“Bishop Blaise the Ash-Waddler” (1823)
This is imaginative prose written for a London literary magazine, published in 1823 and set vaguely in “the Spring of 18-“, not a match report or an eyewitness account of a named event. Its worth lies in what it assumes its readers already recognised.
A first-person sketch, comic and heavily dialectal, in which the narrator meets Isaac Wall, an itinerant ash-gatherer who trades under the persona of “Bishop Blaise” (the woolcombers’ patron saint). Most of the text follows Wall’s courtship of Ally Shapcot on a north Devon farm near Exmoor, a courtship pursued through folk charms, an otter hunt, and a wrestling bout at the farmhouse hearth. The wrestling episode occupies a single sustained passage, prompted by old Jacob Shapcot’s challenge (“who says a clear floor for a fall?”), and runs through the narrator throwing three of the sons before letting the old man win a face-saving fall against him.
STROLLING one morning in the Spring of 18- through a village in the north of merry Devon, I observed young Isaac Wall (better known by the name of Bishop Blaise,) the roving ash-waddler, in hot argument with his worship the Justice. Isaac was mounted on a fine athletic ass, garnished on all sides with tinker’s tools and bags of wood, ashes. On the beast’s withers crouched a young otter snarling at the Justice as he flourished his staff at the waddler; who, with the end of a long, brown, polished, and rudely-carved pastoral crook, restrained his little amphibious friend from attacking his worship. He occasionally took the mitre from his head, and shook it in the Justice’s face; and ever and anon shed a cloud of dust from his patched clerical gown on his worship’s garments. These were quite in the old fashionquaint, bizarre, imposing, and affected. The style is now perhaps rooted out from its few strong holds even in the heart of Devon. He wore a blue coat, bedecked with silver coins, cuffed and collared with rich crimson velvet. His vest was a long-flapped flowery brocade -a cravat of fine muslin, with a running pink border, encircled his neck. His nether garments were greasy buckskins and yarn stockings of the old card pattern, wherein kings, queens, and knaves shouldered each other, ace shouldered deuce, diamond flamed cheek by jowl with spade, and every card in the pack flaunted ‘twixt ankle and knee-band. His worship was about fifty years of age, fat and unlettered: one who loved the ways of old, and had not been a score of miles from his secluded domains (as he often boasted) above thrice in his life. When I approached, he was loud in interrogatories. “How dare you, Sirrah?” quoth he, “How dare you travel the county in that guise, with a pedlar’s pack on your back too, when the maggot for illicit dealing bites? How dare you keep an alehouse by Exmoor yonder without a licence? What warranty hold you? Where’s your conscience ?”
“Shut up your worshipful head,” replied Blaise, drawing himself proudly up, and exhibiting a large woolcomb as he spoke. “A man’s conscience must have a broad pair of shoulders in these days; and many do that without authority which I do by statute. Talk to such men of conscience. I am a woolcomber’s son, Sir! Who does not remember Sampson Wall, my father? Did he not parade in proper trappings as Blaise the good Bishop’s representative, for nine successive years? He died, Sir, while officiating in the old rite, with his friends and the fellow-craftsmen who honoured him as their chief around him, in an open street of his native town-a woolcomber to the last, with this mitre on his head, this comb in his left and this crook in his right hand, and these robes flowing about him, as the proxy of the trade’s patron saint. I have worn them ever since; and while a rag of them hangs to its neighbour I’ll not cast them off, for the good old man’s sake, who impoverished himself to school such a truant, wandering, ungrateful, tinker-loving rogue of a fellow as I was. I am a woolcomber’s son, Sir, and therefore, thanks to Billy Pitt’s Act, can carry on any art, trade, or mystery whatsoever, and wheresoever, without let or hindrance from any dweller in the land, beyond the University precincts. I bite my nail at your worship. You have been wooing and hankering after Jacob Shapcot’s daughter Ally these three years; but, mark me, to spite your worship much and please myself a little, I’ll set about a lusty courtship to her at once, and if I do not ferk you out of all likelihood of ringing the beauty, why mandamus me!”-” Pooh! pooh!” pettishly ejaculated the Justice, while Blaise struck heels into his “palfrey’s” sides, and went off at a strong gallop through the village.
