12.――Broome, in coming up, looked weak a_Pugilistica: The History of British Boxing, Volume 3 (of 3) Containing Lives of the Most Celebrated Pugilists; Full Reports of Their Battles from Contemporary Newspapers, With Authentic Portraits, Personal Anecdotes, and Sketches of the Principal Patrons of the Prize Ring, Forming a Complete History of the Ring from Fig and Broughton, 1719-40, to the Last Championship Battle Between King and Heenan, in December 1863

Orme was also by no means in good order; both his

cheeks were considerably swollen, and his mouth was

“reethur” out of shape. Orme led off, but was well

stopped. A second attempt from his right reached

Broome’s ribs very heavily, and caused the latter to

wince like a galled horse. He quickly got over it,

however, and dashed out his left on Orme’s mouth. He

tried again, but Orme stepped back, propping Master

Broome on the sneezer with his left as he came in.

Exchanges followed, Orme inflicting a fresh cut under

Broome’s left peeper, and receiving sharply on his

damaged kissing trap. In the end Orme got down to avoid

the fall.

13.――Broome, after a little cautious sparring, let go

his left and right, but was short, and Orme immediately

returned on his right peeper; Broome retreated, and as

Orme came after him Broome sent out his left on the

mouth again, drawing the cork freely. Broome now made

two attempts to get in his one, two, but on each

occasion Orme was too quick for him, and jumped away.

In a third attempt he reached Orme’s smeller, a heavy

nose-ender, which again tapped his best October. He

repeated the dose on the mug, whereupon Orme dashed in,

caught him on the left cheek with his right, closed,

and, after a short struggle, both were down.

14.――Orme feinted with his left, and then dashed in his

right on Broome’s left ogle, a very heavy hit. Broome

returned on the mouth, and then retreated; some

sparring at a distance followed, and on their again

getting close, Broome sent out both mawleys, but was

cleverly stopped. Orme then popped in his left on the

right cheek, and Broome, in getting away from further

visitations, fell through the ropes.

15.――Both slow to the call of “time,” and on reaching

the scratch they stood and looked at each other until

Orme advanced, when Broome tried to meet him with his

left, but Orme stopped him neatly twice, and at a third

attempt jumped away. Orme then again crept in and made

his right tell heavily on the ribs. Broome now sent

home his left and right on the left ogle and nose of

Orme, repeated the dose on the nose and mouth heavily,

and as Orme dashed in with his right on the ribs,

Broome caught him a tremendous upper-cut on the mark

with his right, and Orme fell.

16.――Orme, on coming up, appeared to have suffered

severely from the upper-cut in the last round; he was

evidently much shaken, in addition to which both his

eyes were gradually going. He nevertheless tried to

lead off left and right, but his blows wanted power.

Broome returned on the left cheek, and then on the

mouth, Orme’s return being out of distance. Orme still

persevered, but got propped heavily on the nose from

Broome’s left. Broome at length closed, when Orme

punched him heavily on the ribs, but Broome succeeded

in throwing and falling heavily on him.

17.――Orme led off left and right, but was stopped; he

then rushed in, and was propped heavily on the nose,

and got down. (Time, one hour and a half.)

18.――Broome rattled in left and right on the ogles of

Orme, and got away. Orme followed him up, reached his

chest with the left, and was propped heavily on the

left cheek. Broome closed, and catching Orme round the

neck, hugged him until Orme dropped on his knees. Orme

then put his hands round Broome’s thigh, but Broome got

away, and walked to his corner. A claim of “foul” was

made on the part of Broome, on the ground that he

(Orme) had attempted to pull him over by catching him

below the waistband. The claim, however, was not

allowed, the referee believing that Orme was utterly

unaware as to where he had caught hold of Broome.

19.――Broome again led off left and right, reaching

Orme’s cheek and mouth heavily. A close, and some

in-fighting in favour of Broome, followed by a

break-away, and at it again, Broome delivering heavily

on Orme’s nose and eyes, and drawing claret from

several bottles. In the end Broome closed, and threw

his man again, making the unpleasant addition of his

own weight.

20.――Both long in answering to the call of time, but

Broome first up. On getting close Orme caught Broome on

the ribs, and was countered sharply on the nose. Broome

then took the lead, and planted on his right cheek

heavily. This brought them to some sharp exchanges in

favour of Broome. In the end, Orme got down on his

knees, and Broome caught him on the _os frontis_ with

his left while in that position. A claim of “foul” was

now made by Orme’s friends, but it was clear Broome’s

blow had started before Orme reached the ground, and

could not have been withheld. The decision was again

“fair,” and the mill proceeded.

21.――Broome, after one or two feints, let go his left,

reaching Orme’s snuff-box with effect; slight exchanges

ensued, and Orme again got down weak.

22.――Broome, seeing his man was much shaken, at once

went to work, caught Orme heavily on the left cheek,

and closed at the ropes, where he hung on Orme; the

latter pegged away at Broome’s ribs until he let him

go, and Orme then planted his right heavily on Broome’s

left cheek. Tremendous exchanges followed, each

staggering from the effects of the blows, Broome

reaching Orme’s left eye and nose, and he receiving on

the left peeper and ribs. Broome then stepped back, and

as Orme came again caught him heavily on the left ogle,

and Orme fell. Both were now much distressed, and lay

on their backs on the ground until time was called.

23.――Orme was the first at the scratch, and attempted

to lead off, but Broome got cleverly away, and then

went at his man, delivering both hands on the mouth and

nose heavily, and jumped easily away from Orme’s

returns, which were sadly out of distance. Orme,

however, followed him up, and although Harry met him

full on the snout, he planted his dangerous right on

the ribs with astonishing effect. Harry then reached

Orme’s sinister peeper heavily, drawing more of the

Falernian, and finally shut up the shop. Rattling

exchanges followed, Broome getting well home on the

mouth, and receiving a slogging right-hander on the

jaw, from the effects of which he staggered back and

fell in his corner.

24.――Orme came up almost blind, but still he

persevered; he feinted, and tried to get on to Broome,

who stepped cleverly away, and waited for the attack.

Orme did not keep him long in suspense, but dashed out

left and right; the former was stopped, but the latter

reached Broome’s damaged peeper, drawing more blood.

Broome, however, by way of retaliation, cross-countered

him on the nose heavily, again drawing a crimson

stream. Broome now walked to his corner, took a sponge

and wiped his eye, and went at it again, caught Orme

heavily on the point of the nose with his left, and

Orme dropped on his knees, Broome again catching him a

snorter just as he reached _terra firma_, giving rise

to another appeal, which was not allowed.

25.――Caution the order of the day, both evidently

tired. Orme at last led off, and caught Broome with his

right on the side of his cranium, on which Broome

closed, and Orme immediately got down.

26.――Orme led off with his left, but was short. Broome

quickly returned one, two, on his left cheek and mug,

and got away from Orme’s return. Orme persevered and

bored in, but Broome hit him straight on the cheek,

Orme being again out of distance with his returns. At

last he reached Broome’s ribs with a heavy

right-hander, and Broome returned on the mouth. Both

now retired to their corners, and permitted their

seconds to wipe their phisogs for them, and took a pull

of “Adam’s ale,” after which refreshing ceremony they

once more returned to the scratch, and Broome let fly

his left on Orme’s left cheek, closed, and after a

short struggle both were down. (Two hours had now

expired.)

