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Post by CW .org .info .net on Sept 29, 2011 21:17:50 GMT -6
THOMAS RICHARDSON OF HESKET-NEW-MARKET. Thomas Richardson, commonly known as "the Dyer," one of thirteen children, was born at Caldbeck, about the year 1796, and brought up in the neighbouring village of Hesket-New-Market, situate between Penrith and Wigton.
Richardson's father held situations at Rose Castle, under Bishops Vernon and Goodenough. The latter prelate, taking an interest in the welfare of young Richardson, sent him to be educated, under the Rev. John Stubbs, formerly master of Sebergham grammar school; a man of considerable classical attainments, and of a very jovial disposition. The bishop intended his protégé for the Church; and, to attain such distinction, most of our readers will be aware, was the anxious hope of many middle-class families in Cumberland and Westmorland. In this case, the wish and aspiration were destined not to bear fruit. The lad steadily rejected all offers of advancement in that direction, his own oft expressed wish being to be brought up to husbandry, and to excel as an athlete. While the father and mother were not averse to his following agricultural pursuits, they were strongly[Pg 157] against his wrestling proclivities. Whenever such gatherings were attended, the youngster had to "slipe off" unknown to his parents.
On arriving at maturity, Richardson developed into a fine manly-looking man, standing five feet eleven inches high, and weighing from thirteen to thirteen-and-a-half stones, with broad massive chest, good length of arm, and strongly built throughout. In the ring, he excelled greatly at hyping, and if this chanced to miss, generally followed up with the "ham."
The question has often been asked, how Richardson came to be familiarly spoken of as "the Dyer." It occurred after this manner. In the parish of Caldbeck, there happened to be several families, at one time, of the same name. This rendered it necessary to distinguish them by such appellations as "Fiddler Richardson," "Dyer Richardson," and "oald Jwohn Richardson"—the last named being "Belted Will's" father. John Richardson, Tom's grandfather, was a dyer at Caldbeck, and became much famed for his blue dyes. At that time, blue-and-white checked shirts were generally worn in country districts, by middle and lower class persons; and the women donned blue linen aprons, and blue linsey skirts. These now disused and durable fabrics, were manufactured extensively at Ulverston, Kendal, and, on a lesser scale, at many other places in the north. It was a sine qua non that the blue colours should be "fast."[Pg 158] John Richardson served his apprenticeship in Kendal, under the Wakefields, and was there during the rebellion of "'45." When the first section of the Pretender's army retreated northwards through Kendal, it was market-day, and as a matter of course, a multitude of people were collected together, who mobbed the rear-guard of the troops. During the excitement which prevailed, one of Wakefield's dyers seized a gun belonging to a Highlander, and boldly and determinedly wrenched it from his grasp. This only proved the forerunner of more direful onslaughts. As the rebels were turning down the Fish-market, a musket shot fired from a window above, brought one of them lifeless from his horse, and two others were taken prisoners. Being thus provoked, the Highlanders turned about and fired on the multitude. A farmer, named John Slack, of New Hutton, was killed in the open street; and a shoemaker, and an ostler, were seriously wounded. When the Duke of Cumberland's army had passed through Kendal, John Richardson—having proved himself a trustworthy servant—was decorated with a cockade, and employed to carry despatches between the Wakefields and Colonel Honeywood, who was wounded in the skirmish on Clifton Moor, near Penrith.
In after life, Tom Richardson's father kept an inn, and the blue flag which floated over his tent at wrestling and other meetings, was the means of indicating his whereabouts to friends and customers.[Pg 159] In the year 1813, when Richardson was about seventeen years old, he felt a strong desire to attend the races and wrestling at Carlisle. His father being much against the outing, some bickering took place between them. However, after breakfast, on the morning of the races, watching his opportunity, the lad slipped out unseen, and had to run part of the way, in order to be in time—the full distance to the border city being something like thirteen miles. Reaching Carlisle, he succeeded in getting his name entered for the head prize. This effected, he was soon called out against Joseph Slack of Blencow, a skilful wrestler, but getting past the meridian. After an exciting tussle, the youngster proved victorious. Next time over, he met George Forster of Denton, and buttocked him cleverly. Forster's shoulder was unfortunately put out in the fall, but set again quickly, as described in the sketch of George Dennison's career. In the third round, Richardson's further progress was cut short by one Robert Langhorn. Our youthful aspirant for fame, then entered for the second day's prize, but was thrown in the second round, by Simon Armstrong.
The following year—1814—he again attended the Carlisle wrestling, and met with about similar success as before. For the head prize, Samuel Jameson of Penrith disposed of him in the third round. In the second day's entry, William Slee of Dacre did the same in the first round.[Pg 160] In 1815, the "Dyer" appeared in the Carlisle ring for the third time. He threw Andrew Armstrong of Sowerby-hall, in the second round; and was thrown next time over by Tom Todd of Knarsdale, near Alston. For the second day's prize, he disposed in succession of his neighbour, William Clark, the miller, Joe Abbot of Thornthwaite-hall, and Robert Forster of Denton; and was brought to grief by Edward Forster, a brother of the last mentioned.
The weather at the Carlisle meeting held in September, 1816, turned out to be extremely wet and uncomfortable, on both first and second days. As a natural consequence, there was a much thinner attendance than ordinary. The Earl of Lonsdale, the Marquis of Queensberry, Sir Philip Musgrave, and others of the nobility and neighbouring gentry, were present; but after the first day, scarcely any equipages, and very few ladies, were to be seen on the course. There was a fair average of good men entered; but the account we have to give of the wrestling is conflicting and unsatisfactory, presenting a finish lame and impotent in the extreme.
In the first and second rounds, Richardson was called out against John Earl of Cumwhitton, and John Weightman, respectively. He succeeded in throwing both of these formidable antagonists. The former was an old veteran in the Carlisle ring, and the latter a powerful young man of twenty-one, with an eventful career before him. In the fourth[Pg 161] round, Richardson and Joseph Graham were drawn together, and had an unsatisfactory bout. Respecting this fall, Litt says: "Being a spectator that year, we do not hesitate to say that the conduct of the umpires was extremely blameable. In the course of the wrestling, a fall between Thomas Richardson of Hesket, and Joseph Graham from Ravenglass, was given to the former. We assert that Graham was not allowed a fair hold, that it was a manifest snap, and after all it was a complete dog-fall. On wrestling when there were but four standers, Richardson was indisputably thrown; but such was the gross partiality shown towards him, that he was allowed to compound with the person who threw him." Disposing of George Coulthard, in the fifth round, Richardson was then called against Tom Todd of Knarsdale, to wrestle the final fall.
As a somewhat different statement has been sent abroad in Wrestliana, we think it only right that the "Dyer's" own plea should be set forth. Well, after Todd and he had stood fronting one another, in the ring, for some time, but had not been in holds, "'turney" Pearson called Richardson to one side, and offered him a considerable sum of money if he would only take his coat, go out of the ring, and say he "dārrent russel," or he "dudn't want to russel." To this proposal, Richardson indignantly replied: "No! I'll nowder deà sec a like thing for yee, nor nivver a man i' Carel toon!" It[Pg 162] was currently reported, by the way, that Pearson had bet a good deal Todd would win the prize.[11] After some further squabbling, a row took place, and the ring was completely broken up.
[11] Henry Pearson, solicitor, was a rare upholder of wrestling, but too much given to betting to do full justice to all parties. It was currently reported he ventured so large a sum on Carter at the Gretna fight, that when Oliver was likely to win during the earlier rounds, he evinced a state of the greatest nervousness imaginable. An old stager has a distinct recollection of him as he stood "fumlen wid his fingers iv his mooth," betraying the nervous "twitch" peculiar to men undergoing great mental excitement, and looking as if he might have gone off at any moment like touchwood or tinder.
It was then given out that the two men were to wrestle next morning—the following day being Thursday. When Thursday morning, however, came, the meeting was put off till next morning. When Friday came, it was again put off, on account of the great fight between Carter and Oliver, at Gretna. Richardson stayed three whole days in Carlisle, over the affair, and never received a penny! Whatever "gross partiality" might be shown towards him in wrestling through the ring, he seems only to have fared badly in the end. Let those who can, answer for the treatment he received. The second prize advertised by the Carlisle wrestling committee, curiously enough, was not contended for at all; why so, was best known to the committee themselves.
During the years 1817-18-19-20, there was no wrestling at Carlisle, in connection with the races.[Pg 163] The proprietor of a circus certainly filled up the gap creditably, in 1817; but the three remaining years following were entire blanks.
At the Langwathby annual Rounds, held on New Year's day, in 1818, Richardson carried off the head prize of two guineas, finally throwing John Dobson of Cliburn.
While wrestling seemed altogether defunct at Carlisle, it was taken up with renewed vigour at Keswick. In August, 1818, the head prize offered was a purse of five guineas, which brought a great gathering of spectators, and all the best athletes of the day. The onlookers had the gratification of witnessing many keenly contested falls. The last two standers were Richardson, and William Wilson of Ambleside, then just coming out. Before going into the ring for the final struggle, some chaffing took place, the "Dyer" saying to Wilson in a swaggering sort of way, "I'll throw thee, noo, thoo'll see, like I threw t' last chap!" After a good deal of higgling, on Richardson's part, about wanting a "good hod," the two men finally closed, and Wilson being impatient to be at work at once, lifted his opponent to hype him, but missed his stroke. Some manœuvring then took place, and the "Dyer" having materially improved his hold, threw in the "ham" quickly, and curiously enough succeeded in bringing over his dangerous rival, in the very manner he had "bragged" of doing.
In answer to a paragraph which appeared in[Pg 164] the Cumberland Pacquet, Richardson issued the following notice:—
Sporting Advertisement.—Thomas Richardson, who won the principal prize at the last Keswick Regatta and Races, having observed it mentioned in the Whitehaven paper of the first instant, that he refused to "play again with the man he threw, for five guineas, though challenged," begs to contradict such statement, as being a gross falsehood; and he is sorry such an offer was not made to him.—He now challenges his opponent, alluded to in the Whitehaven paper, to wrestle him for ten guineas, at any time or place.—Hesket-New-Market, Sept. 2nd, 1818.
As this match never came off, it is impossible to say what the result might have been; nevertheless, we have strong leanings to the belief that the "Dyer" would have gained nothing, at that date, by coming into personal contact with Wilson, the best of five falls. As a hyper, the "Dyer" was admirable, and dangerous, too, among even the best Cumbrian wrestlers; but, in this particular respect, he was far behind Wilson in quickness of stroke and brilliancy of execution.
On one of the days after the races at Keswick, Richardson had a match with Tom Lock of Ravenglass, and threw him cleverly.
Some years after, the "Dyer" rambled away from home as far as Low Wood, to attend the annual wrestlings at Windermere. For some reason or other, he entered his name "Thomas Porter," and passed quietly through two or three of the earlier rounds as an unknown hand. Being called against[Pg 165] Joe Abbot of Bampton, the latter bounced into the ring very full of stopping the further progress of the stranger. No sooner had they approached one another, than Joe opened his eyes very wide, stood as one petrified for a moment, and then exclaimed, "D—n! it's thee, Dyer, is it!" The two then took hold, but Joe made no effort towards getting the fall, and "Thomas Porter" obtained fall after fall until he succeeded, we understand, in carrying off the belt.
Liberal prizes for wrestling and other sports were given at Greystoke Castle, by the Howards, and the meetings were always well attended by the nobility and the neighbouring gentry. Richardson won there one year, William Earl of Cumwhitton wrestling second.
A close acquaintance existed between Richardson and Weightman. The former was master at the beginning of their career, but afterwards the latter became too powerful for him. In all they met eleven times, and out of that number of falls, Weightman scored six, and Richardson five. Among other places, the latter threw the Hayton champion at one of the Kirkoswald "worchet" meetings, and got the compliment returned at Wreay soon after, where the fallen man lamed his side.
Sitting among the crowd that lined the Carlisle ring one year, the "Dyer" was called out against a big, raw-boned fellow, an awkward-looking customer, but one, nevertheless, who appeared young[Pg 166] and inexperienced. "What's t'e gāen to mak' o' yon 'an, Tom?" asked Weightman. "Oh," replied the "Dyer," in a tone of mock humility, "I's just gāen to fell him reet off hand, an' than he can gā heàm till his mudder, pooar lad!"
On another occasion, he was called out against Wilfrid Wright, at a meeting on Penrith fell. "Noo, Wiff," said he, "I's gāen to throw thee streight into yon furrow yonder!" and did so cleverly. When Wright had recovered from his astonishment, and was gathering himself up, he exclaimed: "Cush, man! I dudn't think thoo cud ha' deùn't hofe sa clean!"
Richardson continued to wrestle for many years, in the Carlisle and other rings, with moderate success. Later on, he lived at Penrith with a sister, who kept an inn there. When approaching fifty years old, he became so overgrown, that his weight appeared to be seventeen or eighteen stones, forming a marked contrast to what he was a quarter of a century before—then a lish, active, thirteen-stone man.
He died at Penrith, about the year 1853.
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Post by CW .org .info .net on Sept 29, 2011 21:18:58 GMT -6
TOM TODD OF KNARSDALE. Tom Todd, a Northumbrian by birth, was born and brought up at "The Bogg," in Knarsdale, near Alston, where his father was well known as a sheep breeder. He stood fully five feet ten inches high; his general wrestling weight being about twelve stones and a half. Todd's contemporaries have spoken of him as a most accomplished and scientific wrestler. He could buttock cleanly, hype quickly, and excelled in most other chips. Weighing and watching his opponents' movements narrowly, he seemed to anticipate what was coming, and prepared accordingly, both for stopping and chipping. In taking hold, like most good wrestlers, he stood square and upright; but in consequence of having a very peculiarly shaped back, like half a barrel, it was next to impossible to hold him easily, or to grip him with any amount of firmness. Like Richard Chapman, he could always "get out," if so minded, at starting.
About the summer of 1810 or 1811, Tom Todd, then just merging into manhood, attended the annual "boon" mowing-meeting of John Bell of[Pg 168] Kirkhaugh, the noted bone-setter, where as many as twenty or thirty strong men often congregated together. When the grass had been cut down, it was usual to broach a barrel of ale, and drink the contents on the green sward. During the time the nut-brown home-brewed was being handed round, the Alston band enlivened the scene with music; and then followed the most attractive part of the day's programme, namely, dog-trailing, jumping, and wrestling. At this rural festival Tom Todd won his first belt; and a lad, named Robin Carruthers, a farm servant, from the Bewcastle district, wrestled second.
