that he was sent to prison. This, however, seems not to have been the
case. He retired into his own house, and remained there in voluntary
confinement for seven years; where he still continued to produce his
_Journal_. That of 27 February, 1730, contains some information about
him in a leading article. After alluding to “the vile Prosecution
commenced against” him “near Two Years and a Half since,” he thus
refers to the consequences of the action: “I’ve the sad Choice of
paying that other _Honourable Man_, my gentle Adversary above a Hundred
Pounds, go to Gaol (the Den of Legion Woe), or retire from and guard
against the horrid Catchpoles’ rapacious Clutches. The first none who
can’t instruct me honestly to get the Sum will, I presume, advise
me to comply with; the second I’ve a natural Antipathy against; and
therefore the latter, how much soever it may rub against the grain,
I’m forced to submit to.” Then follows the first announcement of a
poem he had composed during his retirement, entitled _Freedom_; and
this had appended to it a notice of another poem, “already printed, to
be published very soon,” entitled “/Behemoth/, or, The horrid
bloody Monster of St. Thomas’s (an Island scituate directly under the
Æquinoctial Line, between Guinea and Lower Æthiopia, subject to the
Portuguese).” This, of course, was another attack upon Glanvill, but
no copy of it is now known to exist.
Whilst preparing for the publication of _Freedom_ he lost his mother
and wife, and this delayed its issue.
Brice took advantage of every Sunday, a day on which debtors could not
be arrested, to walk abroad. Many attempts were made to seize him, but
all failed. He kept himself too close, and was too much on his guard.
On one occasion a bailiff named Spry disguised himself as a clergyman
and entered his office under pretence that he had got a book he desired
to have published by Brice; but that worthy did not allow himself to be
seen.
The profits from the sale of his poem on “Freedom” were said to have
been sufficiently large to enable him to compound with his creditors
and regain his liberty. After this he opened a printing press at Truro,
the first in Cornwall. But the venture did not succeed, and he soon
gave it up.
From the outset of his career Brice had exhibited a strong partiality
for the drama, and when players came to Exeter they were hospitably
received at his table.
In 1743, John Wesley visited Exeter for the second time, and preached
in the open air. He probably produced considerable effect, for some
time after this visit the local comedians were prosecuted as vagrants
and forced to give up their theatre in Waterbeer Street. Thereupon
the Methodists purchased it and converted it into a meeting-house.
Brice at once took up the cause of the players, and in 1745 published
a poem entitled “The Play-house Church, or new Actors of Devotion.”
In consequence of this, says the early biographer of Brice, “the mob
were so spirited up that the Methodists were soon obliged to abandon
the place to its former possessors, whom Mr. Brice now protected by
engaging them as his covenant-servants to perform gratis.”
All the playing fraternity who visited Exeter became acquainted with
Brice, and while valuing his hospitality and support, could not fail
to notice and be amused at his eccentricities. When Garrick produced
Colman’s play, _The Clandestine Marriage_, in 1766, Dr. Oliver says:
“There was some hesitation what tone would be most suitable to Lord
Ogleby--it was decided at last that Mr. King should assume Mr. A.
Brice’s.” The part, an important one, was originally intended for
Garrick: but on his declining it, Mr. King was requested to undertake
it. He at first hesitated, but finally consented, and made a great hit
with it. “Mr. King--as Lord Ogleby--seemed to give a relief and glow to
the character which was not intended by the author.”[31]
The character does not accord with what we know of Brice. Lord Ogleby
is a hypochondriac, a fop, an aged flirt, who leers at the ladies and
makes up his complexion. “I have rather too much of the lily this
morning in my complexion,” he says to his valet; “a faint tincture
of the rose will give a delicate spirit to my eyes for the day.”
He converses in French, he chirps out stanzas, whilst twinged with
rheumatism. “Love is the idol of my heart,” says the old fop, “and the
demon, interest, sinks before him.” But that there is a strong vein of
sarcasm in Lord Ogleby, there seems to be no element in the character
that agrees with that of Brice.