About a year after, I met with the waddler again, and inquired if he had succeeded in his wooing. “Sir!” said he, ” it was a whole month before I was cheered with a single giance of my lady goodluck: thus it happened. It’s a custom with us here in Devon to cure a broken lip by stealing unperceived behind the door at new-moon-tide, and then and there with closed eyes devoutly singing certain old rhymes, which you shall hear anon, ‘twixt the intervals of bussing. Sweet Ally had bitten her lips so fiercely at my warm courtship one evening, that when I came to see her the next night, my damsel’s mouth was sore and rough. The young moon had just then broken up from her soft cloudy pillow, so that I suspected what the lass was bent on by her attempting so often to creep to the doorway unseen. I marred her project thrice by a roguish glance, and, having a pleasant quiddit in my pate, suddenly bade the hearth-group good night. But deuce a step stepped I across the threshold. Ally had darkened the doorway for her own purposes, and I taking advantage of the cunningly contrived murkiness, slipped into the nook unperceived, instead of passing out. Anon comes my lass, with lid kissing lid, stealthily and lightly as fawn going to brook, when somewhat scared by the low patches of cloud, that swiftly scudding ‘twixt sun and glade, checquer her verdant path. My cheek was lowered to the height of her mouth, and dextrously did I contrive on her approaching, directed only by her warm, short, fluttered breathings, to be saluted–thrice saluted by the comely lass. • Wall! Wall! I love thee! And may thy virtue now cure me!’ sang she, and the words floated to my pleased ear, soft, low, and indistinct, as the gentle talk of a dreaming birdlet. She bussed again, and then chaunted loudly and triumphantly,
Wall! Wall! I’ve kissed thee, Wall!
Wall! Wall! I’ve wooed thee, Wall!
And none have seen my love to Wall!”Say you so, darling?’ cried I, suddenly clasping her up in my arms, and kissing her warmly,- Say you so, bird, to Wall’s face?’ And I danced out into view with her as I spoke; while Ally shrieked, her mammy frowned, and her stout brothers crowded about us, dancing, gibing, and frightening the caged blackbird’s head from beneath his wing, by their peals of jollity. Now, Ally, lass,’ continued I, as the roar abated, ‘you said last night, that you would be wooed willingly by Blaise, if ever you gave his sooty cheek a salute. Henceforth, I am a free suitor! But come, folks, who says a clear floor for a fall?’ ‘I’ll vell any o’ my buoys upo’ the lime-ash that do zay noa?’ cried old Shapcot, shaking his stick. This was enough. One of the youths immediately doffed woollens, and slipped into his corded jacket, and shin-facers. Our shoes were then rigidly inspected by the old man, who was chosen ‘tryer,’ and neither nail being found in the bottoms nor tinplate inserted atween the soles, we tippled a cup of cider to each other’s health, shook hands, and manœuvred for a grab. In two minutes I felled the youngster by a twist of the wrist and toe-touch. While gratulations were showered upon me for this feat, I cast my eye round, and in the winding of the staircase, detected Ally peeping over her sister’s shoulder at the sport. She drew back the moment she encountered my glance, but little Admonition boldly kept her place. I had another of the sturdy youngsters down in a twinkling; but Michael, the nestletripe of the sons, baffled me long. I threw him once on his side, again on two joints; and had almost brought him to another half-fall, which would have won me the bout, when the fellow slipped aside, and wiped off one from his score, by turning my own strength so cleverly in his favour, as to tiltme on the hip. I was up and at it again with a hot brow and a beating heart in a moment. He was a stiff one, and the time we had agreed upon for fair collar and elbow play, passed off in striving, and wheedling, and tempting, and kicking; still he was on his legs. I marvelled! Ally’s eye was again upon me. I saw it not, but felt it, or fancied I felt it, on my flaming cheek. Anon, in came Mike for a grip at my belly-band, or a kidney-hug. But I was ‘ware of him, and whipping out my gam, clutched him by shoulder and brisket. He went over, flying horse-fashion in a trice. Well! upon this, forth totters old Shapcot himself, from his elbow-chair, to play me out. The dusty protectors which he drew from a dark nook by the chimney-side were of rough bark; for he cleaved to the fashions of his foresires, and preferred the skin of a stout oak to