Part of the context of the early drama is the other forms of entertainment available at the time. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, animal sports formed an important alternative to drama as a form of entertainment. The bearbaits of the Paris Garden provided serious competition for the plays of Shakespeare. Cockfighting and horseracing were patronized by members of the gentry, and an event such as a bullbait or a cockfight could become a civic occasion. Yet, as with the performance of music, there was variety in the acceptability of animal sports, both in type and occasion. Bearbaiting, for example, received more attention from the authorities than horseracing or cockfighting, and was singled out for particular objection by the puritan reformers.

Many of the documents collected for the Cheshire volume of Records of Early English Drama relate to animal entertainments, particularly bearbaiting and cockfighting. They demonstrate both the popularity of and opposition to these sports. Nevertheless, they provide very little information about what is actually happening in the bearbait or the cockfight. We have slightly more information about how horse races such as the Chester St. George’s day race was run, because an undated copy of the articles for the race set out exactly how it is to be run. These articles also show an awareness of some of the concerns of the puritans. The first article specifies that the race be run on St. George’s day (23 April), except if it falls on a Saturday or Sunday. This is clearly connected to concerns about the infringement of the sabbath, Saturday being included because it was the eve of the sabbath. The argument that money is wasted on horseracing that could be better spent on charity, is reflected in the articles, which specify that the winners shall make a fixed contribution to the prisoners in the Northgate. The concern of the authorities with potential violence, riot or other disturbances is partly addressed by the threat of imprisonment to any rider guilty of foul play during the race, and by the exclusion of all non-racing horses from the Roodee until the race is over. A proclamation from 1609, which sets out the order in which the civic guilds are to process at the race, also contains orders for the behaviour and safety of the audience:

The St. George’s Day Race was a controlled event; the 20s. entry fee meant that participants were likely to be from the wealthier section of society. The presence of the mayor and aldermen, as well as the officials of all the guilds, meant that any breaches of the peace were unlikely to go unnoticed or unpunished. The event was sanctioned by both law and custom, and was a part of the civic calendar in the same way that the Chester Whitsun plays or the Midsummer Show were. The Farndon races were even more explicit in their association with the gentry, as the articles from 1631 show:

The purpose of the race is said to be "the Mutualitie of ffreindshipp and kind society" amongst the gentry, and the gentlemen are asked to behave like gentlemen and set a good example to their followers and others. Horses not in the race are not to be brought onto the course, although at Farndon this is entreated of the gentlemen rather than ordered, and it is pointed out that they can see just as well on foot. The organizers of the race point out the benefits of cooperation:

Owners of horses are allowed to ride on the course themselves, and to appoint one other gentleman to ride with them, in order to ensure fair play. Dogs are not permitted on the course, and strays are to be killed. These rules are aimed at the gentry, on the assumption that they can keep control of their followers. The actual riders are evidently the servants of the gentlemen, rather than the owners themselves. Although these races, particularly that at Chester, were no doubt attended and probably bet on by those further down the social scale, they do not figure in the articles, other than as part of a crowd to be controlled.

The situation is different with a sport like bearbaiting, although one might wonder why. One might suppose that the predominant factor in the exclusiveness of horseracing is not that it appeals to the tastes of the gentry rather than the commoners, but that the gentry can afford it. A racehorse was, then as now, a luxury item, expensive to breed, train and keep. The skill of the rider is also important in the success of the horse, and an owner would have had to ensure that he had the best available rider for his horse. The 20s. entry fee to the race was probably less a cause of the exclusiveness of horseracing than an effect. Why then was bear-baiting so much broader in its appeal? Bears, one might assume, would also be luxury animals, difficult to obtain or to breed and quite possibly expensive to feed. In addition, there was a much more active opposition to bearbaiting than there was to horseracing. How did the bearwards in a place like Cheshire overcome these difficulties, and why was it worth their while to do so?