In 1815, Todd figured in the Carlisle ring, probably for the first time; and came against Tom Richardson, the dyer, in the third round for the principal prize. Being both young men, and not unequally matched in size, strength, and science, they had three desperate tussles before the struggle could be decided. Finally, the fall ended in favour of Todd. In the fourth round, Todd's career was cut short by George Forster of Penton.
In contending for the second prize, Todd threw a clever wrestler, named Thomas Peat, a farmer's son, from Blencow, in the third round; and Armstrong, the "yak tree," in the fourth. Not being able to come to terms about holds, in the final fall, with Edward Forster of Penton, the two never wrestled out, but, says Litt, in dividing the money for first and second, Todd received more money[Pg 169] than his opponent, it being the opinion of the umpire that he was the fairer stander.
Todd made his appearance again in the Carlisle wrestling ring of 1816, where he played a conspicuous part. Meeting with no one particularly worthy of being called a dangerous competitor in the first five rounds, he went through with considerable ease, throwing in rotation, James Johnson, R. Armstrong, J. Scott, T. Hodgson, and William Clark of Hesket-New-Market. After the fifth round, the only two men left standing were Todd and Richardson, the dyer; and the fall which ought to have been decided between them, resulted in nothing but discreditable quarrelling and ill feeling. A fuller account of this unpleasant affair will be found in the sketch of Thomas Richardson's career. Todd's friends, as a natural consequence, thought that he was the better man, and ought to have won. Todd himself, after the event, seemed to be under a bond of secrecy on the subject. We have no desire to sully his memory, with the charge of a settled determination not to go to work with equal holds. We do not wish to twit him with taking a mean advantage of his opponent, in order to deprive him of the chance of a fair contest. We believe he had a soul above such an unwarrantable proceeding. It will, probably, be nearer the mark to say, he acted unwisely and unbecomingly, by conniving with his principal backer, as the sequel will show.[Pg 170] Todd's usual remark was—when the subject chanced to be broached and discussed—that Richardson's backers pressed him very much to "lay down," which he declined most definitely to do. But a week or two before his death, a far more disagreeable fact oozed out. He then acknowledged, to an intimate friend, mentioned hereafter—whom he rescued at the Gretna fight—that he received half the money, offered for the head prize, in 1816. This, of course, was paid through the agency of one of the principal promoters of the Carlisle ring, in a left-handed manner, with an understanding that it should never be made public!
About two years after the dishonourable act narrated, had broken up the annual wrestling at Carlisle, Todd used to tell of meeting Richardson, in the third round at some village sports, where he threw him easily.
After this—and during the discontinuance of the popular gathering on the Swifts, for three years—we know nothing of Todd's career as a wrestler, until the Carlisle Meeting of 1822, when he again made a gallant but unsuccessful struggle to carry off the head prize. Being engaged as a gamekeeper, in the service of the Earl of Carlisle, on the Naworth Castle estates, he entered himself under the assumed name of "John Moses of Alston." Todd displayed considerable science and activity in the course of the day, and distinguished himself much and deservedly, by throwing several[Pg 171] dangerous hands, among whom may be especially mentioned, John Fearon of Gilcrux, seventeen stone weight, John Liddle of Bothel, a fourteen-and-a-half stone man, (winner of the head prize at Keswick, a few weeks previously, where he finally disposed of William Cass of Loweswater)—and Robert Watters of Carlisle, a light weight, but an accomplished scientific wrestler. In the final fall, however, with Cass, the cup of success was again dashed from his lips. This time the weight—sixteen stones—and strength of the Loweswater champion, proving too much for twelve-and-a-half stones.
Scarcely had the cheers died away which greeted the West Cumberland man's victory, when Louis Nanny of Haltwhistle—an enthusiastic frequenter of wrestling rings—offered to back the Knarsdale man in a match against Cass for a hundred pounds. Todd thought this sum too much to risk even handed, against such a powerful antagonist; but was willing to be backed, and contend at all hazards, for half that amount. The two east countrymen, however, had it all their own way, so far as the challenge was concerned. At that time, Cass being new to the Carlisle ring, and almost unknown as a wrestler, no one seemed bold enough to stand forward on his behalf; and, moreover, like a quiet, inoffensive man, he was perfectly content to rest upon the laurels he had just gained.
This year Weightman—"aw ower his oan daft[Pg 172] nonsense"—was thrown by Fearon of Gilcrux, in the first round, for the principal prize at Carlisle. Not being eligible, on this account, for entry in the second day's competition, Tom Todd stood on one side for him; when Weightman, in order to retrieve lost ground, took pains, and threw his men as fast as he came to them. "Talk aboot russlin'!" exclaimed an eye witness, "Wey, man, he just went thro' them like th' wind!"
As time passed on, and Weightman came more prominently to the fore, Tom Todd found himself absolutely nowhere in the giant's grasp; he therefore thought it wiser and more prudent to retire from the ring, without making any further efforts to carry off first honours.
When Todd was a young man, he kept a tight well-made little trail-hound, trained to the name of "Stand back," but which was entered at the different trails as "Towler." Harry Kirkby of Kirkhaugh, the clergyman's lame son, used to tell a tale about Todd and himself taking the hound one year to Melmerby Rounds. When the dogs were coming in, they looked to the spectators, "aw iv a cluster," as they neared the winning post. At this crisis, Todd roared out in a loud voice: "Standback! Standback!" apparently appealing to the crowd, and ran fussing about immediately in front, with his arms flying in the air. "An' dar bon!" said the priest's son, "the dog com' in like stooar, an' wan easily!"[Pg 173] This artful trick has been often practised since, if not earlier than that time, at dog-trails—successfully on more than one occasion by the late Richard Gelderd of Ulverston, a keen dog-trailer. He had a "Standback," and at the Flan and other neighbouring sports, was trained to rush forward to the winning post, when the crowd were ordered in a stentorian voice: "Standback! Standback! an' let t' dogs cum in—can't ye!"
At the great northern fight, between Carter and Oliver, at Gretna, in 1816, John Slack of Carlisle, shoemaker, then a young man in his teens, was thrown to the ground by the surging of the immense crowd, and might easily have been trampled to death. Seeing the impending danger, Tom Todd, and John Barnes, the constable, both powerful men, elbowed their way through the crowd, and succeeded in rescuing the fallen man, before he was seriously injured. On lifting him from the ground, Todd exclaimed, "Marcy, Jwohn! is that thee? My faiks! but thoo'd a narrow squeak for thy life theear!"
Some time after the year 1822, Todd left the north of England, and went into the Highlands of Scotland, where he became gamekeeper to Sir Charles Ross of Belnagowan Castle, Ross-shire, and continued in that capacity for something like twenty-four or twenty-five years.
Returning again to his native district, he settled upon the farm rented by his brother John, at[Pg 174] Moscow, near the fashionable watering-place of Gilsland. A few years before he died, he gradually lost his sight, and at times grew "varra canker't an' twisty." Once when one of these fits was upon him, his denunciation of wrestlers and wrestling rings was hurled about in such unqualified language, that one was apt to think the transgressions committed in the Carlisle ring of 1816, still haunted his waking dreams—not probably for anything done personally, but for being made a cat's-paw at that time, by his principal backer.
In the month of September, 1875, Todd, then in his eighty-fourth year, went to the house door, beckoned to the farm-workers that dinner was ready, and immediately after passed quietly away. From the fact of the Knarsdale athlete having attained this great age—and he was only one of many who did—we may draw pretty conclusive evidence, that the northern pastime of wrestling does not, as a rule, shorten life.
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Post by CW .org .info .net on Sept 29, 2011 21:19:20 GMT -6
WILLIAM WILSON OF AMBLESIDE. Size, position, and population considered, it must be allowed that the district of High Furness, in North Lancashire, has produced its fair quota of wrestling celebrities. Foremost comes William Wilson, then Miles Dixon—according to Professor Wilson, "a match for any cock in Cumberland"—his brother James, and Roan and John Long, all men of great stature and power, capable of hurling their opponents
"Off the ground with matchless strength."
These were all natives of the soil. In the early part of the nineteenth century, the wrestlings at the Ferry-on-Windermere, at Backbarrow, Bouth Fair, Finsthwaite, Oxenpark, Arrad Foot Races, and on many other village greens in Furness Fells, were often very keenly contested. Arthur Burns of Ullater, (who suffered from the deadly grip of Roan Long,) James Burns, a younger brother of Arthur's, Roger Taylor of Scathwaite, and John Wren of Bouth, the peatman, were all good wrestlers in their day and generation.
Then came John Harrison of Lowick, sometimes called "Checky," from the colour of his shirt, who[Pg 176] carried off one or two prizes from the Keswick ring in its palmiest days; later in life a landlord at Ulverston; a man of enormous strength, standing fully six feet high, stout limbed, and weighing something like seventeen stones. One feat, forcibly illustrating his uncommon strength, deserves record. During one of the statute fairs, two sturdy country servant men got to fighting in his house at Ulverston. He made no fuss of any kind, but quietly took up one under each arm, and carried them both, vainly struggling to be free, into the middle of the market place; then set them down on their legs, and, giving each a good bang against the other, left them to fight it out. Joseph Jackson of Grizebeck, in Kirkby Ireleth, sickle maker, though barely a twelve-stone man, gained many first prizes, and came off triumphant in a severely contested match with William Bateman of Yottenfews, near Gosforth.
Cannon of Subberthwaite, Robert Casson and Brian Christopherson of Oxenpark, and Marshall, the forgeman, also deserve a passing word of praise, although none of them ever went out of their own neighbourhood to wrestle. Christopherson put forth promising powers at the Ferry and other places, and was highly complimented by Richard Chapman. At the Ferry, he was backed by a local sporting man, in a match with George Donaldson—a single fall—for two pounds; and, to the surprise of a crowd of anxious onlookers, won gallantly. There was little difference in the weight[Pg 177] or height of the winner and the loser. Casson threw Harrison, Cannon, and all comers at Bouth Fair; and Marshall did precisely the same thing at Sparkbridge. On the last occasion, the excitement amongst the spectators became so intense, that the forgeman's progress was urged on after the following primitive fashion: "If thou'll nobbut thrā' Cannon," shouted one, "I'll gi'e the' a pint!" "Thrā' Harrison," roared another, "an' I'll stand the' a quart!" "I think," responded Marshall, with a fine stroke of humour—"I think, I'd better hev summat to be gāen on wi'. It'll mebbe help me to thrā' them beàth togidder!"
William Wilson was born and brought up at High Wray, a village pleasantly situated on the western banks of Windermere lake. Near to his birthplace there has been erected a lordly baronial residence—Wray Castle—on a beautiful commanding site, overlooking all the higher reaches of Windermere, and forming one of the many attractive objects for sight-seers on the lake. Wilson was a nephew of the Dixons of Grasmere, and was commonly spoken of as "girt Will Wilson," in order to distinguish him from "lile Will Wilson" of Grasmere, or "wicked Will," as the latter was sometimes called, from the bottom and endurance he displayed in frequent pugnacious encounters. It was "lile Will," we believe, who once wrestled up at Bowness, with William Thwaites of Staveley, an eleven-stone[Pg 178] man. They each got a fall. The next one—called by the umpires a dog-fall—was claimed by Thwaites, who, in consequence, refused to wrestle over again. The ring was soon broken up in disorder, and in the melée which ensued, Professor Wilson struck Thwaites over the head with his stick, and bulged his hat in. "Did I do that, my lad?" asked Wilson. "Yes," replied Thwaites, "yee did it: I's suèr an' sarten o' that." "Then," said Wilson, "here's a sovereign for wrestling so well. It'll mebbe help to get thee a new hat."
William Wilson grew up a tall "lathy fellow," standing, when full grown, quite six feet four inches high, straight as a willow-wand and as lithe, and gradually grew until at twenty-two he weighed from fourteen to fifteen stones, with a good reach of arm, and a finely developed muscular frame. As a hyper, or "inside striker," as Litt calls him, he displayed superb form. For three or four years, he stood unmatched and irresistible in this particular stroke, and since his day no man has appeared worth calling a rival to him, except William Jackson of Kinniside. We are now alluding to the "standing hype," or as the author of Wrestliana more properly defines it, "inside striking." It is a chip in which a tall wrestler, like Wilson or Jackson, has a great advantage, particularly over shorter opponents. The "swinging hype," in which Chapman, Donaldson, and Longmire were such deadly proficients, is more showy and artistic, consisting of a quick swing[Pg 179] off the breast once round or nearly so, and then a turn over with the knee inside the thigh.
Our information respecting Wilson's career as a wrestler is neither so full nor minute as we could have desired. The probability is that he won his first prize on the banks of his native Windermere, but at what age or under what circumstances is not now known. When a young man, Roan Long and he had a severe bout at Ambleside sports, which ended in Wilson throwing his burly opponent cleverly with the hype.
The first definite notice, however, we have of him as an athlete was at the Keswick Regatta and Races in 1818, being at that time about twenty-two years old. While the Carlisle ring, on the Swifts, was closed for the space of four years, the wrestling in the Crow Park, Keswick, assumed an importance which it could scarcely otherwise have attained. In fact, for a time it was justly entitled to be considered the leading and most important wrestling gathering in the north. In aid of this distinction, there then existed on all sides of the metropolitan lake town, a numerous array of very distinguished athletes. Mr. Pocklington of Barrow House, was the chief supporter of the regatta and races at that date, and his personal exertions to promote the permanent establishment and success of these meetings were unceasing.
In the year 1818, some remarkably good play took place in the wrestling ring. The two most[Pg 180] successful competitors were in excellent "fettle," namely, Tom Richardson and William Wilson. The latter gathered his men quickly and cleanly, and threw them as fast as he came to them. Coming against Richardson in the final fall, he lifted him from the ground with the intention of hyping, but failing to hold his man firmly, the Dyer turned in, and, after a considerable struggle, managed to bring him over with the buttock. After this tussle, Wilson always spoke of Richardson as being "swine back't," meaning thereby that his back was extremely slippery and difficult to hold, from the nature of its peculiar roundness.
In the year 1819, Wilson carried off the head prize for wrestling, and a handsome belt, at the Ferry Regatta, Windermere. We have no account of the other competitors at this meeting.
