Much has been said for and against gymnastic
exercises. One folly committed arises from the conclusion, that if
exercise is good for the health, the more violent and exhausting it is
the more good is done. But, judiciously conducted, the practice of
gymnastics is essential for shaping and moulding frames of manly grace
and vigour. They fortify the general health, strengthen the nerves, and
induce an address, a hardihood, and a presence of mind in danger,
difficult of attainment without them. Their mental and moral influence
is consequently great. They tend to equalise the spirits, invigorate the
intellect, and calm the temper. Physical culture, in short, means the
effectual training of the body in the offensive and defensive warfare of
the battle of life.
At a time when national safety depended
on the superiority of individual muscular exertion, rather than of
refined strategies and polemical machinery, - when a battle resembled
rather a scramble of wild beasts, in which the strongest took the best
share of the booty, than a united, organised, and scientific system, -
institutions tending to the development of the bodily powers began to be
recognised among the Greeks as advantageous, if not necessary to their
military success. But the champions of old, so renowned for strength of
sinews, with their massy clubs and sevenfold shields, would at present
make but a poor figure in a battle, or at a siege, against muskets and
artillery; and, even in ancient times, Cicero remarks that though Ajax
was much more robust than Nestor, yet the Grecian general says nothing
of the former, but avows that if he had ten such as Nestor in his army
he should soon demolish Troy. Setting aside the morality of the
question, it is by no means certain that we should be at all the better
off were we systematically to weed out all our weaker branches. Many of
our most useful men – statesmen, merchants, manufacturers, poets,
scientific workers, artists, and handicraftsmen – have been persons of
weak or medium physique. Nay, even our own greatest soldiers are not
always the strongest and stoutest of men. The Napier family, race of
born warriors as they are, have always been noticeable for their ill
health; and Moltke has a frame which he would hardly pass in one of his
own corporals. It is thus that gymnastic excellence, considered by
itself, is asserted to be of little use; that the occasions are few on
which society requires us to leap over a five-barred gate, or to climb a
pole, or to hang with our head downwards. Though this be true, it is
apparent to every one that health is generally found in conjunction with
strength, and that strength is without doubt increased by muscular
exertion. The connection between life and health is too patent to be
insisted on. For some other purpose, then, is the leaping-pole necessary
than that of avoiding the necessity and delay of clambering over or
unlocking gates; it is necessary – we speak generally – for our
strength, and the prolongation of our health and existence. Life and
health walk hand in hand; health is nothing but integrity of life;
disease is nothing but an offence and abbreviation of it. Gymnastic
exercise will not, under all circumstances, be successful, but, caeteris
paribus, it will be in creating fine men. By which expression is not
to be understood plump or fat men, for that fatness is the result rather
of ease than of labour may be gathered from a visit to the cattle show.
We have, however, at last discovered that Providence has made lambs to
skip and kittens to play; and it has come to be pretty generally
understood that boys and girls are not so unlike other small young
creatures which make little foolish runs and rushes and bounds and
summersaults, expressive of the simple truth that they find existence a
joy.
But, first, as to the sports of the
shire. During the later life of Mr. Ramsay of Barnton and Sauchie, some
thirty years ago, horse-racing occurred annually on the course at
Stirling. The animals that ran, were, as a rule, the finest and foremost
in the country; but with the death of the leading spirit of the meetings
their career also closed. This, however, was by no means a matter of
general regret. The turf was then, as it still is, on the decline. And
little wonder. Its speculations increase the cares of life – do not
suspend them. A set of unprincipled miscreants, with their deep-laid
stratagems as depredators, have sealed its doom. No doubt it is
interesting and exciting to see displayed in perfection, the full powers
of the race-horse; but there was a wide moral difference between the
Olympia games of Greece and the modern Newmarket. At the ancient sports,
honour was the reward of the winner, and no man lost either his
character or his money.