27.――Broome set a good example by dashing out his left

on Orme’s right cheek, which led to light exchanges at

the ropes. Orme then walked to the middle of the ring,

whither Broome followed, gave him a spank in the left

eye, and walked away. He again approached his man,

caught him heavily on the mouth, and in return received

another rib-bender from Orme’s right. Broome now made

his right tell on Orme’s ribs, and in getting away from

the return fell.

28.――Orme, although almost in darkness, led off with

his right on the ribs――he attempted a repetition, but

Broome caught him heavily on the mouth and then on the

nose. After some slight exchanges in favour of Broome,

they again retired to their corners and had a rest, and

came at it again; Orme was receiver-general, and in the

end got down.

29.――Orme again led off, but was well stopped; he tried

it yet once more, but from the style of his hitting it

was pretty clear he could scarcely see his adversary.

He, however, reached Broome’s ribs heavily after one or

two attempts, and Broome missed a well-intended

upper-cut in return. The latter, however, soon

approached his now fast-sinking adversary, delivered

his left and right heavily on Orme’s left ogle and

smeller, drawing a fresh supply of claret from the

latter, and knocking his man down.

30.――Orme came up very groggy and wild, but determined;

he led off with his right, but Broome laughingly

stepped on one side; he tried again but was stopped,

and received heavily on the left eye and mouth, and was

again knocked down. His backers and seconds, seeing

that it was useless to prolong the contest, wished to

throw up the sponge, but the gallant fellow would not

hear of it, and he laid on his back until time was

called, when he again went to the scratch for the

31st and last round.――It was evident that he came up

only to receive, and that he was struggling against

nature; he was all but blind, and tremendously punished

about the head, but was still tolerably strong on his

pins. He led off wildly, but of course was out of

distance. Broome then went to him, administered the

_coup de grâce_, in the shape of a gentle tap on the

nose, and the brave fellow went to earth almost

insensible. Tom Sayers now threw up the sponge, and

Harry Broome was proclaimed the victor, and still

Champion of England, amidst the vociferous cheers of

his friends. The battle lasted exactly _two hours and

eighteen minutes_. All being over, all at once made for

the station to which the train had been removed, the

vanquished man being conveyed there on a truck. The

only personage left behind on the ground was Jem Burn,

who, being still a martyr to the gout, declined

attempting to walk a good mile along the railway to the

station, and intimated his intention of remaining on

the field of battle all night. All necessity for his

imposing on himself such a penalty as this was,

however, avoided by the engineer taking the engine and

tender which had been attached to the train down the

line to the place where “my nevvy” was located, and

bringing him up, sitting on a heap of coke, to the door

of the carriage in which his patrons were already

seated. All now quickly ensconced themselves in the

train, and the homeward journey was commenced about

half-past four o’clock, and the Metropolis was reached

about eight o’clock, after many stoppages. On the

homeward passage a collection was made for the game and

resolute Orme, which reached the handsome sum of £22,

and this was considerably increased at the giving up of

the stakes.

REMARKS.――This battle took everybody by surprise. On

the one hand, there had been continual rumours that

Broome never intended fighting, that he could not

possibly get himself anywhere near fit, and that the

match would end in a juggle. On the other, it was

asserted that Orme had overreached himself, and was

flying at too high game; that he would never be able to

reach Harry Broome, and must be beaten in half an hour.

Our readers will perceive, by the foregoing account,

that the “croakers” were far from the mark. The fight

was the best we have had for years between two big men.

Broome has lost none of his scientific acquirements. He

is a good straight hitter, clever at stopping, an

excellent wrestler, and quick on his pins. He is,

however, remarkably awkward in getting away when in

difficulty――instead of jumping back, as we are

accustomed to see others do, he turns his back and

runs, leaving himself open to severe punishment from a

cleverer tactician than Orme. Although he was much out

of condition, and was hit very hard, both in the ribs

and on the frontispiece, and several times was in great

difficulties, he persevered most gamely throughout, and

took his punishment like a thorough glutton. Should he

make another match, he ought to commence training much

earlier than he did on the present occasion, and reduce

himself certainly to 11st. 10lb., which is the outside

weight at which he ought to fight. If he does this, we

think, looking at the way in which he fought on Monday,

he will prove himself a tough customer to all comers,

and the man who wrests the laurels of the Championship

from him will have reason to be proud of his

achievement. Orme, since his last battle with Aaron

Jones, has wonderfully improved in science and

quickness. On Monday, for a considerable length of

time, Broome found it exceedingly difficult to get on

to him; he could stop well, get away sharply, and,

directly he saw an opening, was ready with his

dangerous right, which, as will be seen above, proved a

dreadful teaser to the flesh-covered ribs of Broome. We

consider him to be the severest hitter of the present

day, and did he but understand leading off with his

left, instead of giving his head, as he must

necessarily do when he makes play with his right, would

be “hard to beat.” The knock-down blow on Broome’s nose

and jaw, and one or two of the punches in the ribs,

administered early in the fight, were of such a nature

as for the time to reduce Broome to a standstill, and

had Orme only possessed the requisite skill to follow

up his advantage, things might have presented a very

serious aspect as regarded Broome’s chance of winning.

By saying that Orme did not possess skill, we do not

for an instant impute to him a want of ordinary boxing

capability, but a want of tact in knowing when to

“force the pace,” and prevent his opponent recovering

wind and strength. Had Orme been capable of pursuing

that system, the result might have been “a horse of

another colour.” This only applies to the earlier part

of the contest. After the upper-cut administered on the

mark in the 15th round, a great deal of the steel was

taken out of Orme, and we are informed that he felt

sick during the remainder of the fight, while Broome

slowly, but surely, improved his position. Although

Orme now and then got again on the damaged ogle and

ribs, Broome almost invariably met him on the eyes and

mouth, gradually reducing his chance, until, in the

last round, he was completely blind, and nature had

deserted him. Some remarks were made on the novelty of

the men retiring to their corners, and “taking a drink”

during the rounds. We do not recollect ever witnessing

a similar scene before; but the want of condition on

the part of Broome, combined with the heat of the day,

was a very good excuse for his adopting such a plan,

and as it was resorted to by one, there could, of

course, be no reason why the example should not be

followed by the other. The battle, from first to last,

was a manly, upright struggle for pre-eminence――neither

man attempted to take an unworthy advantage――and had it

not been for the ridiculous appeals made by the seconds

on each side, would have been a model mill in every

sense of the word. Such a fight for the Championship

has not been seen for very many years.

Once again the Old Tipton made public his “grievance,” declaring that

the award of “foul” in their former encounter had deprived him of the

honour of the belt and the profit of the stakes, and that the bold

Harry held the Championship by “a fluke.” Harry accepted his offer,

and articles were entered into, but when £25 were posted, Broome

forfeited the money down; his plea being that he had an engagement

with Aaron Jones (this went off), and another with Paddock. Forfeits

seem to have been in fashion in 1855. On February 20th, 1855, Harry

Broome forfeited £180 to Tom Paddock, and on March 12th, £10 to the

same. In March, 1856, the Tipton received £70 forfeit from Aaron

Jones; and on October 2nd, 1856, he also received £80 forfeit from Tom

Paddock. Pleasant times for the _bonâ fide_ backers of men!

It would have been well for Broome’s fame had his hard-won victory

over the gallant Harry Orme been the closing scene of his Ring career;

his increasing bulk, as was evident to all who knew him, forbade the

absolutely necessary reduction of weight which must precede anything

like fitness for a pugilistic contest of a prolonged and severe

character. Not so, however, thought Harry Broome. On the 12th of

December, 1855, he signed articles with Tom Paddock, for £200 a side,

for a meeting on May 19th, 1856, and on that day experienced his final

defeat, of which the full details will be found in the Memoir of

PADDOCK in our preceding chapter (pp. 294-303).