Wilson attended the Keswick gathering of the same year, for the second time, and it proved memorable above all others in his wrestling career, stamping him as "the best wrestler Westmorland ever produced." Many dispassionate judges at this time held the opinion, that this eulogium might be extended also to the neighbouring northern county. We have no doubt, if he had continued a healthy man, this verdict would have been confirmed over and over again. Although he did not succeed in winning the chief prize this year, he nevertheless distinguished himself ten times more than the victor who did, by throwing the man with whom no one[Pg 181] else had the shadow of a chance. We refer to his struggle with John Mc.Laughlan of Dovenby, more than two inches taller than Wilson, and at that time five or six stones heavier.
As a prelude to this fall, Clattan took hold of Wilson in the middle of the ring, in a good natured sort of way, and lifted him up in his arms to show how easily he could hold him. No sooner was he set down, than Wilson threw his arms around Clattan's waist, and lifted him in precisely the same way, a course of procedure which greatly amused the spectators. After these preliminaries had been gone through, the two men were not long in settling into holds, each having full confidence in his own powers and his own mode of attack. A few seconds, however, decided the struggle of these two modern Titans. No sooner had each one gripped his fellow, than quick as thought, Wilson lifted Clattan from the ground in grand style, and hyped him with the greatest apparent ease—a feat that no other man in Britain could have done.
The cheering which followed the giant's downfall was tremendous, and might have been heard on the top of Skiddaw or Saddleback. "Hurrah! hurrah! Well done Wilson!" shouted a hundred voices, while round followed round of applause in rapid succession. It was one of these brilliant and exciting moments, when the miserable party feeling of envy and strife, which sometimes crops up between the two sister counties, was entirely[Pg 182] swamped and forgotten. "Thoo wasn't far wrang," exclaimed a hard featured man, with an austere voice, to his next neighbour, sitting by the side of the ring—"Thoo wasn't far wrang, when thoo said Wilson wad throw him." "Wrang!" replied the other in ecstasies, "I wad think nūt! Wilson's like a cooper, thoo sees. He kens hoo to gang roond a cask!"
An old "statesman," from about Mungrisedale or Penruddock—wearing a pair of buckskin breeches, whose pint of nut-brown had just been upset in the furor—is remembered as having been so worked upon by the excitement of the moment, that he threw his hat in the air, and, in derisive language, addressed himself to anybody and everybody, as follows:—"Ha! ha! my fine fellow! If thoo says Clattan isn't a gud russler, an' wasn't olas a gud russler, thoo tells a heàp o' lees, an' nowte but lees—thoo confoondit taistrel, thoo!"
This fall is still talked of at the firesides of the dalesmen of the north—cottars, farmers, and "statesmen"—as one of the most wonderful and dazzling achievements ever witnessed in the wrestling ring.
Returning again to the next Keswick meeting which followed, Wilson found no difficulty in walking through the ranks of 1820. When only four men were standing, Tom "Dyer" was drawn against Isaac Mason of Croglin, who at that time was looked upon as a dangerous customer in the ring.[Pg 183] It was the opinion of some onlookers that the "Dyer" seemed to be afraid of Mason. Be that as it may, the two not being able to agree about holds—a procedure which has sometimes discredited parties in the ring, and is sorely trying to the patience of spectators—the stewards, after a considerable delay, very properly crossed them both out. Wilson and William Richardson were now the last standers, and the former carried off the Caldbeck hero with ridiculous ease. Litt says, "Richardson had not the shadow of a chance with him." This testimony is exceedingly significant, and says much for Wilson's powers as a wrestler.
"Hoo 'at thoo let him hype the' i' that stupid fashion, thoo numb divel, thoo?" said Tom "Dyer," reproachfully, to the loser of the fall, while the latter was engaged in putting his coat on. "What! he hes it off—an' that thoo kens as weel as anybody," was the sturdy reply. "I cudn't stop him, ner thee nowder, for that matter, if he nobbut gat a fair ho'd o' the'."
The year 1822, found Wilson "rayder gāen back, an' thin o' flesh." He laboured under an asthmatic complaint, which increased upon him about this date, and began to tell much against his athletic attainments. Nevertheless, he attended the Keswick gathering once more. The wrestling was carried on in the bottom of a meadow, and not on the higher ground as previously. The ground being wet and slippery, was consequently disastrous to[Pg 184] many of the wrestlers. Wilson threw Jonathan Watson, a dangerous hand to meet, in the first round, for the head prize; and in one of the subsequent rounds was drawn against Weightman of Hayton. Lifting the huge East Cumbrian "varra clean," but not being able to keep his feet, from the slippery and lumpy state of the ground, Wilson overbalanced himself and fell backwards, with his opponent on the top of him. This untoward accident, in all probability, lost him the chief prize. Cass of Loweswater brought Weightman to grief, in the last round but one, by striking at the outside, and throwing him off the breast.
At the Windermere Regatta, held at Low Wood, during the same year—where the rain fell in torrents—it was generally expected that Wilson, who had conquered so many, would again be the conqueror. But the fates were against him. He came off the third stander, being thrown by Edward Howell, a clever wrestler from Greystoke, in the neighbourhood of Penrith, who won the belt and four sovereigns.
So far as we have been able to ascertain, the year 1822 was the last one in which Wilson figured in the ring. If this be correct, his wrestling career will be limited to four or five years duration, at the utmost. No doubt, the complaint under which he laboured, was the principal cause of his early retirement. Although Wilson loved athletic exercises much, it must be understood, however, that[Pg 185] he viewed them more as a means of recreation and pastime, than in any other sense; a thrifty ambition inducing him to look zealously to the main point of making both ends meet at home.
We have heard it asserted that when he and his first wife were married in 1820, they could only raise ten pounds of loose money between them. With this small sum to the fore, however, they ventured to take an inn at Ambleside, called the Golden Rule, which they rented for seven years, during which time they managed to save £700. They then took a larger inn, which was afterwards known as the Commercial. Some time elapsed, and they removed to the King's Arms, in Patterdale, at that period the only inn at the head of Ullswater.
While he was an innkeeper at Patterdale, George Brunskill, the life guardsman, about the height of Wilson, and two stones heavier, was very anxious to try his skill with him. After much pressing, a friendly bout was consented to, on condition that Brunskill would be satisfied with one fall. The result was that Wilson "dud whack him;" the soldier being carried clean off "befooar he reetly kent whoar he was."
William Wilson—whose brief, but distinguished career, has helped to confer an enduring lustre on the northern wrestling ring—died at Patterdale, in 1836, about forty years old, and was buried in Ambleside churchyard.
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Post by CW .org .info .net on Sept 29, 2011 21:20:09 GMT -6
JOHN WEIGHTMAN OF HAYTON. For great size and well-proportioned figure, combined with amazing strength and activity, John Weightman was one of the most remarkable men ever bred in Cumberland. Born at Greenhead, near Gilsland, in 1795, he was brought up at the quiet pastoral village of Hayton, near Brampton, where he continued to live until the time of his death. In that neighbourhood, he was always spoken of as a remarkably simple minded man, being quiet and settled in appearance when about his daily work or any ordinary pursuit. Fierce passions, however, were then only asleep, shrouding a peculiar temperament, easily excited to mirth or to violent anger.
In a physical point of view, he was a wonder, being endowed with tremendous bodily strength on one hand, and the agility of a cat on the other. He stood fully six feet three inches high, and weighed from fifteen to sixteen stones, presenting one of the finest gigantic models of the human frame ever seen, with a countenance free, open, and pleasant to look upon. Possessing a good reach[Pg 187] of arm, and such formidable power in the shoulders, that in the act of wrestling he invariably beat his elbows into the ribs of an opponent—which vice-like pressure was so terrific in its results, and became so well known, that many strong men were glad to get to the ground, in order to escape his punishing hug. Had these natural advantages been supplemented with shrewdness and good generalship, capable of estimating the different points of an adversary—indispensable requisites to the finished wrestler—he would have been more than a match, the best of five or seven falls, for any man in the kingdom. One who knew him well, once laconically described him as: "A greit thumpin', giant like fellow; varra strang i' th' arm, but rayder wake i' th' brains!"
In his prime, Weightman proved himself to be a clever leaper, either at long length or running high leap—"cat gallows." Many tales are current at Hayton and the neighbourhood of his clearing five-barred gates with the greatest ease. He once leapt over a restless black mare, sixteen hands high, which belonged to Sir James Graham of Edmond Castle; then turned round, and with another short run, went over again from the reverse side. Sir James was so delighted with this display of agility, that he presented the performer with half a guinea.
When a young man, Weightman was as full of tricks of a "daft-like" character as ever mortal was, the recital of one or two of which may serve to[Pg 188] illustrate his great strength and recklessness. Once upon a time, in passing through a toll-gate, he said to the keeper of it: "Ye divvent mak' ony charge, div ye, for what a man carries on his back?" "Oh dear, no, by no means!" was the ready reply. "Than here goes, my canny bairn!" cried Weightman, and presently the toll-collector was astonished to see him stalking through the gate, with a strong-built pony strung across his shoulders!
A still "dafter" trick than the foregoing is told of him on another occasion, when he carried a donkey on his shoulders up stairs into a "loft," where a numerous body of lads and lasses were capering away at dancing; placed the "cuddy" in the midst of them; and nearly frightened the wits out of some of the "flayter sooart o' lasses!"
Paradoxical as it may seem, Weightman was a remarkably light and graceful dancer; indeed so much so, that he could trip through the mazes of a dance with as much ease and nimbleness as any slim built youth in his teens. He had a very small and neat foot, which circumstance may in some measure account for his remarkable activity.
As an athlete, Weightman won his first prize on the village green of Wetheral, about the year 1814, being then under twenty years old; and continued to carry off first honours from the same place for seven years in succession. In his twenty-third year, and while making himself a name as the champion of several minor rings, he was matched on Brampton[Pg 189] Sands, to wrestle a man named Routledge, of "Clocky mill," the best of three falls, for two guineas a side. The miller was big, bony, and strong, and so far was formidable; but being both numb and faint-hearted, Weightman easily fettled him off in the two first falls.
During Weightman's whole wrestling career, he never had a more steadfast friend or admirer than Dr. Tinling of Warwick-bridge. The doctor had no doubt formed a correct estimate of the young giant's powers, and saw clearly enough that if they were only exercised with ordinary care and skill, no man living had any chance of throwing him a series of falls. "Th' auld doctor could mak' him owther win or lose, varra nar as he hed a mind," said a clever light weight wrestler, with a shrug of the shoulders.
Notwithstanding the facility with which prizes might have been gained, it was only on some occasions that Weightman attended the great annual gathering at Carlisle, and it was a much rarer event for him to go far from home to contend. However, in the early part of his career, he once wandered away to Egremont Crab Fair, and entered his name among the West Cumbrians. He was thrown there, by Ford of Ravenglass, a good hearted wrestler, standing six feet two inches, and weighing fifteen stones. On another occasion, in his young days, he went with Dr. Tinling to Newcastle, and won the wrestling there; his patron, the[Pg 190] doctor, being overjoyed at his success. The prize was a handsome silver watch.
Ford and Weightman were drawn together again, in the fourth round, for the head prize entry at Carlisle in 1821, when the same luck attended Ford as had done at the previous tussle. For the second prize at Carlisle, however, Weightman turned the tables upon the powerful West Cumbrian, by throwing him so ridiculously high in the air, that one of the spectators declared that "his legs seemed to touch the clouds!" Joseph Abbot, from the neighbourhood of Bampton, near Shap, a broad set, powerful man, contested the final fall with Weightman. At that time, "Joe was a greit hand for rivin' doon at th' gūrse, an' crazy mad he was when he lost."
Weightman not being satisfied with his success in contending for the head prize on the Swifts in 1821, a match was arranged to come off between him and the winner of the same—William Richardson of Caldbeck—for five guineas, on the Eden-side cricket ground, Carlisle, in the month of October following. Between four and five thousand people gathered together to witness the contest. There existed a great difference in the age of the two men: the Caldbeck hero being on the shady side of forty, and Weightman only twenty-six. The one might be called a veteran, and the other said to be in the prime of life. The younger man had the advantage, likewise, in weight by a stone or more;[Pg 191] in height, by fully four inches and a half; and was naturally endowed with far more suppleness and activity. A considerable time elapsed before they could agree about holds; and yet, no sooner was this preliminary effected, than the champion of two hundred rings went down like a shot, and without appearing to have the least shadow of a chance. After the fall, the winner was so elated with success that he cut all sorts of ridiculous capers, and kept leaping backwards and forwards, over two or three chairs or forms which chanced to be standing in the ring, after the manner of school boys at their sports. The second fall was nearly a fac-simile of the first; and if Weightman could only have taken things more coolly and waited his time, the chances were a hundred to one that he would have been hailed victor. Instead of this—through Richardson's dilatoriness in taking hold, and otherwise delaying over trifling things—Weightman fairly lost temper, threatened and coerced in various ways, and finally shook his fist in Richardson's face.
Some of the onlookers, sympathizing with the elder man, commenced a vigorous attack of hooting, on which Weightman turned his backside to the spectators in a saucy and defiant manner. After this open display of insolence a tragic finale seemed imminent. The ring was broken up in an instant; and the roughs of the crowd, headed by the notorious Tom Ridley, soon worked themselves into a state of furious excitement. They made a[Pg 192] rush at the delinquent, some dealing out blows with their fists, while others kept up a constant shower of sods and such like missiles; nearly tore the shirt from the back of their victim; and finally forced him savagely through a thorn hedge on the top of the bank. In describing the melée which took place, Weightman himself said: "Yan shootit, 'Tek th' watter, Weetman!'—anudder shootit, 'Tek th' dyke, thoo greit gowk, thoo!'—bit I niver kent reetly whoar I was, till I fund mysel' on Eden brig, wid Gwordie Maut[12] leadin' me seàfly by the hand. I varily believe," added he, "'at Gwordie Maut seàv't mee life!"
[12] "Gwordie Maut," in common phraseology, stood for George Armstrong, a well known character in Carlisle, who kept a public house, between the bridges in Caldewgate. "Gwordie" stood to Matthew Nutter, the artist, for the model of the stooping figure of the Maltster on the sign of the "Malt Shovel," in Rickergate.