One difference between bearbaiting and horseracing is that it is not necessary to own a bear to participate in bearbaiting. In addition to betting as spectators, many of the audience would own dogs that they would pit against the bears. A dog would be a good deal cheaper than a horse or bear to rear and keep. The dog-owner’s motivation would have been that he was at an advantage in betting, because of his superior knowledge of the merits of his dog. The interests of the dog-owners might clash with those of the bearward, and disputes could arise between them. A riot at Astbury in 1605 seems to have begun because Hugh Whitacres

There may have been a number of reasons for the bearward’s reluctance. We don’t know enough about the circumstances and how bearwards earned their money to be able to say whether it was worth his while to have his bear fight a single dog. Bearwards were generally paid by the organizers, but they may also have collected from the crowd or made money from side-bets. In that case, more spectators would mean more money, and for the bear to face more than one dog at a time would ensure more spectators. On the other hand, the risk of damage to the bear may not have been outweighed by the likely profit from the proposed fight. The Astbury case also shows how the concerns of the justices about bearbaiting were to some extent justified. The quarrel rapidly escalated into a lively battle. The opposing sides seem to have been divided between those from Congleton and those from Astbury, and women as well as men participated with enthusiasm. Robert Spencer of Congleton, gentleman, testifies that

It is noteworthy that the audience at the Astbury bearbait-cum-riot was not confined to one social class. The witnesses examined include a Congleton alderman (although he testifies that he was not in fact present at the bearbait) and his son, a gentleman, a young (probably journeyman) shoemaker, and a joiner, as well as others of unspecified occupation, and the wives of some of the men. It is also noteworthy that three at least of the witnesses are younger men, as the magistrates’ and puritans’ concerns were frequently with the corrupting influence on the young of activities such as bearbaiting.

That is not to say that bearbaiting was not supported by the older, established members of the society. The accounts of the borough of Congleton demonstrate the value placed on bearbaiting as an important part of the annual wakes. Visiting players and bearwards both were rewarded, and although players might generally expect to receive more from the corporation than bearwards, this was not always the case. It is evident from the accounts of many places that corporations operated a sliding scale of rewards to players, related mainly to the status of the patron, both nationally and locally. There may also have been a sliding scale for bearwards, and a top bearward could receive the same reward as even a royal company of players or those of an important local magnate. One useful figure is the bearward Shelmerdyne, who appears several times in the Congleton accounts. There may have been more than one bearward named Shelmerdyne; a bearwarding family is not out of the question. But the price paid for his services relative to those of the visiting players is of interest whether he is one individual or two. His earliest appearance is in 1600-1, for which he is paid 6s. 8d. In the same year, the Queen’s players, who might expect to be at the top of the pay scale, received 10s. By 1608-9, Shelmerdyne is receiving only 5s., but the apparent dip in his wages is offset by the fact that the players of the Earl of Derby, the most important magnate in the area, also received 5s. In 1621-2, Shelmerdyne the bearward received 10s., the same amount as was given that year to the players of James I’s daughter, Elizabeth. That he was more highly paid than other bearwards is also seen in the payment at the same time of 3s. 4d. to James Wiggin, bearward. Shelmerdyne was not the highest-paid bearward to appear at Congleton, however; that honour goes to an anonymous bearward in 1631-2, who received £4 at the wakes.

There is also some difference in price according to the time of year at which the bearbaits took place. The Congleton Wakes in July were a particularly good time for bearwards, and the corporation took care to ensure that they had bears available for the occasion, even if they had to go to considerable trouble and expense to do so. In 1613-4, in addition to 15s. paid to bearwards at the wakes, a total of 4s. 6d. was paid to three individuals for going to fetch bears or bearwards. The largest share, 2s. 6d., went to John Pursell "for Rydinge to procure Beares in the nyghte for the wakes which before weare denyed". The payments and the timing reflect both the importance and the urgency of the matter to the corporation. Pursell was also sent on errands to hire bears in 1622-3 and 1623-4, on the latter occasion travelling towards Bunbury, another popular bearbaiting venue.

