match between Weightman and Mc.Laughlan, the innkeeper, at the annual
gathering at Carlisle in the autumn; but like the preceding ones, it came
to nothing--finally ending in a tie, and then a wrangle. Mc.Laughlan at
that time was a great overgrown giant, weighing at least five or six stone
heavier than his rival. Referring to this meeting many years after,
Weightman said: "Clatten com up--i' fun iv his way o' 't--gat hod o' me
afooar I kent reetly whoar I was, an' flang me doon like a havver sheaf.
Sec bairnish nonsense as that, ye know, suin rais't my dander, an' i' th'
next roond I dud whack him! I pait him weel back iv his oan mak o'
coin."
An acquaintance one day asked Mc.Laughlan how he liked Weightman's "grip"
at Carlisle. "Oh, Lord! it was fair vice wark!" exclaimed the giant, giving
an involuntary shudder at the mere thought of being screwed up in the
"vice."
In October, 1829, Weightman bore away the chief prize from the Penrith ring
a second time. The entry included Cass of Loweswater and George
Irving--both thrown by Weightman--and most of the best men in Cumberland
and Westmorland. At the conclusion of the wrestling, the winner could have
been backed against any man in England for £100.
At Wigton--date uncertain--where there was a strong muster of good men from
the East and West, the head prize of eight guineas fell into Weightman's
hands.
At one time or other, Weightman won seventeen silver cups, and once, on
being asked what became of them, candidly replied: "I selt ivery yan o'
them, an' drank th' brass."
An anecdote illustrative of his fearless courage and successful resistance
to apparently overwhelming odds, must not be forgotten. In the year 1829,
his uncle sold a cow to a butcher in Carlisle, named Roberts, we believe.
The payment for it not being forthcoming at the proper time, nor any
prospect of it, Weightman was despatched to recover the amount owing, and
rode to Carlisle on a brown filly for that purpose. Coming up with Roberts
on Eden bridges--in company with another butcher and a
confederate--Weightman told him he wanted "owther the coo back with him, or
the brass to pay for it." The only reply to this question was the filly
being struck so forcibly with a thick stick, that it was nearly "fell'd" to
the ground with the stroke. Boiling with indignation at this treatment,
Weightman cried out: "If ye strike the beast ageàn, I'll strike ye doon!"
Again the filly was struck, and the fray began in earnest. Leaping off his
horse, Weightman seized the two butchers, taking one in each arm, and
"clash't the'r heids togidder till bleùd flew aboot like onything!" Their
confederate also joined the fray in a skirmishing mode of attack, and
although it was now three against one, they were rapidly getting the worst
of it. Seeing the tide thus turning against them, one of the rascals
resorted to the knife, and inflicted a great gash on Weightman's hand, the
mark of which he bore to his dying day. An onlooker, who interfered on
Weightman's behalf, was immediately knocked down, under the wheels of a
cart, and severely injured. Things becoming thus desperate, several
bystanders stepped forward at this stage of the affray, and put an end to
the dastardly attack.
Although Weightman possessed no lack of courage when it was called into
action by such an event as the foregoing, he was, nevertheless, often very
diffident and reserved in the affairs of everyday life. "I's nobbut
shy--I's nobbut varra shy, an' divvent like to ax onybody," was a phrase
frequently on his lips, when any trivial favour had to be solicited.
At one time of his life, his company was a good deal sought after by 'Torny
Armstrong, and two neighbouring 'statesmen, named Bleaymire and Jordan.
"Sec chaps," said he, in regretful tones,--"sec wild divvels as thur, aye
wantit a feùl; an' I sarra't for yen langer than I sud ha' deùn." After his
wrestling days were over, Weightman continued his irregular habits and mode
of life, and as age crept on he was by times reduced to considerable
straits in order to make both ends meet. Hard-fisted poverty, and the
pressure of circumstances in various ways, not unfrequently forced his
simple Cumbrian speech to shape itself into proverbial phrases, which
sometimes lingered in the memories of those who heard them for weeks and
months after. Take the following as examples: "Fwok sud aye be menseful,
an' menseful amang fwok." And again: "Jwohn Barleycworn's ruin't mony a gud
heart, an' 'ill ruin mony mair yet."