We now arrive at the production of the _Grand Gazetteer_, the work
upon which rests principally Brice’s claim to literary celebrity. Upon
it he expended much labour and money. “The very Books by us us’d in
the composition ... cost far above £100,” he says. It was issued in
forty-four shilling numbers, each consisting of thirty-two pages, and
was begun in 1751, and the last number appeared in 1755. This was one
of the earliest gazetteers published in England, and certainly the
most important. Writing fifty years after its completion, Dyer, the
Exeter bookseller, in 1805, termed it, at that date, “the best, the
most comprehensive, and even the most learned Gazetteer in the English
language”; but if we may trust Brice in the matter, he lost money on
the publication.
His last published work was an heroic-comic poem entitled _The Mobiad_,
being a description of an Exeter election “by Democritus Juvenal,
Moral Professor of Ridicule and plaguy-pleasant Fellow of Stingtickle
College; _vulgarly_ Andrew Brice.” London, 1770.
Dr. Brushfield has shown good reasons for attributing to Andrew
Brice, assisted by Benjamin Bowring, of Chumleigh, the composition of
_The Exmoor Scolding and Courtship_ that first appeared in Brice’s
_Journal_.[32]
Brice’s latter days were spent in strife with his nephew, Thomas Brice,
who was connected with the _Exeter Journal_, and with Mr. Andrews and
B. Trewman, who had been employed in his printing office, and who left
him and started a new paper on their own account, the _Exeter Mercury_.
He was a disappointed man in his family. He was twice married, but
both his wives, and all his children, died before him. He himself died
of general decay, at the age of eighty-three, on 7 November, 1773. In
his will he desired that he might be attended to his grave by his
brother masons of St. John’s Lodge. His remains were removed to the
Apollo Room, where during his lifetime he had often presided at masonic
gatherings, and there they were exposed for several days on show to
the public, who were charged a shilling a head to view them. The money
raised was to defray the expenses of his funeral.
On Sunday, 14 November, “the morrow of St. Brice’s day,” the interment
took place in St. Bartholomew’s churchyard. Two hundred members of
various lodges, in masonic costume, and with all their regalia,
together with several hundred of the inhabitants, walked in procession
from the New Inn to the grave. A funeral elegy, written by J. E.
Whitaker and set to music by J. E. Gaudry, was performed at the grave
to the accompaniment of orchestral music. No monumental stone marks the
spot where he lies, but the following epitaph, as suitable, is given by
Polwhele:--
Here lies Andrew Brice, the old Exeter printer,
Whose life lengthen’d out to the depth of its winter;
Of his brethren masonic he took his last leave,
Inviting them all to a lodge at his grave,
Who, to show their respect and obedience, came hither,
(Or rather, the mob and the masons together)
Sung a hymn to his praise in a funeral tone,
But disliking his lodging, return’d to their own.
Dr. Brushfield thus gives his appreciation of Andrew Brice: “The
character of Andrew Brice, although very pronounced, is by no means an
easy one to estimate or to describe. His natural good abilities, aided
by a good education, placed him in a position far above his compeers,
and we can well understand Polwhele’s remark on the Farleys being ‘no
match for the learning and abilities of Brice.’ That he possessed
literary talents of a high order is shown by his article on Exeter in
his _Gazetteer_. Of another order of composition, and as displaying
his versatility in a praiseworthy direction, some of his newspaper
articles may be mentioned. But, on the other hand, when excited by
political animosity or by private enmity, he appears to have thrown
off all restraint, and as he was a master in the arts of vituperation,
satire, and unscrupulous sneering, and coarse in his statements, we are
not surprised to learn that he was constantly embroiled in literary
and even in more active warfare. He was vigorous and thorough in all
that he did; a model of plodding perseverance, as the circumstances
of his early life have already demonstrated, a man of strong feelings
and powerful resentment. Testy, painfully sensitive, never forgetting
or forgiving an injury, and governed by strong impulses, whether for
good or for evil. And yet, like those of a large class, his faults were
far more patent to the world than were his virtues. His character was
antithetic, powerful in extremes. Although a good fighter, even when on
the losing side, he often acknowledged himself to be in the wrong. In
his daily life no one was kinder, displayed more hospitality, or was
more charitable--all these good qualities were especially exhibited
to his poorer relatives, as well as to the ‘poor players.’ Of him
Dr. Oliver reports ‘that he was a great favourite with his brother
Exonians; he ... was frank, humorous, and independent.’ He calls him
‘facetious,’ a point of character on which Andrew appeared to pride
himself, as he sometimes dubbed himself ‘Merry Andrew,’ at other times
‘Andrew, surnamed Merry.’ He certainly possessed strong individuality,
and was eccentric in speech, in manner, and dress.”
