University of Virginia Library

11. COCK-FIGHTING.

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 fight-ing; 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


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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 naïve 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


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to Apollo, Mercury, and æsculapius, 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 Archœologia, quoting ælian, Columella, &.

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 disposi


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tions 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 Cæsar'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,


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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.


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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


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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 £10 or £20 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


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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 quan

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tity 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, &.'

This training continued for six weeks, which was considered a sufficient time for `ordering a


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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


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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


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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 æsop; these can better fight than feed:

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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 fencèd 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,

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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:

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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


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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


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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!