‘Exmouth Wrestling’ – London Magazine (1820)

June 22, 2025
July 21, 2025
19 min read
Cockerels Parkyns Strutt

Page 608

EXMOUTH WRESTLING.

Rosalind. —— Shall we see this wrestling, coz?
Le Beau. You must, if you stay here, for here is the place appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to perform it.

As You Like It.

Page 609-611

[The first part describes a Londoner’s life and the author’s visit to Exmouth in September. We have truncated this part as not relevant to the archive.]

…I was induced, during my stay in the West of England, in September last, to pass a fortnight at Exmouth, —a very pleasant sea-side village, on which a very pleasant force has been written.—That I did not make a difficulty of being induced, may be conjectured, when I confess to having pretty broadly hinted at such an excursion to my friends, and acknowledge that they threw aside all nicety and thought, and made up a party for the purpose. The village is seated, as its name intimates, at the mouth of the river Ex;—some of its best houses are built on a high cliff, which commands the sea and the river, and from which some of the most splendid sunsets are to be seen that eye of man can desire…

[Description of the village continues. We have truncated as not relevant to the archive.]

One morning,—(I seem to have indulged in generalities long enough,) —one morning, on sauntering to the window after breakfast, I perceived in a piece of flat meadow ground, an unusual assemblage of spars, posts, rails, remnants of tattered rigging, and cordage. The servant, with a voice of peculiar satisfaction, informed me, in answer to an inquiry which escaped me without difficulty,—that there was going to be “a wrastling, as she, in her county dialect, expressed herself. What! A match? said I, —evidently as much delighted as if I had been a “native there,—and to the manner born.”—”Yes, Sir!” she replied—”And the Canns will be there and young Brockenden, — and Thorne from Dawlish, and the Men from the Moors!”—Oh, if it be a fault to admire the sport and pastime of the poor—to delight in their manly games, and feats of courage and enterprise,—I must at once confess myself guilty of it to the fullest extent: —it is not for me to plead to the minor offence. I see all I can see, at all times, of skilful struggle between man and man;—and I glory in seeing it!—The communication of this enthusiastic serving-woman sounded to me pleasantly indeed;—I could not help thinking it somewhat poetical, and there is a beauty even in common names, when clustered together thus, and connected with the idea of personal enterprise and superiority, which, I own, makes a strong impression on my feelings, and I believe is not without its effect upon those of others. “Young Brockenden,” appeared a gallant name;—and, to my ears, there seemed something decisive in the name of “Thorne from Dawlish;”—but the “men from the Moors” came upon my imagination like a clan from the Highlands, or the sudden incursion of a band of freebooters from a quiet hamlet. The music hour was twelve o’clock; —and I panted for that hour!

In the mean time, I went continually to the window, and could plainly distinguish the labourers preparing the ring, and fitting up booths for the accommodations of those persons who might wish to guard against a wet day outwardly, and who would not object to it inwardly. I could almost fancy that I heard the hammers of the workmen “accomplishing the field;” [remainder of page continues…]

Page 611

In a plate from an old picture, supposed to be considerably anterior to the time of Chaucer, and which is given in Strutt, two men are represented wrestling for a cock;—it is curious that even at the present day the combatants wear a loose linen jacket, on the back of which is affixed the figure of a cock in cloth of a green or red colour. The prizes were, in early days, a ram, a small sum of money, or even something of greater value. Strutt quotes an extract from one of Robin Hood’s songs, which touches on the rewards of the conquerors.

The men of Devon and Cornwall have been celebrated, from time immemorial, for their skill and prowess in the art of wrestling. The boys may at the present day be seen struggling and practising at a very early age; and Carew says, in his quaint old style—”you shall hardly find an assembly of boys in Devon and Cornwall, where the most untowardly amongst them will not as readily give you a muster of this exercise, as you are prone to require it.”

[Page 613 continues with description of the wrestling ring] There was a large circle of wooden railing erected, forming the back to a single bench, and within this ring you were admitted on paying the sum of three pence. The crowd was compelled to stand as near to the rails as possible, and thus an open space was kept for the competitors. After the rules had been read, which I could not very well hear,—a hat was hurled into the air, and immediately followed by one from an acceptor of the challenge;—the wrestlers began to prepare immediately for the struggle.

The first that stood in the middle of the ring, having been stript to the shirt, and encircled in the linen jacket with a green cock on the back,— which I have noticed to be the customary garment—was a young man of extremely prepossessing appearance. His figure, which, in its country garb, had not particularly impressed me with its size or strength, now struck me as highly powerful, compact, and beautiful. His limbs were well grown, and strongly set—yet rather slight than otherwise—and his body was easy, slim, yet peculiarly expressive of power. The fronts of his legs, from the knee to the ankle, were armed with thick carpeting, to protect him from the kicks of his antagonist; and even this strange armour did not give to his person the appearance of clumsiness. His neck was bare, and certainly very fine;—but the shape of his head struck me as being the most impressive and poetical (I use the term under correction), I had for a long time beheld—being set off, I conceive, by the way in which his hair was arranged—and this was dark,—hanging in thick english curls on each side his forehead, and down the back part of his head. Add to all this, a handsome melancholy thin countenance, and you will have at once some idea of the young man who now stood before me.