From this time forth Harry fell out of the rank of claimants for the

“blue riband” of the P.R., leaving the struggle for supremacy to

Paddock, Aaron Jones, the Tipton Slasher, and the little pugilistic

phenomenon of 10st. 12lbs. who successively beat all three of them,

and whose exploits form the subject of our next chapter.

Harry left London in 1856, and became the landlord of the Albion

Tavern, in Warblington Street, Portsmouth, which was soon famous as a

sporting rendezvous. From this house he backed several good men, the

best known of whom was the unlucky Bill Bainge, or Benjamin, who as

“Broome’s Novice” was twice unsuccessfully brought out to check the

upward and onward career of Tom Sayers to the eminence of the

Championship. For a few years following Harry was a public caterer and

attendant at the principal race-meetings. The last time we met him in

the flesh――and he had then too much of it――was at Epsom in 1865, in

Gladiateur’s year, when, in reply to an inquiry after his health and

prospects, he told us he was “in charge” of the Count Lagrange’s

invaluable horse; we suspect as a “watcher,” for which he was

formidably well qualified, physically as well as mentally. He was,

however, aptly described by a friend as “all to pieces,” and this was

shown by his death, which soon followed, on the 2nd of November in the

above-named year, at the early age of 39 years.[27]

[27] It may interest some readers to know that we are

indebted to Harry Broome’s early opponent, Joe Rowe, for the

original of the portrait which faces the first page of this

memoir. In our search after authentic likenesses, we learned

that “Joe” still flourished as the proprietor of a cigar and

tobacco store in Sun Street, Finsbury. Thither we bent our

steps, and there we found a pleasant-spoken and

young-looking specimen of the fair sex, who, in answer to

our inquiries, announced herself as Mrs. Rowe. Our first

impression was that we had chanced upon “Young Joe’s” bride;

but no, it was the spouse of “Old Joe,” who was “kicking up

behind and before,” and in his sixty-second year is

proprietor of the lady and the “Sultan Cigar Stores.” A

shake of the hand and a recognition, a smoke, and a

“liquor-up,” renewed acquaintance; and as Joe has a

portfolio of “sporting celebrities,” he cheerfully placed

them at our disposal, for which we thus record our thanks.

APPENDIX TO PERIOD VII.

Of the numerous pugilistic pretenders who did battle during the years

comprised between the Championships of Bendigo and that of Harry

Broome, few deserve the honour of a separate memoir, or even of a

recapitulation of their battles. The best of the fights, indeed, may

be safely credited to the middle and light-weight men, who were, by

their class, excluded from competing with the big ones for the

Championship.

Of these, Hammer Lane, Jem Wharton (Young Molyneaux), Johnny Broome,

Johnny Hannan, Owen Swift, Ned Adams, Mike Madden, Bill Hayes,

Donnelly, and others, will be found in the Author’s “Recollections of

the Ring,” to which the reader is referred. Here it is proposed to

insert, with a brief notice, the best battle of such heavy-weights as

appear in these pages as the antagonists of the men whose biographies

are included in this Period.

I.――BRASSEY (JOHN LEECHMAN), OF BRADFORD, AND YOUNG LANGAN, OF

LIVERPOOL, FOR £100.

In the Memoir of CAUNT (_ante_ pp. 60-69) will be found the details of

Brassey’s gallant contest with the gigantic Champion, October 26th,

1840. That John Leechman had fair pretentions to be selected by his

patrons to do battle with “Big Ben,” the subjoined account of his

fight with Young Langan, of Liverpool, in the October of the previous

year, will show.

John Leechman, whose height was six feet, and weight 12st. 7lbs., was

born at Bradford, in Yorkshire, on the 1st of January, 1815. His first

battle, recorded in “Fistiana,” was in 1831, when, at the age of 16,

he defeated one Thomas Hartley, at Eccles Moor, near Leeds, after a

tough fight of an hour and a quarter. On August 24th, in the same

year, he took the same time to batter one Ned Batterson, in 72 rounds.

He then fought, at Harpurhey, near Manchester, in May, 1833, Young

Winterflood, of Nottingham, for an hour, when the affair ended in a

wrangle. Brassey next met the well-known Jem Bailey, at Baildon Moor,

and beat him, on the 24th of April, 1835, in 74 rounds, occupying 2

hours and a quarter; Brassey being at the same time sadly out of

condition. Tom Scrutton was also disposed of in 20 minutes, 17 rounds,

on January 11th, 1836; and this brings us to Brassey’s battle with the

eccentric Bendigo. In the memoir of that boxer (_ante_ pp. 7, 8), will

be found the particulars of that defeat, which took place near

Sheffield, on the 24th of May, 1836. Brassey’s former antagonist, Jem

Bailey, now came out, and demanded a second trial, to which Brassey

assented, and the men met at Hales Green, near Pulham, Norfolk.

Although Brassey had won the fight in the 71st round, through the

indecision or misconduct of the referee, Bailey’s backers raised a

dispute, sued the stakeholder, and recovered back their money. We now

come to the battle with Young Langan, of Liverpool, which, except his

defeat by Tass Parker, is Brassey’s only fight worth preserving.

This contest, which was decided on the 8th of October, 1839, at

Woodhead, in Cheshire, excited an unusual degree of interest, not only

among the friends of each man, but throughout all sporting circles in

Yorkshire, Lancashire and the Midlands. Brassey was trained near

Norwich, under the personal superintendence of the veteran Ned

Painter, who accompanied his pupil to the scene of action. Langan took

his exercise at Bootle, near Liverpool, in company with Tommy Britton,

and his condition was pronounced “perfect.” The ring was formed by the

Liverpool Commissary, and at 25 minutes past one Brassey, accompanied

by Bill Hall, and Gregson Green, the “sporting sweep,” as seconds,

threw in his hat, and was quickly followed by Young Langan, amidst

loud cheering from the Liverpool contingent. The day was magnificent,

the sun shining with splendour, and as Langan lost the toss for

corners, Brassey was placed with his face to the north. Each man was

near upon 13 stone, but Brassey was a little the taller. An objection

having been taken to the length of the spikes in Langan’s shoes, “the

Morocco Prince,” who acted as his second, condescended to waive his

dignity, and a file being procured, he sat down, and in a most

workmanlike style reduced the sharp projections to the dimensions of

“sparrowbills.” Again some delay took place in the selection of a

referee; this point settled, the men stripped for action. The colours,

an orange bandanna for Brassey, and a green and yellow for Langan,

being knotted to the stake, at 23 minutes past two the men shook hands

and stood up for

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.――Each advanced to the scratch, Langan cool and

smiling, Brassey looking serious and earnest. After

slight manœuvring, Langan tried his left, and caught

his opponent upon the mug. Brassey was impetuous, as if

his anxiety was outstripping his prudence. He looked

sternly at his antagonist, let fly, and planted two

successive right-handers upon Langan’s

frontispiece――one upon the left eye, and the other on

the potato-trap; a close, and both down. Upon Langan’s

rising “first blood” was claimed for Brassey, which was

perceptible upon Langan’s mouth.

2.――Langan still wore a good-natured smile, while

Brassey appeared serious, and the eagerness which he

displayed was checked by several of his friends, who

saw that although “his soul was in arms and eager for

the fray,” yet a little more of “the better part of

valour――discretion,” might prevent an accident. A

little sparring――Brassey using his arms _à la Bendigo_.

