Cock-fighting is a practice of high antiquity, like many other
detestable and abominable things that still cling to our social fabric.
It was much in vogue in Greece and the adjacent isles. There was an
annual festival at Athens called 'The Cock-fighting,' instituted
by Themistocles at the end of the Persian war, under the following
circumstances. When Themistocles was leading his army against the
Persians, he saw some cocks fighting; he halted his troops, looked on,
and said:--'These animals fight neither for the gods of their country,
nor for the monuments of their ancestors, nor for glory, nor for
freedom, nor for their children, but for the sake of victory, and in
order that one may not yield to the other;' and from this topic he
inspirited the Athenians. After his victorious return, as an act of
gratitude for this accidental occasion of inspiring his troops with
courage, he instituted the above festival, 'in order that what was
an incitement to valour at that time might be perpetuated as an
encouragement to the like bravery hereafter.' One cannot help smiling
at these naive stories of the ancients to account for their mightiest
results. Only think of any modern warrior halting his troops to make use
of a cock-fight for the purpose of inspiriting them to victory!
On one occasion during the Peninsular war, when an important point was
to be carried by assault, the officers were required to say something
encouraging to their men, in order to brace them up for the encounter;
but whilst the majority of the former recalled the remembrance
of previous victories, an Irish captain contented himself with
exclaiming--'Now, my lads, you see those fellows up there. Well, if you
don't kill THEM, SHURE they'll kill YOU. That's all!' Struck with the
comic originality of this address, the men rushed forward with a laugh
and a shout, carrying all before them.
Among the ancient Greeks the cock was sacred to Apollo, Mercury, and
aesculapius, on account of his vigilance, inferred from his early
rising--the natural consequence of his 'early to bed'--and also to Mars,
on account of his magnanimous and daring spirit.
It seems, then, that at first cock-fighting was partly a religious,
and partly a political, institution at Athens; and was there
continued--according to the above legend--for the purpose of cherishing
the seeds of valour in the minds of youth; but that it was afterwards
abused and perverted, both there and in other parts of Greece, by being
made a common pastime, and applied to the purpose of gambling just as
it was (and is still secretly) practised in England. An Attic law ran
as follows--'Let cocks fight publicly in the theatre one day in the
year.'(69)
(69) Pegge, in Archoeologia, quoting aelian, Columella, &c.
As to cock-fighting at Rome, Pegge, in the same work, gives his opinion,
that it was not customary there till very late; but that quails were
more pitted against each other for gambling purposes than cocks. This
opinion seems confirmed by the thankfulness expressed by the good
Antoninus--'that he had imbibed such dispositions from his preceptor, as
had prevented him from breeding quails for the fight.'
'One cannot but regret,' wrote Pegge in 1775, 'that a creature so useful
and so noble as the cock should be so enormously abused by us. It is
true the massacre of Shrove Tuesday seems in a declining way, and in a
few years, it is to be hoped, will be totally disused; but the cock-pit
still continues a reproach to the humanity of Englishmen. It is unknown
to me when the pitched battle first entered England; but it was probably
brought hither by the Romans. The bird was here before Caesar's arrival;
but no notice of his fighting has occurred to me earlier than the time
of William Fitz-Stephen, who wrote the Life of Archbishop Becket, some
time in the reign of Henry II. William describes the cocking as the
sport of school-boys on Shrove Tuesday. "Every year, on the day which is
called Carnelevaria (Carnival)--to begin with the sports of the London
boys,--for we have all been boys--all the boys are wont to carry to
their schoolmaster their fighting-cocks, and the whole of the forenoon
is made a holiday for the boys to see the fights of their cocks in their
schoolrooms." The theatre, it seems, was their school, and the master
was the controller and director of the sport. From this time at least
the diversion, however absurd, and even impious, was continued among
us.'
'Although disapproved of by many, and prohibited by law, cock-fighting
continued in vogue, patronized even by royalty, and commonly called "the
royal diversion." St James's Park, which, in the time of Henry VIII.,
belonged to the Abbot of Westminster, was bought by that monarch and
converted into a park, a tennis court, and a cockpit, which was situated
where Downing Street now is. The park was approached by two noble gates,
and until the year 1708 the Cock-pit Gate, which opened into the court
where Queen Anne lived, was standing. It was surmounted with lofty
towers and battlements, and had a portcullis, and many rich decorations.