Preliminary to this affair, and quite in keeping with its general character, it may be stated that on the morning of the match, as Weightman was riding into Carlisle on a spirited "black-brown" mare, which belonged to his uncle, he threw the money down on the ground, due for passing through the toll-gate at the foot of Botchergate. This Mr. Rayson, the keeper, refused to pick up. Getting annoyed at the delay which ensued, and in order to clear the way, Weightman struck at Rayson across the shoulders with his whip, and then leapt clean over the gate. For this offence he was taken[Pg 193] to the police office in Scotch Street, from which place his friends, after some difficulty, managed to get him liberated, by paying a fine of forty shillings.
Immediately after the unsatisfactory termination of this match, Weightman issued a challenge to wrestle "any man in Cumberland the best of five falls, for fifteen or twenty guineas." No one came forward to take up the gauntlet thus thrown down; and although, up to this date, Weightman had not won any prize of importance, nevertheless an impression had gone abroad that he was a formidable customer to meet in a number of rounds.
The year 1822 was a very chequered one in Weightman's career, suffering in it, as he did, so many minor defeats. An account of his adventures, so far as they are known to us, and are noted in the local papers, may help to illustrate in some measure both his weakness and his strength. In the month of May, Forster of Penton threw him at Kirkbampton, after a very fine and severe struggle. At Micklethwaite races, near Wigton, in June, he was defeated by Jonathan Watson of Torpenhow; and at Durdar, by James Graham of The Rigg, Kirklinton.
On the Monday of one of the weeks in July, he won the belt at the New Inn, Armathwaite, finally throwing John Peel. On Wednesday afternoon, he went in company with his friend, Bill Gaddes, to Hesket-i'-the-Forest, and carried off a silver cup and half a guinea, for which there was no sport,[Pg 194] "none of the faint-hearted youths daring to contend with him." At Plumpton races, the same evening, he was thrown with ease by a youth of eighteen, named Launcelot Graham of Hutton-end; but succeeded in getting the belt for the last eight standers—he and Thomas Peat tossing up for it, after endeavouring for nearly half an hour to get into holds. On the Thursday of the same week, he won the first prize of half a guinea at Stoneraise.
At Keswick in August, he was fairly capsized by William Cass of Loweswater, in the last round but one of the first day's sport; and on the second day, through the wet and slippery state of the ground, he was again brought to grief, in the final fall, by Jonathan Watson. During the same month, at Wigton races, he carried off the first day's prize of two guineas, in grand style; Tom Richardson, the Dyer, being second. The prize at Great Barrock races also went to Hayton.
At the Carlisle races, held in September, worse luck followed Weightman in contending for the head prize than had done on the previous year—being thrown in the first round by John Fearon of Gilcrux. This unfortunate defeat, however, was the means of arousing the lion in him; and for the second prize "he just bash't them doon as fast as he com at them." The last standers were Clayton of Dovenby, Robert Watters, and Joseph Graham of Dufton: Weightman receiving four guineas as his share, and Graham two guineas as second stander.[Pg 195] In August, 1823, Weightman carried off the second day's prize of three pounds, at the Keswick regatta, disposing of William Sands of Whitehaven in the final fall.
Following immediately after, came the great annual gathering at Carlisle, where it was publicly announced: "If wrestlers don't take hold within half a minute after peeling, the fall to be given to the one most willing to commence playing." William Litt, the author of Wrestliana, was chosen umpire. Weightman, the favourite at starting, was in grand "fettle;" looked fresh and ruddy, without carrying an ounce of superfluous flesh; and by the cool and determined way he began each round, evidently meant winning. In the third time over, he brought James Robinson quickly to his knees; in the fourth, John Hudless; in the fifth, John Allison; and in the sixth, was fortunate enough to be odd man. Then came the final struggle with John Robson of Irthington mill, who tried hard to "bear the prize away;" but his struggling was of no avail, for at each move Weightman kept gathering him up and improving his grip, and it soon became the miller's turn to drop powerless to mother earth, in like manner to those compeers who had fallen before.
The following sketch of Weightman appeared in the columns of the Cumberland Pacquet, and is supposed to be from the pen of William Litt. "As for the victor, Weightman, he is to a stranger a complete puzzle. To judge from the almost[Pg 196] universal disrepute with which he is regarded in Carlisle and its vicinity, you expect to behold in him every personification of a finished blackguard; but the very first glance is sufficient to stagger any ideal opinion respecting him. I never saw a man of equal birth and education, that had so much of the gentleman in his appearance, and there is, even in his conversation, an unassuming mildness equally striking. As a wrestler, if much cannot be said of his science, his powers will not be limited by those who have either tried or seen him wrestle:—for, to cut the matter short, I do not think there is a man in the world possessing any chance with him, the best of five or seven falls. His behaviour in the ring was strictly correct; but such is the general opinion of his powers, that though the wrestling was never previously surpassed, yet the almost certainty of his winning greatly allayed that anxiety for the final result which is essential for creating and keeping awake the interest which the scene usually excites."
A letter appeared in the columns of the Carlisle Journal, dated September 16th, 1823, touching facetiously upon a point which, in later years, has been successfully carried out. The writer says:—
Sir,—As a great admirer of athletic sports, I always make a point of being present at the wrestling at our races, but being "small of stature," I frequently miss a good deal of the sport. To gain a complete view I should willingly pay a small sum, and I have no doubt if those concerned in the[Pg 197] management of the sports would provide seats for those willing to pay, that they would be soon filled, and the funds be materially increased, as well as a great convenience granted to me and those of my fellow creatures who have not the good fortune to be above six feet. I am, Sir, &c.,
JOHN LITTLE.
About this date, it was currently reported that Weightman had engaged to go to London to undertake the duties of porter at Carlton Palace. No finer looking man could have been selected for this post, but it was not his luck to exchange the bleak north for such desirable quarters. Had he been removed to so aristocratic an atmosphere, it is more than probable that his hot Border blood would have led him into no end of difficulties; as it did, for instance, at the magistrates' office in Carlisle, when he quarrelled over a disputed fall in the wrestling ring, with a big burly fellow, named Tom Hodgson from Wigton. During the trial, Weightman lost all control over his temper, and swore eighteen or nineteen times, although reprimanded for his profanity again and again. On being told that the magistrates intended to fine him a shilling for each and every oath he had sworn, in accordance with an old act recorded in the statute books, he exclaimed: "Fine me for ivery oath I've sworn? That's a bonny go! Wey, I med as weel mak' it an even pund, than!" And accordingly he did so.
In the autumn of 1824, the two sons of Henry Howard of Corby Castle—Philip and Henry[Pg 198] Francis—drove in a pony-phæton to Hayton, and asked for Weightman. When they arrived, he was "hard at wark plewin', in a field behint the hoose." Meanwhile, his mother—good soul—not knowing well how to show the greatest amount of civility to her visitors, invited them, in homely phraseology, to "a sup milk, an' a bite o' breid an' cheese." When Weightman made his appearance, he was pressed to attend the forthcoming wrestling meeting on Penrith fell, which he consented to do after some persuasion. Accordingly, he put in an appearance at the races held at Penrith early in October, where a large muster of first-rate men had assembled. Weightman, however, naturally anticipating onlookers with friendly feelings, from Corby and Greystoke castles, had come with a fixed determination to carry off the head prize against all comers. Putting his full powers into play, therefore, whenever he was called into the ring, man after man fell before his slaughtering attacks, in an astonishingly brief space of time; leaving Joseph Abbot of Bampton, second stander. And so delighted was the young heir of Corby with Weightman's achievements, that he brought the victor with him in his carriage from Penrith to Warwick Bridge.
The annual wrestling meeting on the Swifts at Carlisle, in September, 1825, says a local report of that date, "was attended, as usual, by myriads of country people, for whom this manly amusement appears to have charms quite unknown to the[Pg 199] degenerate race pent up within the walls of smoky and enervating towns. The ring was under the entire management of Mr. Henry Pearson, and the most complete order prevailed. It is calculated that from twelve to fifteen thousand persons were lookers-on at the first-day's sports." The first prize was eight guineas; and one guinea was given to the last thrown man, or second stander. Among other well known wrestlers who attended, and whose names are not mentioned hereafter, may be noted, John Robson, Jonathan Watson, Tom Richardson, George Irving, William Earl, Joseph Abbot, and Wilfrid Wright. Weightman, for the second time, carried off first honours, with great ease: all efforts put forth to stop his onward career being futile and unavailing in the extreme. In the third round, he met Dan Burgh of Crookdale-hall; and in the fourth, Thomas Miller of Crookdykes. In the fifth round, James Graham of Kirklinton laid down, because, (as the victor slyly remarked,) "he kent it was neà use russellin'!" In the sixth round, Weightman was lucky enough to be odd man; while, in the final fall, the perfidious tricks and sturdy attacks of Jacob Armstrong availed him nothing—for quick as thought his various moves were frustrated, and he was sent to grass, sprawling on his back, in a style which neither he nor any of his partisans had anticipated.
In the following year, 1826, Weightman was again the successful competitor for the head prize in the[Pg 200] Carlisle ring. He was opposed, from the second round, by the following wrestlers, namely, Thomas Lawman, Wilfrid Wright, John Robson of Irthington mill, Joseph Robley, and George Irving. The description given in the Carlisle Patriot of the event, is curious as being the production of one to whom the North Country sport was evidently a novelty, and on that account it may be worth quoting. The writer says:—
"The wrestling on Wednesday, attracted thousands upon thousands of country people, to witness their favourite sport. The play, according to pully-hauley critics, was scientifically excellent. The men squeezed, nipped, buttocked, etc., in the most charming style; and great was the applause of the vast mass congregated around the ring, when some sturdy athlete measured his long length on the ground. On the first day, the grand contest lay between the celebrated Robson, a fine young fellow of about twenty-two, weighing fifteen stone, ten pounds, and the still more celebrated Weightman, also a young man, but of more experience, and five pounds heavier than the weighty Robson. This pair of modern Ajaxes stood up nobly to each other. 'A breathless silence (says a spectator) reigned throughout the ring.... They laid hold like men—like true athletæ—each confident in his own powers. The struggle begins—now—now—now—huzza! the invincible Weightman is again victorious! Honour and glory once more for the East of Cumberland!!' So says our scientific informant—but not so Mr. Hercules Robson and his friends. They declared that the fall was not a fair one, and the mighty business of the ring was for a while suspended; but the umpire, Mr. Todd, and a great majority of the spectators decided otherwise—and Weightman soon finished the game, and pocketed the first prize, by finally laying low the able-bodied George Irving."
[Pg 201] In spite of the umpire's decision, Robson and his friends continued to harp on about what they called the unfairness of the fall on the Swifts, until they issued a challenge to the effect that Robson was prepared to wrestle Weightman for £20,—which was readily accepted by the latter. According to agreement, the two men met about three weeks after, in Crosby Willows, a meadow near Low Crosby, which turned out a hollow affair after all, nothing really occurring, except several tedious attempts to get into holds. While the rain was pouring in torrents, and the spectators becoming restless at the absence of sport, an amicable finale was ultimately arrived at by Robson shouting across the ring: "We'll russel neà farther, Weetman, i' this doon-pour o' rain. Cu' thy ways here, my lad, an' I'll gie the' a leg on to my nag." Weightman offering no opposition to this proposal, the two were soon mounted, and rode together to a neighbouring house of refreshment, where a few friendly glasses passed between them, which probably helped to fill up the existing breach. In after years, Weightman always spoke of Robson with much respect, describing him as "a canny weel donn't lad, an' a varra gud russeller."
Robson, who excelled principally as a "hyper," measured six feet two inches in height, and increased in weight and bulk, year by year, until at the age of twenty-four he weighed as many stones as he numbered years. He died young—in March, 1830—his[Pg 202] coffin being so large that it was impossible to get it into the room where the corpse lay, without taking the window out. He had a narrow escape from being robbed about three years before his death. Returning from Carlisle, some highwaymen attacked him while passing through the woods between Corby and Ruel Holme. He, however, got clear off from the miscreants, and arrived at home without harm or loss of property, although he was fired at in making his escape.
Weightman won twice at Melmerby Rounds, getting a guinea and the belt each time, the usual award to the victor. On one of these occasions, when returning home through the village of Cumrew, his companions and he being fresh in drink, smashed a window to atoms, and had fifteen shillings to pay for their wanton mischief.
At Penrith in 1827, it was generally expected that Weightman would be the victor, but it turned out otherwise. He was thrown in the fourth round by a mere stripling, under twenty years of age, named John Loy, who, it is only fair to state, gained the fall in rather a surreptitious manner. Weightman's own account of the affair was this: "A bit iv a lad stept oot of a corner o' the ring, an' pretendit he wasn't gāen to russel; but aw at yance, t' lāl taistral snapt't, an' bash't me doon iv a varra nasty fashion."
During the same year, William Cass of Loweswater, the winner at Carlisle in 1822, challenged[Pg 203] any man in the north to wrestle a match for twenty guineas. In reply to this challenge, Weightman sent the following letter to the editor of the Cumberland Pacquet:—
Sir,—In reply to the challenge of Mr. Cass, given in your paper of last week, to wrestle any man in Cumberland, Westmorland, or Lancashire, for twenty guineas, I beg to inform him through the same medium, that I and my friends will be at the Duke's Head Inn, Scotch-street, Carlisle, at two o'clock in the afternoon of Saturday, October the 27th, where I hope his friends will meet us to arrange preliminaries and deposit the money.—I remain, Sir, yours very respectfully,
John Weightman.
The wrestling world in the northern counties looked forward to this match with intense interest, but Cass thought backing out to be safer policy than encountering an opponent so formidable.
In the year 1828, some preliminary steps were taken towards arranging a match between Weightman and Mc.Laughlan, the innkeeper, at the annual gathering at Carlisle in the autumn; but like the preceding ones, it came to nothing—finally ending in a tie, and then a wrangle. Mc.Laughlan at that time was a great overgrown giant, weighing at least five or six stone heavier than his rival. Referring to this meeting many years after, Weightman said: "Clatten com up—i' fun iv his way o' 't—gat hod o' me afooar I kent reetly whoar I was, an' flang me doon like a havver sheaf. Sec bairnish nonsense as that, ye know, suin rais't my dander, an' i' th'[Pg 204] next roond I dūd whack him! I pait him weel back iv his oan mak o' coin."
An acquaintance one day asked Mc.Laughlan how he liked Weightman's "grip" at Carlisle. "Oh, Lord! it was fair vice wark!" exclaimed the giant, giving an involuntary shudder at the mere thought of being screwed up in the "vice."
