For a long time, wrestling in the immediate vicinity of lake Windermere, and the adjacent parts of Westmorland, and North Lancashire, was kept up and followed more after the amateur fashion than the professional. It was looked on more as a thing to be enjoyed for the real love of the science, than as a means of filling the coffers of speculators. In what may be called its holiday aspect, the sport contrasted favourably with the art as practised in the sister county of Cumberland. The Windermere wrestlers, in thus shaping their courses, probably escaped many snares which those fell into who courted more publicity, and were envious of achieving greater fame. In fact, there were many good scientific men at the palmy period of the lake wrestling rings, who abstained from attending public gatherings almost entirely, and yet were quite as good as those who may be termed professionals.
One instance we can select from many, will suffice to prove this. Jonathan Rodgers won the championship of many local meetings in his own immediate neighbourhood. He was born and brought up at Brotherelkeld, the highest farm in the vale of Eskdale. In his infancy, it was a lonely farm, seldom visited by strangers, but now well known to tourists crossing Hardknot. His forefathers had held the fell farm—a very extensive one, carrying between two and three thousand sheep—for generations. He once got as far as the Flan, and won easily in a strong ring, finally disposing of Joseph Parker of Crooklands, a really good man, supposed to be the coming champion of Westmorland. At another time, climbing Hardknot and Wrynose, he put in an appearance at Skelwith-bridge, near Ambleside, where Mr. Branker of Clappersgate, and a few gentlemen, had got up a meeting. Singularly enough, he came against four of the best men in the north, and threw the lot, namely—William Bacon and Jemmy Little, both of Sebergham, Thomas Grisedale of Patterdale, and finally Richard Chapman of Patterdale. Having every requisite, he might have gone on winning—but gave up; and is now the respected and prosperous tenant farmer of Brotherelkeld.
Towards the close of the eighteenth and the commencement of the nineteenth century, the most distinguished exponents of wrestling in the Windermere portion of the lake district, were John Barrow, the Dixons of Grasmere, the Longs of Ambleside, William Wilson of Ambleside, the Flemings of Grasmere, well to do farmers—and "Young Green." We should have felt an interest in giving more lengthy sketches of the more prominent men, but, unfortunately, there exists a great paucity of information. Every exertion has been made to gather together whatever was available; but the gleanings are exceedingly imperfect and fragmentary. Local newspapers did not then collect much local intelligence; and although they kept a keen eye to business as regards wrestling advertisements, they scarcely ever mentioned even the names of any prize winners.
The celebrated Windermere champion, John Barrow, flourished in the wrestling ring in the early part of the present century. The author of Wrestliana—one whose judgment may be relied on—pays him a deserved compliment, when he rates him as "the most renowned wrestler of this period," and "a match for any man in the kingdom." He stood fully six feet, and weighed fourteen stones. His favourite chip was the inside stroke—indeed, it was generally considered he invented the inside chip, and that "Belted Will" got it from Barrow. Most assuredly, the pair have grassed scores with it, and were quite as clever as Adam Dodd of Langwathby, with the outside stroke. These two men, and Abraham Brown, (afterwards the jovial curate of Egremont,) were all about the same height and weight: equally scientific; and all veritable "cocks of the north."
Litt is astray with some particulars of John Barrow's tragic fate. He makes it out he was drowned in shallow water, and that he was an "excellent swimmer." Now, the fact is, he was no swimmer, and where the boat upset and went down, the lake is of considerable depth. He was out trying the sailing qualities of a new boat of his own building. The mainsail being injudiciously fastened to the belaying pin, a violent gust of wind struck the boat; it upset, and the strong man went down, unable to wrestle with his remorseless foe. Two plucky girls at Belle Grange, saw the accident; got a row boat, and set off to the rescue. They were successful in saving all in the boat, except the unfortunate builder. One of the persons in the boat when it upset, was John Balmer, and he lived to the patriarchal age of one hundred and one years. After the boat went over, he managed to grasp and keep hold of a floating plank, and was safely landed near Gill-head, a little below Storrs Hall. The first words he spoke after the disaster were, "Them 'at's born to be hang't, is suèr nit to be droon't!" This proverbial saying came to be linked with his name, and is still quoted in the neighbourhood as, "āld Jack Balmer' sayin'." His portrait, painted by Sammy Crosthwaite, a short time before his death, is still preserved.
The sunken boat still remains at the bottom, and is well known to the Windermere fishermen, who reckon to clear the wreck with about twenty-five fathoms of netting out, and generally catch when they let go an additional fathom or two. Professor Wilson saw the catastrophe and the rescue. This distinguished man had had, no doubt, many boating excursions with poor Barrow, and being himself a capital wrestler, and keen of the sport, it is likely he would have many a tussle with the Windermere champion. It is said that on one of his excursions out of Wasdale, to the top of Scawfell, with Will Ritson, the cheery, popular, yarn-spinning landlord of the well-known Wasdale-head hostelry, that on arriving near the summit of the hill—which is the highest ground in England—the two, surrounded on all sides by mighty mountains, had several keenly contested wrestling bouts. The writer remembers well the famed Professor, when time had wrought a change in the manly form, visiting the Flan in its palmy days, and receiving respectful attention from all parties on the crowded grandstand.
After this short digression, recording the fate of "a great wrestler and a good man," we must return to Miles Dixon. He was born in the year 1781, at either "Far" or "Near Sawrey." They form two villages, but are so little apart that they may both be classed as "Sawrey;" and are situated half-way between Hawkshead and the Ferry on Windermere. No more beautifully located, clean, bright looking, secluded villages are to be found in all the Lake district. The most prominent and interesting view from "Near Sawrey," is Esthwaite lake; and all around to the south, south-west, and north-west, there appears a wide extent of richly wooded undulating country. From "Far Sawrey," there is a view of the lower reaches of Windermere, and a vast panorama of undulating hill and vale.
Miles's father followed the primitive occupation of a wood-cutter, felling timber trees and young trees of fifteen or sixteen years growth, called coppice wood, used for making hoops and charcoal. While his sons were "lile lads," he removed across Windermere to the vale of Troutbeck, and then in a short time migrated to Grasmere, where he settled.
Miles Dixon's full stature was six feet three inches; and his general wrestling weight, fifteen-and-a-half stones. His favourite move in the ring was to lift his opponent from the ground one way, then throw him quickly back the other—and dispose of him, so to speak, with a twist. His herculean powers enabled him to do this effectually. He had other tactics on which to fall back, but occasions very rarely occurred when these had to be called into action. His quiet habits, and mild enthusiasm for wrestling, often made him careless. Had he possessed a greater amount of ambition, and followed the wrestling ring more closely, we should undoubtedly have had to record a much more numerous list of achievements. Professor Wilson hits off some of his leading characteristics very happily when he says: "Honest and worthy Miles, if put into good heart and stomach, and upon his own dunghill, was, in our humble opinion, a match for any cock in Cumberland."
Young Dixon won his first belt at Grasmere, when only about sixteen years old. John Fletcher, the village carrier, a powerful sixteen-stone man, wrestled second. It so happened the carrier was very ambitious of winning first honours, and feeling sorely disappointed at being thus checkmated by a beardless boy, tore the waistcoat off his opponent's back, in a passion, and for a long time bore the victor a grudge.