The tournament, evidently derived from
the Ludus Trojae, is now the subject of antiquarian research. James I.
had used his influence to suppress the sanguinary tournament; but James
II. revived it. In 1449, two noble Burgundians names Lalaine, one of
them, Jacques, as celebrated a knight as Europe could boast, and the
squire Meriadte, had challenged two of the Douglases and Halket, to
fight with lance, battle-axe, sword, and dagger. Clad in complete mail,
and having been solemnly knighted by his Majesty, they engaged in the
valley of Stirling. Soon throwing away the lance, they had recourse to
the axe, when one of the Douglases was felled outright, and the king,
seeing the combat unequal, threw his baton down – the signal of
cessation. James Douglas and De Lalaine had approached so close, that of
all their weapons none remained save a dagger in the hand of the
Scottish knight. De Lalaine seized him so firmly by the wrist of the
hand which held the weapon, that Douglas could not use it. The other arm
he held below the arm-pit, so that they turned each other round the
lists for a considerable time. Simon de Lalaine and Halket were strong,
but unskilled in warding the axe, and had soon crushed their visors,
weapons, and armour. Meriadet’s antagonist, a Douglas, had attacked
him with a lance. The butt end of Meriadet’s axe knocked it out of his
hand, and, ere he could undo his own axe, he was felled to the ground.
Regaining his feet, and renewing the assault, he was once more laid
prostrate, never to rise.
Wrestling, long a favourite athletic
exercise, for the discontinuance of which in the gymnasia we see no
reason other than the mutability of fashion, is generally falling into
contempt. Hawking has disappeared. Shooting, while still common where
game abounds, has lost the wild sportsman-like character of earlier
days; though, all credit to the pluck of our young aristocracy, when
with the early autumn they take to the heather and stubble as young
ducks to water, and with cutting winds full in their face, under driving
rain and sleet, stalk the deer on the bleak highland hills. Fox-hunting,
no doubt, stands its ground; but fears are entertained even for the king
of sports. It is difficult to determine when the first regularly
appointed pack of fox-hounds appeared among us. Dan Chaucer gives us the
thing in embryo: -
"Aha, the fox! and
after him they ran;
And eke with staves many another man,
Ran Coll, our dogge, and Talbot, and Garlond,
And Malkin with her distaff in her hond."
At the next stage, neighbouring farmers,
probably, kept one or two hounds each, and on stated days met for the
purpose of destroying the sneaking vermin that had been doing damage in
their poultry yards. Bye-and-bye, a few couples of strong hounds seem to
have been kept by small country squires, who, on occasions, joined
packs. Such were called trencher hounds, implying that they ran loose
about the house, and were not confined in kennel. For several years, the
Stirling and Linlithgowshire fox-hounds have met regularly for sport,
and many a lively day has been enjoyed "through bush through
briar." Ladies, too, were won to unsex themselves for the run. With
scarlet riding-dress, masculine head-gear, flushed countenance, and
disheveled locks, the huntress came bounding to the covert side.
Undismayed by showers of mud from horses’ hoofs, by hedge and fence,
gate and stile, she scoured the country, screeching forth a tally-ho! at
reynard’s departure, and a whoo-hoo-hoop! at his death.