guard his shins, rather than the tough hide of a bull. They were cosily lined with thick flannel, but still lacked padding to fit them to his waning withershins. Look tha there, Ikey,’ said he, as we pledged the preparatory health,-‘ Look at them trovies. I won thic pair o’ leatherns at Southmolton nineteen year agone come Yeaster; thac uns at King’snympton, the month avore Ally were bwoarn’d; and thuc othern at Yemmacott, the day I were morried. ‘Win me, and wear me,’ thou zeez’t zamplered upo’ th’ band o’ um, wi’ green and red zilk; but there they ha’ hung, and there they shall hang untouched, zo long as ever Geakup Shapcot do zuck wind. Now come on oot. I drowth un lads by the vore hip vor a virkin o’ yeal. Come on Ikey. If I dwoant scat tha, christen me twoad.’ Lord love you! I could have carried him, poor withered rogue, to my hut by Exmoor, easily as crow does dry elm-twig to her nest. But I dallied with him-pretending to put out all my craft and strength; and at last, when the old man sweated and blowed nigh to bursting his wrinkled hide, let myself sink gently down beneath him as a matter of policy. And then to hear the breathless old body trying in vain to squeak Victoria! oh! ’twas fine! The boys chuckled; the dame chirruped; and down came the girls with kisses and condolements. When the first burst of his joy was over, he sat cool, solemn, and dignified; affecting to treat his conquest as a mere matter of course. I was certainly, he said, one of the best players he had ever mated with; but few could evade his backclamp: it was no disgrace to be levelled by Jacob Shapcot. The sons laughed again; and he mistaking the cause of their mirth (for I feigned to be chapfallen, though Mike and his brothers knew how the affair was managed), reproved three, and whacked the fourth for scoffing at a beaten man.
“Supper, drink, and nutty mirth succeeded; but Alice was icy, and the Justice’s bags sat heavy on the mind of the dame. Little Admonition, my trusty ally, after long noting her sister’s deportment, at last stole out, winking to me as she went, and returned in about half an hour, with a few ashes in the corner of her bib, which she slily managed to empty unseen into my palm. ‘It’s the web o’th’ ould gander’s voot,’ whispered she; ”she died a Monday. I’ve a burned it for tha -Dooey just gie’t to th’ cretur in her drink, and I’ll warrant she’ll love’e. It’s a sure charm, and ha’ been tried scaures o’ times. If you do but offer zider to her, wi’ th’ ashes in ‘t, she’s witched by ‘t, and will she, nill she, the twoad can’t but drink-once down-and job’s auver -she’s thine for zertain.’ I pretended to laugh at her for a little fool; but warm was the kiss which I pressed on the sun-burnt curls that shaded her brow, and I seized the first opportunity to sprinkle a half-filled jug with a few of the ashes. I had not the least hope that the proud hussy would take drink from my hand, and advanced trembling with liquor and anxiety to Ally’s seat. Judge of my wonder, when she not only eagerly clasped the jug, but, instead of sipping like bird at flowery dew-cup, according to her usual custom, she smilingly quaffed off the whole contents. There’s virtue in an old gander’s footice thought I, and who knows the luck of the looby calf? Justice, your worshipful hopes totter. The ashes left a grey bow above Ally’s upper lip, and ere her smooth round arm reached it, the brothers’ eyes were one and all fixed on her. She stared at her arm, after she had passed it lightly across her mouth, and blushing deeply, looked about, to see if any one had observed her. The youths, as well as Ally, suspected what I had accomplished, and burst into an uproar of laughter, the moment Ally’s eye was fearfully bent on them. Little Admonition said, that I had succeeded in fixing a crooked pin in her sister’s skirt too, and the poor maiden deeming herself witched to have me, ran out of the kitchen, to search her garments for the obnoxious pin. Addy told me that she could not find it, and while my lass fretted in her chamber, I, spite of the frowns of dame, rejoiced at the hearth-side. My otter, Tommy, soon after crept into the place, with a live fish in his mouth; and while I was caressing the obedient and well educated little beast, Bob, ‘Gentleman Bob,’ the farmer’s eldest son, proposed an otter chase at day-break. The motion was carried by acclamation; orders were issued to the prentices for a gathering of efficient dogs among the neighbours; and after a little lingering, and peeping into the empty jugs, we all staggered bedward.