It often happens that what a man has done and least values is all that
remains of him to be really appreciated in after times. So was it
with Andrew Brice. His _Gazetteer_ has long been superseded. But his
_Exmoor Scolding and Courtship_, which he so little appreciated that
he did not care to acknowledge his part authorship, has been printed
and reprinted, and is valued to this day as one of the most important
dialect works in the English language, and the two were published as
a specimen of the folk-speech of the north-east of the county in 1879
by the English Dialect Society, edited by Mr. F. T. Elworthy. Of the
various authorities for the life of Andrew Brice it is unnecessary here
to speak; all have been superseded by the admirable monograph by Dr.
Brushfield in the _Transactions_ of the Devonshire Association, 1888.
He has been able to correct many errors into which earlier biographers
fell.
Several portraits of Brice exist, mainly line engravings. But the best
is a mezzotint engraved by Jehner and published in 1781.
DEVONSHIRE WRESTLERS
Wrestling was the favourite sport in former days in Devonshire and
Cornwall.
Evelyn, in his _Diary_, speaks of West-countrymen in London contesting
in London against men of the North, and in all cases the former
were the victors. And Ben Jonson, in his _Bartholomew Fair_, 1614,
introduces a Western wrestler, who performed before the Lord Mayor of
London.
If we may judge by _As You Like It_, wrestling in the Elizabethan
period was a murderous sport. Charles, the wrestler, plays with an old
man’s three sons. “The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles--which
Charles in a moment threw him, and broke three of his ribs, and there
is little hope of life in him, so he served the second, and so the
third.” When Le Beau laments that Rosalind and Celia had not seen the
sport, Touchstone wisely remarks, “Thus men grow wiser every day! It is
the first time that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport for ladies.”
At Marytavy, in the churchyard, is the tombstone of John Hawkins,
blacksmith, 1721:--
Here buried were some years before,
His two wives and five children more:
One Thomas named, whose fate was such
To lose his life by wrestling much.
Which may a warning be to all
How they into such pastimes fall.
There is a Cornish ballad of a wrestling match between Will Trefry and
“Little Jan” that ends thus:--
Then with a desperate toss
Will showed the flying hoss,
And little Jan fell on the tan,
And never more he spake.
Oh! little Jan, alack!
The ladies say, O woe’s the day!
O little Jan, alack.
And it concludes with a verse stating that Little Jan was to have been
married that day.
Of the “flying hoss” or “flying mare” more presently. The wrestling
dress peculiar to the West Country consisted of breeches or trousers
and a wrestling jacket, the only part of the dress by which a hold,
or as it was technically called a _hitch_, could be got by the rules
of the play. The jacket was short and loose, made of untearable
linen stuff, and had short loose sleeves, reaching nearly to the
wrist. Wrestlers wore nothing else, except worsted stockings, and in
Devonshire shoes, soaked in bullock’s blood and baked at a fire, making
them hard as iron. Three men were appointed as _sticklers_ to watch the
players and act as umpires, and decide, in the case of a fall, whether
it was a _fair back_ or not. For a fair back both shoulders and one hip
must touch the ground at the same time, or both hips and one shoulder.
Such a fall was called a Threepoint Fall.
The men having stepped into the ring, shook hands, and then separated,
and the play began by trying for a hitch. This led to much dodging.
A player who gave his adversary a fall remained in the ring for the
next antagonist, and when he had given two falls he was reckoned as a
_standard_. Supposing there were twenty standards left in, the double
play would begin by the sticklers matching them with each other, and
ten would then be left for the treble play. The players would then
be reduced to five, then to three, and finally the two best would be
matched against one another.