Poor Weightman! When Mr. Scott was taking the portrait, by photography,
which illustrates this volume, the old man was greatly surprised at the
process, and asked with much simplicity: "Is it a thing he hes mannish't to
pick up by his oan ingenuity, d'ye think?--or hes't been put into him by
God Almighty?"
In his eightieth year, being reduced to the most abject poverty, alone in
the world, and without friends to assist him, an appeal was made through
the local papers for assistance, which met with a generous response on the
part of the public, and served to "keep hunger frae t' dooar" while his
health continued to be anything like good. But at the close of the year
1874--in the midst of one of the severest winters on record--Weightman had
a stroke, which laid him prostrate; and having no one near to minister to
his wants, the parish authorities stept in and insisted upon his being
removed to the poor-house at Brampton. This was sore news to the poor man,
and went sadly against the grain, but there was no help for it. And in
January, 1875, he, whose exploits in the wrestling ring had been cheered to
the echo, again and again, by tens of thousands, at last found a pauper's
grave--his corpse being followed thither by a couple of infirm old men from
the workhouse, and none else.
Such was the end of the powerful and gigantic John Weightman.
FOOTNOTES:
[12] "Gwordie Maut," in common phraseology, stood for George Armstrong, a
well known character in Carlisle, who kept a public house, between the
bridges in Caldewgate. "Gwordie" stood to Matthew Nutter, the artist, for
the model of the stooping figure of the Maltster on the sign of the "Malt
Shovel," in Rickergate.
JOHN MC.LAUGHLAN
OF DOVENBY.
In the early part of the nineteenth century there lived at the rural
village of Dovenby, a few miles north-west from Cockermouth, by far the
tallest man in Cumberland--a man who stood six feet six inches in height,
and who was one of Pharoah's lean kine, having at that date an hungry,
unsatisfied look about him, which was anything but pleasant to the vision.
This was John Mc.Laughlan, a labouring man, better known as "Clattan," who
at certain seasons of the year, gained a livelihood by working in the woods
at Isel, and at other times by paring turf on the pastures about Aspatria.
The parents of this gigantic youth were both natives of the Highlands of
Scotland, having migrated early in life southwards, and settled in
Cumberland. The father was remarkably dexterous at sword exercise and
fencing with the stick; who, in a friendly contest, sometimes took delight
in showing his skill by hitting his opponent at pleasure, and on almost any
part of the body he chose.
"Clattan" was born about the year 1791; and as a lad practised wrestling
upon the village green, with other Dovenby boys of a similar age. Growing
up to manhood, and becoming master of a moderate share of science and
action, he invariably lifted his opponents from the ground, and carried
them off with the outside stroke; his principal mainstay, however, being
his great height and immense weight. In the ring, he was exceedingly
good-natured and affable, and would put himself to any amount of
inconvenience rather than allow his body to fall awkwardly or heavily on a
vanquished foe. He did not, however, follow wrestling closely. He only
appeared upon the horizon by fits and starts, as it were; and in tracing
his career, it will be found that two or three lengthy intervals intervene
between his retirements and reappearances.
As an athlete, Mc.Laughlan was somewhat late in flowering, having reached
the age of twenty-six before he accomplished any feat worthy of record. In
1817, he put in his first public appearance at Carlisle, at the wrestling
in Shearer's Circus. Here he managed to mow down all competitors, including
Tom Todd of Knarsdale, James Robinson, the gamekeeper, and, finally, his
friend and neighbour, John Liddle of Bothel. About this date he was "a
lang, thin, strip iv a chap, like a ladder; hed a varra laddish like leuk;
a feùt gaily nar as lang's a fender; an' was rayder wake aboot the knees."
Or, to change the simile--as a native of Cartmelfell once aptly phrased it:
"Big an' beàny as he was, he was nobbut like a splinter blown off a man!"
After his temporary success at Carlisle, fortune seems to have deserted him
for many years. In 1819, he suffered his most memorable defeat at the hands
of William Wilson of Ambleside, in the Keswick ring, who carried him off
with a sweeping hipe. In 1824, he appeared at Wigton sports, and was thrown
in the third round by Thomas Hodgson, the police-constable; and again in
the third round of the second day, by James Graham of Kirklinton. In
August, 1825, however, Clattan carried off the head prize at Whitehaven;
Jonathan Watson being second.