Closer and closer went the men, and a few smart

exchanges took place, when they fell upon the ropes; a

brief struggle ensued, and both went to the ground.

3.――No alteration of moment was to be seen upon either

of the men, except that Langan’s left eye seemed rather

inclined to renounce the plebeian cast, and become “a

swell.” Langan held his right arm upon his breast, and

his left a little advanced; feints from both, when

Langan shot out with his left, caught Brassey upon the

pimple, and sent him to grass. Brassey’s second

objected to this being considered a knock-down blow,

but the referee decided “first knock-down blow” in

favour of Langan.

4.――Brassey came to the scratch with as much eagerness

as ever, and scowled upon his rival. Langan was not

dismayed, and the smile of good-humour, before noticed,

assumed, for an instant, that of derision; he was,

however, cautious, and played about actively. Brassey

tried his right, was well parried, ditto with his left,

when Langan receded a pace or two, and escaped a nasty

one for his nob. Langan tried his luck, when a rapid

bout of in-fighting ensued, which terminated in

Brassey’s being thrown.

5.――Upon “time” being called, Langan marched to the

centre of the ring, and as Brassey did not appear

inclined to advance so far, Langan pointed to the

scratch, as much as to say, “Come to the spot, my boy.”

Brassey kept his station, when Langan “crossed the

Rubicon,” and a long, dodging round took place, each

trying his left mauley occasionally without effect,

until they reached a corner of the ring, when a

slashing rally followed――Brassey down.

6.――Brassey was now more quiet in his demeanour, but

still intent upon mischief; in fact, had he not

softened down the very strong penchant for going in,

which he evinced during the five preceding rounds, it

is questionable whether his eagerness would not have

led him headlong into mischief. Each man eyed the other

with determination, Langan tried his left, no

go――again, it would not fit――again he essayed, and

caught Brassey a good left-hander upon his dial,

receiving a straight left-handed one in return upon his

snuff-box. A quick rally, mutual exchanges, when once

more Brassey fell.

7.――The visit which Brassey had paid to Langan’s snout

was far from pleasant and the claret flowed profusely;

the left eye also of the young Hibernian began to puff,

and increase beyond its natural dimensions. Lengthened

sparring. A close; Langan got away; the men closed

again, when some severe blows from the right and left

took place, the punishment being about equal, and in

the struggle both went down, Langan first on the floor.

8.――The concluding rally of the last round had not been

mere play, for each man’s phisog bore _striking proofs_

of handy work. Brassey was cut over the right eyebrow,

and was bleeding copiously; and Langan’s left was

following suit, except that his wound was under the

eye, and his opponent’s over. Extreme caution was now

the password. Sparring, and no attempt at a single blow

for nearly six minutes, which drew forth some volleys

of hisses at the tardiness of the performers. Two

minutes more elapsed, and no inclination to go to work,

when Langan tried his left, missed, and caught a

tremendous left-hander upon his nut, which, we fancy,

suffered less than his assailant’s knuckles, and

Brassey slipped down.

9.――Langan evidently wished to repay Brassey for his

kindness, and planted two successive right-handers, one

upon his weasand, and the other upon his nob. (Loud

cheers for Langan.) A close, both down.

10.――Sparring and manœuvring (5 to 4 on Langan).

Brassey looked daggers, made a feint with his right,

and made a lunge with his left upon Langan’s body

corporate. Langan quickly tried a right-handed return,

failed, immediately seconded his intention with an

effectual one, when some excellent counters ensued, and

Brassey went down.

11.――The men met, when Brassey dropped his arms

straight down, looked and nodded to his opponent.

Langan maintained his position, and smiled (loud

applause). Protracted sparring. Dodging all round the

ring: another halt; more procrastination. (“Go to

work,” cried the Morocco Prince; I’m tired of this sort

of play.”) All was of no avail, the men still continued

sparring, at last an indifferent rally ended suspense,

and Brassey was thrown. This round lasted sixteen

minutes and a half, and no real work done.

12 and 13.――Mutual returns, with considerable bodily

exertion, both down in the struggle.

14.――Very slight variation from the two last.

15.――Counters. Brassey lunged out, and gave Langan an

effective muzzler, receiving an excellent left-hander

by way of “change,” upon his brow, which set the

crimson flowing. Langan went to his antagonist, when

Brassey slipped and fell.

16.――Langan’s lip began to swell, and the gash under

his left eye still emitted the claret. Brassey’s first

wound was quite dried up, and a stranger might have

pronounced it three or four days old. After a little

sparring, Langan shot out with his left, and fell from

the over-reach of his own blow.

17.――Give and take; Brassey down.

18.――Langan was advancing to the scratch, when some

cowardly rascal pitched a clod at him, which struck him

on the hip, without doing any damage. A tedious round,

when Brassey fell, escaping in his fall a right-handed

upper-cut from Langan’s bunch of fives.

19.――Hit for hit; when Langan, in striking out, as

Brassey jumped back, caught him just below the belt

with his right. An appeal, but the referee decided the

blow to be unintentional, and consequently fair, and

the fight proceeded, Langan getting the worst of the

rally; both down.

20, 21, 22, 23, 24.――All in favour of Brassey. A great

uproar and confusion took place in the last round, in

the outer ring, which threatened an interruption of the

mill, but, after some delay, the tumult was quelled,

and the spectators resumed their stations.

25 to 33.――Each of these rounds were, more or less, in

favour of Brassey, although he was invariably

undermost.

34.――Langan’s frontispiece was sadly disfigured, whilst

Brassey’s was tolerably symmetrical. This may be

accounted for from the fact of Brassey’s flesh not

swelling, nor his wounds remaining fresh, but quickly

assuming the appearance of cuts of some standing. From

this to the 39th round, Langan gradually lost ground,

though he never flinched from fairly meeting his man.

40.――Another uproar in the outer ring, with the

addition of a few heavy clods flying about, the

Liverpool party containing some noisy members. The men

proved themselves good ’uns in reality, for they paid

no attention to the row, but kept to their work, caught

each other’s open left hand, and delivered two terrific

round swinging right-handers upon each other’s corpus.

After some little fibbing Brassey went down, and Langan

rolled over him.

41 to 44.――Brassey was evidently gaining ground, and in

the latter round Langan severely injured his right leg

in falling against a stake, which made him lame for the

remainder of the fight.

45.――Nothing material in this round, except one

dishonourable knave deliberately cutting the rope of

the inner ring, and had it not been for the

praiseworthy activity of little Billy Critchley in

splicing the same, would doubtless have finished the

mill with a wrangle.

46 to 51.――Brassey’s friends were in transports.

Victory was now booked as certain, and the rowdy upon

Brassey could find no takers.

52.――Langan rallied, and up to the 56th round may be

said at intervals to have turned the tide in his own

favour; nay, even bets were loudly proclaimed, but

little tin was sported.

57.――Brassey was evidently at sea, and the Langanites

bawled most lustily. Compliment for compliment, each

party alternately cheering on their man until Brassey

fell.

58 to 62.――Both men fought well and to win. Brassey’s

lower lip had received some stingers from his opponent

in the way of cutting and carving, while Langan’s

phisog was quite the reverse of what Lavater would term

“the exquisite,” strongly reminding us of Kenney

Meadows’s “Gallery” portrait of the “Man wot won the

fight.”