“The doze of age after a tipsy frolic is shorter than the sleep of youth –the married man who has been merry and wild overnight, leaves his bed the next morning long before the bachelor-Jacob Shapcot, with cracked voice, rheumy eyes, and sage long visage, was the first of the family that appeared in the kitchen at day-break. He cast a rueful and repentant look at the reliques of the night’s revelry, and hurried up his people, so that the hunt might be finished early enough for them to set about their usual avocations, within an hour, at the latest, after the customary time. He was just as sparing of his morning cups, as he had been lavish of his liquor overnight. After a single draught each, the young men speedily equipped themselves in baragan jackets, laced boots, stout hose, and straw hats, for the sport. Ally, with her nightcap awry, peeped out of her woodbine-shaded lattice; but seeing me in the yard below, blushed, tittered, and drew back again in a moment. At length, armed with pikes, dung-forks, hoes, and poles, with farmer Grane’s Towler, Toby Abbott’s Brandy, a couple of hounds that were billeted on Bob, his own private professional tykes, and some dozen yappers and yellers of all shapes and breeds, we started to the number of a score and half towards the neighbouring stream.
“We turned off at the boundary bridge of the good Squire’s park, through which the water flowed. The old hunters that sauntered about beneath the oaks in the lawn, pricked up their ears at Towler’s first joyful note, when freed from the coupling leathers, and galloped down at full speed towards the palings, over which they stretched their necks, and watched our proceedings, apparently with the most intense longing and interest. A meek doe had stolen charily down to the bank within the park, from whence she was scared in the midst of her draught, by the sudden plash of a leaping fish; and ere she had tripped thrice her length up the hill-side coppice, Towler’s voice struck her motionless with fear. The hares forgot their gambols, and scampered away to cover, from which a few of them immediately stole out again, some few bounds, and sitting erect on their strong haunches, with extended ears and searching eyes, peered anxiously around. The rooks in the wood behind the old mansion-house began to caw most querulously, and flapped about the tops of the elms for many minutes after, while the watch-dogs far and near responded in hoarse gruff tones to Towler’s musical bay.