We are not aware that he wrestled in any ring from the last date mentioned,
until his return in the year 1828, when he had grown amazingly in bulk,
being then about twenty-two stone weight. At that time he was considered to
be the most powerful man in Cumberland, and as an athlete had no rival, if
we except Weightman of Hayton. It was an exaggerated, but nevertheless a
very common saying, that he could lift a cottage house with ease, and carry
it away with him on his back!
The year 1828--with its curious winding-up scene--was the most noteworthy
one in Clattan's wrestling career. In the month of August, he carried off
the head prize at Workington races, with the greatest ease; George Irving
of Boltongate being the second stander.
At Keswick in September, almost the self-same scene was enacted, with
Irving again second. Big men, like Cass of Loweswater, being, as it were,
mere children in Clattan's arms.
Following immediately in the rear of the Keswick races, came the annual
gathering at Carlisle, where the Earl of Lonsdale still continued to give
the sum of twenty guineas for prizes. Notwithstanding the morning on which
the wrestling took place being gloomy and foreboding, hundreds and
thousands poured into the old Border city from every available direction,
and it was computed that at least 6,000 persons were gathered round the
wrestling ring. Whilst ninety-two names were being enrolled for the head
prize, including most of the crack men of the day, a group of itinerant
ballad singers stood bawling to the assembled multitude, such home-spun
staves as the following:--
"Now, Weightman, you must do your best
To bear the prize away;
For Clattan he is coming;
Don't let him win the day."
We have reasons for saying that Weightman was _not_ at the wrestling on the
Swifts that year. We believe he was engaged driving cattle at the time, at
some considerable distance from Carlisle. His name was certainly entered by
some person or other, and he was called out in the first round against
Hutchinson of Featherstone Castle; but there being no response on
Weightman's part, the ticket naturally fell to Hutchinson's lot.
Having only to contend against men of ordinary calibre--the heaviest and
tallest of whom would be fully six or seven stone deficient in weight, and
about the same number of inches in height--Clattan, wearing a pair of
Nankeen trousers, stalked through the Carlisle ring, in the most
unobtrusive manner imaginable, and without making the least display of his
giant strength. In the first round he was called against Rickerby of Old
Wall, and Robinson of Renwick in the second. Despite some futile struggling
on the part of these two men, he lifted them up and laid them down as
easily as Gulliver would have done a couple of Lilliputians. In the third
round, William Earl of Cumwhitton went to work with a will, and completely
foiled Clattan by keeping well away from him. Not being able to gather Earl
and hug him as he had done the previous ones, the tussle became an animated
one, and for a time seemed to be of a doubtful character; but on improving
his hold, the big man managed to twist Earl awkwardly to the ground by
sheer strength. Next followed, in quick succession, the overthrow of Joseph
Graham of Dufton, James Graham of Kirklinton, and Tom Richardson, the Dyer,
at the hands of Clattan.
Only two men were now left standing, namely, George Irving of Boltongate,
and Clattan; and by Irving asking Clattan, as a favour, not to throw
himself heavily on him, the result was understood to be a foregone
conclusion. Good-naturedly acting upon this request, Clattan without more
ado, whipped Irving off his feet, turned him smartly round, and then let
go his hold, in order to avoid falling on his man. Meanwhile, Irving having
cunningly retained _his_ hold, claimed the fall, which according to the
rules of the game, was awarded to him by the umpires. The scene which
followed baffles all description. The crowd danced, laughed, yelled, and
ran wild with commotion. Clattan was completely nonplussed by the _ruse_,
and bore the result for a time with Job-like patience; but at length his
good nature fairly broke down. He fumed and tore about like one half
crazed, ground his teeth, and swore he "wad russel him for fifty pund to a
pund--for a hundred pund to a pund--for any amount he liket!" But Irving,
having accomplished his ends, was far too wary a customer to be drawn into
any further trial which meant defeat. Meanwhile, Irving's friends hoisted
him shoulder high, and bore him away in triumph; and poor Clattan could
only content himself with a final shot at his enemy by crying out: "If iver
I git hod o' thee ageàn, my lad, _I'll mak the' put thy tongue oot_!"