Bearbaiting requires less space than horseracing, and can be carried on in, for example, the yard of an inn or behind an alehouse. Only one bear is needed, which can be moved from one place to another at a relatively small cost. Bearwards seem to have had, in general terms, a wider range than musicians such as pipers, but did not travel as far as companies of players did. There is no mention in the documents of how the bears were transported. The use of terms such as ‘bear-leader’, used figuratively at a later period for a tutor accompanying a young man on the Grand Tour, indicates that they could have been simply led. They might alternatively be carried in a cage on a cart. For a bearward with only a single bear, walking would be a better option. Bearwards did often have more than one bear, however, and we sometimes find assistant bearwards, who would be necessary to help manage the extra bears. The early 1630s seem to represent the high point of the fees bearwards might command at Congleton. The bearward at the wakes in 1632-3 earned £3; the King’s Players, visiting Congleton sometime between December 25 and March 25, only received 10s. There is a dramatic drop in the last bearward entry in the accounts, a payment of 2s. 6d. to the bearward of Northwich in 1635-6, who "made sportt with his beares" in February. The payment may reflect the relatively low status of the bearward, who is neither known by name nor has an influential patron, or it may reflect a change in the corporation’s willingness to pay for entertainment. It may also be that they were willing to pay more to ensure bears at the wakes, when bearwards were in high demand, but less in the off-season.

Bearwards, like players and minstrels, came under the restrictions of the Statute of Vagabonds in 1572. Like players and minstrels, they could receive a certain amount of protection from a patron. This could create problems for constables who had to choose between enforcing the laws and perhaps offending a powerful noble. At Northwich in 1636 William Venables, the constable, complained to the justices of the peace that he had suffered abuse because of his attempt to execute the justices’ warrant against a bearbait. Those in favour of the bearbait felt that they were secure in the protection of Lord Strange, the son and heir of the Earl of Derby and a powerful local magnate. The constable reports that songs were sung against him in the illegal alehouse of John Venables:

There is no evidence that these threats were realistic, but they do highlight the dilemma that constables must sometimes have been in. William Venables’ fellow-constable on this occasion chose to side with the bearbaiters.

Warrants were issued particularly in plague times, as justices sought to limit large gatherings and the spread of the disease. Bearwards were dangerous as they travelled from place to place, possibly becoming carriers of infection themselves, and also attracted an audience from a wide radius, increasing the risk of infection. Nevertheless, there were alekeepers and bearwards willing to take the risk in the pursuit of profit. The justices issued a warrant in 1631 to the constables of Nether Peover to prohibit John Foster, innholder, from entertaining strangers, and particularly from receiving itinerants such as bearwards. The warrant, dated 6 August, is clearly aimed at a bearbait which was already organized for the 8^th and 9^th of August. John Foster later deposed that his wife had indeed hired Thomas Gorst, bearward, to bait his bears for two days at the wakes, but that Foster

Foster’s version is at odds with that of Thomas Deane, yeoman, who served the warrant, and Richard Holford, preacher and minister of Peover. They testify that Foster and Gorst the bearward both defied the justices’ warrant:

When the constable at Wilmslow put Baxter the bearward in the stocks in 1629, it caused an uproar and loud protest from some of the townspeople, who felt that their privileges were being denied them. Henry Orrell, butcher, seems to have been the ringleader, threatening to break the stocks in pieces,

The cases at Northwich, Nether Peover, and Wilmslow illustrate three different approaches to the problem of the last-minute cancellation of a bearbait by justices’ warrant: at Northwich, defiance and appeal to a higher authority; at Nether Peover, defiance and subsequent stout denial of the defiance; and at Wilmslow, defiance, appeal to tradition, and threats of violence to the justices. None of these seem to have been particularly successful. The patrons of the bearwards were more likely to support the justices than the bearbaiters.

This is not to say that the gentry did not show an interest in bearbaiting. A letter from Anthony St. John to Sir Peter Legh of Lyme, dated 27 November 1615 requests Sir Peter’s help in obtaining a dog for bearbaiting, as he wants to give it as a gift:

He evidently received the dog he requested, as he wrote a letter of thanks in the following February.

Although there is no direct evidence, it is possible that patrons played an important role in the provision of bears. A bear is a luxury animal, and one that had been extinct in the wild in Britain for centuries. Where then did the bearwards get the bears? Strutt quotes Erasmus, visiting England in the reign of Henry VIII, as saying that there were "many herds of bears maintained in this country for the purpose of baiting." To maintain a herd of bears for baiting implies breeding, although wild bears may also have been imported from the Continent, and, possibly, in the Elizabethan period and later, from the New World as well. A herd of bears would require a considerable amount of wealth to maintain, and the wealthy patrons may have been important as providers as bears as well as sponsors of bearwards.