63.――To all appearances it was now extremely doubtful

which would be the victor. Hit for hit――right and

left――give and take――advance and retreat, until both

heroes fell over the ropes and out of the ring.

64.――Brassey came up and lost no time in drawing the

claret from Langan’s right peeper, but slipped down

from exertion.

65.――Langan’s mug was awful, his left ogle nearly

closed, and he looked more languid than in any round

previously; this and the 66th round told against him.

67.――One effort more; Brassey missed his left, Langan

grasped him, and with a vigorous strength which we at

this time thought he did not possess, threw him

heavily.

68.――From this to the 73rd round Langan gradually

continued losing, his left eye being quite closed, his

right much swollen, and his lips as thick as those of

Massa Molyneaux; Brassey seemed recovered, and was

nearly as fresh as ever.

74.――Brassey, bent upon finishing as soon as possible,

met his man, delivered his left, then retreated, and as

Langan stumbled forward, delivered two tremendous

right-handed blows, which felled him to the ground.

75.――Upon time being called, Langan was deaf to the

cry, and Brassey was pronounced the conqueror after a

protracted struggle of _two hours and thirty-five

minutes_.

REMARKS.――The instant the men had peeled the disparity

in height and length of arm was apparent, which nothing

short of superior science and activity on the part of

Langan, which he certainly did not possess, could have

overcome. In science Brassey is fully equal to Langan,

while in lasting power he is his superior. In the

quality of game Langan proved himself a hero; he only

gave in when nature left him powerless to continue the

contest. Brassey was quickly himself, and walked to his

carriage, and Langan, though by far the most punished,

said, soon after, that he was fairly beaten. Both men

left the ground, as all British boxers should, with no

feeling of ill-will towards each other.

II.――TASS (HAZARD) PARKER, OF WEST BROMWICH, AND JOHN LEECHMAN

(BRASSEY), OF BRADFORD, FOR £100.

After Brassey’s defeat by Caunt, already referred to, Tass Parker, of

West Bromwich, offered himself to the notice of Brassey, proposing to

meet him halfway between Bradford and West Bromwich, for £100. Parker,

(whose best fighting weight was 11st. 10lbs.) at catch weight, and

Brassey not to exceed 12st. 7lbs. on the day of fighting, which was

fixed for the 13th of July, 1841; a date which was subsequently

extended to the 10th of August, on which day the men met at Brunt

Lays, near Worksop, under the circumstances and with the result we are

now about to narrate.

Though the match was originally made in Manchester, the celebrity of

the men lent a metropolitan interest to the battle, and on the receipt

of a letter, dated the previous Friday, naming Lindrick Common, Notts,

near Eckington, on the borders of Yorkshire, as the rendezvous, the

writer booked himself, on the Monday, by the North Midland Rail for

Worksop. On arriving at that place he ascertained that Brassey was

already snugly ensconced at a small inn on the borders of Lindrick

Common, aforesaid, under the care of a liberal backer and Jemmy

Wharton (Young Molyneaux). Brassey was in high spirits and full of

confidence, yet we did not, upon a close scrutiny, consider him up to

the mark, and there was a feverishness in his pulse when we shook

hands with him that induced us to question the Black, whereon we were

informed that he had made an eccentric bolt from his training quarters

a few days before, and that otherwise he had not been strictly

observant of the rigid discipline indispensable to A 1 condition.

Nevertheless his friends not only declared him “all right,” but

offered the odds of 6 to 4 in proof of their good opinion. On the same

night Parker arrived, accompanied by Nick Ward, and by Jack Hunt, of

Birmingham. He domiciled at the “Red Lion,” where we saw him on the

following morning. He was in rude health, his corpus as firm as

collared brawn, and in expressing confidence he was by no means more

backward than his foe. The expediency of an early meeting at the scene

of action being admitted, it was agreed that Brassey should go to

scale at 10 o’clock, and that as soon as possible afterwards

operations should commence――a prospect extremely agreeable to some

hundreds, who were desirous of returning the same day to the distant

localities from whence they had come, among whom we noticed several

Corinthians of “the upper crust,” and staunch supporters of the fistic

art.

Precisely at 10 o’clock we reached the Common, where an immense

multitude had already assembled, in every order of vehicle, and

including an extraordinary field of equestrians, who were, however,

far out-numbered by the muster of _toddlers_, a vast number of whom

had devoted the night to the exercise of their pedestrian powers. The

scene was altogether most animated, and rendered not the less so by a

huntsman and a pack of foxhounds taking their morning exercise in the

distance. To all this, however, there were drawbacks which threatened

mischief; the first was the fact of our having passed a body of the

rural police for Nottinghamshire on their march to the Common, and the

next and more serious, the actual presence of a worthy beak for

the county of York, who, however loth, declared he could not

permit hostilities to take place within his jurisdiction. Thus

Nottinghamshire and Yorkshire were _tabooed_, but as Derbyshire, close

adjoining, was unrepresented, it was at once resolved to conduct the

candidates for milling fame to its hospitable meads. In the interim

Brassey was found to be as he should be in “pounds avoirdupois,” and a

general move to the “land of promise” took place. Of pilots there were

abundance, but, as it turned out, not equally happy in their knowledge

of the county; for while Parker and his friends took one road, Brassey

and the Commissary, with the ropes and stakes, took another. The

latter led through bridle paths of the most villainous description,

which had never been traversed but by farmers’ carts, and through

which it was with the greatest difficulty the carriages could be

dragged, not only from the narrowness of the roads, but from the

horrifying ruts by which they were cut up. At last, after

indescribable difficulties, this portion of the cavalcade reached a

field in which it was said the two counties of York and Derby were

divided by a small bank. Here, with great difficulty, from the rocky

character of the subsoil, the ring was formed, and all waited with

patience for the arrival of Parker and his division; but they waited

in vain. It was now ascertained that the ring was still in the county

of Nottingham; a fatal error. At last, when patience was exhausted,

news arrived that Parker had been more successfully led by turnpike

roads to a place called Brunt Lays, near Worksop, and to that place a

move became inevitable.

The materials of the ring having been once more transferred to the

cart in which they had been brought, another pilgrimage was commenced

through paths if possible more perilous than the former, till finally

by two o’clock the desired goal was reached, and a fresh arena formed.

But here a new difficulty arose: the carriages and carts drew so close

round the ring that it was impossible to drive back the dense masses

which had congregated. There was but one remedy, and this was to carry

off the _materiel_ to a new position, where in maiden ground a more

extensive field of action was secured, and the throng as it approached

being marshalled with a due regard to the formation of a spacious

area, the preliminaries were happily and conveniently adjusted for the

accommodation of all parties; the pedestrians forming the inner

circle, and the outer circle being composed of carriages, carts,

waggons, and horsemen. There were scarcely less than ten thousand

persons present, and a more imposing spectacle has seldom been

witnessed on any similar occasion. The police were in the rear of the

cavalcade as it moved, but they did not attempt to interfere, merely

intimating that “such scenes were contrary to Act of Parliament,” a

piece of information as novel as it was ineffective in preventing

sport.

All being in readiness, the heroes were summoned to the lists; Parker

from an adjacent farm-house, where he had been hospitably sheltered,

and Brassey from the carriage which had conveyed him to the ground.

