell your Ladyship,” she says, “that the peasantry were possessed of that native simplicity we expect to find two hundred miles from the Metropolis; their manners accord with their rude and uncultivated appearance, and their demeanour is remarkably forbidding; but this, I understand, is often the case near manufacturing towns, though it is the first time I have had the opportunity of observing it.” Evidently Manchester, even ninety years ago, was some distance from Arcadia.