Westminster Gate, the other entrance, was designed by Hans Holbein, and
some foreign architect doubtless erected the Cockpit Gate. The scene of
the cruel diversion of cock-fighting was, however, obliterated before
Anne's time, and the palace, which was a large range of apartments and
offices reaching to the river, extended over that space.'(69)
(69) Wharton, Queens of Society.
Cock-fighting was the favourite amusement of James I., in whose reign
there were cock-pits in St James's Park, Drury Lane, Tufton Street, Shoe
Lane, and Jermyn Street. There was a cock-pit in Whitehall, erected for
the more magnificent exhibition of the sport; and the present room in
Westminster in which her Majesty's Privy Council hold their sittings, is
called the Cock-pit, from its being the site of the veritable arena of
old.
Cock-fighting was prohibited by one of Oliver's acts in 1654; but with
the return of Charles and his profligacy, the sport again flourished in
England. Pepys often alludes to it in his 'Diary.'
Thus, Dec. 21, 1663, he writes:--
'To Shoe Lane, to see a cocke-fighting at a new pit there, a spot I was
never at in my life; but, Lord! to see the strange variety of people,
from Parliament man, by name Wildes, that was Deputy-Governor of the
Tower when Robinson was Lord Mayor, to the poorest 'prentices, bakers,
brewers, butchers, draymen, and what not; and all these fellows one with
another cursing and betting. I soon had enough of it. It is strange to
see how people of this poor rank, that look as if they had not bread to
put in their mouths, shall bet three or four pounds at a time, and lose
it, and yet bet as much the next battle; so that one of them will lose
L10 or L20 at a meeting.'
Again, April 6, 1668:--
'I to the new Cocke-pit by the king's gate, and there saw the manner
of it, and the mixed rabble of people that came thither, and saw two
battles of cockes, wherein is no great sport; but only to consider how
these creatures, without any provocation, do fight and kill one another,
and aim only at one another's heads!'
Up to the middle of the 18th century cock-fighting was 'all the rage' in
England. 'Cocking,' says a writer of the time, 'is a sport or pastime so
full of delight and pleasure, that I know not any game in that respect
which is to be preferred before it.'
The training of the pugnacious bird had now become a sort of art, and
this is as curious as anything about the old 'royal diversion.' A few
extracts from a treatise on the subject may be interesting as leaves
from the book of manners and customs of the good old times.
The most minute details are given as to the selection of fighting-cocks,
the breeding of game cocks, and 'the dieting and ordering a cock for
battle.' Under this last head we read:--'In the morning take him out of
the pen, and let him spar a while with another cock. Sparring is after
this manner. Cover each of your cock's heels with a pair of hots made
of bombasted rolls of leather, so covering the spurs that they cannot
bruise or wound one another, and so setting them down on straw in a
room, or green grass abroad; let them fight a good while, but by no
means suffer them to draw blood of one another. The benefit that accrues
hereby is this: it heateth and chafeth their bodies, and it breaketh
the fat and glut that is within them. Having sparred as much as is
sufficient, which you may know when you see them pant and grow weary,
then take them up, and, taking off their hots, give them a diaphoretic
or sweating, after this manner. You must put them in deep straw-baskets,
made for this purpose, and fill these with straw half way, then put in
your cocks severally, and cover them over with straw to the top; then
shut down the lids, and let them sweat; but don't forget to give them
first some white sugar-candy, chopped rosemary, and butter, mingled
and incorporated together. Let the quantity be about the bigness of a
walnut; by so doing you will cleanse him of his grease, increase his
strength, and prolong his breath. Towards four or five o'clock in the
evening take them out of their stoves, and, having licked their eyes and
head with your tongue, and put them into their pens, and having filled
their throats with square-cut manchet, **** therein, and let them feed
whilst the****is hot; for this will cause their scouring to work, and
will wonderfully cleanse both head and body.'
Was ever poor animal subjected to such indignity? The preparation of the
other animal, the jockey, is nothing to it. But, to continue:--
'The second day after his sparring, take your cock into a fair green
close, and, having a dunghill cock in your arms, show it him, and then
run from him, that thereby you may entice him to follow, permitting him
to have now and then a blow, and thus chafe him up and down about half
an hour; when he begins to pant, being well-heated, take him up and
carry him home, and give him this scouring, &c.'