“The banks were rugged and beetling; some of our dogs pried warily beneath them with nose and eye, while others beat landward round, and we, with pole and pike, searched about the roots of every old tree that bathed in the water, disturbing the lurking Jack from his lair, and driving the mottled trout like arrows up the stream. In less than half an hour old Brandy, the mother of the subscription pack, spoke in a gleeful and decided tone! Every eye and ear was turned towards such prime authority; those who were on the opposite bank dashed into the stream, and in a few moments men and dogs were all assembled round the pack-mother. Meantime she was driving her clear, melodious voice into a hole about the size of a barley-straw, some four feet or so from the water’s edge. There was evidently an otter’s haunt beneath, and we sturdily set about thwacking and thumping the ground with our poles. The true dogs parted off again: some betook themselves to the stream, paddling cautiously about within a yard or two of the bank; others posted themselves along the margin, all joyfully giving tongue and anxiously waiting for the burst. Out he came at last, and a chain of strong bubbles showed his course and velocity of dash, down the stream. There was a moment! There was a time of shouting, hurrying, cheering, and heart-beating! Away went the dogs after the game, swimming with all their might on the track of his ventings, or following in full cry along the banks. Some of us cheered on the pack, while a few of the most active cut across to the shallows, and plunging hip deep in them, with ready poles and erected spears, waited the diver’s approach. Onward he bore in gallant style, maiming the dogs who headed him, snapping at spear and pole, and evading every jawclutch and thrust by dip or parry. Finding us drawn up in such formidable array on his course, he rose for a moment, opened his strong jaws, gasped convulsively, grinned at the nearest hound, and diving again dragged him by the leg under the water. The victim was brave Towler, a rough and a rigid-toothed dog, but what chance has tyke with otter in the bed of a river? I hooked him up with my pastoral, when almost at his last gasp. He was hurt in twenty places, bleeding from heel to wither, water-blind, deaf, and lame; but his nose was still alive, and on the otter’s getting away again, spite of his disaster
*Brave Towler led the cryOur game soon after took refuge under a shelving bank. There he kept the bravest at bay. He sallied forth occasionally, marked mementoes of the day on the legs of six of us, drowned two of our hounds, disabled five, and sent several with their tails curled under their bellies disconsolate, sorry, and yelping, towards home. Thrice did he ‘scape us after we mooted him from the bank, and as often did our highnosed dogs reveal him again. At last, with Towler somewhat recovered, and hot with revenge, hanging on his gorge, while his own sharp teeth were making ribbons of Brandy’s lug, I speared him. He was mine by the laws of brook and fen. I carried him to Shapcot’s, and after laying the spoil at Ally’s feet, in the presence of the frowning Justice, I dried my robes, adjusted my mitre, mounted palfrey Ned, slung Tommy across his withers, and trotted merrily away.
Within a week I cut the bark off Hosea Butt’s nose, after he had opened the pates of Mike and Bob at a single-stick match, and from that time who but Blaise the waddler was king paramount at Shapcot’s, with all but the dame and Ally. I solaced them during the first three days of March-the deaf days, when they fear to sow corn (seed never growing that is buried at such time) and none lifted up so loud a voice as Ikey Wall at their harvest-home, when the old man, with sons, servants and assistant-neighbours about him, according to ancient custom, raised the garlanded oak-bough from earth towards heaven, in token of thanksgiving for his plentiful crops. Dozens whooped as the green branch was elevated, but my whoop was heard above all. The lass grew more kind, but she warmed to me slowly. The Justice I made a fool of, in the presence of Ally, regularly once a month; and whenever he sneaked down to the farmer’s, I, to the horrible discontent, fretting, and fuming of the dame, was found perched upon the seat of honour allotted to his worship, from which, refusing to wag an inch, with gibe and song, I flouted him most respectfully. He never could find occasion to quarrel with me openly, so well did I manage my taunts and girds. But the bee stings sorely through his rose-leaf-the Justice felt my thrusts, though prettily veiled, and hated me most bitterly. One night, when the dame expected his worship, she persuaded Ally to hang the rind of a turnip, which she had contrived to pare off without fracture, on the latch of the door. Whoever first enters is fated to be the bridegroom of the lass who fastens up this charm; and the old woman was desirous of doing away with the idea in Ally’s mind, that, having quaffed the gander’s-foot-ash cider, she was doomed to be linked to Blaise-by his worship being notified, under the influence of a cantrip of equal power, as the future lord of her hand. I was at the next farm moulding spoons of the bits of metal which the women had hoarded, when my little ally warned me of my peril. You may wonder why Admonition was so true to my interest. Gratitude made her my friend. She had the hooping-cough three years before, and I, in pity to the child, plucked a few hairs from the brown streak that adorns my donkey’s shoulder, sewed them up in a rag of my gown, and hung the charm with my own hands about her pretty neck. She was well in a week. But to proceed, his worship had already ambled down the hill from the village church when Addy came to me, but by a cross-path and good speed I reached the door before him. Oh! Saint Botolph! how she stared, the old dame did-and how she blushed, my beauty did-when I entered, and taking the rind from the latch unbroken to Ally’s lap, snatched a hearty buss for my fee. Shortly after in rolled his worship, and the first thing he heard was little Admonition’s tale, maliciously and shortly told, of the turnip charm. Sore was he at heart, though he affected to despise such follies; and I remember well, that on the same evening I gained a peg upon him thus: Ally, by accident, laid the bellows on the table whereupon his arm rested, and well the fat gentle knew, that she who places such an utensil on the board will be unlucky for three days after if she take it up again herself. Well he knew, too, that whosoever relieves the slut of that duty removes the ill-chance from her shoulders to his own; but fast he sat as roopy turkey-poult. I afforded him a fair opportunity to be gallant, but, finding him utterly currish, tripped at last across the floor and taking the bellows from his elbow hung it on its peg in the chimney. He repented when I touched it, but he was then too late. Thus obtained I a smile from my rose of the valley, and many a thorny look did she afterwards inflict on her cowardly suitor. The dame foamed, but I was merry with little Addy, and basked in the warm sunny looks of my love. Justice, thought I, to-day have I dealt thee a pong in the midriff.