After this mishap, the tide of popularity seems to have set in against
Mc.Laughlan in all directions. At Dovenby races, held in June, 1829, he put
in an appearance, but no sooner was his name called than it created much
discontent among the competitors: one wrestler swearing that he was "as big
as a hoose side," and another asking derisively for a ladder, "to clim' on
t' top of his shooders wid!" In order to dispel this outburst of feeling,
the stewards offered the giant a liberal sum if he would take the post of
umpire, and give up contending; which proposal he accepted in the most
cordial manner. The chief prize for wrestling (after the withdrawal of the
big man,) was carried off by Jonathan Robinson of Allerby mill.
A correspondent of the _Cumberland Pacquet_, in speaking of the Penrith
races in 1829, says, he "cannot imagine upon what principle of justice the
individuals acted, who brought a man fifty miles from home by an open
advertisement, and then debarred him." The same correspondent, also,
complains that Mc.Laughlan was excluded from the Carlisle ring of the same
year, in the face of an advertisement which distinctly stated it was "open
to any man."
At the great gathering at Cockermouth in August, 1830, Clattan was allowed
to enter his name without opposition in the first day's list, where he
carried off the head prize, throwing James Little, George Murgatroyd, John
Birket, and finally William Earl.
In 1837, his last victory, we believe, was gained at Liverpool, after
mowing down John Nichol of Bothel, Jonathan Thomlinson, and Thomas
Armstrong of Carlisle, in the heavy weight prize.
Clattan figured again in the Liverpool ring in 1840, at which date he would
be about fifty years old; but the fates were against him. He was drawn
against John Selkirk of Beckermet. It is worthy of remark, (says a report
in the _Carlisle Journal_,) that Selkirk's father threw Mc.Laughlan
twenty-six years ago; and Mc.Laughlan was overheard to say, it would be a
shame to let both father and son throw him. But so it proved, for after a
very severe struggle, in which Selkirk showed himself to be a wrestler of
no ordinary ability, the first fall was given in as unfair, and they had to
wrestle over again. In getting hold a second time, Mc.Laughlan put all his
powers in requisition, but to no avail, for Selkirk threw him in a masterly
manner.
One incongruous element of Clattan's character has still to be mentioned,
namely, his _weakness_ for sparring and boxing. His temperament was made up
of too many good-natured components to allow of his ever degenerating into
a mere prize-fighter. The big man, to the best of our knowledge, had a
determined "set-to" once, and only once. It occurred at a Bridewain held in
the Vale of Lorton. William Mackereth and Clattan--who had been close
friends for years--fell out over some trifling affair, and a keenly
contested fight was the result. After the struggle had continued some time,
Mackereth succeeded in driving Clattan from one stand to another, until the
giant finally gave in. Clattan threatened to "fettle him off when he com
back frae sparring," with the professors of the noble art mentioned
hereafter; but he proved to be far too good natured to attempt to carry
any such threat into execution.
Clattan's "experience with the bruising fraternity"--we quote from a clever
notice, which appeared in the _Whitehaven News_--"was confined to
travelling with the celebrated pugilists, Tom Molyneaux, the Black, (who
twice contested the championship with Tom Cribb,) and Jack Carter, the
latter of whom fought a terrible battle with Oliver at Gretna Green in
1816.... With these heroes, John made a tour in the provinces and Scotland,
extending over four or five years, in the course of which he gave and took
more hard knocks, as an exhibition sparrer, from his formidable and
dexterous colleagues, than would satisfy the ambition of most men; but, as
we have said, the big man never acquired a taste for fighting. It was
scarcely possible, under any circumstances, to surprise him out of one of
the quietest dispositions and finest tempers with which giant was ever
blessed; and the sole use he made of the hard schooling he received at the
hands of Molyneaux and Carter, and the countless yokels, ambitious of
fistic distinction, was to amuse a few of his patrons. The art and mystery
of bruising was practised nowhere more extensively and industriously than
by a chosen band of youths who frequented John's house in the Market-place,
Whitehaven. To oblige these young gentlemen, and test their dexterity,
'Clattan' has been known to sit down in a chair, to ensure something like
equality of height, and 'set himself'; and very dexterous had young
Whitehaven to be if it could hit and get away, even under these
circumstances, without a counter tap, as from a playful steam hammer....