In October, 1829, Weightman bore away the chief prize from the Penrith ring a second time. The entry included Cass of Loweswater and George Irving—both thrown by Weightman—and most of the best men in Cumberland and Westmorland. At the conclusion of the wrestling, the winner could have been backed against any man in England for £100.
At Wigton—date uncertain—where there was a strong muster of good men from the East and West, the head prize of eight guineas fell into Weightman's hands.
At one time or other, Weightman won seventeen silver cups, and once, on being asked what became of them, candidly replied: "I selt ivery yan o' them, an' drank th' brass."
An anecdote illustrative of his fearless courage and successful resistance to apparently overwhelming odds, must not be forgotten. In the year 1829, his uncle sold a cow to a butcher in Carlisle, named Roberts, we believe. The payment for it not being forthcoming at the proper time, nor any prospect of it, Weightman was despatched to recover the[Pg 205] amount owing, and rode to Carlisle on a brown filly for that purpose. Coming up with Roberts on Eden bridges—in company with another butcher and a confederate—Weightman told him he wanted "owther the coo back with him, or the brass to pay for it." The only reply to this question was the filly being struck so forcibly with a thick stick, that it was nearly "fell'd" to the ground with the stroke. Boiling with indignation at this treatment, Weightman cried out: "If ye strike the beast ageàn, I'll strike ye doon!" Again the filly was struck, and the fray began in earnest. Leaping off his horse, Weightman seized the two butchers, taking one in each arm, and "clash't the'r heids togidder till bleùd flew aboot like onything!" Their confederate also joined the fray in a skirmishing mode of attack, and although it was now three against one, they were rapidly getting the worst of it. Seeing the tide thus turning against them, one of the rascals resorted to the knife, and inflicted a great gash on Weightman's hand, the mark of which he bore to his dying day. An onlooker, who interfered on Weightman's behalf, was immediately knocked down, under the wheels of a cart, and severely injured. Things becoming thus desperate, several bystanders stepped forward at this stage of the affray, and put an end to the dastardly attack.
Although Weightman possessed no lack of courage when it was called into action by such an event as the foregoing, he was, nevertheless, often very diffident[Pg 206] and reserved in the affairs of everyday life. "I's nobbut shy—I's nobbut varra shy, an' divvent like to ax onybody," was a phrase frequently on his lips, when any trivial favour had to be solicited.
At one time of his life, his company was a good deal sought after by 'Torny Armstrong, and two neighbouring 'statesmen, named Bleaymire and Jordan. "Sec chaps," said he, in regretful tones,—"sec wild divvels as thur, aye wantit a feùl; an' I sarra't for yen langer than I sud ha' deùn." After his wrestling days were over, Weightman continued his irregular habits and mode of life, and as age crept on he was by times reduced to considerable straits in order to make both ends meet. Hard-fisted poverty, and the pressure of circumstances in various ways, not unfrequently forced his simple Cumbrian speech to shape itself into proverbial phrases, which sometimes lingered in the memories of those who heard them for weeks and months after. Take the following as examples: "Fwok sud aye be menseful, an' menseful amang fwok." And again: "Jwohn Barleycworn's ruin't mony a gud heart, an' 'ill ruin mony mair yet."
Poor Weightman! When Mr. Scott was taking the portrait, by photography, which illustrates this volume, the old man was greatly surprised at the process, and asked with much simplicity: "Is it a thing he hes mannish't to pick up by his oan ingenuity, d'ye think?—or hes't been put into him by God Almighty?"[Pg 207] In his eightieth year, being reduced to the most abject poverty, alone in the world, and without friends to assist him, an appeal was made through the local papers for assistance, which met with a generous response on the part of the public, and served to "keep hunger frae t' dooar" while his health continued to be anything like good. But at the close of the year 1874—in the midst of one of the severest winters on record—Weightman had a stroke, which laid him prostrate; and having no one near to minister to his wants, the parish authorities stept in and insisted upon his being removed to the poor-house at Brampton. This was sore news to the poor man, and went sadly against the grain, but there was no help for it. And in January, 1875, he, whose exploits in the wrestling ring had been cheered to the echo, again and again, by tens of thousands, at last found a pauper's grave—his corpse being followed thither by a couple of infirm old men from the workhouse, and none else.
Such was the end of the powerful and gigantic John Weightman.
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Post by CW .org .info .net on Sept 29, 2011 21:20:45 GMT -6
JOHN MC.LAUGHLAN OF DOVENBY. In the early part of the nineteenth century there lived at the rural village of Dovenby, a few miles north-west from Cockermouth, by far the tallest man in Cumberland—a man who stood six feet six inches in height, and who was one of Pharoah's lean kine, having at that date an hungry, unsatisfied look about him, which was anything but pleasant to the vision. This was John Mc.Laughlan, a labouring man, better known as "Clattan," who at certain seasons of the year, gained a livelihood by working in the woods at Isel, and at other times by paring turf on the pastures about Aspatria.
The parents of this gigantic youth were both natives of the Highlands of Scotland, having migrated early in life southwards, and settled in Cumberland. The father was remarkably dexterous at sword exercise and fencing with the stick; who, in a friendly contest, sometimes took delight in showing his skill by hitting his opponent at pleasure, and on almost any part of the body he chose.
"Clattan" was born about the year 1791; and as a lad practised wrestling upon the village green,[Pg 209] with other Dovenby boys of a similar age. Growing up to manhood, and becoming master of a moderate share of science and action, he invariably lifted his opponents from the ground, and carried them off with the outside stroke; his principal mainstay, however, being his great height and immense weight. In the ring, he was exceedingly good-natured and affable, and would put himself to any amount of inconvenience rather than allow his body to fall awkwardly or heavily on a vanquished foe. He did not, however, follow wrestling closely. He only appeared upon the horizon by fits and starts, as it were; and in tracing his career, it will be found that two or three lengthy intervals intervene between his retirements and reappearances.
As an athlete, Mc.Laughlan was somewhat late in flowering, having reached the age of twenty-six before he accomplished any feat worthy of record. In 1817, he put in his first public appearance at Carlisle, at the wrestling in Shearer's Circus. Here he managed to mow down all competitors, including Tom Todd of Knarsdale, James Robinson, the gamekeeper, and, finally, his friend and neighbour, John Liddle of Bothel. About this date he was "a lang, thin, strip iv a chap, like a ladder; hed a varra laddish like leuk; a feùt gaily nar as lang's a fender; an' was rayder wake aboot the knees." Or, to change the simile—as a native of Cartmelfell once aptly phrased it: "Big an' beàny as he was, he was nobbut like a splinter blown off a man!"[Pg 210] After his temporary success at Carlisle, fortune seems to have deserted him for many years. In 1819, he suffered his most memorable defeat at the hands of William Wilson of Ambleside, in the Keswick ring, who carried him off with a sweeping hipe. In 1824, he appeared at Wigton sports, and was thrown in the third round by Thomas Hodgson, the police-constable; and again in the third round of the second day, by James Graham of Kirklinton. In August, 1825, however, Clattan carried off the head prize at Whitehaven; Jonathan Watson being second.
We are not aware that he wrestled in any ring from the last date mentioned, until his return in the year 1828, when he had grown amazingly in bulk, being then about twenty-two stone weight. At that time he was considered to be the most powerful man in Cumberland, and as an athlete had no rival, if we except Weightman of Hayton. It was an exaggerated, but nevertheless a very common saying, that he could lift a cottage house with ease, and carry it away with him on his back!
The year 1828—with its curious winding-up scene—was the most noteworthy one in Clattan's wrestling career. In the month of August, he carried off the head prize at Workington races, with the greatest ease; George Irving of Boltongate being the second stander.
At Keswick in September, almost the self-same scene was enacted, with Irving again second. Big[Pg 211] men, like Cass of Loweswater, being, as it were, mere children in Clattan's arms.
Following immediately in the rear of the Keswick races, came the annual gathering at Carlisle, where the Earl of Lonsdale still continued to give the sum of twenty guineas for prizes. Notwithstanding the morning on which the wrestling took place being gloomy and foreboding, hundreds and thousands poured into the old Border city from every available direction, and it was computed that at least 6,000 persons were gathered round the wrestling ring. Whilst ninety-two names were being enrolled for the head prize, including most of the crack men of the day, a group of itinerant ballad singers stood bawling to the assembled multitude, such home-spun staves as the following:—
"Now, Weightman, you must do your best
To bear the prize away;
For Clattan he is coming;
Don't let him win the day."
We have reasons for saying that Weightman was not at the wrestling on the Swifts that year. We believe he was engaged driving cattle at the time, at some considerable distance from Carlisle. His name was certainly entered by some person or other, and he was called out in the first round against Hutchinson of Featherstone Castle; but there being no response on Weightman's part, the ticket naturally fell to Hutchinson's lot.
Having only to contend against men of ordinary[Pg 212] calibre—the heaviest and tallest of whom would be fully six or seven stone deficient in weight, and about the same number of inches in height—Clattan, wearing a pair of Nankeen trousers, stalked through the Carlisle ring, in the most unobtrusive manner imaginable, and without making the least display of his giant strength. In the first round he was called against Rickerby of Old Wall, and Robinson of Renwick in the second. Despite some futile struggling on the part of these two men, he lifted them up and laid them down as easily as Gulliver would have done a couple of Lilliputians. In the third round, William Earl of Cumwhitton went to work with a will, and completely foiled Clattan by keeping well away from him. Not being able to gather Earl and hug him as he had done the previous ones, the tussle became an animated one, and for a time seemed to be of a doubtful character; but on improving his hold, the big man managed to twist Earl awkwardly to the ground by sheer strength. Next followed, in quick succession, the overthrow of Joseph Graham of Dufton, James Graham of Kirklinton, and Tom Richardson, the Dyer, at the hands of Clattan.
Only two men were now left standing, namely, George Irving of Boltongate, and Clattan; and by Irving asking Clattan, as a favour, not to throw himself heavily on him, the result was understood to be a foregone conclusion. Good-naturedly acting upon this request, Clattan without more ado,[Pg 213] whipped Irving off his feet, turned him smartly round, and then let go his hold, in order to avoid falling on his man. Meanwhile, Irving having cunningly retained his hold, claimed the fall, which according to the rules of the game, was awarded to him by the umpires. The scene which followed baffles all description. The crowd danced, laughed, yelled, and ran wild with commotion. Clattan was completely nonplussed by the ruse, and bore the result for a time with Job-like patience; but at length his good nature fairly broke down. He fumed and tore about like one half crazed, ground his teeth, and swore he "wad russel him for fifty pund to a pund—for a hundred pund to a pund—for any amount he liket!" But Irving, having accomplished his ends, was far too wary a customer to be drawn into any further trial which meant defeat. Meanwhile, Irving's friends hoisted him shoulder high, and bore him away in triumph; and poor Clattan could only content himself with a final shot at his enemy by crying out: "If iver I git hod o' thee ageàn, my lad, I'll mak the' put thy tongue oot!"
After this mishap, the tide of popularity seems to have set in against Mc.Laughlan in all directions. At Dovenby races, held in June, 1829, he put in an appearance, but no sooner was his name called than it created much discontent among the competitors: one wrestler swearing that he was "as big as a hoose side," and another asking derisively for a[Pg 214] ladder, "to clim' on t' top of his shooders wid!" In order to dispel this outburst of feeling, the stewards offered the giant a liberal sum if he would take the post of umpire, and give up contending; which proposal he accepted in the most cordial manner. The chief prize for wrestling (after the withdrawal of the big man,) was carried off by Jonathan Robinson of Allerby mill.
A correspondent of the Cumberland Pacquet, in speaking of the Penrith races in 1829, says, he "cannot imagine upon what principle of justice the individuals acted, who brought a man fifty miles from home by an open advertisement, and then debarred him." The same correspondent, also, complains that Mc.Laughlan was excluded from the Carlisle ring of the same year, in the face of an advertisement which distinctly stated it was "open to any man."
At the great gathering at Cockermouth in August, 1830, Clattan was allowed to enter his name without opposition in the first day's list, where he carried off the head prize, throwing James Little, George Murgatroyd, John Birket, and finally William Earl.
In 1837, his last victory, we believe, was gained at Liverpool, after mowing down John Nichol of Bothel, Jonathan Thomlinson, and Thomas Armstrong of Carlisle, in the heavy weight prize.
Clattan figured again in the Liverpool ring in 1840, at which date he would be about fifty years old; but the fates were against him. He was[Pg 215] drawn against John Selkirk of Beckermet. It is worthy of remark, (says a report in the Carlisle Journal,) that Selkirk's father threw Mc.Laughlan twenty-six years ago; and Mc.Laughlan was overheard to say, it would be a shame to let both father and son throw him. But so it proved, for after a very severe struggle, in which Selkirk showed himself to be a wrestler of no ordinary ability, the first fall was given in as unfair, and they had to wrestle over again. In getting hold a second time, Mc.Laughlan put all his powers in requisition, but to no avail, for Selkirk threw him in a masterly manner.
One incongruous element of Clattan's character has still to be mentioned, namely, his weakness for sparring and boxing. His temperament was made up of too many good-natured components to allow of his ever degenerating into a mere prize-fighter. The big man, to the best of our knowledge, had a determined "set-to" once, and only once. It occurred at a Bridewain held in the Vale of Lorton. William Mackereth and Clattan—who had been close friends for years—fell out over some trifling affair, and a keenly contested fight was the result. After the struggle had continued some time, Mackereth succeeded in driving Clattan from one stand to another, until the giant finally gave in. Clattan threatened to "fettle him off when he com back frae sparring," with the professors of the noble art mentioned hereafter; but he proved to be far too[Pg 216] good natured to attempt to carry any such threat into execution.
