WRESTLING.  
We must not close this department of our subject without saying a word or two on wrestling. This exercise, which at one time was almost universal, is now, like many others, fallen into general disuse; and is confined almost entirely to Cornwall and Devon in the west, and the counties of Chester, Lancaster, Cumberland, and Westmoreland in the north. These counties, indeed, have always been pre-eminent in the science of wrestling, and have possessed practices peculiar to themselves. Formerly, the citizens of London were great wrestlers. Stow tells us, that in the month of August, about the feast of St. Bartholomew, there were divers days spent in wrestling. The lord mayor, aldermen, and sheriffs being present, in a large tent pitched for that purpose, near Clerkenwell; the officers of the city, namely, the sheriffs, sergeants, and yeomen; the porters of the king’s beam, or weighing-house, etc., gave a general challenge to such of the inhabitants of the suburbs as thought themselves expert in this exercise. In Sewell’s History of the Society of Friends, a curious circumstance is recorded connected with this taste of the Londoners for wrestling. Edward Burrough, a young and enthusiastic preacher in that society, which then was newly formed, seeing a ring made for a wrestling match in some part of the city where he was passing, and a man in it awaiting the acceptance of his challenge by some one, suddenly[532] stepped into it, to the great amazement both of the champion and the spectators, “who,” say the historian, “instead of some light and airy person, seeing a grave and awful young man,” were utterly posed and confounded; and the eloquent and zealous minister, taking advantage of this surprise, told them he was prepared for a contest, but of another sort to what they were looking for; and forthwith gave them such a sermon in his fiery and vehement style of eloquence, which had gained him the name of Boanerges, or the Son of Thunder, as wonderfully quieted them down, and sent them away in a solemn frame of mind.
This wrestling spirit, however, appears to have vanished for a long period from London as well as the country, and to have been only of late years revived by the West of England, and the Westmoreland, and Cumberland Clubs. These have drawn together great numbers; the spectators at the anniversary display of the Westmoreland club at Chalk-Farm, in the spring of 1837, being about 8000.
Sir Thomas Parkyn, of Bunny Park, in Nottinghamshire, who was a zealous advocate and patron of wrestling, gave an annual prize for the best wrestler, and ordered the continuance of the same in his will; but it would not take root there, and the only remaining traces of his endeavour are, his book on the Cornish Hug, and his effigy in a niche in Bunny church, in the attitude in which a wrestler receives his antagonist, with his favourite title of Thomas Luctator inscribed over his head.
It is singular that in the two extremities of the country, where wrestling maintains its ancient popularity, adjoining counties, whose rivalry, no doubt, keeps alive the interest in it, should maintain such opposite practices. In some of the northern counties, kicking is allowed, in others it is not. In Devon, kicking shins is a great part of the game; in Cornwall it forms no part of it. Lancashire is famous for its cross-buttock, and Cornwall for its hug. Cornwall and Devon, however, possess unquestionably the pre-eminence in this ancient art, an art which held an eminent rank in the Olympic games of Greece. “The Cornish,” says Fuller, “are masters of the art of wrestling, so that if the Olympian Games were now in fashion, they would come away with the victory. Their hug is a crowning close with their fellow combatant,[533] the fruits whereof is his fair fall, or foil at the least.” “They learn the art,” says Carew, “early in life, for you shall hardly find an assembly of boys in Devon and Cornwall, where the untowardly among them will not as readily give you a muster of this exercise, as you are prone to require it.”
A writer in Hone’s Every-Day Book, in 1828, says, “No kicks are allowed in Cornwall except the players who are in the ring mutually agree to it. A hat is thrown in as a challenge, which being accepted by another, the combatants strip, and put on a coarse loose kind of jacket, of which they take hold, and of nothing else. Play then commences. To constitute a fair fall, both shoulders must touch the ground at or nearly the same moment. To guard against foul play, to decide on the falls, and manage the affairs of the day, four or six Sticklers, as the umpires are called, are chosen, to whom all these matters are left. Wrestling thrives in the eastern part of Cornwall, particularly about Saint Austle and Saint Columb. At the latter place, resides Polkinhorne, the champion of Cornwall, and by many considered entitled to the championship of the four western counties; Cann, the Devonshire champion, having declined to meet him, Polkinhorne has not practised wrestling for several years past, while Cann has carried off the prize at every place in Devon that he shewed at. They certainly are both good ones. Parkins, a friend of Polkinhorne’s, is a famous hand at these games; and so was Warner of Redruth, till disabled in February 1825, by over-exertion on board the Cambria brig, bound for Mexico.”
