"Happy is it for us that we have in this effeminate, weak Age of powder'd Essence-Bottles, and Curled Coxcombs, a Person of rough Manners, and a robust Constitution; one that can stand upon his own Legs, after Droves of those modern waxen Things have fallen before him; one that instructs Englishmen to deserve the Title, and teaches 'em to make their Broad-Swords the Terror of all Europe. Men like you liv'd, when Greece knew her happiest Days. It was a Spirit like your's that instituted and supported the Olympic Games. But when their luxurious Neighbours once taught 'em to sleep till Twelve o' the Day, to pin up their Locks in Papers, to come from the Boxes of their Chariots into the Insides of 'em; to use Almond-Paste, and Rose-Water; in short, to quit Roast-Beef, and Hasty Pudding, for Soups and Ragouts; the Empire of the World was taken from them, and translated to the tough, sinewy Romans; and when they ceas'd to merit these Epithets, their Eagle drooped her Wings, and the Brawny Britons were the Favourites of Mars."
A fitting conclusion to the preceding notice of the much esteemed Bunny Park baronet, will be come to by bestowing a passing notice on the monumental memorial erected to his memory, in Broadmore church, Nottinghamshire. The "ruling passion" is made apparent, even after death had given Sir Thomas the last "Hugg." On one side of the monument he is represented in wrestling attitude; on another he appears thrown a back fall by Time. The following is a free translation of the Latin inscription:—
"Here lies, O Time! the victim of thy hand,
The noblest Wrestler on the British strand;
His nervous arm each bold opposer quell'd,
In feats of strength by none but thee excell'd;
Till springing up at the last trumpet's call,
He conquers thee, who, will have conquer'd all."
The inscription further depicts him as an estimable landlord; for it is recorded on the tablet, that with his wife's fortune he purchased estates, and erected for the tenants new farm houses.
Sir Thomas Parkyns died in 1751.
In his will there is bequeathed a guinea a year to be wrestled for every midsummer day at Broadmore.
We venture to surmise that our north country readers—more especially those interested in the sport half a century ago—will be struck with a similarity in the wrestling career and character of Sir Thomas Parkyns, and one of the great ornaments and enthusiastic advocates of the northern ring, namely, Professor Wilson. To us it appears there is a striking similitude. One, like the other, ranks amongst the cleverest and most scientific in their different modes of wrestling; one, like the other, had about the same social standing; one, like the other, somewhat eccentric in early life. One delighted with encouraging and upholding his favourite amusement in Bunny Park; the other happy when he could get together a goodly muster of athletes from the villages, the valleys, and mountain sides of the Lake district, at Bowness, Low Wood, or Ambleside—all within easy walking distance of Elleray, his beautifully situate Windermere mansion.
WRESTLING IN SCOTLAND.
In the year 1827, a society styled the "Saint Ronan's Border Club," was established at Innerleithen, near Peebles, the object of which was to revive the old martial spirit of the Borders, to encourage the practice of out-door sports and pastimes, and to yield amusement to the visitors of this sequestered watering place. Lockhart, in his life of Sir Walter Scott, (after giving an account of the publication of the novel of St. Ronan's Well, in 1823,) thus proceeds to describe the establishment of the annual gathering at Innerleithen:—
Among other consequences of the revived fame of the place, a yearly festival was instituted for the celebration of The St. Ronan's Border Games. A club of Bowmen of the Border, arrayed in doublets of Lincoln green, with broad blue bonnets, and having the Ettrick Shepherd for Captain, assumed the principal management of this exhibition; and Sir Walter was well pleased to be enrolled among them, and during several years was a regular attendant, both on the Meadow, where (besides archery) leaping, racing, wrestling, stone-heaving, and hammer-throwing, went on opposite to the noble old Castle of Traquair, and at the subsequent banquet, where Hogg, in full costume, always presided as master of the ceremonies. In fact, a gayer spectacle than that of the St. Ronan's Games, in those days, could not well have been desired. The Shepherd, even when on the verge of threescore, exerted himself lustily in the field, and seldom failed to carry off some of the prizes, to the astonishment of his vanquished juniors; and the bon-vivants of Edinburgh mustered strong among the gentry and yeomanry of Tweeddale to see him afterwards in his glory filling the president's chair with eminent success, and commonly supported on this—which was in fact the grandest evening of his year—by Sir Walter Scott, Professor Wilson, Sir Adam Ferguson, and Peter Robertson.