I turned to a countryman near me, and inquired who this youth might be, whose undaunted mien and comely port had so taken my favour and captive. “Who is that?” said the man with a tone of surprise, accompanied with a look of profound pity at my ignorance,—”why, one of the Canns to be sure!”—In an instant I remembered the name, and its presence so well seconded the feeling which the fresh sight of the ring, and its well-known manly sports had awakened, that the enthusiasm of the servant had awakened, that a blush on my mind, at not recognizing in such a figure one of the names which were in the mouths of women and children, as synonyms for prowess and valour, and which at the onset had sounded to me like fame!

Page 612

The beholders the east, or form themselves into a ring, in the empty space where the two champions step forth, stript into their doublets and hosen, and untrussed, that they may so the better command the use of their limnes; and first shaking hands, in token of friendship, they fall presently to the effect of anger; for each layeth hold of the other with his best advantage, and to bear his adverse party downe; wherein, whosoever overthroweth his mate, in such a manner, as that either his backe, or the one shoulder, and contrary heele do touch the ground, is accounted to give the fall. If he be only endangered, and make a narrow escape, it is called a foyle. This pastime also hath his laws; for instance of taking hold above the girdle,—wearing a girdle to take hold by,—playing three pulles for tryall of the mastery, the fall given to be examined from playing again with the taker, but bound to answer his successor. Silver prizes, for this and other activities, were wont to be carried about, by certain circumforenci, or set up at bride ales; but time, or their abuse, hath worn them out of use.

Strutt, whose name I have so repeatedly mentioned, and to whom I am so much indebted for information on the subject, gives a representation of two persons riding on the shoulders of two others, and so wrestling for the fall. He states this to have been a sport of the fourteenth century:—I think I have been concerned in such a pastime at school within even a very few years,—and the great object was to secure, what was termed, “a good horse.” This amusement seems trifling enough, and is certainly no trial of bodily strength, agility or skill.

[Content continues with Carew’s description of Cornish wrestling…]

Page 613

Carew, the old writer before referred to, thus quaintly describes the art of wrestling in the western parts of England:—It will be seen that some change has taken place in the science itself, in the present age, but the practice has certainly not declined.

As he went by Antony

was a wrastling,

And there taryd was he,

And there was all the best yemen,

Of all the west countrye.

A faill fayre game there was set up;

A white bull up yright;

A great cow with saddle and brydle,

With golde burmished full bryght;

A payre of gloves, a red golde ringe,

A pipe of wyne, good faye;

What man bereth him best, ywis,

The prize shall bear away.

Pages 614-615

By noticing a very learned, quaint, and ingenious little work on the Art of Wrestling, which I met with by chance in a pamphlet-shop, and which I have read with much admiration. I believe it is the genuine reprint of an old book—though certainly now published in a very graceless and forbidding shape.

The title page sets forth that the work is written by Sir Thomas Parkyns, of Bunny-Park, Nottinghamshire;—and certainly a more intense production, on the use of the sinews and muscles, cannot easily be pointed out. Sir Thomas lived in the early part of the last century, and was remarkable for his skill in, and fondness for, the art of wrestling. He was strong in the loins, and a justice of peace for Nottinghamshire and Leicestershire. All his servants were trained to the sport, and he gave public exhibitions of it, taking an active part himself in tripping up his coachman, and giving his footman a heavy fall. He was fond of indulging in scraps of Latin, in which, however, he was not so powerful as in wrestling.

Pages 615-617

Sir Thomas studied physic for the good of his neighbours,—married two wives, one being the daughter of a London alderman,—indulged in a selection of stone-coffins during his life, for his choice to lie in after death,— left a guinea to be wrestled for on Midsummer-day, and a sum-ditto to the ringers of Bunny church, among whom he had often formed one,— wrote a book,—and died in the year 1741, aged 78.

His little work, however, must not thus be dismissed…

Sir Thomas wrestles naturally with grammar; is good at the in-play with metaphors and figures. The dedication—which, by the bye, gives the book to no one, and is, therefore, strikingly original—is “a fair specimen of the author’s style,” as the Reviews express themselves…

The concluding advice cannot be strictly adhered to.

The second division of the book, is a regular set of rules and directions for “Every Man his own Wrestler,” and commences with several pages on strained ankles, (which allows for Sir Thomas’s passion for physic to have its way,) and the best methods of avoiding or curing the Evil. High-heeled shoes meet with the kind Baronet’s most serious and vehement displeasure, as being the cause of all sprains.