We have only one piece of evidence from Cheshire that deals with the actual provision of bears, rather than bearbaiting itself. It is, however, an important piece, as it gives the price of bear cub and shows how such a luxury item could be afforded. In about 1564, Richard Wood bought a bear cub from John Seckerston of Nantwich, for the sum of £3 13s. 4d. The transaction was by no means a simple one; the money was actually paid by Wood’s kinsman, Thomas Bickerton, who received sureties from Richard Wood, William Wood, and unspecified others, that they would each pay a portion of the price. Fourteen years later, after the death of Bickerton, the question of whether William Wood had paid Bickerton was investigated, and witnesses testified that he paid his share four or five years before the death of Bickerton. He was evidently the first to pay his share, and Bickerton anticipated having to go to law to get his money out of the others.

John Seckerston, who provided the bear cub, was known to have kept bears in his Nantwich inn, appropriately named The Bear. During the Great Fire of Nantwich in 1583, Seckerston’s concern to save his bears added to the confusion and dangers of the fire:

Seckerston, although not of the upper classes, was not a poor man, and evidently made a good income from his inn. Seckerston is a particularly interesting figure because of his name. Bearwards tend to be either designated by name, or by patron. Very rarely do we get a bearward for whom we know both the name of the individual and of his patron. The exception is the Earl of Derby’s bearward, who appears in no less than three REED volumes as John Sekerston (Liverpool, 1574-5), John Sakarston (Bristol, 1579-80), or Sackerson (Coventry, 1584). The name was also associated with a famous bear of the time. In The Merry Wives of Windsor, Slender, in an attempt to impress Anne Page, professes to be fond of bearbaiting, and unafraid of the bears, claiming to "have seen Sackerson loose twenty times, and have taken him by the chain". A note to the Caxton edition of Shakespeare notes that Sackerson was

Was Sackerson the bear named after the Earl of Derby’s bearward, who must have been unusually well known in his own right to have his own name recorded as well as that of his patron? Or was he named after John Seckerston of Nantwich, purveyor and possibly breeder of bears? To name an animal after the person who bred it would not be remarkable, especially if that person were well known, and particularly if he was known for breeding good animals. I have discussed elsewhere the possibility that John Seckerston of Nantwich was also the Earl of Derby’s bearward, or that there was a bearwarding family of Seckerstons in Cheshire. The evidence is not sufficient to say exactly how many Seckerstons or Sackersons were involved in bearbaiting in the sixteenth century, or how (or whether) they were interrelated, but it does show that the name was a famous one in connection with bears.

The other most popular form of animal baiting in the period was bullbaiting. This differs from bearbaiting in that the bull was generally killed. Baiting bulls before butchering was considered to improve the meat, and may have been necessary because of the tougher meat of the bull. Bullbaits can be found linked to civic feasts, as at Chester, where the bullbait was an annual occasion, the bull being supplied by the butchers for the entertainment of the mayor and council. The presence of the city fathers was no guarantee, however, of decorum and harmony. On 2 October 1620, a bullbait was held to mark the end of the mayor’s term of office, at which

The offenders were arrested, and a second bullbait was held on the 5^th of October to make up for the interrupted one. It passed without incident, and finished with a banquet, and a money gift from the mayor to the butchers and bakers. Bullbaits could, then, be occasions of social affirmation, but they also came under the same suspicions as bearbaits as possible sources of social disturbance. It is less usual to find wandering bullwards than wandering bearwards, although it is not unknown for a bearward to combine the two activities, as John Boland did at Congleton in 1622-3, when he was paid 6s. 8d. on the 12^th of January "for spourte he made with his beares and bull". An apparently separate bullward was paid together with the bearward at Congleton in 1611-2, for performing at the wakes. On one occasion, at Frodsham in 1602, a bearward also apparently provided a horse for baiting. This appears to have been a rare practice, however. Bearwards may have been to a certain extent opportunistic in adding extra animals to their repertoire. They may also have provided some of the dogs for the baiting, a practice which may have been necessary for smaller bearbaits. The testimony concerning the banned bearbait at Nether Peover also reveals that the bearwards had attacked two women lodging in the alehouse, and stolen their dog.