Brassey first made his appearance, attended by “King Dick” and Hall,

with a host of friends sporting their bright “yellowmen.” On throwing

his castor within the ropes he was received with shouts. Parker next

presented himself, under the care of Hunt and Nick Ward, and also

escorted by his backers, displaying fogles bearing the insignia of the

Royal Standard of England in four compartments. His reception was far

from flattering, and the yells of the roughs completely drowned the

friendly cheers of his admirers, but they created a strong sympathy in

his favour among the advocates of fair play. Betting was commenced

with great briskness, and 6 to 4 were freely laid and taken――Brassey

being of course the favourite. There was the usual admission of

privileged spectators within the outer circle on the payment of a

stipulated fee, and the difficulty of preserving order was

proportionately increased; but at last all was tolerably well

adjusted, and the men commenced their toilettes. The toss for choice

of position was won by Brassey, who not only took the higher ground,

but placed his back to the sun, which was happily shining with great

brilliancy――more favourable weather could not in fact have been

enjoyed. The colours of the men having been tied to the stakes in the

usual way, a curious scene followed. Several of the partisans of each

who wore colours agreed to bet them one against the other, and these

were also entwined to different stakes, giving to the ring an

appearance of unusual gaiety, from the brightness of the kerchiefs as

they fluttered in the breeze. Umpires and a referee having been

chosen, little time was lost in commencing business.

On Brassey being stripped his appearance by no means altered the

estimate we had formed of his condition on the previous night. He was

“unshaven” and “unshorn;” barbers being unknown on Lindrick Common, he

had not been able to obtain the assistance of one of the fraternity.

This gave a haggardness to his countenance――not the most

prepossessing――which was not calculated to raise him in the estimation

of the spectators. His flesh, too, appeared flabby, and there was an

absence of that healthful glow and muscular development which was

observable at his contest with Caunt. He struck us, too, as being out

of spirits, although there was no indication of the want of personal

confidence. Parker, on the contrary, was obviously “up to the mark,”

his skin was clear and fresh in colour, and his muscles exhibited a

tensity indicative of rude health, while his bearing was marked by

unusual confidence. On standing together the disparity of size was not

so remarkable as might have been supposed, although in height and

frame Brassey had clearly the advantage. At twenty minutes to three

o’clock the men were conducted to “the scratch,” and their seconds

retired to their corners.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.――Brassey, on throwing himself into position,

stood erect, with his hands well up and his head thrown

back, but his manner was stiff and constrained. There

was nothing of that graceful ease which distinguishes

an accomplished master of the art, and which is

characteristic of quickness and activity. Parker was

more free in his action, his shoulder and head thrown

slightly forward, and his arms free and in playful

attitudes, low, but ready for a fly. Brassey waited for

the assault, and on Parker making one or two dodges,

showed himself well on his guard. Brassey advanced, but

Parker broke away; at last Parker let go his left, but

was stopped. Brassey again made a forward motion, and

Parker retreated. Brassey let out his right, but was

short, and Parker instantly popped in his left and

fell. (Cries of “Nick Ward has come to town” from the

Brasseyites.)

2.――Parker evidently creeping in to hit, Brassey

waiting. Slight exchanges with the left, when Brassey

popped in his right on Parker’s nose, and in the

scuffle Parker got down (cries of “First blood from

Parker”), and in a short time the purple fluid was seen

trickling from his nasal promontory.

3.――Brassey on his guard, but Parker succeeded in

popping in his right; his left went over Brassey’s

shoulder. After slight exchanges, Parker was down, his

nozzle still bleeding.

4.――Parker tried his left and right, but did not get

home. Brassey rushed to him and hit him slightly on the

ear with his right. He was preparing for further

mischief, but Parker slipped down, holding on by the

ropes with his left.

5.――Parker led off again, left and right, but without

effect. Brassey followed him, and in a wild rally, in

which trifling hits were exchanged, Brassey fell back

on his knee.

6.――Parker, who was the first to go to work, planted

his left and right on Brassey’s dial. Brassey tried his

left in return, but was short, and Parker slipped down.

7.――Parker short with his left and right, Brassey

stepping back. Brassey attempted to return with his

left, but was also short. Parker, in a second attempt,

was more successful, and delivered his left on

Brassey’s ogle. Brassey returned a round hit with his

right on Parker’s pimple. Slight exchanges, when Parker

let go his left with dire intent, but Brassey ducked

his nob and got away. In a scramble which followed

Parker got down.

8.――Parker dodging, Brassey waiting; Parker let go his

right, which got home on Brassey’s cheek, but missed

his left. Brassey made play, but Parker retreated and

slipped on his knee, looking up at Brassey as he

approached. Brassey walked quietly to his corner.

9.――Brassey now changed his tactics and led off, but

Parker got away. Slight counter-hits with the left.

Parker retreated, but, waiting an opportunity, popped

in his left twice in succession. Brassey followed,

contemplating mischief, but Parker got down. (Cries of

“Foul,” but no notice taken by the umpires.)

10.――Parker tried his left and right, but Brassey got

away. Brassey advanced, hit round with his right, but

was short. Wild exchanges with no effect, and Parker

down.

11.――Parker was the first to make play, tried his left

and right but did not get home. He retreated, when

Brassey followed him up, shoved out his left, and

Parker went down.

12.――An exchange of trifling hits, and Parker down to

avoid.

13.――Up to this time there was no visible appearance of

punishment on either, with the exception of the first

blood already noticed. Parker put in his left and

right, when Brassey caught him round his neck with his

left, and gave him a crack on the ear with his right.

Parker slipped down to avoid a repetition of the

compliment.

14.――(2 to 1 on Brassey). Counter-hits with the left,

but that of Brassey was more like a shove than a hit;

it wanted elbow-grease, and made no impression. Brassey

closed, grasped his man with his left, and was about to

fib him with his right when Parker slipped down to

avoid.

15.――Brassey came up eyeing his antagonist with

contempt. Parker approached him slowly, and let fly his

left and right, catching him on the phiz. Brassey

rushed at him to return the compliment, but Parker went

down “nasty,” quite in the Nick Ward style.

16.――Parker, as usual, opened the ball, but was stopped

left and right. Brassey ran to him, hit out slightly

with his left, when Parker fell on his back, Brassey

falling over him, with his knees on each side of his

body.

17.――Parker hit over Brassey’s shoulder with his left,

and was going down to avoid when Brassey hit him with

his right hand open on the back.

18.――Parker again hit over with his left, and Brassey

followed him to the ropes, hitting, without precision,

left and right, while Parker retreated and fell on his

knees.

19.――Smart exchanges left and right, Parker napping it

on the auricular, and down to escape a repetition of

the dose.

20.――Parker popped in his left heavily on Brassey’s

mouth, from whence blood was drawn. It was a stinging

smack Brassey rushed after him in the retreat, when

Parker fell, Brassey upon him.

21.――Smart counters with the left, and Brassey again

paid a visit to Parker’s listener. Parker, on Brassey’s

efforts to engage him in a rally, went down.

[This falling system on the part of Parker caused many

expressions of contempt on the part of Brassey’s

friends, and he was called upon to “stand up and fight

like a man.”]

22.――Parker pursued his dodging system, and again

delivered his left on Brassey’s mouth. Brassey caught

him with his right on the side of the head, but was

unable to get home with his left; Parker dropped.

23.――A trifling exchange of hits left and right, when

Parker got down, Brassey falling upon him.

24.――Counter-hits with the left, but Brassey did not

get well home. Brassey tried to bring his man to a

rally, but he went down to avoid.

25.――Parker hit short with his left and retreated to

his corner. Brassey followed boldly, when he napped it

from the right on the jaw. Brassey hit out left and

right, missing his man, and Parker went down.

26.――Parker hit slightly left and right, but in getting

away from the return slipped down.