Clattan's "experience with the bruising fraternity"—we quote from a clever notice, which appeared in the Whitehaven News—"was confined to travelling with the celebrated pugilists, Tom Molyneaux, the Black, (who twice contested the championship with Tom Cribb,) and Jack Carter, the latter of whom fought a terrible battle with Oliver at Gretna Green in 1816.... With these heroes, John made a tour in the provinces and Scotland, extending over four or five years, in the course of which he gave and took more hard knocks, as an exhibition sparrer, from his formidable and dexterous colleagues, than would satisfy the ambition of most men; but, as we have said, the big man never acquired a taste for fighting. It was scarcely possible, under any circumstances, to surprise him out of one of the quietest dispositions and finest tempers with which giant was ever blessed; and the sole use he made of the hard schooling he received at the hands of Molyneaux and Carter, and the countless yokels, ambitious of fistic distinction, was to amuse a few of his patrons. The art and mystery of bruising was practised nowhere more extensively and industriously than by a chosen band of youths who frequented John's house in the Market-place, Whitehaven. To oblige these young gentlemen, and test their dexterity, 'Clattan' has been known to sit down in a chair, to ensure something like[Pg 217] equality of height, and 'set himself'; and very dexterous had young Whitehaven to be if it could hit and get away, even under these circumstances, without a counter tap, as from a playful steam hammer.... Many wonderful tales are told of 'Clattan.' He could crack nuts with his thumb and forefinger as easily as a schoolboy could crush a gooseberry, and we forget the enormous weight he could suspend round his wrist while he wrote his name against the wall."
Mc.Laughlan was an innkeeper in Whitehaven for a great number of years, being the landlord of "The Highlandman," or "Rising Sun," in the Market-place. Here he drove a flourishing trade, which resulted in a great measure from frequenters of his house always finding him to be civil and obliging.
At Whitehaven, Clattan joined the town band formed by Mr. Heywood, clerk to the magistrates. In this capacity, he invariably marched first in processions, and did what he could to make sweet music out of the instrument he played, an immense trombone, his giant-like form towering above his fellows, like that of Goliath of Gath among the Gittites.
Leaving Whitehaven about 1838 or 1839, he settled in Liverpool, where he was employed about the docks for several years. His wife, Betty, afterwards kept a lodging-house in Sparling-street; but more latterly they lived retired and in comfortable[Pg 218] circumstances, principally through the kindness of one of his sons, the captain of a trading vessel.
Mc.Laughlan died in Liverpool, in October, 1876, at the advanced age of eighty-five years.
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Post by CW .org .info .net on Sept 29, 2011 21:21:21 GMT -6
BULL BAITING. It must be exceedingly gratifying to all ranks of society throughout the United Kingdom, who take any interest in the social progress of the inhabitants, in the onward march from semi-barbarism to a higher state of civilization—from indulgence in brutal amusements, pursued with eager gratification during the eighteenth century—to note a gradual stamping out of vicious pursuits, and the growth of more harmless amusements.
Amongst the lower order of our crowded towns and rural districts, amongst the middle classes of society, and even amongst the higher orders—the cream of society—the welcome change is strikingly evident. The lower orders were probably the most prone to indulge in the vile and degrading pursuits, which have in a great measure been rooted out, but they were by no means the only culpable parties. The higher and middle classes freely lent their countenance and support—lent their assistance not alone by being present at, but by liberal contributions aided in getting up, the horrible scenes witnessed at the bull-ring, the bear garden, the cock and rat pits, the boxing ring, and badger worrying.[Pg 220] Even royalty, with its gorgeous trappings, and long list of titled favourites, smiled at and enjoyed the ferocious pastime.
A laudable endeavour to abolish them was made in the year 1800. A bill was introduced by Sir W. Pulteney, into the House of Commons, for the abolition of bull baiting and other cruel sports; but Mr. Wyndham—the leader at that time of a powerful party of country gentlemen—opposed the bill on the ground that it attempted to suppress a national amusement, which was not more cruel than fox-hunting; a pastime so important that a clever writer has said, "You ruin the country as soon as you put an end to fox-hunting." Mr. Wyndham, on the one hand, was supported by Mr. Canning, and on the other hand opposed by Mr. Sheridan. Up to the year 1835, an agitation was fostered against brutal sports, and the time-honoured institutions of seven centuries were then, by Act of Parliament, for ever blotted out from the town and country pleasures of Great Britain and Ireland.
The defunct pastimes, we have under consideration, were amongst the most exciting as well as brutal amusements of the eighteenth century, and to a record of them in the "good old times," this short article will be devoted. In nearly every town, and in most rural districts, there was the attractive bull ring. The gatherings never attained the gigantic and imposing dimensions of the Roman[Pg 221] Coliseum and the Spanish Amphitheatre bull fights—institutions no better than a species of bull baiting, and attended with greater cruelty and bloodshed than the English bull ring. The national mind in our own country was never so thoroughly embued with the horrible pastime as the citizens of Rome and Madrid; but was sufficiently brutified as to be considered at the present time a disgrace to humanity. The sad sights, however, which gladdened the eye, and drew forth shouts of applause, from "good Queen Bess" and her followers, when she entertained the ambassadors from Continental courts, with a display of bear and bull baiting, are happily at an end.
We shall now proceed to the more immediate object of our article, namely, a notice of bull baiting in our own country, and more particularly in the two northern counties of Cumberland and Westmorland. In England, the baiting was done, as our readers will doubtless be aware, with a breed of dogs peculiar to the country, called "bull" dogs. This breed, so famous in story, might probably have become extinct after bull baiting was abolished, had it not been for the numerous dog shows which have since taken place throughout the country, where prizes are given for purity of breed and excellence of form. Their principal characteristics are indomitable courage, and an instinctive propensity to pin their huge adversary by the nose. In order to effect this object, well bred dogs would[Pg 222] rush furiously at the bull, and although they might be unsuccessful and stand a chance of being tossed high in the air, they never failed in returning again and again to the attack. Wonderful stories may be gleaned, in all parts of the kingdom, illustrative of their never dying resolute courage. In the quality of endurance, under punishment, they may be likened to the English game cock—the agonies of death even not being able to quench their fighting propensities.
The following well authenticated anecdote, related by Bewick, the wood engraver, illustrates this point in a most barbarous and disgraceful manner. Many years ago, at a bull baiting in the North of England, a young man, confident of the courage of his dog, laid some trifling wager, that he would, at separate times, cut off all the four feet of his dog, and that, after each amputation, it would attack the bull. The cruel experiment was tried, and the gallant and courageous dog continued to rush at the bull, upon its four stumps, as eagerly as if it had been perfectly whole!
Another anecdote of the bull dog has more of a ludicrous dash about it. A father and son, in a northern village, had a young pup, descended from a famous breed, out for exercise and training. The son accosted the rough old paterfamilias with: "Doon on ye'r knees, fadder, an' boo like a bull!" The "fadder" did as he was desired, and began "booin'." Before many "boos" had been repeated,[Pg 223] however, the pup had seized the sham "booin'" bull firmly by the nose. Delighted at the ready tact displayed by the dog, young hopeful roared out: "Bide it, fadder! bide it! It'll be t' makkin' o' t' pup!"
Carlisle is the first northern town at which we shall notice bull baiting. Our account has been gathered from tradition and from spectators of the scenes. The old bull ring stood in the market place, in close proximity to the "stocks," on that space of ground lying between the ancient cross and the front of the town hall. There, from time immemorial, was the savage pastime witnessed by generation after generation. If we cannot carry it back to the dim mystical times, when
Kinge Arthur lived in merry Carleile,
And seemely was to see,
And there with him Queene Genever,
That bride soe bright of blee—
It requires but a limited stretch of the imagination to picture it in full swing at the time when the three brave foresters of Inglewood flourished,—Adam Bell, Clym o' the Clough, and William o' Cloudeslee,—and when the two former rescued the latter from the hangman's cart in the same market place.
And Cloudeslee lay ready there in a cart,
Ffast bound both foote and hande;
And a strong rope about his necke,
All readye ffor to hange.
Men have been maimed for life, and even gored[Pg 224] to death, in bull baiting frays, held in front of the Carlisle town hall. A large ferocious animal, known as the "Linstock bull," was baited no less than three times. It once broke loose from the ring; threw the multitude into wild disorder; knocked down several of the bystanders, who came in contact with its onward progress; and ran a butcher, named Gibbons, up against the wall! At this exciting moment a cry from the crowd rent the air, which appalled the bravest heart, but happily no material damage was done. For, curiously enough, the man's life was saved through the animal's horns growing far apart; the bull being one of the Lancashire long-horned breed, formerly very common throughout the north country.
In old times, an aged woman, of coarse features and Amazonian strength, figured prominently in the Carlisle ring, and was invariably accompanied by a savage dog, called "Pincher." Her shrill voice was often heard, far above the hubbub of the crowd, with such exclamations as, "Weel done, Pincher!—good dog, Pincher!—stick till't, Pincher! Ha! ha! Pincher's gripp't it noo!" And then, all at once, up went the veritable Pincher, twenty feet in the air, turning "bully necks" three or four times, and falling on the ground with a heavy thud, stunned and bleeding.
After prevailing at Carlisle for four or five centuries, and continuing as time rolled on without any abatement to the end, both vicious and brutal,[Pg 225] bull baiting was finally suppressed within the limits of the ancient border city, about the end of the eighteenth century.
The last public bull baitings at Carlisle took place in the cattle market on the "Sands"—then outside the city boundaries—in the months of August and September, 1824. Long before the time fixed to commence the proceedings on the first occasion, thousands of persons—many of them females—were assembled. The adjoining bridge was thronged, houses were covered, and every eminence densely packed with eager expectant human beings. All the scum and blackguardism of the old border city had quitted it. No such outpouring could be remembered to have taken place, except when the noted professors of pugilism, Carter and Oliver, contended at Gretna. The bull to be baited was of the black Galloway breed, and had been purchased under peculiar circumstances, by a few disreputable characters. In contending against its canine assailants, it laboured under the great disadvantage of being without horns.
The primary cause of the baitings was owing to the fact of the animal having shown itself vicious, or in local phraseology, "man keen," by attacking its owner, Mr. Rome of Park-house farm, near Rose Castle. Suddenly turning round, in an open field, it tossed Mr. Rome over three "riggs," injuring him so much that recovery was for some time considered doubtful. It was supposed the bull had[Pg 226] been irritated by a butcher's boy. This may have been the case; but too much reliance is often placed on the general docility of bulls. They are well known to be liable to sudden outbursts of passion. This dangerous element may be said to be wedded to their nature, and hence the deplorable accidents that sometimes happen. Due caution was wanting in this case. The Park-house bull had previously shewn symptoms of an unruly disposition, and yet Mr. Rome unguardedly entered the "bull copy" to drive away some cows. The attack was so sudden, that there was no chance of escape, and the owner would in all probability have been killed on the spot, but for the opportune assistance of two men servants, who succeeded in driving off the excited and furious beast with pitchforks.
On two separate occasions, the unfortunate beast was bound to the stake on the Sands. It would have been, comparatively speaking, a merciful end to the animal's life to have killed it at once, without inflicting the torture of baiting, for the alleged purpose of rendering the beef tender. The bull was fastened by a heavy chain, some twenty yards long, sufficient to give it room to make play. At one time the conduct of the crowd was so confused and disorderly, that several persons were injured, by the frightened animal rushing about, and sweeping them off their feet with its chain. No one, however, received any serious injury.[Pg 227] Several noted dogs were slipped at the bull. A yellow one, known in sporting circles as David Spedding's "Peace;" a dark brindled one, owned by Dan Sims, the publican; and a bitch, belonging to one Kirkpatrick; all seized the bull cleverly by the nose, and made "good work." The yellow dog especially had the knack of laying hold, and maintaining its grip to perfection. Its usual mode of attack was to run between the fore legs of the bull, fasten itself to the under lip, and then hang on like grim death.
Much amusement was created, by an Irishman running fussing about, and shouting at the top of his voice: "Hould on there, hould on, till my dog saizes the big baiste!" Pat let go. His dog made a bold dash at the bull, and good sport was anticipated by the onlookers; but no sooner was the dog turned upon by the enraged animal, than it showed tail, and ran for safety. This "funking" on the part of the Irishman's dog, created loud laughter among the crowd, and was followed by such bantering remarks as, "Arrah, Pat, arrah! Ye'r dog's not game!"
In the hubbub, a man named Robert Telford, an auctioneer, was knocked over by a sudden swerve of the ponderous chain which fastened the bull, and for some time lay sprawling helpless in the dirt. He had a narrow escape from being tossed in the air, boots uppermost, or else savagely gored.
Scarcely had the barking and growling of the[Pg 228] dogs subsided, or the yelling and shouting of the assembled rabble died away, when one of the onlookers, who had been somewhat disappointed in the scenes enacted, pronounced it to be but "a tamish sort of affair, after all!" A local celebrity,[13] also, on leaving the ground, delivered himself of the following opinion, in slow pompous tones: "Bad bait—bad bait! Bull too gross!"—the meaning of which was that the bull was too fat to display that ferocity and activity which some of the spectators had expected it would have done.
[13] Mr. William Browne, who began life in Carlisle as a bookbinder, and ended as auctioneer, appraiser, and high-bailiff to the County Court.
So fagged and spiritless had the animal become after one of the baits, that a rough-spun butcher—a madcap of a fellow—had the temerity to leap astride its back, and to ride up Rickergate in that ungainly fashion; while the poor beast, now completely deadened to attack or viciousness of any kind, was being slowly lead in the direction of some shambles or outbuildings in East Tower street.
A disaster which befel the comedian, Riley, a few years before Mr. Rome was nearly killed at Park-house farm, had a somewhat ludicrous termination. The author of the Itinerant, in professionally "starring" through the provinces, remained for some time in the neighbourhood of Furness Abbey, and was engaged to lend his assistance there. The[Pg 229] entertainment going off very successfully, a "leetle" too much wine followed on the heels of it. This we presume, for the quantity imbibed by Mr. Riley rendered his perception not quite so clear as it might have been. The way to his quarters was by a footpath through some fields; and jogging along by the dimmish light of an obscured moon, he rambled off the path, and got into a field in which a pugnaciously inclined bull was kept. Snatches of song and other sounds arousing the brute from his night's slumber, he rose and prepared to attack the son of Thespis, and gave notice of his intentions by several long drawn "boos," which "boos" Mr. Riley attributed to some one coming after him from the concert. The bull followed up, and got nearer and nearer, with his "boo—boo—boo!" A collision suddenly took place close to the hedge, and in the twinkling of an eye the gentleman was tossed up, and landed secure, but prostrate, on the other side of the hedge, without any harm but a good shaking. Looking up, the astonished comedian exclaimed: "You are neither a musician nor a gentleman, by ——, if you are!"
During the eighteenth century, and for thirty or forty years into the present one, farmers, small tradesmen, indeed, most families living in the country, who could afford it, at the fall of the year, salted and stored by as much beef as served the family through the winter. Hence bull baiting—until suppressed—prevailed in most of the northern[Pg 230] towns and villages, in the month of November. The weather was then suitable for salting a supply of beef for winter use, and an extra quantity either of bull or heifer beef was quite saleable at that season of the year. An erroneous idea prevailed—had indeed become a settled conviction, that bull beef was much better—should not be used as food, in fact, without the animal had been subject to the usual barbarous baiting.