This training continued for six weeks, which was considered a sufficient
time for 'ordering a cock for the battle;' and then, after the
'matching,' came the last preparation of the poor biped for the
terrible fight in which he would certainly be either killed or kill his
antagonist, if both were not doomed to bite the dust. This consisted in
the following disfigurement of the beautiful creature:--
'With a pair of fine cock-shears cut all his mane off close into his
neck from the head to the setting on of the shoulders: secondly, clip
off all the feathers from the tail close to his rump; the redder it
appears the better is the cock in condition: thirdly, take his wings and
spread them forth by the length of the first rising feather, and
clip the rest slope-wise with sharp points, that in his rising he may
therewith endanger the eye of his adversary; fourthly, scrape, smooth,
and sharpen his spurs with a pen-knife; fifthly, and lastly, see that
there be no feathers on the crown of his head for his adversary to take
hold of; then, with your spittle moistening his head all over, turn him
into the pit TO MOVE TO HIS FORTUNE.'
I should, perhaps, state that, instead of the natural spurs, long
artificial ones of well-tempered steel were fixed to the cock's heels
in later times, and these were frequently driven into the body of his
antagonist with such vigour that the two cocks were spitted together,
and had to be separated.
The dreadful fight having come off, the following was the treatment
prescribed for the fortunate conqueror.
'The battle being ended, immediately search your cock's wounds, as many
as you can find. SUCK the blood out of them; then wash them well with
warm ****, and that will keep them from rankling; after this give him
a roll of your best SCOURING, and so stove him up as hot as you can for
that night; in the morning, if you find his head swelled, you must suck
his wounds again, and bathe them with warm ****; then take the powder
of herb Robert, and put it into a fine bag, and pounce his wounds
therewith; after this, give him a good handful of bread to eat out of
warm ****, and so put him into the stove again, and let him not feel the
air till the swelling be fallen.'
A cock sometimes took a long time to recover from his wounds--as,
indeed, may be well supposed from the terrible 'punishment' which he
necessarily received; and so our professor goes on to say:--'If after
you have put out your wounded cock to their walks, and visiting them a
month or two after, you find about their head any swollen bunches, hard
and blackish at one end, you may then conclude that in such bunches
there are unsound cores, which must be opened and crushed out with your
thumbs; and after this, you must suck out the corruption, and filling
the holes full of fresh butter, you need not doubt a cure.'
A poetical description of a cock-fight, by Dr R. Wild, written at the
commencement of the last century, will give an idea of the 'diversion.'
'No sooner were the doubtful people set,
The match made up, and all that would had bet,
But straight the skilful judges of the play;
Brought forth their sharp-heel'd warriors, and they
Were both in linnen bags--as if 'twere meet,
Before they died, to have their winding-sheet.
Into the pit they're brought, and being there,
Upon the stage, the Norfolk Chanticleer
Looks stoutly at his ne'er before seen foe,
And like a challenger began to crow,
And clap his wings, as if he would display
His warlike colours, which were black and grey.
'Meantime, the wary Wisbich walks and breathes
His active body, and in fury wreathes
His comely crest, and often with a sound,
He whets his angry beak upon the ground.
This done, they meet, not like that coward breed
Of Aesop; these can better fight than feed:
They scorn the dunghill; 'tis their only prize
TO DIG FOR PEARLS WITHIN EACH OTHER'S EYES.
'They fought so nimbly that 'twas hard to know,
E'en to the skill'd, whether they fought or no;
If that the blood which dyed the fatal floor
Had not borne witness of 't. Yet fought they more;
As if each wound were but a spur to prick
Their fury forward. Lightning's not more quick,
Or red, than were their eyes: 'twas hard to know
Whether 'twas blood or anger made them so.
I'm sure they had been out had they not stood
More safe by being fenced in with blood.
Thus they vied blows; but yet (alas!) at length,
Altho' their courage was full tried, their strength
And blood began to ebb.
Their wings, which lately at each blow they clapp'd
(As if they did applaud themselves), now flapp'd.
And having lost th' advantage of the heel,
Drunk with each other's blood, they only reel.
