A cockpit was a scene not easily matched. On a race or a prize-fight, the betting is nearly finished when the sport begins; but the same state of affairs did not prevail at a cock-fight, where no one backed a cock till he had had a good look at him. In consequence of this all the betting had to be done in a short time, and the noise and apparent confusion of layers and backers were quite bewildering. The betting changed with considerable rapidity—in many a battle the odds would veer round from 100 to 1 on one cock, to 40 to 1 against the same.
The issue of a cock-fight is never quite certain till a cock is actually killed, an apparently moribund bird sometimes proving the unexpected winner.
A very striking instance of this once occurred at Mr. Loftus's cockpit at Newcastle, where a gentleman, on a cock being pounded, betted ten guineas to a crown, which he lost in nearly the space of a minute, as the pounded cock, while his antagonist was pecking in triumph, rose, and after a stroke or two, laid him dead. As luck would have it, while the same gentleman was going from the cockpit to the race-course in his carriage, accompanied by some other gentlemen, one of them observed the absurdity of buying money so dear, to which the other replied, he would bet the same on anything, if he thought he could win; the former gentleman said he would take it. "Done," says the gentleman, "I will bet £10 to a crown that my carriage does not break down on 'going or returning from the race-course.'" The bet was accepted; and after going about 100 yards farther, down came the carriage. And thus, in the course of the same day, he lost his two bets of £10 to 5s. In the course of this week's fighting, there were several guineas betted to shillings, and lost, on the various battles.
Cock-fights as a rule took place in the evening, seven having been the usual hour appointed for the sport to commence.
In the palmy days of cock-fighting there were several celebrated pits in London, the chief of which, of course, was the Cock Pit Royal, which had been much frequented by Charles II. and his courtiers. Another well-known cockpit existed at Moss Alley, Bankside, Southwark, where great battles were contested. At the New Pit, Hoxton, in January, 1794, a number of spirited mains were fought, the gentlemen of Islington having challenged the gentlemen of Hackney for five guineas a battle and fifty guineas the odd battle. Hackney easily proved victorious.
The Royal Cockpit in St. James's Park was taken down in 1810, never again to be rebuilt. The Governors and Trustees of Christ's Hospital, to whom the ground belonged, met on the spot, the very day the lease expired; and, as might naturally be expected from the patrons of such an institution, gave directions for the immediate demolition of the building.
A curious custom which was long ago sometimes enforced at cock-fights prescribed that any one indulging in foul play or not paying his bets should be put into a large basket and drawn up to the roof of the cockpit. This was called being basketed. A man well-known to the sporting world, being once in this predicament, and notwithstanding that he had no money in his pocket and could not expect his bets to be taken, had the fever of betting so strong upon him that in spite of his situation in the basket, he could not help vociferating, as the odds varied, "I'll lay six to four—two to one—five to two—three to one—four to one—five to one—a guinea to a shilling—the long odds, ten pounds to a crown," to the no small diversion of the auditors and spectators, who, at length, commiserating his case and attributing his imprudence to an insurmountable passion for play, shortened his punishment; and when a gentleman present gave him a small sum he took the long odds all the way through, went off with a hundred guineas in his pocket, and from this source alone became a very distinguished character on the Turf.
In Hogarth's print of the cockpit, published in 1759, a shadow of mysterious contour is thrown upon the floor of the pit, the origin of which may be seen to be a gambler who, having been basketed for not paying his debts, is vainly offering his watch as a pledge so that he may be let down and allowed to take his place among the somewhat ill-favoured crowd which is watching the battle. The principal figure in this print represents a nobleman (Lord Bertie) who, though stone-blind, was a zealous patron of cock-fighting, though it is difficult to see how, under these unfavourable circumstances, the sport could have had any attraction for him.
The Preston race-meetings used to be a great rendezvous for cock-fighters. Lord Derby long held a distinguished place among the patrons of the sod, and was reckoned one of the best judges of a cock in England. The excellent walks which his Lordship owned on his own estates, and the number of cocks he bred, ensured him a plentiful supply of fine young birds; consequently his birds never had a feather wrong; this, joined to their true blood, which made them show fight to the last, and the skill of Paul Potter, his feeder, caused Lord Derby to be the winner of many a Preston main.