The conversion of the huge stone quarry at the Mount into a cemetery was
a very good idea. This immense excavation was becoming a matter of
anxiety with the authorities, as to what should be done with so large an
area of so peculiar a nature. To fill it up with rubbish seemed an
impossibility; while the constant and increasing demand for stone added
to the difficulties of the situation. The establishment of a cemetery at
Kensal Green in Middlesex, suggested the conversion of this quarry to a
similar purpose. A feeling in the minds of people that the dead should
not be interred amidst the living, began to prevail--a feeling that has
since grown so strong as to be fully recognised in the extensive
cemeteries now formed at the outskirts of this and all large towns.
Duke-street used to be called "The road to the Quarry," and was almost
solely used by the carts bringing stone into the town. Eighty years ago,
there were only a few houses at the top of this street, having gardens at
the back. There was a ropery which extended from the corner of the
present Berry-street (called after Captain Berry, who built the first
house in it), to the roperies which occupied the site of the present
Arcades. All above this was fields, with a few houses only in
Wood-street, Fleet-street, Wolstenholme-square, and Hanover-street. This
latter street contained some very handsome mansions, having large gardens
connected with them.
Rodney-street was laid out by a German named Schlink, who, being desirous
to perpetuate his name, called his new thoroughfare Schlink-street.
Several houses were erected in it, but the idea of living in
"Schlink"-street--the word "Schlink" being associated with bad
meat--deterred persons from furthering the German's speculation. In
deference to this notion, the name of the then popular hero, "Rodney,"
was given to the street; and it has continued to be occupied by families
of the highest respectability, and especially of late years by the
medical profession.
I recollect a rather curious circumstance, connected with one of the best
houses in this street, which caused some amusement at the time amongst
those who were acquainted with the particulars and the parties. It was a
complete instance of "turning the tables." About thirty years, or more,
ago, a gentleman lived in Rodney-street, whose commercial relations
required him to be frequently in the metropolis. He found his presence
there was likely to be continuous, and determined to give up his house in
Liverpool and reside permanently in London. He, therefore, took steps to
let his house (which he held under lease at one hundred and five pounds
per annum) by advertising it, and putting a bill in the window to that
effect. To his surprise he received a notice from his landlord informing
him that by the tenure of his lease, to which he was referred, he would
find that he could not sub-let. Finding this to be the case, he went to
the owner of the property, and expressed a desire to be released from his
occupancy on fair terms, offering to find a substantial tenant and pay
half a year's rent. The landlord, knowing he had a good tenant, rejected
this offer in a way somewhat approaching to rudeness. Finding himself
tied to the stake, as it were, the gentleman inquired under what terms he
could be released? The answer was, that nothing short of twelve months
rent and a tenant, would suffice to obtain a release. Without making a
reply to this proposal, the gentleman went his way. A few mornings after
this interview, the owner of the house, in passing, saw a man painting
the chequers {197} on the door cheeks, and on looking up found that "---
--- was licensed to sell beer by retail, to be drunk on the premises."
Astonished at this proceeding, he ordered the painter to stop his work,
but the painter told him he was paid for the job, and do it he would. On
being told who it was that spoke to him his reply was that he did not
care, and that he might go to a place "where beer is not sold by retail
nor on the premises," for aught he cared. Furious at this insolence, the
angry landlord sent word to his tenant that he wanted to see him, at the
same time giving him notice of what he would do if he persisted in
appropriating the house to the purpose intimated. The only answer
returned was, that the tenant would be at "the beer-shop" at ten in the
morning, where he would meet his landlord. At ten, accordingly, the old
gentleman went to his tenant, and on meeting him asked him what was the
meaning of his proceedings. "Why," replied the tenant, "I find by my
lease that it is true I cannot sub-let, and as you will not accept what I
consider fair terms of release, I intend, for the remainder of my term,
to keep the place open as a beer-shop. I have taken out a license,
bought furniture for the purpose, and here comes the first load of forms
and tables" (at that moment, sure enough, up came a cart heavily laden
with all sorts of beer-house requisites). "I intend to make the
drawing-room a dancing saloon, and the garden a skittle alley. I have
engaged an old warehouseman to manage the business for me, and if we
don't do a roaring business, I hope to make enough to pay your rent, and
become free from loss." The intense anger of the landlord may be
imagined; and he left the house uttering threats of the utmost vengeance
of the law; but on an interview with his attorney he found there was no
redress--a beer-shop was "not in the bond." He, therefore, went again to
his refractory tenant, for it was clear that if the house was once opened
as a beer-shop, the adjoining property would be deteriorated. He was
smilingly greeted, and his tenant regretted that he had not tapped his
ale, or he would have offered him a glass. "Come, Mr. ---," said the
landlord, "let us see if we cannot arrange this matter. I am now willing
to accept your offer of half a year's rent, and a tenant." "No," said
Mr. ---, "I cannot think of such terms now." "Well, then, suppose you
give me a quarter's rent, and find me the tenant." "No!" "Then the rent
without the tenant." "No!" "Then a tenant without the rent." "No; but
I will tell you what I'll agree to, my good sir--you see, I have been put
to some expense. I made you a fair, and, as I think, a liberal offer,
which you would not accept. Now, if you will reimburse me all the
expense I have been put to, and pay 10 pounds to the town charities, I
will abandon my beer-house scheme, undertake to give up the key, and
close the account between us." With these terms the landlord eventually
complied, thus having "the tables fairly turned" upon him.
Cock-fighting was at one time a favourite sport in Liverpool, amongst the
lower orders, and, indeed, amongst all other classes too. In a street
leading out of Pownall-square (so called after Mr. William Pownall, whose
death was accelerated during his mayoralty in 1708, in consequence of a
severe cold, caught in suppressing a serious riot of the Irish which
occurred in the night-time in a place near the Salthouse Dock, called the
Devil's acre), there 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.