I have seen in Cornwall more persons present at these games, when the prize has only been a gold-laced hat, a waistcoat, or a pair of gloves, than ever attend the sports of Devon, (where the prizes are very liberal—for they don’t like to be kicked severely 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 ult.,[388] 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 the chance of a prize, owing solely to the hurt they have received by kicks from the knee downwards; and let me here add, that I have been present when even Cann’s brothers, or relations, have been obliged to do so. So much for kicking.—To the eye of a beholder unacquainted with wrestling, the Cornish mode must appear as play, and 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: Jordan by Parkins, and so on.
At a Cornish wrestling, a man’s favourite play can be seen by the hitch or holdfast he takes; as right or left, which is sure to be crossed by left and right, and the struggle immediately commences. The off-hand play is that in which the men have each a gripe on his adversary’s collar, or on the collar and opposite elbow, or wrist; when by a sudden blow against the outside of the foot, by the striker’s inside, (if strong enough,) or by a corresponding twist of the collar, one lays the other flat on his back. This is called playing with the toe; but they never wear any shoes, and are generally bare-legged from the knee downwards.
When the hitch is collar and elbow, one mode of play is to lift with the heel placed in the fork, with the back twisted round towards the other’s front, and pulling him strongly by the elbow and collar, carry him forward; but a back fall is then uncertain. Another way is to heave forward or backward with the crook, or inlock, or with the hip.
But the struggle is on what is termed the closing play, which is by hitching over and under. If righthanded, the over player has his right hand on the loins, or over the right shoulder of his adversary, with his right side towards him, and his left hand on the right arm, at the wrist or elbow; he then throws forward with the hip, or backward and forward with the crook, as before.
The under player has his right hand on the left side of the collar, his left crossing the loins on the back, or crossing the belly in front, and facing his opponent’s left side. His defensive play is to stop the hip by the clamp and the crook; by pushing forward with his left hand on the nape of the neck, and then heaving; which in the ring is considered the best play. A good and sure heaver is a perfect player. It must be done backward, if the arm crosses the back; but if it crosses the belly, either backward or forward will do. Cann was thrown by Polkinhorne backwards, which is dangerous to the heaver to attempt; for, if he does not lift with sufficient strength, and keep himself clear of his antagonist’s legs, he will not go far enough round, and instead of throwing his adversary a fair fall, he may fall on his own back, which is termed throwing himself; or his adversary may crook his leg within, and overbalance the heaver and by a quick movement throw him. Thus was Warren thrown by Cann. (See the Every-Day Book, vol. ii. p. 1337.)
The forward heave, if done quickly, is certain. Both arms must cross the belly, and your adversary be lifted across your chest; then, plunging forward, you fall on him crosswise; he has thus no chance, and the fall is complete; but the in-turn, if adopted before the lift from the ground takes place, baffles the heaver.
The Cornish hug is a tremendous struggle for victory. Both grasp alike, and not much science is required. It only takes place where each conceives himself to be the stronger of the two. It is either right or left. If right, each man has his right hand on the other’s loins on the left side, and his left hand on the right shoulder; they stand face to face, and each strives to draw his adversary towards him, and grasps him round the waist, till the hug becomes close, and the weakest man is forced backward—the other falling heavily upon him. This is a very sure and hard fall. So much for Cornish play. Now for that of Devonshire; which resembles in every respect (the toe and heel excepted) the off-hand play of Cornwall, but goes no farther.
The Devonshire men have no under-play, nor have they one heaver; and they do not understand or practise the hug. Visit a Devon ring, and you’ll wait a tedious time after a man is thrown ere another appears. After undergoing the necessary preparations for a good kicking, &c. 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 strength of arms wrests him 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 they are “much of a muchness” it is really tiresome: “caution” is the word; the shoe, only, goes to work; and after dreadful hacking, cutting, and kicking, one is at last thrown. The hardest shoe and the best kicker carries the day. Cann is a very hard kicker and a cautious wrestler. The Irishman’s legs bore ample testimony of the effects of Cann’s shoe. He left him knee-deep in a stream of gore.
The Devon men never close with a Cornish adversary, if they find he possesses any science; because they have no underplay, and cannot prevent the risk of being heaved: they therefore stand off, with only one hand in the collar, and kick; the Cornishman then attempts to get in, and the Devonman tries to confine one of his opponent’s arms by holding him at the wrist, and keeping him from coming in either over or under, and at every move of his leg kicking it. Here ends the description; by which it will be plainly seen that a Cornishman cannot enter a Devon ring on any thing like an equality.
Wishing well to both counties, and disclaiming undue partiality to either, I remain a true lover of wrestling as a rustic sport, and your obedient servant,