The games, past and present, of the
county are endless in their variety. Bullet-throwing on the public
highway has happily been discontinued through the action of the police;
pitching the quoit is confined to agricolous persons after their day’s
toil; and the ball is too generally, and without cause, despised. The
latter would hardly, perhaps, at the present day be considered worthy of
a place amongst gymnastic exercises; but that it is an exercise of the
greatest advantage there can be little doubt, and more dignity may be
imparted to it by mentioning it under other names, as football or
cricket, which, says Johnson, is a sport in which the contenders drive a
ball with sticks in opposition to each other. This definition would, in
fact, apply equally well or better to hockey; but, on reflection, we may
discover, with the aid of the lexicographer, that cricket, our national
pastime, of which we are so justly proud, is essentially and primarily a
game at ball. For a sport, however, which can be enjoyed at any time of
the year, in any weather, and without any of the trouble that is
incidental to so many of the other kindred pastimes, commend us first of
all the game of rounders. There are few, perhaps, who cannot recall the
luxury of an occasional relaxation in that way, after the fatigue and
ennui of a long and tedious outing at cricket. We can picture, as if it
were but yesterday, the jollity that reigned supreme in the
cricket-field when rounders were proclaimed as the sport next on the
programme; and it seemed like a waif from the great ocean of the past,
when, last summer, we had a chance of renewing our old intimacy with the
game, at the invitation of a posse of mirth-loving schoolboys, as we
passed across the airy tryst-ground at Larbert. The bowling-green is
another popular place of resort for recreation. And it has this
advantage that it suits the old as the middle-aged. It has been imagined
that gymnastic exercise is exclusively profitable to the young. It is
not so; it is of advantage, of great advantage, likewise to the old.
With our seniors, the increasing weight of the body, and the loss of the
so-called "animal spirits," induces the desire of repose, and
they need an increase of exercise beyond that which inclination enjoins
on them. Thus they are brought within the province of the gymnastic
code. Though the pastime mentioned has not the magical effect of beauty
–
"A withered hermit,
fourscore winters worn,
Might shake off fifty, looking in her eye."
some perceptible advantage may yet be
obtained by any old man who will be childish enough to play even at
ball. Military ardour, combined with a love of their country, has formed
our youths into various rifle companies, in which the exercises
prescribed are advantageous for the same reason, viz., general muscular
development, though perhaps to a lesser extent than with those of the
golf, cricket, or foot-ball fields. And this fusing together of civil
and military life is a matter of which to be proud. We have it on
reliable authority that many of these Volunteers manoeuvre with as much
apparent facility, and perform not only battalion but divisional
movements with as great precision and accuracy, as if soldiering were
the business of their lives. Few even of its bitterest enemies longer
dare to call our "cheap defence of nations" a mere myth; or
have the boldness to deny its prestige as a moral and physical power in
the land.
A Denny archers’ club was instituted in
1828, which competed annually for the captaincy, at a distance of 100
yards, the captain being preses for the year; for two poisoned arrows
from the island of Mombase, at the distance of 160 yards; for a silver
medal, at 50 yards; for three prizes of arrows, at 30 yards; and for a
silver arrow, at the same distance – the successful competitors being
vice-presidents. The medal and arrows remain in the possession of the
successful competitors; while the others were shot for annually. Many
picturesque proverbial expressions belong to the bow. "An archer is
known by his aim, not by his arrows." "Draw not thy bow before
thy arrow be fixed." "He hath twice or thrice cut Cupid’s
bow," says Don Pedro in the comedy of Much Ado About Nothing;
"and the little hangman dare not shoot him." "A word
spoken is an arrow let fly." The maiden who kept a lover in
reserve, lest her admirer should prove faithless, was said to have two
strings to her bow – an expression which arose from the military
archers having used a double string in the field, to prevent delay in
refitting the bow in case of accident. "Even the holy man of God
will be better with his bow and arrow about him." Homer says –
"the string let fly
Sounds shrill and sharp like the swift swallow’s cry."
