Many other small prizes were given, and they brought out a strong determined spirit of contention amongst the competitors. The one who had finally—after many sturdy contests—the belt placed over his shoulders, was regarded as quite a distinguished individual. If there were a dance in the evening, it of course made him a personage of no small account. Old and young regarded wrestling science, wrestling distinction and strength, with keen relish. The Sunday following victory, the champion might be seen marching to church, decorated with the belt, and on the Sunday following showing off at another neighbouring church. And this was not the only distinction: the lasses, one and all, looked on him favourably. He had no difficulty in getting a sweetheart, and matrimonial engagements frequently followed the prize winning; for amongst rustics, as well as in the higher classes, distinction is invariably looked on as a pretty good passport to a lady's favour.
Sometimes disputes would arise—for northern blood at sports and fairs is soon up—and then probably a punishing fight ensues. This, however, rarely happens. When it does take place, it is a fair stand up fisty-cuff fight. A very severe contest occurred at the Stone Carr meeting, which from the amazing stature and strength of the combatants, is deserving of record. Mr. Andrew Huddleston—an enthusiastic admirer of rustic sports—threw up the belt as a competitor. The country people for miles round about his own neighbourhood gave him the sobriquet of "Girt Andrew," from his giant-like stature and great strength. He came against one Thomas Harrison of Blencow, another Titanic specimen of humanity. Probably no two of like Herculean proportions ever stood together to take hold. "Girt Andrew" got grassed with a tremendous thud, and directly offered to fight his opponent. Harrison, no ways backward, accepted the challenge, and both prepared for a set-to. An unexpected interference occurred. A Presbyterian preacher, then stationed at Penruddock, persuaded them to desist, and apparently seemed to have got the burly combatants to depart home peaceably without a resort to blows. The feud, however, proved to be glossed over, and not healed, for even after jointly partaking of a friendly glass, Mr. Huddleston again threw down the gauntlet, and again it was taken up. The fight was obstinate and terrific, both receiving fearful punishment. In the end Harrison triumphed. In after years they continued good neighbours, without any manifestation of ill feeling.
Thomas Harrison had a brother named Launcelot, residing at Penruddock, who followed the occupation of a blacksmith. This man also possessed amazing strength, and was of gigantic stature. When dead, his remains were taken to Greystoke, and buried there. Some years after, the grave digger, in making another grave, dug into Launcelot's. He took out the jaw bone, and it proved to be half as big again as the sexton's, who was a stout six feet man.[7]
[7] Clarke's Survey.
Another Penruddock champion died in 1791, at the age of four score and six years, who was styled at that date, "the last of the northern giants." This was Matthias Nicholson, who, through a lengthened period, stood unrivalled at all the wrestlings and other athletic exercises and manly sports, which took place in the neighbourhood. His height was six feet two inches, and his bulk in proportion.
The top of High Street, a mountain near Haweswater, in Westmorland, seems a strange situation for holding Wrestlings, Jumpings, Horse Races, and other sports. This mountain is 2,700 feet above the level of the sea—a breezy elevation, forsooth, for such pastimes. Nevertheless, they were held annually on the 10th of July for many years, and long continued to be a flourishing institution. The primary object of the gathering was this:—On the heaves or pastures of mountain sheep farms, stray sheep are kept and cared for. The shepherds, on the day appointed, drive them to the place of meeting, and give them up to the rightful owners, who identify them by certain marks. After this important business has been gone through, a dinner is set out, and washed down with libations of ale or spirits, and, by the time keen appetites are satisfied, numerous additions have increased the assemblage, and then commence the wrestling, &c. It forcibly illustrates the deep hold these pastimes have in the minds of the rural population, when they are indulged in at such meetings and in such situations. From information which has been gathered from an aged native of Kentmere, it appears that the High Street gatherings fell into neglect, and were discontinued about sixty years since. They have been supplemented by similar ones—minus the races and wrestlings—held annually in November at the little road side hostelry on Kirkstone, and at the "Dun Bull" in Mardale, where sports and wrestlings are held annually on Whit-Monday. Mardale is at other times a lonely, little frequented dale, at the head of Haweswater. On one occasion the landlady of the "Dun Bull," on being remonstrated with for supplying sour porter in June, excused herself by saying: "Why, that's varra queer! It was freysh enuff last grouse time!"
Other places—situate advantageously for holding them—have now their shepherd's gatherings. At the High Street meetings a fox hunt was mostly an important part of the day's proceedings. The following fearful incident happened during a hot chase. Blea Water Cragg is doubtless well known to many summer tourists. It has a sheer fall of about three hundred yards, and the rock in many places appears to jut out even with the bottom. A man named Dixon, from Kentmere, was following a hard run fox, when he slipped and fell from the top of the rocks to the bottom. He was carried home, with no broken bones, but bruised and battered in a shocking manner; nearly all the skin and hair of his head cut off by the sharp-edged rocks—scalped, in fact. In falling, he struck against the rocks many times, and yet, strange to say, by his own account, he did not feel the shocks from first falling over to finally landing at the bottom of the perilous descent. Dizzy, stunned, and unable to stand, he had the chase uppermost in his mind, shouting as well as he was able to the first that got to him: "Lads! lads! t' fox is gane oot at t' hee end! Lig t' dogs on, an' I'll cum seun!" Insensibility soon followed this exhortation, and he was carried home, but recovered ultimately. The rocks have since been known by the name of "Dixon's three jumps."
Wrestling on High Street seems strange, but stranger still is wrestling on the frozen surface of Windermere lake. The one we have to record happened in 1785, during an excessively severe frost. When the ice had attained great thickness, a project was started for roasting a large ox on it. All preparations being made, "Rawlinson's Nab" was fixed upon as the locality for carrying on operations. The eventful day arrived without any break in the frost, and a vast concourse from all parts of the surrounding country assembled to enjoy the unusual sight. Creature comforts, in the shape of eatables and lots of beer, were not wanting. The enlivening strains of a band of music from Kendal, too, gave animation to the scene. The wrestling was in clogs, such as country people at that time generally wore. These primitive coverings for the feet, though well adapted for sliding on the ice, were clumsy to wrestle in; nevertheless, the falls were eagerly contested, and delighted the throng of spectators. The final victor received a belt.
From the interesting autobiography of Thomas Bewick, the celebrated wood engraver, who visited an uncle at Ainstable about the year 1776, we learn the following particulars respecting the feats of one of his cousins in the wrestling ring:—"I remained at Ainstable about a week, during which time I rambled about the neighbourhood, visited my friends at Kirkoswald and elsewhere, and spent what time I could spare in fishing for trout in the Croglin.... I began to think of moving abroad; and my cousin having occasion to go to Carlisle, I went with him there, where we parted.... At Langholm, my landlord who was a Cumberland man and knew my relatives there, was very kind to me; and among other matters concerning them, told me that my cousin who had accompanied me to Carlisle had won nine belts in his wrestling matches in that county."
We next come to a curious, remarkable, and noteworthy old custom at which, towards the latter end of the eighteenth century, and the early part of the nineteenth, wrestlings, and a variety of other sports, were much patronised. The celebration of Bridewains or Bidden Weddings were extremely popular in Cumberland. All the people of the country side were invited. For the amusement of the spectators assembled, prizes were given for sports of various kinds, as will be found described in the graphic dialect poem of John Stagg, the blind bard.