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 themanagement 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.,JOHNLITTLE.
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 themanagement 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.,
JOHNLITTLE.
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' itan even pund, than!" And accordingly he did so.
In the autumn of 1824, the two sons of Henry Howard of Corby Castle—Philip and HenryFrancis—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 thedegenerate 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 theCarlisle 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 theCarlisle Patriotof 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."
"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."
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—hiscoffin 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'pretendithe 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, challengedany 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 theCumberland 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.
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'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 theamount 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 diffidentand 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?"
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.
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,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!"
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. Bigmen, 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 bestTo bear the prize away;For Clattan he is coming;Don't let him win the day."
"Now, Weightman, you must do your bestTo bear the prize away;For Clattan he is coming;Don't let him win the day."
We have reasons for saying that Weightman wasnotat 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 ordinarycalibre—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,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 retainedhishold, 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 theruse, 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 aladder, "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 theCumberland 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 wasdrawn against John Selkirk of Beckermet. It is worthy of remark, (says a report in theCarlisle 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, hisweaknessfor 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 toogood 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 theWhitehaven 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 likeequality 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 comfortablecircumstances, 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.
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.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 RomanColiseum 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 wouldrush 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,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—
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.
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 goredto 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,bull baiting was finally suppressedwithinthe 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"—thenoutsidethe 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 hadbeen 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.
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 thedogs 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.