From either eyes such drops of blood did fall
As if they wept them for their funeral.
And yet they fain would fight; they came so near,
Methought they meant into each other's ear
TO WHISPER WOUNDS; and when they could not rise,
They lay and look'd blows into each other's eyes.
But now the tragic part! After this fit,
When Norfolk cock had got the best of it,
And Wisbich lay a dying, so that none,
Tho' sober, but might venture Seven to One;
Contracting, like a dying taper, all
His strength, intending with the blow to fall,
He struggles up, and having taken wind,
Ventures a blow, and strikes the other blind!
'And now poor Norfolk, having lost his eyes,
Fights only guided by antipathies:
With him, alas! the proverb holds not true--
The blows his eyes ne'er saw his heart most rue.
At length, by chance, he stumbled on his foe,
Not having any power to strike a blow.
He falls upon him with his wounded head,
And makes his conqueror's wings his feather-bed;
Where lying sick, his friends were very chary
Of him, and fetch'd in haste a Pothecary;
But all in vain! His body did so blister
That 'twas incapable of any glyster;
Wherefore, at length, opening his fainting bill,
He call'd a scriv'ner and thus made his Will.
'IMPRIMIS--Let it never be forgot,
My body freely I bequeath to th' pot,
Decently to be boil'd.
****
ITEM: Executors I will have none
But he that on my side laid Seven to One;
And, like a gentleman that he may live,
To him, and to his heirs, my COMB I give,
Together with my brains, that all may know
That oftentimes his brains did use to crow.
****
To him that 's dull I do my SPURS impart,
And to the coward I bequeath my HEART.
To ladies that are light, it is my will
My FEATHERS shall be given; and for my BILL
I'd give 't a tailor, but it is so short,
That I'm afraid he'll rather curse me for 't:
****
Lastly, because I feel my life decay,
I yield and give to Wisbich COCK THE DAY!'(70)
(70) The passages left out in the Will, as marked by asterisks, though
witty, are rather too gross for modern eyes.
To quote from Pegge once more:--What aggravates the reproach and
disgrace upon us Englishmen, are those species of fighting which are
called--"the battle royal and the Welsh main"--known nowhere in the
world, as I think, but here; neither in China, nor in Persia, nor in
Malacca, nor among the savage tribes of America. These are scenes so
bloody as almost to be too shocking to relate; and yet as many may not
be acquainted with the horrible nature of them, it may be proper, for
the excitement of our aversion and detestation, to describe them in a
few words.
'In the battle royal, an unlimited number of fowls are pitted; and after
they have slaughtered one another, for the diversion (dii boni!) of the
otherwise generous and humane Englishman, the single surviving bird is
to be esteemed the victor, and carries away the prize. The Welsh main
consists, we will suppose, of sixteen pairs of cocks; of these the
sixteen conquerors are pitted a second time; and, lastly, the two
conquerors of these are pitted a fifth time; so that (incredible
barbarity!) thirty-one cocks are sure to be most inhumanly murdered
for the sport and pleasure, the noise and nonsense, nay, I may say the
profane cursing and swearing, of those who have the effrontery to call
themselves, with all these bloody doings, and with all this impiety
about them--Christians!' Moreover, this ungenerous diversion was the
bane and destruction of thousands, who thus dissipated their patrimonial
fortunes. That its attractions were irresistible is evident from the
difficulty experienced in suppressing the practice. Down to a very
recent date cock-fighting was carried on in secret,--the police now and
then breaking into the secret pits, dispersing and chasing a motley crew
of noblemen, gentlemen, and 'the scum of rascaldom.'
The practice is very far from having died out; mains are still fought in
various parts of the country; but of course the greatest precautions are
taken to insure secrecy and to prevent the interference of the police.
In connection with cock-fighting I remember a horrible incident that
occurred in the West Indies. A gentleman who was passionately fond of
the sport, and prided himself on the victories of his cocks, had the
misfortune to see one of his birds so terribly wounded in the first
onset that, although not killed, it was impossible for it to continue
the fight. His rage at the mishap knew no bounds, and he vented it madly
on the poor creature. He roasted it alive--standing by and hearing its
piteous cries. In the midst of the horrible torture the wretched man
became so excited that a fit of apoplexy supervened, and he positively
expired before the poor bird at the fire!