Page 617

Next follows much masterly advice on the mysteries of wrestling, with full instructions on those various holds and falls, which are most destructive in conclusion. The ignorant are clearly taught how to accomplish “the Flying Horse,” which simply means pitching your friend over your head. “The Flying Mare,” is a throw of nearly the same airy description. I really cannot follow Sir Thomas through all his dissertations on “the hanging Trippet,” the “in Clamp,” the “back Clamp,” “the Pinnion,” “the Gripe,” “the In-lock,” and “the bear by the leg”—all points of profound, and serious, and erudite discussion;—The direction for the back clamp is, however, curious.

Pages 614-618

The beholders cast, or form themselves into a ring, in the empty space where the two champions step forth, stript into their doublets and hosen, and untrussed, that they may so the better command the use of their limnes; and first shaking hands, in token of friendship, they fall presently to the effect of anger; for each layeth hold of the other with his best advantage, and to bear his adverse party downe; wherein, whosoever overthroweth his mate, in such a manner, as that either his backe, or the one shoulder, and contrary heele do touchè the ground, is accounted to give the fall. If he be only endangered, and make a narrow escape, it is called a foyle.

The moon was now very clear, full, and bright; and its light fell upon the noble person of Cann, and showed every curl of his hair. The Moon-man soon joined him—prepared for the conflict. He was a giant in size, and from what I gathered around me, a man of most savage nature. The popular feeling was painfully on Cann’s side. After the cup had been pledged, the opponents seized each other with an iron grasp. Cann stood boldly, but cautiously up, as conscious that he had much to do;—and the Moon-man opposed him resolutely and groundly. The struggle was immediate, and Cann, with one terrible wrench, threw his antagonist to the earth;—but he fell so doubtfully on his shoulder, that it seemed uncertain whether he would fall on his back (which is necessary to victory), or recover himself by rolling on his face. Cann looked proudly down upon him, and saw him by a miraculous strain, which resembled that of a Titan in pain, save the fall, by wrenching himself down on his face. His shoulder and side were soiled;—but he was not deemed vanquished.

By the order of the umpires the struggle was renewed, when, owing, as I conceived, to the slippery state of the grass, Cann fell on his knees, and the Moorsman instantly hurled him on his back. All was uproar and confusion—but Cann was declared to have received a fall—and gloom spread itself over all! He could not be convinced of the justice of his judge (a common case where the verdict is adverse,) and it was in pain of spirit that he pulled off the jacket.

Young Brockenden, and Thorne from Dawlish, made themselves double players. I shall not longer dwell on the various routine of the first day.

The second morning was any thing but “rosy fingered”—but still we were not to be terrified by threatening clouds from following the manly sport which the day was to decide. There were some slow and tedious contests for double players till very late in the afternoon,—when, as the evening closed, and the moon arose, the grand contest was commenced. One of the umpires approached the booth in which I stood, and requested of Mr. Roe (as I understood the name), not to postpone the sports till the morrow, “as the Canns were anxious to get back to their farms, and Thorne must return to Dawlish the same night, and the men wanted to go to the Moors!”—This appeal was commanding, and the kind Mr. Roe yielded to the wishes of the contestants. “To night be it then,” said this amiable patron of the pleasures of the poor,—”and let not a moment be lost in matching the men, and calling them forth!”

The first shout of the master of the revels was—”Young Cann, and Widdicomb of the Moors!”—and this was received with low murmur, and a deep interest which almost smothered sound. The younger Cann was the stoutest of the brotherhood, finely formed, and fair-haired. He stripped immediately; his brothers assisting in buckling his leg-armour, and fastening his jacket. There was evidently a great anxiety in this group, but still the utmost confidence in ultimate success; —and I could not help taking part in the interest of the brothers, and at the same time entertaining a full share of their faith in their champion’s triumph. “And who,” said I to a rustic hour, “are these Canns?”—”They are five farmers, and there are five brothers, all excellent wrestlers;—but you only see here to night”— But the fine young wrestler stepped into the ring, and our conversation ceased.

Young Brockenden followed next with another man from the Moors; —and he received a doubtful fall, which was much cavilled at, but which the judges nevertheless gave against him.

The day grew late, and the clouds thickened around, so that the wrestling could scarcely be perceived. I left the sports somewhat unwillingly; but I could not distinguish the parties, and, in truth, I was dispirited at my favourite’s being foiled. I heard that the broths Canns retrieved the fame of the family,—but the darkness of the night, and the state of the grass, gave no chance either to the spectators or to the wrestlers. In the morning, the ring,—the awning,—the scaffolding—had vanished; and the young fellows had separated—the Canns to their farms,—the Men to the Moors!

I take notice, that wrestling was in vogue, great credit, estimation, and reputation, in Martial the poet’s days, wrestling without all doubt is of great antiquity. Genesis, Chap. xxxii. ver. 24. Jacob wrestled with an angel, whether it was real and corporeal, or mystical, and spiritual in its signification, I leave to God and the rest of the divines to determine.

[Final sections include instruction on wrestling techniques and holds taken directly from Parkyn’s book The Inn-play, or Cornish Hugg Wrestler]

This full book of The London Magazine (Dec 1820) is available on Google Books (pp. 608-618).