27.――Brassey led off, missing his left and right, when

Parker got away and went down.

28.――Parker, as usual, led off with his left, but

caught it in return from Brassey’s right on the lug. In

the close Parker caught Brassey round the waist, threw,

and fell on him, thereby showing that he possessed

strength enough if he had but courage to use it.

29.――Counter-hits, followed by a close, in which, after

a slight struggle, Brassey threw Parker on his back and

fell on him. Parker in going down caught at Brassey’s

face open-handed, and drew blood from his mouth. (Cries

of “He’s gouging him,” and exclamations of disgust.)

30.――Wild fighting, in which trifling exchanges took

place, and Parker went down, Brassey falling on his

knees beside him.

31.――Parker led off, but Brassey retreated, hitting out

wildly. Parker rushed in to him, and Brassey fell as he

stepped back. From this to the 38th round little

mischief was done. Parker generally led off, and

occasionally delivered heavy blows left and right,

which began to tell on Brassey’s phisog; Brassey was

far from idle, but Parker invariably pursued his

dropping system when mischief was likely to ensue.

39.――In this round they looked at each other for some

time with their arms down, Brassey laughing and shaking

his flabby sides, but still fresh and vigorous. At

last, on approaching nearer, Brassey let go his left,

with little effect. In the short rally which followed

Brassey received a heavy right-handed thump on the jaw,

and Parker went down.

In a rally in the 44th round heavy blows were

exchanged, Parker catching it on the nose, which again

commenced bleeding, but he still pursued his getting

down system. In the 46th round Brassey led off, hitting

Parker on the ear with his right, and repeating the

dose with his left on the mouth and nose; Parker down

bleeding, and 3 to 1 offered on Brassey, although he

had evidently received the worst of the punishment.

Parker’s pusillanimous system of dropping excited

general disapprobation, but he contrived so to time his

tactics as to keep within the pale of the law.

Brassey’s seconds, finding that Parker’s one two was

invariably set aside when Brassey led off, urged him to

let fly the moment Parker approached; from these

assaults, Parker, stopping left and right, retreated,

but in the 55th round went down so palpably without a

blow, that cries of “Foul!” burst from all quarters. An

appeal was instantly made to the referee, who, however,

would not pronounce his judgment till properly applied

to by the umpires, to whom no appeal was at all made,

and Brassey, instead of retiring to his corner, as he

ought to have done, to await a deliberate decision,

rushed to take the handkerchiefs from the stake, an

example which “King Dick” followed. At this moment

Parker approached Brassey, struck him a heavy blow with

his right, and a desperate rally ensued; heavy hits

were exchanged left and right, and in the close both

were down. On rising to their seconds’ knees both

showed severe marks of punishment, Parker on his left

ear, and Brassey on his mouth and left eye. This

renewal of the combat with such mutual good will

necessarily set aside the claim of “foul,” and thereby

deprived Brassey of the verdict of “victory,” which

would doubtless have been given in his favour.[28]

56.――Counter-hits with the left, when Brassey caught

Parker another of his terrific round hits on the ear,

and after a short scramble Parker got down.

57.――A rally, in which heavy hits were exchanged,

Parker down, Brassey falling upon him with his knees.

(“Foul” was claimed for Parker, but the intention was

not sufficiently apparent to justify a decision in his

favour, added to which, he provoked the act by his own

tricks.)

From this to the 100th round the same style of fighting

was pursued, with alternate changes, Parker receiving

some heavy lunges from Brassey’s right on his ear,

which was dreadfully swollen, and presented a most

unseemly aspect, and Brassey catching it repeatedly on

the mouth and face――the former of which was cut, and

the latter exhibited marks of repeated visitations.

Parker went down at the termination of almost every

round, obviously to avoid punishment; but although this

system was cowardly, and opposed to the character of a

fair stand-up fight, he contrived so to time his

prostrations, as to keep himself within the pale of the

law; blows, however slight, having been exchanged. The

unnecessary length of the spikes in his shoes might

have had some influence in the falls, but it was too

clear that he wanted a heart to stand up manfully to

give and take in the old English fashion. From the

100th to the 117th round the same objectionable system

was pursued; but although numerous hits were exchanged,

and the marks of punishment on the side of Parker’s

head and Brassey’s frontispiece increased in severity,

there was still no decisive mischief done. Brassey’s

left seemed to be of little use to him; and although

with Caunt he used it with cutting effect, with Parker

he did no execution, and the right side of Parker’s

face was literally without a mark. Nevertheless, in the

118th round, Brassey was the favourite at 2 to 1. From

the 118th to the 127th round, during which time the

same style of tactics was adopted, little visible

alteration took place in the spirits of the men, both

coming to the scratch with confidence, but slowly. In

the latter round, however, Parker succeeded in

delivering a heavy blow with his right on Brassey’s

nob, who fell in a state of apparent insensibility. All

was now thought to be over, and a simultaneous rush

took place from all quarters to the ring. “Time” was

called, to which Brassey did not respond. Parker, for

whose personal safety from the crowd apprehensions were

evidently entertained, was almost immediately taken

away, his seconds and friends claiming the battle. To

the astonishment of all, however, Brassey rose, and

declared his readiness to renew the combat, a claim

which the referee, when appealed to, allowed; for

although more than eight seconds had elapsed, by which

time he ought to have been at the scratch, still, as he

had not been duly summoned――the umpires having, in the

confusion, neglected their duty――he was fairly entitled

to the advantage. In like manner it was determined that

Parker, who quitted the ring without first going to the

scratch, to which he had not been called, was absolved

from the penalty of the loss of the battle to which his

absence might otherwise have exposed him.

[This, again, imposes on seconds and umpires the

absolute necessity of obtaining a perfect knowledge of

their duty, and strictly adhering to its dictates. From

the great confusion which prevailed in this instance

some excuse may be found, but it only confirms our

repeated observations on the great disadvantage arising

from permitting throngs of partisans to congregate

close to the milling arena, who, by shouts and

exclamations, tend to interfere with that cool and

dispassionate judgment which the umpires and referee

should be permitted to exercise, and which, in ancient

times, was perfectly secured, none but the umpires and

referee being then permitted to sit close to the ropes

and stakes.]

Some delay took place before Parker returned, one of

his seconds declaring he had been knocked down, an

assertion which proved without foundation, although on

his way to his carriage he had certainly fallen, and

execrations were showered upon him from the friends of

Brassey.

With the 128th round the fight was renewed, but amid

such a riotous display of party feeling from the crowd,

which could not be driven back from the ring, that it

was difficult to note the changes which took place.

Brassey exhibited unshrinking “game,” and succeeded in

planting some heavy blows with his right on Parker’s

ear, while the latter was occasionally equally

successful in delivering his left and right on his

opponent’s disfigured mug. Parker, as usual, preserved

his cautious or rather questionable generalship, and no

sooner found himself in danger than he got down. In

point of freshness he had a decided superiority over

the unfortunate Brassey, and not only hit oftener but

harder. In the 143rd round he planted the first heavy

body-blow with his right, the effects of which were

instantly visible on Brassey’s countenance, who was

almost doubled up with pain. In the next round he was

equally successful with his left on the body, and

Brassey was again down. For the three succeeding rounds

Parker fought not only with renewed vigour but with a

more manly and determined spirit, a change sufficiently

amounted for by the almost helpless state of his

antagonist, who was down in every round.