‘He was a miserly rogue, and once when I came to his house in the way of my profession, on putting a handful from the heap which he warranted to be ashes of wood into my mouth, I knew, by the smack they left on my tongue, that they were vilely adulterated. Your worship,’ said I, ‘to every seam of your wood, you have burnt nine days gathering of cowdal from the moor, a hundred of turf, and many a square of tanners’ leather-chips, as well as niggardly bricks of blended clay, small coal, and cinders–my palate tells me this; and yet you warrant the heap to be all hard-wood and coppice ash. Did you think my tongue was ignorant as a quarry-slate?–Fie! fie!’ This lie of his got abroad; he was nick-named for it, and I, by him, more hated than ever. He has a fish-pond in his grounds which, tradition saith, is the abiding place of a furious water-pixy for twenty days current at the conclusion of every century. I had heard of the sprite’s tricks in the days of our grandads, and on the time of his re-appearance approaching, posted myself, night by night, near the pond, to watch his pranks. By way of amusing myself, I gutted the water, with the aid of Tommy, my otter, and feasted my friends with the spoil. They knew not where I obtained the fish-it was enough for them that they had it to prey on.Meantime I daily heard tales about the Pixy of Blackpool. He was described in a thousand different ways, and such feats were assigned to him as ear never heard before. I still fished in the watersTommy and I-but deuce a smiggott of aught wonderful saw we, save and except only a colossal carp now and then, during all our watchings. At last, his worship, while wandering with dame Shapcot about his lands to astound her with his rich possessions in beeve and fleece, unconsciously neared (about sunset) a hedge that fringed the bank of Blackpool. In the heat of an eloquent sally on the rare wool of his chilver-hogs then present, suddenly drops the uplifted cane from my gentleman’s hand, he roars like a town-bull, and takes to his heels, most uncourteously leaving the dame to settle with his honour the Pixy in the best way she could. I was up to my belt in water when I heard his shout (he shouts well, his worship does), aiding Tommy to capture a fine fish. I was busied, to be sure, but I looked suddenly and carefully about me, and no pixy saw I-deuce a bit of one. The dame, however, vowed she did, and sorely terrified she was. I found her sprawling and praying on the ground and most superfluous of kisses and kindness she became when I raised her up. As we walked towards home, she lavished curses, bitter as the words to which women are restricted could make, on the cowardly brutal Justice, for leaving a helpless woman in such a situation; and lauded me to the skies as a mirror of goodness and manhood. Ally despised his worship, and looked upon me as a living wonder, for my daring hardihood in rescuing her mother from the jaws of the terrible Blackpool goblin. I said nothing, but eh! me! how I chuckled! The Justice never showed his ruby-nose at Shapcot’s again, and matters went on swimmingly in favour of Blaise. One night Ally stole out with some other maids to sing
New moon! True moon-tell unto me,
Who my love and husband shall be.’I was standing at her elbow when she concluded. She stuck the heart of one of Bob’s game-cocks, that had been killed in battle, with new pins, placed it under her pillow in a stocking which had been thrice washed in fountain water, and bleached as often in moonlight: that night she confessed I was the subject of her dreams. The charm worked in favour of Blaise. She went to see the sun and moon jig together in the brook on Easter morning, with her true love’s face laughing at the fun. She glimpsed the peak of my mitre in the waters, and shrieking fell into my arms! If she loitered in the church-yard at nightfall to chaunt