but though the Illiad has frequent
allusions to this sport, the most finished picture of Grecian archery
occurs in the Odyssey. Gibbon, the Roman historian, exclaims,
"Methinks I see the attitudes of the archer – I hear the twang of
his bow." Many of our early poets indulge in this favourite species
of illustration; yet none have so happily applied the technicalities of
his craft as Shakespeare, himself a practised bowman from his midnight
visitations to Sir Thomas Lucy’s deer park. Even at the present day,
we "kill two birds with one shaft;" and "get the shaft
hand of our adversaries." When familiar with the foibles of a
friend or foe, we have "found the measure of his shaft." The
triumph of making an enemy’s machinations recoil upon himself is
"to outshoot a man in his own bow." Our ancestors of every
rank and profession practised archery, regarding it as an important
branch of manly education. Of Henry VIII, Paulus Jovius says, "no
man in his dominions knew the great English bow more vigorously than
Henry himself; no man shot further, or with more unerring aim." And
the present Queen has given a proof of real British feeling by the
appointment of a master of archery among her household officers. But
while the example of the noble and the wealthy had, no doubt,
considerable influence on the spread of modern archery, its own
intrinsic excellencies were its chief recommendations. Requiring no
excessive corporeal exertion, and associated, as a rule, with refined
and polished society, the bow, of all amusements, appears specifically
adapted for dissipating the ennui of the fair. The piano and embroidery
frame are both good enough in their way, but
"In the good
greenwode,
Among the lilie flower,"
Health and vivacity can be got, which the
pure breath of nature can alone bestow.
In 1835, a curling club was also started
in Denny. Mr. John Carnie, of Curling Hall, Largs, received here the
rudiments of his skill as a curler. John was the second son of Mr. Neil
Carnie – a principal partner in the firm of Messrs. Thomas Sheils
& Co., of Herbertshire printfield. On the Carron and the reservoirs
of the establishment, John first shone in the game, and acquired that
knowledge which enabled him to write a standard work on curling, and to
invent a rink which, on any morning, when there was a little frost,
might, by a slight suffusion of water over its surface, present in four
hours, (the thermometer at 28 degrees) the finest and firmest ice a
curler could desire. But now every parish throughout the county has it
senior and junior clubs. And one or two of the late winters have
afforded rare opportunities for the enjoyment of the "roaring
game." Though men talk sadly of the good old years when they could
count confidently on so many weeks of black frost, with dams and
"dubs" bound in iron, few, we presume, will now date to repeat
the slander that old winter has well-nigh got all his wonted energy and
grip drained out of him. He is, we see, when he cares to show his
piercing "ivories," still the powerful potentate of the past.
Not for some forty years have we had winter storms so protracted and
intense. The snow fell generally to a depth of several feet; and many
were its deep drifts in nook and by-way. Such seasonable weather brought
forcibly to mind the great snow storm of ’23, the flakes of which, as
we have been told, began to fall on a Sabbath afternoon in February of
that year, when the principal thoroughfares had all to be
"cast," and even for weeks after the thaw set in, our seniors
speak of having walked to kirk and market between great walls of
congelated snow. Another heavy storm fell three years later; and a third
in October of ’36, when the cereal stooks stood buried in the warm
winding-sheet in which mountain, moor, and field were so prematurely
wrapped. And when the winter so braces itself up, and thus grandly
displays its sparkling ensigns, there is much to interest and even charm
the eye. The usual harsh industrial din comes muffled to the ear.
Horse-hoofs strike no sound from the crusted causeway, and street
vehicles softly spin along. Then, what in art can match the frostal
tracery of rime penciled on the humblest window pane; the eave-array of
icicles; and the myriad plumes and pearls of tree and hedge? Beautiful,
too, beyond all rivalry, the ice-drapery of the rocks, where the
water-springs, trickling down their ragged face, give form to the
pendant pillar. And as we pass farm-yards which the snow has turned into
vignettes for winter idylls, we thank God for the fall and the warmth it
gives the fields, on whose fertility we so much depend for sustenance.