Many wonderful tales are told of 'Clattan.' He could crack nuts with his
thumb and forefinger as easily as a schoolboy could crush a gooseberry, and
we forget the enormous weight he could suspend round his wrist while he
wrote his name against the wall."
Mc.Laughlan was an innkeeper in Whitehaven for a great number of years,
being the landlord of "The Highlandman," or "Rising Sun," in the
Market-place. Here he drove a flourishing trade, which resulted in a great
measure from frequenters of his house always finding him to be civil and
obliging.
At Whitehaven, Clattan joined the town band formed by Mr. Heywood, clerk to
the magistrates. In this capacity, he invariably marched first in
processions, and did what he could to make sweet music out of the
instrument he played, an immense trombone, his giant-like form towering
above his fellows, like that of Goliath of Gath among the Gittites.
Leaving Whitehaven about 1838 or 1839, he settled in Liverpool, where he
was employed about the docks for several years. His wife, Betty, afterwards
kept a lodging-house in Sparling-street; but more latterly they lived
retired and in comfortable circumstances, principally through the kindness
of one of his sons, the captain of a trading vessel.
Mc.Laughlan died in Liverpool, in October, 1876, at the advanced age of
eighty-five years.
BULL BAITING.
It must be exceedingly gratifying to all ranks of society throughout the
United Kingdom, who take any interest in the social progress of the
inhabitants, in the onward march from semi-barbarism to a higher state of
civilization--from indulgence in brutal amusements, pursued with eager
gratification during the eighteenth century--to note a gradual stamping out
of vicious pursuits, and the growth of more harmless amusements.
Amongst the lower order of our crowded towns and rural districts, amongst
the middle classes of society, and even amongst the higher orders--the
cream of society--the welcome change is strikingly evident. The lower
orders were probably the most prone to indulge in the vile and degrading
pursuits, which have in a great measure been rooted out, but they were by
no means the only culpable parties. The higher and middle classes freely
lent their countenance and support--lent their assistance not alone by
being present at, but by liberal contributions aided in getting up, the
horrible scenes witnessed at the bull-ring, the bear garden, the cock and
rat pits, the boxing ring, and badger worrying. Even royalty, with its
gorgeous trappings, and long list of titled favourites, smiled at and
enjoyed the ferocious pastime.
A laudable endeavour to abolish them was made in the year 1800. A bill was
introduced by Sir W. Pulteney, into the House of Commons, for the abolition
of bull baiting and other cruel sports; but Mr. Wyndham--the leader at that
time of a powerful party of country gentlemen--opposed the bill on the
ground that it attempted to suppress a national amusement, which was not
more cruel than fox-hunting; a pastime so important that a clever writer
has said, "You ruin the country as soon as you put an end to fox-hunting."
Mr. Wyndham, on the one hand, was supported by Mr. Canning, and on the
other hand opposed by Mr. Sheridan. Up to the year 1835, an agitation was
fostered against brutal sports, and the time-honoured institutions of seven
centuries were then, by Act of Parliament, for ever blotted out from the
town and country pleasures of Great Britain and Ireland.
The defunct pastimes, we have under consideration, were amongst the most
exciting as well as brutal amusements of the eighteenth century, and to a
record of them in the "good old times," this short article will be devoted.
In nearly every town, and in most rural districts, there was the attractive
bull ring. The gatherings never attained the gigantic and imposing
dimensions of the Roman Coliseum and the Spanish Amphitheatre bull
fights--institutions no better than a species of bull baiting, and attended
with greater cruelty and bloodshed than the English bull ring. The national
mind in our own country was never so thoroughly embued with the horrible
pastime as the citizens of Rome and Madrid; but was sufficiently brutified
as to be considered at the present time a disgrace to humanity. The sad
sights, however, which gladdened the eye, and drew forth shouts of
applause, from "good Queen Bess" and her followers, when she entertained
the ambassadors from Continental courts, with a display of bear and bull
baiting, are happily at an end.