The play in Devonshire and Cornwall was different in this, that in the
former county there was kicking, but this was not allowed above the
knee. In some cases skillibegs were worn in Devon, that is, haybands
wound about the calves and shins as a protection. In the Cornish play
there is hugging and heaving; in the Devonshire play, kicking and
tripping. It might be thus defined: in Cornwall, the shoulders and arms
were mainly relied on; in Devonshire, the legs.
A player, having got his hitch, would proceed to very close quarters,
and taking his man round the body, not lower than the waist, would
throw him over his shoulder, giving him the _Flying Mare_, and turning
him over on his back when falling, give him the Back Fall.
Besides the Flying Mare, there was the Cross-buttock fall in shoulder
play, the Back-heave, and others. In the leg play there were the
Fore-lock, the Back-lock, Heaving-toe, Back-heel, and others. The
Cornish player would, when he had secured his hitch, endeavour to drag
his man in for the hug and the fling; whereas the Devonshire man would
play for his hitch to keep him off, till he had disabled him.[33]
Sir Thomas Parkyns, about whom more in the sequel, thus describes the
cast of the Flying Mare: “Take him by the right hand with your left,
your palm being upwards as if you designed only to shake him by the
hand in a friendly manner in the beginning, and twist it outwards, and
lift it upwards to make way for your head, and put your head under
his left armpit, and hold his head stiff backwards, to hold him out of
his strength; then put your right arm up to the shoulder between his
grainings, and let your hand appear behind, past his breech; but if
you suspect they will cavil at that arm, as a breeching, lay your arm
across his belly, and lift him up as high as your head, and in either
hold, when so high, lean backwards and throw him over your head.”
Sir Thomas insists that a good wrestler must be temperate. “Whoever
would be a complete wrestler must avoid being overtaken in drink,
which very much enervates, or, being in a passion at the sight of his
adversary, or having received a fall, in such cases he is bereaved
of his senses; not being master of himself is less of his art, but
showeth too much play, or none at all, or either pulleth, kicketh, and
ventureth beyond all reason and his judgment when himself.”
Wrestling matches usually began at Whitsuntide, but were most in
practice at the period between the hay and corn harvests, when the
cereals were assuming a golden hue, and the orchards were bending under
their burden of fruit. There was hardly a village in the West that did
not offer a prize and enjoy the time-honoured spectacle of a game of
wrestling. The prize was either a silver-plated belt or a gold-laced
hat. The wearing of the latter was held to free the wearers from
liability to be pressed for the Navy.
The wrestling ground was laid with tan. At Moreton Hampstead the games
took place in the Sentry or Sanctuary field. At Sheepstor in the still
well-preserved Bull-ring, and the spectators sat on the churchyard wall
to watch the sport. At Liskeard, matches took place in the Ploy, or
Play-field from Lady Day to Michaelmas.
In the kicking, usual in Devonshire play, the wrestler about to
administer a kick had but one foot on the ground, and having an
off-hitch was liable to be thrown by a quick player with a trip or a
lock. The kick could be prevented by bending the knee so as to bring
the heel up to the buttock, and projecting it, when the knee caught the
administering player on the leg-bone above the knee with such force as
to paralyse it for a while, and it has even been known to break it.
This was entitled the _stop_.
Several of the Devonshire wrestlers became famous beyond the confines
of the county; and matches between Devonians and Cornishmen were not
uncommon; and the latter do not seem to have been at all afraid of
the kick, for by closing on their antagonists for the hug, they could
prevent them from kicking with toe or heel, at all events with full
force.
Thorne was a man of Widdecombe-on-the-Moor, a man of splendid build
and muscular development. He had made his name as a wrestler, when he
was induced to join the Life Guards, and in the battle of Waterloo
took part in the famous charge against the French cuirassiers; as he
was cutting down his tenth victim a shot laid him low, at the age of
twenty-three.
Then two young Devonian giants took the lead in the ring, Johnny Jordan
and Flower, each six feet high and weighing a trifle over eighteen
stone apiece. Jordan was a redoubted kicker, and the bravest wrestlers
shrank from challenging him. On one occasion Flower and Jordan were
opposed to one another, and after a struggle of seventeen minutes,
Flower gave way.