• Hemp seed I set, and hemp seed I sow,
Let my bonny boy come hither to mow,’I was accidentally passing that way with a scythe or a bill on my shoulder, after assisting her brothers, a-field. Could she but love me? Or was she to fight fate? When each of us present at a merrymeeting threw a lock of hair on the fire (I need scarce say that the owner of the lock that frizzles without flaming is doomed to die within the year) she grew pale as a lily when mine created no blaze. Then I was sure she loved me! It was a bit of my palfrey’s mane, but I could not bring the colour to her cheek again, nor would she be easy until she plucked a curl from my brow, and it threw up a lusty flame when she cast it on the burning log. Then she moaned for my beast, and he, poor palfrey, has lived five months of his allotted time. I look forward with grief to the hour of our parting; but die he must at the year’s end-that’s fated. We played at shord and pancake last Shrovetide, Ally was lady of the door, and caught me as I was dropping my bit of crockery on the threshold. Nevertheless she did not black my cheeks with the frying pan, as by the law of custom she was entitled to do, but gave me a kiss and a cake, as if I had succeeded in laying down my shord, and escaping without detection. In fact, we are now as fond as two turtles, and to-morrow Alice will be made the bride of the roving waddler. Long may she live to vex the eye of his worship by her beauty, and to cheer my heart by her loving tones! My cot by Exmoor is fitted for her reception, and I shall hereafter limit my wanderings to a day’s tramp; but never while I am able, and she is willing, will I discontinue my profitable and merry occupation of gathering ashes for the soap folks. The hill-side shall still ring with my song-the metal be fashioned in my moulder-the wood-ash darken these the robes of my good old father-and young and old from village and homestead, crowd forth to greet and employ their boon-friend, their comforter, and champion, -Bishop Blaise, the ash-waddler.”
What it tells us about Devon wrestling
The bout is described in enough technical detail to corroborate, from an independent literary angle, much of what the documentary record establishes for the Devon style in this period. For example, Kicking is treated as intrinsic to the play. The narrator refers to “fair collar and elbow play” continuing while both men remain on their legs, and to a prolonged leg contest, which fits the Devon “out-play” of kicks, trips and locks rather than the Cornish “hugging and heaving”. Placed chronologically, the sketch sits neatly between Vancouver’s rules of 1808, which record kicking below the knee as permitted (Vancouver, 1808), and Shapter’s medical complaint of the 1830s about ulcerated legs (as cited in Porter, 1989). Kicking as a settled feature of the Devon game by the early nineteenth century is independently attested from at least 1773 (Jaouen, 2007), so the passage adds a further contemporary witness rather than a novel claim.
The footwear inspection is the single most valuable detail. Shoes are examined by an appointed official, “chosen ‘tryer'”, to confirm that “neither nail being found in the bottoms nor tinplate inserted atween the soles”. That maps directly onto the documented Devon rule that a wrestler was “bound by rule not to have any iron or other metal whatever in his shoe”, the soles instead hardened by baking. It also corroborates the policing function later visible in the organised game, where committees supplied shoes and padding and secured “honest triers” precisely to prevent malpractice (Porter, 1989). The domestic scene here shows that expectation operating informally, at a farm-kitchen level, well before the mid-century committee controls.