In many places there prevailed a stringent regulation, that bulls should not be slaughtered, until they had passed the ordeal of baiting; and curious observances were enforced should the practice be omitted. In Kendal, for instance, a singular custom was to be observed when any butcher killed a bull, and attempted to dispose of the beef, without the animal having been fastened to the bull ring and baited. The seller of the carcass was obliged to have put up conspicuously, a large sign board, with the words "Bull Beef," painted in legible letters, and to have a lantern stuck up, with lighted candles burning in it, as long as the tabooed beef remained unsold. This singular regulation or custom continued in use, and was regularly observed as long as bull baiting was permitted in the town.
The Kendal bull ring was fixed on a green at the High Beast Banks, and had been so fixed for generations. There the disgusting, demoralizing saturnalia, with all its ruffianly concomitants, was held before a yelling crowd of professedly civilized[Pg 231] spectators. This brutal indulgence was continued to the mayoralty of Mr. William Dobson, in 1790, when the corporation interfered and put a final stop to it. We are surprised that in Kendal, where the Quaker element in the population was so strong, the odious "sport" should have been allowed to continue so long. The followers of George Fox, we feel assured, would consider any encouragement given to such degrading brutality as morally criminal.
Great Dockray and Sandgate, in the pleasant and busy market town of Penrith, were the scenes of many uproarious bull baits. In one day, no less than five beasts have been tied to the stake, and unmercifully tortured. They would all be required, and many carcasses besides, at that season of the year when salt beef was prepared for winter consumption. At Penrith, the bull baitings were regularly attended by crowds of spectators, from all the surrounding country villages. The inhabitants of the town, too, deserted their quiet homes to witness the exciting but barbarous practice. In Penrith, as well as other places, the idea was rooted in the minds of the people that bulls intended for slaughter, and sold for human food, should be baited. If the carcass of a bull, in the shambles of a butcher, had not been subjected to the usual process of brutal cruelty, it would have been rejected. The village of Stainton, as well as Penrith, was noted for bull dogs of a pure and courageous breed.[Pg 232] Those normal tribes of gipsies, tinkers, and potters, who roamed over Cumberland, Westmorland, and the borders of Scotland, during the latter part of the eighteenth century, were celebrated for breeding and training bull dogs of a superior description.
The small but interesting market town of Keswick—highly celebrated at the present day, as the head quarters of numerous lake and mountain excursionists—likewise had its bull ring, to which, through a lengthened period of time, hundreds of unfortunate animals were tied and baited. No greater desecration can be imagined to one of the most attractive districts in Great Britain—revealing at every step scenes displaying vividly the sublime beauty and grandeur of God's choicest handiwork—than the mad uproar, the wild confusion, and gross brutality of a bull bait. The echoes of the surrounding hills were made to resound with the furious merriment of an excited multitude, in the full enjoyment of a cruel "sport." From the beautiful Vale of Saint John, from the lower slopes of Blencathra and Skiddaw, from the confines of the picturesque lake of Bassenthwaite, from the surroundings of the more imposing Derwentwater, from many scattered villages, like Borrowdale, crowds hastened to share in the gross enjoyment of a hideous outrage on humanity.
The bull ring at Keswick,—as well as at Carlisle, Penrith, Wigton, Kendal, and other places in the Lake country—was frequently the means of starting[Pg 233] a combat between some pugnaciously inclined Tom Crib, and any one who, through intimidation, could be drawn into a fight. "Shaking the bull ring" was tantamount to a challenge from some foolhardy individual, to "hev it oot" with any one inclined to step forward; and it rarely happened at "statute fairs" but that at least some two or three pugilistic encounters followed the "shaking."[Pg 234]
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Post by CW .org .info .net on Sept 29, 2011 21:21:43 GMT -6
BADGERS AND BADGER BAITING. Baiting the badger differed from bull baiting in one respect, inasmuch as the former was generally practised in some room or yard, mostly attached to a public house. It was often a private affair, got up by some sporting landlord, for the purpose of drawing customers to his hostelry, as well as to have an opportunity of seeing the badger drawn; while bull baiting, except on great state occasions, was always a public affair.
The badger, in former times called the "Grey," is a small animal, which at no remote period was, comparatively speaking, plentiful in Cumberland and Westmorland, and in various parts of the north of England. It abounded, too, in Scotland, and its cured skin was used in making the Highlander's hanging pouch. It measured about three feet from the snout to the end of the tail, and weighed from seventeen to thirty pounds. Few animals are better able to defend themselves, and fewer still of their own weight and size dare attack them, in their native haunts. When in good case, they are remarkably strong, fight with great resolution if brought to bay, can bite extremely hard, and inflict very severe wounds. It is strange that it should have been so persistently and ruthlessly hunted and[Pg 236] destroyed, so as to lead to the almost entire extermination of the herd in this country.
In Reminiscences of West Cumberland, (printed for private circulation, in 1882,) William Dickinson gives the following account of the capture of some of these animals:¡ª"On March 29, 1867, a badger was captured in a wood adjoining the river Derwent, by Mr. Stirling's gamekeeper. It was a full grown animal, in prime condition, and was secured without sustaining any injury. A few years before that a badger was caught near St. Bees. It was supposed to have escaped from captivity. Within my recollection, a badger was taken by a shepherd and his dogs, on Birker moor, and believed to be a wild one; and none had been known for many miles around by any one living. They are not now known to breed in Cumberland; but the late Mr. John Peel of Eskat, told me the brock or badger had a strong hold in Eskat woods, and that he once came so suddenly on a brock asleep, as it basked in the sun, that he struck it with his bill hook, and wounded it in the hind quarter. Its hole was so near that it crawled in and was lost. The place is still called the Brock-holes."
An interesting experiment has been tried on the Naworth Castle estate, the Border residence of Mr. George Howard, a dozen miles or so from Carlisle. About the year 1877 or 1878, four healthy and well developed badgers were let off, some two miles eastward from the castle, near the side of the river[Pg 237] Irthing, which flows through a wide sweep of charmingly diversified scenery. The place occupied by them is a piece of rough, woodland, "banky" ground, quiet and secluded, the soil being of a dry sandy nature. The badgers, in the first instance, were lodged in an old fox earth "bield," part of which they have held in undisturbed possession ever since. They appeared to fall in naturally with their new quarters, and soon took to digging and making the hole, and its various ramifications, much larger and more capacious.
Curiously enough, after the lapse of some years, the foxes returned to their old retreat, and for two successive seasons there has been a breed of young cubs reared in the same burrow with the badgers. Each species of animal has taken up a separate part or side-branch of the hole for its own particular use and abode; and, so far as appearance goes, the two families have lived together happy and contented for the time being.
A similar illustration of foxes fraternising with badgers is amply borne out in a valuable communication to The Times, of October 24th, 1877, by Mr. Alfred Ellis of Loughborough, who, after some difficulty, introduced a breed of badgers, in semi-wild state, to a covert within fifty yards of his own residence. Mr. Ellis says, "The fox and the badger are not unfriendly, and last spring a litter of cubs was brought forth very near the badgers; but their mother removed them after they had[Pg 238] grown familiar, as she probably thought they were showing themselves more than was prudent."
The neighbouring dogs are not known to have molested the Naworth badgers in any way, and it is now supposed the estate can number about a dozen in numerical strength. The nocturnal habits, natural to badgers, make it very difficult to study their actions and mode of life, with any amount of close observancy, as they rarely leave their holes till near nightfall, and are back again generally by daybreak.
There is not much which properly comes under the game laws near the badgers' place of rendezvous, but Mr. Brown, the head keeper, is under the impression that they are destructive to some kinds of game; in fact, he says, they take anything they can lay hold of in the shape of eggs or young birds. They dig a good deal for fern roots, and feed upon them, turning up the ground in the same way that a pig does. It would appear also that they are very fond of moles. Any of these animals left dead by the keepers or foresters, in the vicinity of their haunts, invariably disappear quickly and are no more seen.
Shy, reserved, and alert as the badgers are, they may be come upon sometimes, by chance or accident, on the banks of the Irthing; and when seen in the dusky twilight of a summer evening, "scufterin'" along through the long grass or "bracken" beds, they might be easily mistaken for a litter of young pigs.[Pg 239] In addition to the food incidentally mentioned, the badger lives upon frogs, insects, wasps' nests, fruit, grass, and a great variety of other things. Its habits are perfectly harmless in a wild state; and yet few animals have suffered so much cruel torture, in consequence of vulgar prejudice. The hams, as food, were esteemed superior in delicacy of flavour to the domestic pig or wild hog. In this country, the hind quarters only were used for food; while in some parts of Europe and in China, the whole carcass was held in high esteem, and considered to be very nutritious.
In hunting and capturing them, the usual plan was to dig a hole in the ground, across some path which they were known to frequent, covering the pit lightly over with sticks and leaves. Another mode of catching them was by means of a sack being carefully fitted to the entrance of their burrows. When supposed to be out feeding, two or three dogs were set to hunt the adjoining grounds, and the badger was thus driven homewards, and safely secured in the sack.
The mode of baiting was generally pursued as follows. Sometimes, according to choice, the animal was put into a barrel; while at other times, a trench was dug in the ground, fourteen inches deep and of the same width, and covered over with a board. But the plan most frequently adopted was to have a square drain-like box constructed, in the form of a capital letter ¨N. The longer part[Pg 240] measured something like six feet in length, and the shorter part four feet. The box was throughout thirteen or fourteen inches square, with only one entrance way. When a batting display took place, the badger was placed inside the box at the far end of the shorter compartment. It will be apparent, from being so placed, that it had some advantage over any dog attacking in front. The dog had to proceed up the longer leg of the box, and then turning sharp round, found the object of its search cautiously crouching, and on the watch for any advancing foe.
A strong fresh badger was never unprepared for fight, and, by being thus on the alert, had the opportunity of inflicting a fearful bite at the outset; so severe, indeed, that any currish inclined dog at once made the best of his way out, howling with pain, and thoroughly discomfited. And no coaxing, no inducement in the world, could make the craven-hearted brute attempt a second attack.
On the contrary, one of the right sort rushed immediately into close quarters, seized the badger with as little delay as might be, and endeavoured to drag it forth into open daylight. It required a dog of rare pluck and courage, however, to accomplish this feat¡ªone, in fact, insensible to punishment; and few could be found willing to face and endure hard biting, and force the badger from its lair. Pure bred bull dogs will naturally go in and face anything, but it is in very few instances that[Pg 241] they make any attempt to draw. Long experience showed that the best and truest that could be produced, were a cross between a well bred bull dog and a terrier, commonly known as bull terriers. Sufficiently powerful and courageous dogs were, also, to some extent, to be found amongst rough wiry haired terriers¡ªthe Charlieshope Pepper and Mustard breed of Dandie Dinmonts¡ªwhich "fear naething that ever cam wi' a hairy skin on't;" and the handsome, smooth, glossy-coated black and tan dog, "fell chield at the varmin," which would buckle either "tods or brocks." Bedlington terriers,¡ªa distinct breed of Northumbrian origin, long known and esteemed in Cumberland and other northern counties¡ªhave frequently proved themselves admirable adepts at drawing the badger. These dogs, properly speaking, are more "fluffy" coated than wiry¡ªhave greater length of leg than the Dandie Dinmonts¡ªare full of spirit and stamina¡ªremarkably active and alert¡ªand very fierce and resolute when called into action.
The badger is not often much hurt in the drawing, the thickness of their skin being sufficient to prevent them from taking any great harm. The looseness of the skin is such that they can turn easily, and, moreover, they are so quick in moving about, that the dogs are often desperately wounded in the first assault, and compelled to give up the contest.
To give an idea of the extreme sensitiveness for cleanliness which characterize the habits of the[Pg 242] badger, let the following example be taken. On being drawn from its barrel by the dog, it not unfrequently happens in the scuffle which ensues, that the animal is rolled over and over, among the mire of the road, or the dirt of some neighbouring dunghill. Should the badger, however, be able to escape to its place of refuge in the barrel, even for a minute or two, the onlooker is surprised to find it turn out again as "snod" and clean, as if the dragging process through the dirt had never been undergone.
Several proverbial sayings are current, which have been drawn from the nature and habits of this animal. For instance, a man of much and long continued endurance, is said to be "as hard as a brock;" and any one, upon whom age is creeping, and whose hair has lost a good deal of its original brightness, is said to be "as grey as a badger." Relph of Sebergham, in detailing in his native patois, the woes of a young and lusty love-sick swain, gives an illustration of one of the modes of hunting the animal:¡ª
Nae mair i' th' neets thro' woods he leads,
To treace the wand'rin' brock;
But sits i' th' nuik, an' nowt else heeds,
But Jenny an' her rock.
In addition to the haunts of the badger incidentally mentioned, Brock-stones, in Kentmere; Brock-holes, at the foot of Tebay Fells; Graythwaite woods, in Furness Fells; Greystoke forest, near[Pg 243] Penrith; Brockley-moor, in Inglewood forest; Brock-hills, near Hesket Newmarket; and Brocklebank, on the east side of Derwentwater;¡ªthese and many other like coverts in the Lake Country, (as their names indicate,) were all strongholds and places of much resort for these animals, in the olden time.
Within the memory of living man, badgers have burrowed in the sand hills on Brocklebank, where it was not uncustomary for the tag-rag and bob-tail fraternity of Keswick, to hunt and capture them for the purpose of baiting.
About the year 1823, Tom Wilson, a shoemaker¡ªreared at The Woodman inn, Keswick¡ªremembers one being caught in a sack at the foot of Brockle-beck, when a novel but extremely foolish experiment was tried in the way of hunting it. It was let off in the midst of a gang of rough men, half-grown lads, and dogs, in deep water, near Lord's Island on Derwent Lake, and the chances are that the poor animal perished by drowning. At all events, it soon disappeared under the surface, and was never seen again by man or dog.
A husbandman, named Jonathan Gill, captured another on Great How, a steep wooded mountain which rises on the east side of Thirlmere lake. These are the two last badgers in the Keswick locality, of which we have any tidings. It is more than probable that the Brocklebank herd became dispersed or extinct about this period.