In 1816, Flower was confronted with Polkinghorne, a St. Columb
taverner, and the champion of Cornwall. The latter was too much
for Flower, and he was thrown amidst enthusiastic cheering and
hat-tossing and kerchief-waving of the Cornishmen.
[Illustration: _Drawn from Nature on the Stone by Geo. Rowe. Printed by
P. Simonau._
THE WRESTLING CHAMPION OF ENGLAND.
ABRAHAM CANN.
Who challenges all the World for 100 Sovereigns. Height 5 f^t 8-1/4.
Weight 12 Stone 7 lb Age 30. _Pub^d by Geo. Rowe N^n 38 Paris S^t Exeter
Aug^{st} 10^{th} 1826._]
Jackman, another Devonshire man, confronted Polkinghorne next day, and
he was cast over the head of the Cornubian, describing the “flying
mare.” William Wreford, at the age of eighteen, achieved reputation
by throwing Jordan over his head with such force that Jordan came
down with a “crash similar to that produced by felling an oak tree.”
But Wreford met his match in a wrestle with “the little Elephant,”
James Stone. Simultaneously the men grappled each other; and although
Wreford had the advantage at the outset, he was hurled into the
air, and fell with such violence on his back that for a time he was
incapacitated from taking part in a similar contest. Eventually the
return match came off at Southmolton, and Stone was again victorious.
Nevertheless Wreford remained a prominent figure in the ring, and threw
Francis Olver, a Cornishman, although he came out of the contest with
several of his ribs crushed by the deadly “hug.” But a greater than
Wreford and Jordan arose in the person of Abraham Cann. He was born in
December, 1794, and was the son of Robert Cann, a farmer and maltster
at Colebrook. His father had been a wrestler before him, and Abraham
inherited the old man’s skill, and learned by his experience, and soon
defeated Jordan, Flower, Wreford, Simon Webber, and other redoubtable
Devon champions. He was above the middle height as a man, with long
legs, and was endowed with surprising strength of limb. He was a
kicker. Abraham had a brother James, also a well-known wrestler, but he
did not acquire the celebrity of Abraham. In his later years he was an
under-gamekeeper, respected for his fearlessness when poachers were to
the fore.
There were other mighty men in the ring, as Bawden the Mole-catcher,
and Frost, of Aveton Gifford; but these were no match for Cann.
At Totnes, in 1825, Jordan had thrown a fine player, of the name of
Huxtable, in one minute, and the liveliest interest was felt in a match
that was to be played between him and Abraham Cann, who boasted that he
could kick to rags the legs of his antagonist in “vive minutes.”
When his turn arrived Cann awaited Jordan in the ring, upright,
undaunted, with a smile of conscious superiority on his face. Jordan
eyed the tall, athletic, and muscular form of Abraham, and withdrew
without trying for a hitch. This caused lively disappointment, and loud
cries of anger broke forth. But Jordan felt that he was not in good
form at the time. Two days later he was roughly handled by a young
Cornishman named Hook, and was too much injured to resume the contest.
On 21 September, 1826, at the Eagle Tavern, City Road, London, Cann
contended without shoes for the first prize with James Warren of
Redruth, and although the latter made a gallant struggle and Cann was
at a disadvantage playing without his proper and accustomed weapons,
the indurated boots, Abraham Cann came off the victor.
He now challenged Polkinghorne, the champion of Cornwall. James
Polkinghorne was 6 ft. 2 in. high, weighed 320 lb., and had not
wrestled for some years, but had carried on business as landlord of the
“Red Lion” in St. Columb Major. Cann was but 5 ft. 8-1/2 in. high, and
weighed 175 lb. This match was for £200 a side, for the best of three
back-falls; and it took place on Tamar Green, Morice Town, Plymouth,
on 23 October, 1826, in presence of 17,000 spectators. According to
some accounts, Abraham on this occasion was allowed only one shoe.
There had been much previous correspondence between the champions;
Polkinghorne had postponed meeting Cann as long as was possible.
Finally a meeting was arranged, as said, on the 23rd October, 1826.