Shin protection appears as material culture rather than rule. Old Shapcot’s guards (“trovies”, “leatherns”, “shin-facers”) are described as oak bark lined with thick flannel, and set explicitly against the newer “tough hide of a bull”. That is a useful variant on the better-known skillibegs of twisted hay (Baring-Gould, 1908) and the later Victorian pad, and it carries an implicit sense of change within living memory, bark giving way to hide.
Other technical points worth mentioning, each consistent with the wider record:
- The jacket and grips. A youth strips to his “corded jacket”, and grips are taken at the “belly-band”, collar, and “shoulder and brisket”, which matches the loose early-century convention of taking hold at “the collar, arm, or any part above the waistband” (Vancouver, 1808). The language here cuold be figurative, or evocative of the wrestler being a piece of meat.
- Falls and scoring. The text distinguishes a “half-fall” from the fall that wins the “bout”, describes throws scored “on his side” and “on two joints”, and has a wrestler “wipe off one from his score” by a counter. That is compatible with the Devon fall-and-standard system, though the piece depicts an informal single bout with one “tryer” rather than the three sticklers and three-point back fall of the organised ring (Porter, 1989).
- Preliminaries and etiquette. Cider drunk to each other’s health, a handshake, then manoeuvring “for a grab”, a small vignette of ring courtesy transposed to the hearth.
- Named techniques. A “twist of the wrist and toe-touch”, the “fore hip”, the “backclamp”, the “kidney-hug”, and a throw “flying horse-fashion”, the last echoing the flying mare of the wider literature, or the flying horse as a distinctive technique (Parkyns, 1713).
- Prizes and fairs. Shapcot’s shin guards were won at South Molton, Kingsnympton and on his wedding day, worked with the motto “Win me, and wear me” in green and red silk, and he offers to throw “by the fore hip for a firkin of ale”. Both details tie recreational wrestling to the fair, revel and prize economy Vancouver describes.
Two further observations for the significance statement. First, geography: the setting is firmly north Devon and the Exmoor edge, which broadens a Devon picture that otherwise leans heavily on the south of the county and the Cann material. Second, register: this is wrestling as everyday farmhouse sociability, a challenge thrown down mid-courtship, which complements the fair-day and ring evidence with something closer to the vernacular texture of the sport. The single-stick reference (the narrator cutting “the bark off Hosea Butt’s nose” after a match in which Butt “opened the pates of Mike and Bob”) is a bonus cross-reference to cudgelling.
How much evidentiary weight it carries
Plausible and strongly corroborative, not proof of any specific event. The value is threefold: as testimony that these customs were current and legible enough for a magazine audience to follow in 1823; as an independent literary corroboration of the kicking game, the metal-free hardened shoe, shin protection and the inspecting official; and as a rare north Devon, domestic-register witness. Set against that, the comic dialect frame, the retrospective first person and the density of folklore mean individual details may be embellished for colour, so the passage should not be treated as a factual record of a match. Two smaller cautions: “fair collar and elbow play” is the author’s phrasing and should not be read as evidence of a formalised collar-and-elbow style in Devon, given how loose holds still were (Vancouver, 1808); and the place name rendered “Yemmacott” is not securely identifiable and is best flagged as unverified north Devon (there are some potential identifiers: Yarnacott (a hamlet near Barnstaple), Holmacott, or Mornacott (a rural estate near Exmoor), or possibly Yealmpton near Plymouth).
Places mentioned: North Devon; Exmoor; South Molton; Kingsnympton; “Yemmacott”.
Related references
Baring-Gould, S. (1908). Devonshire characters and strange events. John Lane, The Bodley Head.
Carew, R. (1602/2000). Survey of Cornwall.
Jaouen, G., & Nichols, M. B. (2007). Celtic jacket wrestling.
Porter, J. H. (1989). The Decline of Devonshire wrestling. Transactions of the Devonshire Association.
Vancouver, C. (1808). General view of the agriculture of the county of Devon.
Acknowledgements
With grateful thanks to Stephen Curtin.
“Bishop Blaise the Ash-Waddler” published in 1823 in The New Monthly Magazine and Literary Journal, Volume 8. Available online via Google Books.