This writer proceeds to state that John Knill, Esq. bequeathed the income of an estate to be given in various prizes for racing, rowing, and wrestling; these games to be held every fifth year for ever; and that the first was celebrated in July 1801, around a mausoleum which he erected in his lifetime on a high rock near St. Ives. “Early in the morning, the roads from Helston, Truro, and Penzance, were lined with horses and vehicles of every description, while thousands of travellers on foot poured in from all quarters till noon, when the assembly formed. The wrestlers entered the ring; a troop of virgins dressed in white, danced and chanted a hymn composed for the occasion; the spectators ranged themselves along the hills, and, at length, the mayor of St. Ives[534] appeared in his robes of state. The signal was given; the flags were displayed from the towers of the castle; here the wrestlers exerted their sinewy strength; here the rowers dashed through the waves, and the songs of the damsels added delight to the scene. A dinner and ball at the union Hotel concluded the day. The games were again celebrated in 1806, 1811, 1816, and 1821, with increased favour and admiration.”
So much for Cornish play; that of Devon, I have already said, is of a different kind. The Devon wrestlers don’t practice the hug, but kick shins dreadfully. For this purpose they have their shoes armed with iron, and before going into the ring, they wrap up their legs with numerous folds of carpeting to defend themselves from the violence of the kicks. “The Devonshire men,” says the same writer, who professes to be of neither county, and to admire the champions of both, “have no under-play, nor have they one heaver. Visit a Devon ring, and you will wait a tedious time after a man is thrown ere another appear. After undergoing the necessary preparation for a good kicking, he enters, and shakes his adversary by the hand, and kicks, and lays hold when he can get a fit opportunity. If he is conscious of superior strength, he goes to work, and by force of arm wrests his opponent off his legs, and lays him flat; or if too heavy for this, he carries him round by the hip. But when the men find that they are ‘much of a muchness,’ it is really tiresome; caution is the word, and the hardest shoe, and the best kicker, carries it. I have seen in Cornwall more persons at these games when the prize has been a gold-laced hat, a waistcoat, or a pair of gloves, than ever attend the sports in Devon, where the prizes are liberal, for they don’t like to be kicked for a trifle; or even at the famed meetings of later days in London, at the Eagle in the City-Road, or the Golden Eagle in Mile-End. How is this? Why, in the latter places, six, eight, and at farthest twelve standards, are as much as a day’s play will admit of; while in Cornwall I have seen forty made in one day. At Penzance, on Monday, 24th ultimo, thirty standards were made, and the match concluded the day following. In Devon, what with the heavy shoes, and thick padding, and time lost in equipment and kicking, half that number cannot be made in a day. I have frequently seen men obliged to leave the ring, and abandon[535] the chance of a prize, owing solely to hurts they have received by kicks from the knee downwards; nay, I have seen Cann’s brothers, or relations, obliged to do so. To the eye of a beholder unacquainted with wrestling, the Cornish mode must appear as play; that of Devon—barbarous. It is an indisputable fact that no Cornish wrestler of any note ever frequents the games in Devon, and that whenever those from Devon have played in Cornwall, they have been thrown—Jordans by Parkins, and so on.”
I think any person not of Devon must give the preference to the play of Cornwall as more scientific and less savage; but before we proceed to compare the rival champions, let us give a little more display of the Devonshire men by an eye-witness in 1820, who has related his visit to the ring at Exmouth, in the London Magazine, with a great feeling of enjoyment. He was told one morning that there was going to be a wrestling, and that “the Canns would be there; and young Brockenden; and Thorne, from Dawlish; and the men from the moors!” This excited his imagination; as well it might, for there is something about the names of these men, the Canns, the Brockendens, the Widdicombs of the moors, that has a wild, grim, and wrestlerish sound; and accords well with those grey, ancient, and romantic moorlands of the western regions of our island. On approaching the ring he found a champion in it. “He was a young man of extremely prepossessing appearance, stripped to the shirt, and enclothed with the linen jacket with a green cock on the back, which I have noticed to be the customary garment. His figure, which in its country garb had not particularly impressed me with its size or strength, now struck me as highly powerful, compact, and beautiful. His limbs were well grown, and strongly set—yet rather slight than otherwise—and his body was easy, slim, and yet peculiarly expressive of power. The fronts of his legs from the knee to the ankle, were armed with thick carpeting, to protect them from the kicks of his antagonist; and even this strange armour did not give to his person the appearance of clumsiness. His neck was bare, and certainly very fine;—but the shape of his head struck me as being the most expressive and poetical (I use the term under correction) I had for a long time beheld—being set off, I conceive, by the way in which his hair was arranged;—and this was dark, hanging in[536] thick snaki............