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Post by CW .org .info .net on Sept 29, 2011 21:22:41 GMT -6
ADDENDA MIDNIGHT CHASE OF A BULL BY PROFESSOR WILSON. THOMAS DE QUINCEY. Represent to yourself the earliest dawn of a fine summer's morning, time about half-past two o'clock. A young man, anxious for an introduction to Mr. Wilson, and as yet pretty nearly a stranger to the country, has taken up his abode in Grasmere, and has strolled out at this early hour to that rocky and moorish common (called the White Moss) which overhangs the Vale of Rydal, dividing it from Grasmere. Looking southwards in the direction of Rydal, suddenly he becomes aware of a huge beast advancing at a long trot, with the heavy and thundering tread of a hippopotamus, along the public road. The creature is soon arrived within half a mile of his station; and by the grey light of morning is at length made out to be a bull, apparently flying from some unseen enemy in his rear. As yet, however, all is mystery; but suddenly three horsemen double a turn in the road, and come flying into sight with the speed of a hurricane,[Pg 245] manifestly in pursuit of the fugitive bull. The bull labours to navigate his huge bulk to the moor, which he reaches, and then pauses panting and blowing out clouds of smoke from his nostrils, to look back from his station amongst rocks and slippery crags upon his hunters. If he had conceited that the rockiness of the ground had secured his repose, the foolish bull is soon undeceived; the horsemen, scarcely relaxing their speed, charge up the hill, and speedily gaining the rear of the bull, drive him at a gallop over the worst part of that impracticable ground down to the level ground below. At this point of time the stranger perceives by the increasing light of the morning that the hunters are armed with immense spears fourteen feet long. With these the bull is soon dislodged, and scouring down to the plain below, he and the hunters at his tail take to the common at the head of the lake, and all, in the madness of the chase, are soon half engulphed in the swamp of the morass. After plunging together for about ten or fifteen minutes all suddenly regain the terra firma, and the bull again makes for the rocks. Up to this moment, there had been the silence of ghosts; and the stranger had doubted whether the spectacle were not a pageant of aërial spectres—ghostly huntsmen, ghostly lances, and a ghostly bull. But just at this crisis, a voice (it was the voice of Mr. Wilson) shouted aloud, "Turn the villain! turn that villain! or he will take to Cumberland." The young[Pg 246] stranger did the service required; the villain was turned, and fled southwards; the hunters, lance in rest, rushed after him; all bowed their thanks as they fled past; the fleet cavalcade again took the high road; they doubled the cape which shut them out of sight; and in a moment all had disappeared, and left the quiet valley to its original silence, whilst the young stranger, and two grave Westmorland "statesmen," (who by this time had come into sight upon some accident or other) stood wondering in silence, and saying to themselves, perhaps,
"The earth hath bubbles as the water hath;
And these are of them."
But they were no bubbles; the bull was a substantial bull, and took no harm at all from being turned out occasionally at midnight for a chase of fifteen or eighteen miles. The bull, no doubt, used to wonder at this nightly visitation; and the owner of the bull must sometimes have pondered a little on the draggled state in which the swamps would now and then leave his beast; but no other harm came of it.
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[Pg 247] INDEX. Abbot, Joseph, Bampton, and Tom "Dyer," 165, and Weightman, 190, 198
"A bit iv a lad stept oot of a corner o' the ring," 202
Alston town, description of, 135
" wrestlers, 135
Arlecdon moor wrestling meetings, 68
Armstrong, "Solid Yak," 131, 143, 151
Armstrong, Jacob, thrown by Weightman, 199
Ashburner, Tom, Grasmere, and Roan Long, 92
Atkinson, Robert, Sleagill giant, 8
Badgers and Badger Baiting, 235
" at Naworth, 236
Balmer, John, nearly drowned in Windermere, 78
Bateman, William, Yottenfews, 176
Barrow, John, Windermere, 77
Bedlington terriers, 241
Best, George, Yarrow, xliv
Bewick, Thomas, and his Ainstable cousin, 14, bull baiting, 222
Bigg, John Stanyan, quotation from, 134
Bird, George, Langwathby, 33
" Joseph, Holme Wrangle, 66, 71, 72
Border wrestling at Miles end, xlv
Bowstead, John, brother to Bishop of Lichfield, 32
Bridewain or Bidden Weddings, 15
Brown, Rev. Abraham, wrestler, 63
Brunskill, George, and William Wilson, 185
Bull Baiting, 219
Bull-dogs and Bull-terriers, 240
Burns, Arthur, Ullater, and Roan Long, 92, 175
Caldbeck, familiar name at, 157
Carlisle wrestling, list of men who contended at first annual meeting, 107
Cass, William, and Tom Todd, 171, and Weightman, 184, 203, 204
Casson, Robert, Oxenpark, 177
Chapman, Richard, 33, 146, 167
Christopherson, Brian, Oxenpark, 176
Clark, William, Hesket-new-market, 153, 160
"Clattan," (see Mc.Laughlan)
Cock-fighting prohibited by the Puritans, xxvii
Cock-fighting at Elleray and Alston, 142
"Cork lad of Kentmere," 3
[Pg 248]Cornish wrestling, xxv, xxviii
Cromwell, Oliver, at a wrestling meeting, xxvii
Crow park, Keswick, 179
Cumberland and Westmorland wrestling, ancient, 1
Dandie Dinmont terriers, 241
Dennison, George, 141
" thrown by William Dickinson, 140, sets a dislocated shoulder in the Carlisle ring, 144
Devonshire wrestling, xxv, xxviii
Dickinson, William, 135
Dixon, Miles, 74
" James, 84—103
" George, "aw t' Dixons errant doon yet," 85
"Dixon's three jumps," 13
Dobson, John, Cliburn, 24, 163
Dodd, Adam, Langwathby, 24, 28, 32, 64
Dodd, Robert, Brough, 7
"Doon on ye'r knees, fadder, an' boo like a bull," 222
Eals, Sarah, Alston, a shrew, 140
Earl, John, Cumwhitton, 120, 160
Earl, William, and "Clattan," 212, 214
English wrestling, old, xxiv
Faulds Brow sports, 56
Fawcett, James, 36—24
Fearon, John, Gilcrux, 171, 172
Fidler, John, Wythop hall, 67
Ford, T., Ravenglass, 56, and Weightman, 189, 190
Forster Brothers, the, of Penton, 168, 193
Foxes and Badgers fraternising, 237
"Fwok sud aye be menseful, an' menseful amang fwok," 206
"Gwordie Maut" and Weightman, 192
Gibson, Alexander Craig, "Folk Speech of Cumberland," 97
Golightly, Thomas, Alston, 24, 129
Graham, Sir James—black mare, 187
Graham, James, and Weightman, 193, 199, throws "Clattan," 210
Graham, Harry, 116—66
Grecian wrestling, ancient, ix
Gretna fight, the—Carter and Oliver, 173
Harrison, Thomas, Blencow, 10
" John, New Church, 54, 143
" John, Lowick, "Checky," 175
Herdwick sheep, 58
High street mountain, sports on, 11
Hodgson, Tom,—quarrel with Weightman, 197, throws "Clattan," 210
Hogg, James, Ettrick Shepherd, xxxviii
Holmes, John, King of Mardale, 32
Holmes, John, tailor, 93
"Hoo 'at thoo let him hipe the' i' that stupid fashion?" 183
Howard, Mr. Philip, Corby Castle, and Weightman, 197
Howell, Edward, Greystoke, 184
Huddleston, Mr. Andrew, 10
[Pg 249]"If thoo says Clattan isn't a gud russler," 182
Indian wrestling, xviii
Irish wrestling, xlvi
Irishmen, two, and Tom Nicholson, 111
Irving, George, 204, 210, 212
"I's nobbut shy—I's nobbut varra shy," 206
Jackson, Joseph, sickle maker, 176
Jameson, Samuel, Penrith, 54, 145, 159
" William, 34
Japanese wrestling, xii, contrasted with Northern English, xvii
Jordan, John, Great Salkeld, 117
"Jwohn Barleycworn's ruin't mony a gud heart," 206
"Keg," the Keswick bully, 111
Langwathby Rounds, 27
Liddle, John, Bothel, 171, 209
Litt, William, 61; and William Richardson, 50, and Miles Dixon, 83, describes Weightman, 195
Little, John, facetious letter on Carlisle ring, 196
Long, Rowland, 90—51, 179
Long John, 96 —throws Tom Nicholson, 104
Longmire, Thomas, 93
Lonsdale, Earl of, patronizes the wrestling ring, 149
Lowthian, Isaac, Plumpton, 34
Lowden, Charles, challenged, 58
" John, Keswick, 67, 96, 104, 138, 145
Mackereth, William, 115—96, and "Clattan," 215
"Marcy, Jwohn! is that thee?" 173
Marshall, the forgeman, at Sparkbridge, 176, 177
Mason, Isaac, Croglin, 29, 32, 182
Maughan, Isaac, Alston, 25
Mc.Donald, Anthony, Appleby, 33, 34
Mc.Laughlan, John, 208—110, 153, and William Wilson, 181, and Weightman, 203
Melmerby Rounds, 20
Michie, Robert, Hawick, xliii
Miles End athletic Border games, xlv
Morton, Thomas, Gale, 25, 33
" Joseph, Gale, 26
Mulcaster, Richard, on the art of "wrastling," 5
Muncaster bridge, "built by men from Grasmere," 86
Nanny, Louis, Haltwhistle, 171
Nicholson, Matthias, Penruddock, 11
Nicholson, Thomas, 99 —thrown by Miles Dixon, 83, match with Harry Graham, 117
Nicholson, John, 46, 100, 109
"Noo, lads, I've clear'd rooad for yee," 92
Olympic games, ix
"Owther the coo back, or the brass to pay for't," 205
Parker, John, Sparkgate, 54
" Joseph, Crooklands, 75
Parkyns, Sir Thomas, treatise on wrestling, xxviii, [Pg 250]rules and conditions, xxxii
Parkyns, Sir Thomas. Some account of his life, xxxiii
" and Professor Wilson, similarity between, xxxvii
Pearson, Henry, great upholder of wrestling, 106, 161, 199
Pearson, Shepherd—a curious bet, 49
Peart, Cuthbert, and Jemmy Fawcett, 40
Peat, Thomas, Blencow, 24, 32, 194
Pocklington, Mr., and Keswick regatta, 179
Pooley, Ralph, Longlands, 35
Powley, Miss, "Echoes of Old Cumberland," 20, 27, 155
Puritan anathema against Cumberland and Westmorland, 2
Pythian games, ix
Relph, Rev. Josiah, quotation from, 242
Reminiscences of West Cumberland, by William Dickinson, 236
Richardson, John, Staffield hall, 130
Richardson, John, Caldbeck, and Scotch rebels, 158
Richardson, Lady, Lancrigg, 87
Richardson, Thomas, "the Dyer," 156 " and Tom Todd, 168, 169, and William Wilson, 180
Richardson, William, Caldbeck, 43
" 118, and Dennison, 147, and William Wilson, 183
Ridley, Tom, "the glutton," and Tom Nicholson, 112, 138, and Weightman, 191
Robinsons of Cunsey, and Roan Long, 94
Robinson, James, 149-195, 209
Robinson of Renwick, 212
" Jonathan, Allerby, 214
Robley, John, Scarrowmannock, 24
" Joseph, Scarrowmannock, 56
Rodgers, Jonathan, Brotherelkeld, 75
Routledge of "Clockymill," 189
Rowantree, Robert, 126-54
Salmon poaching in the Derwent, 113
Savage of Bolton, 143
Scotland, wrestling in, xxxviii
Scott, Sir Walter, at St. Ronans games, xxxviii
Scott, James, Canonbie, 119
Scougal, George, Innerleithen, xl
Selkirk, John, Beckermet, throws "Clattan," 215
Skulls of Calgarth, 97
Slee, William, Dacre, 139, 152, 159
Snow storm of 1807, great, 133
Spedding, John, Egremont, 147
Stagg, John, blind bard, 15
Stamper, George, Underskiddaw, 110
"Standback," assumed name for trail hounds, 172
"Stangings" at Langwathby, 30
Steadman, George, Drybeck, 35
Stephenson, Thomas, and Jemmy Fawcett, 41
Stone Carr, ancient sports at, 8
Taylor, Benjamin, bone setter, 141
[Pg 251]Thompson, Joseph, Caldbeck, 33
Thompson, Teasdale, High Rotherup, 23
Thwaites, William, and Professor Wilson, 177
Tinling, Dr., Warwick bridge, 189
Tinnian, Job, Holme Cultram, 47
Todd, "Brandy," Wigton, 48
Todd, Tom, Knarsdale, 167—160, 161
Trail Hounds, 172
Turkey, wrestling match in, xxi
Ward, William, North Tyne, 128
Watson, Jonathan, 184, 193, 194, 210
Weardale wrestlers, 136
Weightman, John, 186—160, 171
" and Tom "Dyer," 165, and William Wilson, 184, and "Clattan," 211
Westmorland and Cumberland wrestling, ancient, 1
"What's t'e gaen to mak' o' yon 'an, Tom?" 166
"When a bit iv a tailyer can thrā' me," 93
Whitfield, "Pakin," 38
Wilson, William, 175-55, 88, 163
Wilson, William, "Wicked Will" of Grasmere, 177
Wilson, Professor, and Sir Thos. Parkyns, similarity between, xxxvii
" on the wrestling at Carlisle, 18, fracas with Tom Nicholson, 104
" Midnight chase of a bull, 244
" 78, 81, 83
Windermere lake, wrestling on frozen surface of, 14
Woodall, John, Gosforth, 8
Wrestling on St. Bartholomew's day, xxv
" and riots near the Hospitall of Matilde, xxvi
Wrestling match for £1000, xxviii
" not a Scotch game, xliv
Wright, Wilfrid, and Tom "Dyer," 166
"Wully! we sud beàth been weel bray't," 148
G. AND T. COWARD, PRINTERS, CARLISLE.
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Post by CW .org .info .net on Sept 29, 2011 21:23:41 GMT -6
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Wrestling and Wrestlers:, by Jacob Robinson and Sidney Gilpin *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WRESTLING AND WRESTLERS: *** ***** This file should be named 37562-h.htm or 37562-h.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: www.gutenberg.org/3/7/5/6/37562/Produced by Roberta Staehlin, David Garcia, Josephine Paolucci and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at www.pgdp.net. (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.
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