The final major form of animal sport in Cheshire was cockfighting. This was popular at all levels of society, and was perhaps particularly associated with the gentry. Certainly the fact that Arthur Buckley had money to bowl and to attend cockfights was considered evidence that he was "lyvinge in fashion accordinge to his ranke" and could be expected to support his widowed daughter and her children. Letters arranging matches survive in the archives of the Legh family of Lyme, and one letter appears to have been written actually during a cockfight. Anthony St. John, in an undated letter, tells Sir Peter Legh

The Great Cockfight at Congleton was attended by both gentlemen and gentlewomen. The records for 1601-2 show that, during the week of the Great Cockfight, the town entertained Mr. John Brereton and a kinsman, Sir John Savage and his followers, Mr. Wilbraham, Sir Urian Legh and various unnamed gentlemen and gentlewomen. The cost of wine, sugar, cates, comfetts, apples, and beer for the gentry came to 22s. 2d. in all. The town spent a further 8s. 2d. on preparing the cockpit for the fight, and repairs to the cockpit are a regular expense in the records.

Keeping fighting cocks involved a certain amount of expense, especially as the fights would have been to the death. John Plumpton was paid 44s. by Sir Thomas Savage’s bailiff, for "the breedinge and keepinge of fightinge cockes". This was partly to offset the fact that he had "renuled his pennes & places to keepe Cockes in which to build & prepare would encrease a newe & further charge to be yelden". Fighting cocks and hens were specific bequests in the will of Sir William Booth of Dunham Massey in 1579. A fighting cock stolen by two labourers in 1619 was "vallewed for his bodie aboutes eighte pence price But for the owners pleasure and delighte att a farre greater vallewe". The distinction here is between the value of the bird’s carcass – the current market price for chickens – and his value as a fighting cock, which would be much higher.

The costs of obtaining fighting cocks – and it is not clear whether the stolen cock was stolen for fighting or eating – were not so prohibitive as to keep cockfighting as the preserve of the gentry in the way that horseracing seems to have been. John Duckworth, keeper of a ‘disordered house’ in Congleton – probably an alehouse – was accused in 1622 of "makeinge matches for Cockinge vpon the Saboath day and drawinge strangers to the towne vpon the same occacion", and a cockfight, with pipe accompaniment, was a feature of the Wybunbury wakes in 1605. Like a bearbait, a cockfight at an inn or alehouse would be an event, drawing customers from a wide radius. Roger Ince of Nantwich deposed in 1586 that he had attended a cockfight in Sandbach, which took him across two parish boundaries.

Animal sports had a broad appeal, and no sport seems to have been the exclusive domain of one social class. The cost involved in a sport was a major factor in how people participated in it. Horseracing and cockfighting, where the animals were either expensive or did not survive long, was more accessible to the gentry. Bearbaiting, where the cost of the main animal was borne by the bearward or his sponsor, was accessible on a broader basis. The cost of keeping the bears must also have been a factor in the number of occasions on which bearwards and alehousekeepers held illegal bearbaits, even in the face of a justices’ warrant. The financial rewards to the bearward and the organizer of a bearbait were considerable, and seem to have outweighed the risk of prosecution. The acceptability of an event seems to have varied according to the status of the participants. A cockfight in an unlicensed alehouse was always condemned; the Great Cockfight of Congleton was not. Incidents at specific events were not necessarily grounds for suppression of the activity, as can be seen by the riot at the Chester bullbait. Participation in animal sports was a socially acceptable way of spending surplus income, and could therefore be used as a social indicator. It was simultaneously frowned upon as a worthless activity on which the poorer classes wasted money they could not afford. Despite the protests of the moralists and the laws of the land, these sports had a broad popular appeal that made Sackerson the bear a serious rival to the plays of Shakespeare.

Elizabeth M. S. Baldwin

Prince George, B.C., Canada

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