was a famous cock-pit. The street is now called Cockspur-street. Where the cock-pit stood there is a small dissenting chapel, and the entrance to it may be found up a court. This cock-pit was the resort of all the low ruffians of the neighbourhood. In consequence of the disturbances which continually took place, it was suppressed as the neighbourhood increased in population. It is rather singular that in more than one instance cock-pits have been converted into places of public worship. The cock-pit at Aintree, for instance, was so converted; and the first sermon preached in it was by the Rev. Dr. Hume, who skilfully alluded to the scenes that had been enacted in it, without in the least offensively describing them. That sermon was a remarkable one, and made a great impression on the congregation assembled there for the first time. The late Lord Derby was an enthusiastic cock-fighter, and kept a complete set of trainers and attendants. When I was a boy, it was thought nothing of to attend a cock-fight, and, such was the passion for this cruel sport, that many lads used to keep cocks for the purpose.
It is a curious thing to watch the changes that have taken place from time to time in different neighbourhoods as to the character of the inhabitants. Where at one time we may have found the aristocracy of the town assembling, we have noticed its respectability gradually fading away, and
those who inhabited large mansions removing elsewhere. For instance, Rose-hill, Cazneau-street (called after Mr. Cazneau; at one time a pretty street indeed, with gardens in front of all the houses), and Beau-street, were fashionable suburban localities. St. Anne-street abounded in handsome mansions and was considered the court-end of the town. The courtly tide then set southward; Abercromby-square, and its neighbourhood sprung up, and so surged outward to Aigburth one way and to West Derby another. Everton I have already spoken of. I remember the houses in Faulkner-terrace remaining for years unfinished, and it was at one time called “Faulkner’s Folly,” from the notion that no one would ever think of living so far out of the town. Mr. Faulkner, however, proved himself to be more long-sighted than those who ridiculed his undertaking.
I remember the present Haymarket a field with a rivulet flowing through the midst of it, and the whole of this neighbourhood fields and gardens. In Cazneau-street there was an archery lodge, a portion of which is still standing.
I remember, too, the erection of Richmond Fair, in 1787. It was projected by a Mr. Dobb, who dwelt in a bay-windowed house still standing in St. Anne-street. He intended it for a Cloth Hall for the Irish factors to sell their linens in, which they brought in great quantities at that time to
Liverpool. The Linen Hall at Chester gave him the idea of this undertaking. It took very well at first, but in consequence of complaints being made by the shopkeepers in the town that the dealers in linen, instead of selling wholesale were carrying on an extensive retail trade and injuring their business, the authorities stopped all further traffic in it, and, after remaining some years unoccupied, it has of late been converted into small tenements.
CHAPTER XII.
Thirty years ago Great Charlotte-street, at the Ranelagh-street end, was a narrow, poorly-built thoroughfare. On the left hand side, looking south, between Elliot-street and the present coach-builders’ establishment, there was a timber-yard, in which stood a small wooden theatre, known as “Holloway’s Sans Pareil,” and truly it was Sans Pareil, for surely there was nothing like it, either in this town or anywhere else. Both inside and outside it was dirty and dingy. There were only a pit and gallery, the latter taking the place of boxes in other theatres; and, yet the scenery was excellent, the actors, many of them, very clever, and the getting up of the pieces as good as could be in so small a place. The pantomimes at Christmas were capital. The charges of admission were: to the pit 3d., and to the gallery, 6d. The audiences, whether men or women, boys or girls, were the
roughest of the rough. The quantity of copper coin taken at the doors was prodigious; and I am told that it occupied two persons several hours, daily, to put the money up into the usual five-shilling packages. Mr. Holloway used to stand at one door and his wife at the other, to receive the admission money. When the audience was assembled, the former would go into the pit and there pack the people, so that no space should be lost. He would stuff a boy into one, or a little girl into another seat, and leave them to settle down into their proper places; giving one a buffet and another a knock on the head, just to encourage the others to keep order and be obedient to his will and wish. There was no space lost in the pit of Holloway’s theatre, whatever there might be anywhere else. A thriving business was carried on in this little bit of a theatre, and if the highest class of performances was not produced, nothing at any time offensive to order and morality was permitted.
I remember a good joke in which a gentlemen whom I knew, connected with one of our newspapers, and a leading actress at the Theatre Royal, were concerned, in connection with a visit to the Sans Pareil. The lady was very desirous to see a piece which was got up with great eclat at the Sans Pareil, and which was attracting crowds of people to see it. I think it was entitled “Maria