Cudgelling, Wiltshire Folklife (1984)

CUDGELLING

In the last issue of Wiltshire Folklife there was a request for information on a number of interests. Two responses focus attention on cudgelling. Mrs. F. Morrison contributes her note and illustration below. This is followed by a note dated 1763 sent by Miss M.H. Nichols which presents the sport in a particular context.
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Cudgelling, playing the sticks or Backswording was formerly a popular sport at revels and fairs. It was a duel fought with heavy sticks, the aim being to draw blood from one’s opponents head. The first to do so won the bout.
After all the contestants had fought, the winners were matched until a final overall winner was awarded the prize, usually a gold-laced hat. The sticks had a ‘basket’ or knuckle protector, as can be seen in Richard Doyle’s illustration. The best description of the sport is in “The Scouring of the White Horse” by Thomas Hughes, first published in 1857.

“Two umpires got up on to the stage, and walked round, calling out.

“Two old gamesters at backsword, and two old gamesters at Wrastlin’, wanted to put to …. there was a stir amongst the knot of Somersetshire men, who stood together under one corner of the stage; and one of them, stepping up, pitched on to it his stumpy black hat and then climbed up after it himself, spoke a word to the umpires, and began handling the sticks, to choose which one balanced to his mind, while the umpires proclaimed, ‘An old gamester wanted, to play with John Bunn of Wedmore.’

John Bunn looked by no means a safe man to play with. He stood about five feet eleven, with spare long muscular limbs, a sallow complexion, and thick shockhead of black hair … His challenge was soon answered; and George Gregory of Stratton, one of the best
mowers in the Vale, appeared to uphold the honour of Berks and Wilts.

He stood half a head shorter than his opponent, but was, probably, the stronger man of the two, and had a sturdy and confident look which promised well, and was fair-haired, and, like David, ruddy to look upon.

The crowd drew a long breath, while Bunn and Gregory came forward, shook hands, and then, throwing up their guards, met in the middle of the stage. …. The coolness and resolution in the faces of the two men, as they struck and parried with those heavy stick, trying all the
points of each other’s play in a dozen rapid exchanges; the skill and power which every turn of the wrist showed; and the absolute
indifference with which they treated any chance blow which fell on arm or shoulder, made it a really grand sight….. ‘Bout,’ cried Bunn, after a minute or so, and down came their guards, and they walked to the side of the stage, to collect coppers from the crowd below in the baskets of their sticks …

I stopped by the stage until Gregory had lost his head. How it happened I couldn’t see; but suddenly the umpires cried out, ‘Blood!’
The men stopped; Gregory put up his hand to his hair, found that the blood was really coming, and then dropped his stick and got down. And two more old gamesters were called up. ….

Now comes a turn of the savage play, which ought never to be seen.
The Somerset man bends far back, and strikes upper cuts at the face and arms, and then savagely at the body. He is trying to maim and cow…. The crowd soon begin to get savage too; upper-cutting is not thought fair in Berks and Wilts; a cry of “Foul” and “pull him down”, is heard more than once.

But nothing put out old Harry Seeley, no upper cut can reach his face, for his head is thrown well back, and his guard is like a rock; and though the old blue shirt is cut through and through, he makes no more of the welts of the heavy stick than if it were a cat’s tail.

Between the bouts his face is cheery and confident, and he tells his friends to ‘hold their noise, and let him alone to tackle the chap,’ as he hands round his basket for the abounding coppers. …. Three bouts, four bouts, pass; Harry’s stick gets in oftener and oftener. There it comes at last! In the fifth bout Harry’s stick goes flashing in again, a fair blow down from the wrist, which puts the matter beyond all question, as the Somersetshire man staggers back across the stage, the blood streaming under his hair.”

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