Of all recreations for the unbending of
mental strain, curling is, no doubt, the chief. Jovial and jolly are all
the frantic groups that form the pitted players. What a wild flourishing
of "cowes!" What airy, eager, "soopings," as the
missioned stone runs along the rink from tee to tee! The ice may be
"bauch," hence the occasional necessity of warmly welcoming up
the shot. Let us here give a few of the characteristic phrases of the
curliana brotherhood. Social equality is the order of the day: - "O
man, Laird, that’s a bonnie curl! That’s grand work! Come on, my
laddie; Earl, hand up that cowe. Leave her tae hersel’. She’s a
stane that kens the tee. There she gangs, roarin’ in, straucht as a
craw’s flicht. Weel played, Laird! You for a curler!" Or hear
skip No. 2 as the Doctor lifts his stone: - "Noo, Doctor, I want ye
tae pit a lang guard on that. Dae ye see my cowe? Weel, jist play till’t
cautiously, my man. Dinna attempt the tee; the port’s stret. There she
comes rowin’ and spinnin’. O Geordie, soop her! soop her! She’s a
howg! she’s a howg! Dag on’t, Doctor, ye’ve spoilt a’. But let
her come hame. There she curls – a bonnie laid-down stane. Leuk at
that, Cauldhame. Touch’t if ye can. That’s what I ca’ weedin’
the moot tae some purpose. A bonnie curl, Doctor. Come owre and gie’s
a grup o’ your hand. It was a feather i’ the kep o’ oor club that
nicht we brithered ye." And so right merrily goes the match,
contested ever with the kindliest feeling, and closed – no matter who
wins, for one side or other must – with the friendliest
congratulations. But, as we have indicated, it is also keenly contested.
Not only "honour" depends on the result, but the dinner of
beef and greens that has to be defrayed by the losers.
Skating is another exciting amusement on
the ice. Peculiarly enlivening, even for mere spectator, is the sight of
disporting crowds shooting hither and thither in the most graceful
groups and gyrations. And the skating part now generally played by the
ladies, renders such exhibitions all the more picturesque. Need we say
that many of the fair skate with exquisite ease and skill –skim, in
fact, over the glassy surface like swallows on the wing, and seem quite
as familiar with the modus operandi as any of the sterner sex.
Here and there, it is true, a mere learner is to be seen snatching, as
she toils and staggers along, at the empty and tangible air; but such
ludicrous appearances are as common with Tom and Harry as with Berta and
Nell. The best lady skaters in the world are probably to be found in the
great cities of Lower Canada, Monreal, Quebec, or Ottawa, where balls,
carnivals, and other ice parties are matters of regular occurrence, and
the skating rink is a national institution. Two of the finest figure
pictures in groups that were ever done in photography were those of the
"Fancy Ball" and the "Carnival" given at Montreal,
on the Victoria Rink in honour of Prince Albert, H.R.H. Duke of
Connaught. They were executed by command of Her Majesty, every figure in
them, some hundreds in number, being portraits taken separately, and
afterwards grouped by the celebrated photographer, Notman. All the
figures in both pictures are on skates, the range of costumes adopted
being very wide – Turkish sultanas, gypsies, Indians, fairies, and
historical characters alike careering along in dizzy waltzes or stately
quadrilles.
The only fishing club in the shire is
connected with the county town. This year’s competition took place on
Loch Leven, at which there was a strong muster, 33 members being out in
17 boats. The united takes of the club amounted to 353 trout, weighing
about 274 pounds. The heaviest single fish caught was 2 lb. 2 oz. Inland
sport is every day becoming more restricted, owing to causes too obvious
to require specification, and sportsmen will be driven, in spite of
choice or preference, to the open coasts and sheltered bays to find that
enjoyment in fishing or shooting which is to them the salt of life.
To our more youthful readers we would
say, on parting – cultivate early, familiar intercourse with the book
of nature, and the landmarks of history. Perhaps no study could be found
more beneficial for health, and, at the same time, so fraught with
mental benefit and pleasure, as the so-called "hobby" of the
topographer. And in this world there is need for acquiring sources of
enjoyment apart from society and its various spheres of recreation. Let
these lines be deeply engraven on the tablet of every juvenile mind: -
"Life is a thorny
beaten track,
Where man works out his busy day,
And passes joys upon the way,
For which he fain would travel back." |