The friends of Brassey now saw that all hope of a

favourable change was extinguished. The ropes were cut,

and a crowd armed with sticks and bludgeons rushed

between the men, and prevented the possibility of the

continuation of the fight. The most dreadful confusion

prevailed, during which Brassey lay at full length with

his head resting in his second’s lap, who sat down on

the ground to receive him. He was evidently in a

helpless state, but still he refused to give in,

declaring himself perfectly ready to renew the contest

whenever the ring was cleared. Persuasions and

entreaties were all in vain to induce the interlopers

to retire. Parker’s seconds claimed the battle; but

this would not be conceded; and after a long wrangle

between those who wished the fight to be drawn and

those who wished it to be concluded, a body of horsemen

were admitted within the outer circle, who instantly

galloped round the fragments of the ropes and stakes

yet left standing, and effectually succeeded in

clearing the area. Those within the ring then retired,

and with some difficulty the ropes were spliced and the

ring assumed something of its original form. Brassey

still continued to lie prostrate on the earth, but

there being no further impediment to his once more

resuming the battle he was again called to the scratch.

He came up quite groggy, while Parker, on the contrary,

was fresh, and apparently as strong as when he

commenced the battle.

It was soon seen that the forebodings of Brassey’s

friends would be confirmed, and that his chance of

success had indeed vanished. In fact, Parker hit him as

he liked, his boldness increasing as his sense of

danger diminished. Still, from the 148th to the 156th

round, Brassey came valiantly to the scratch, but was

down in every round, and was obviously incapable of

stemming the current of misfortune. His friends again

forced themselves into the ring; but “King Dick,”

feeling the folly and foreseeing the danger which a

repetition of punishment under such circumstances might

incur, refused to second him any longer, and the

unfortunate fellow at last consented to give in. He

then shook hands with Parker, who although thus crowned

with the wreath of victory, was certainly not entitled

to praise for either manliness or gallantry. He retired

from the field perfectly fresh with few marks of

punishment, save those on his left ear and on the left

side of his _caput_, which were certainly most wofully

damaged. Brassey was completely exhausted, and almost

in a state of stupefaction from the repeated

visitations, left and right, to his knowledge box. His

lip was split, and in other respects his punishment

sufficiently testified that he had not left off till

nature had deserted him. It is needless to say that his

friends and himself were deeply mortified and

disappointed by the result. The fighting was rapid,

time called quick, and the rounds extremely short,

which will account for the number of rounds is so

limited a period.

REMARKS.――We candidly confess that from first to last

we never witnessed a fight the conclusion of which was

less satisfactory. We have more than once expressed our

disgust at that species of tumble-down fighting by

which men, regardless of the principles of fair

stand-up boxing, seek to punish others, while by

cowardly subterfuges they escape punishment themselves.

It is a species of paltry cunning to which no true

British boxer would have recourse, and which in

Parker’s case, as well as that of Nick Ward, admits of

no apology. It is ridiculous to say that such manœuvres

are consistent with good generalship, or excusable when

small men are opposed to men of greater bulk; because,

if small men are incapable of fighting men of larger

size by fair means, it is not incumbent on them to

enter the lists at all. But here the disparity of size

was by no means such as to justify the adoption of such

a mode of defence. From the first it was clear that

Parker was not only the better fighter left and right,

but was the harder hitter; and if he had had the

courage to exercise those physical qualities which he

possessed, and fought fairly and manfully at his man,

there is little doubt that he would have brought the

combat to a similar issue in one-third of the time.

That he actually went down without a blow in more

instances than one the spectators must have been

perfectly satisfied, although on those particular

occasions the appeals to the referee were not legally

and properly made; and that he frequently went down

equivocally is equally certain, but he had always

self-possession and cunning enough to take care that he

did not have recourse to these tricks except under

circumstances where no adverse decision could be

formed. He was repeatedly warned by the referee, but he

declared solemnly he could not help it. On quitting the

ring he vauntingly forewarned Caunt, who was present,

that he would ere long have a tussle with him for the

Champion’s belt, but we apprehend this is idle bounce,

which he will be very unlikely ever to realise. With

regard to Brassey, he utterly disappointed the

anticipations of his friends. He no longer presented

the formidable front by which he was distinguished in

his contest with Caunt; he seemed, in fact, to have

lost that gift of hitting left and right of which the

head of Caunt, after their fight, afforded such signal

testimony. His left hand appeared to be utterly

ineffective, and when he did hit with it it was rather

a shove than a blow, while the hits with his right hand

were anything but decisive, although from their

repetition they seemed at one time to threaten the

ultimate defeat of his shifty antagonist. Of Parker’s

cleverness and pusillanimity the reader will find

further examples in the account of his defeat by Perry,

the Tipton Slasher, in our memoir of that boxer,

forming Chapter IV. of this volume.

This was the last appearance of Brassey in the P.R. The poor fellow

was evidently on a downhill course, and died at his house, the “Coach

and Horses,” Todd Street, Manchester, in 1845.

[28] It should never be forgotten by seconds that the

referee is distinctly bound by the 4th of the New Rules of

the Ring, to “withhold all opinion till appealed to by the

umpires.” And it is to those umpires alone that the first

appeal should be made; not by bystanders, who may be

influenced by personal interest, but by the seconds alone, a

rule which is unfortunately but too frequently forgotten,

and which was in this instance attended by unfortunate

consequences to Brassey――ED.

III.――TASS PARKER, OF WEST BROMWICH, AND HARRY PRESTON, OF BIRMINGHAM,

FOR £100.

As the name of Harry Preston has more than once occurred in connection

with the subjects of Memoirs in our history, and was at one period of

his career thought good enough for a match for £300 with Young Dutch

Sam (see PUGILISTICA, Vol. II., p. 388), we shall here give his last

battle, which was also memorable as being Tass Parker’s first Ring

victory. The articles, which fixed the 8th of May, 1838, as the day of

meeting, and the stakes to be fought for at £200, and further

stipulated that Preston should confine himself to 11st. 7lbs., were

duly complied with, Preston, on the morning of fighting, balancing

11st. 6lbs., which many considered 8lbs. below his best standard.

Harry, it must be borne in mind, was an “old stager,” having credited

to him, in the previous ten years, seven victories, two draws (one

with Young Dutch Sam, already alluded to, the other with Davis, of

Birmingham, whom he afterwards conquered), and but _one_ defeat, and

that by the scientific Jem Wharton (Young Molyneaux). It was,

therefore, to be expected that 6 to 4 was readily offered on Preston,

and that the defeat of Parker, who, notwithstanding his admitted

superior skill with the gloves, had been twice beaten by the renowned

Hammer Lane, with a prevalent doubt of his gameness, should have been

booked as a certainty; the sequel, however, proved that in the Ring,

as on the Turf, “public running” is not always to be implicitly relied

on.

On the morning of the event we found ourselves in Sawley, a village in

Derbyshire, eight miles south-west of Nottingham, where we were

introduced to Preston, at a “public” on the banks of the Trent,

wherein he had taken up his quarters. He spoke confidently of his

prospects of success, and treated his reduction of weight as by no

means reducing his capabilities. We, however, did not share his

opinion; though lighter bodily, his face struck us as more puffy than

is consistent with perfect training, and he did not impress us with

the idea of a man hardened by his exercises. Of Parker’s whereabouts

we could learn nothing; and a warning being given that “a magistrate

was in the village with an escort of police,” Preston was hastily

disguised and got out of danger; and not a bit too soon, for scarcely

was Preston on the road to Appleby, when a clerical “beak,” with a

constable and three or four “specials,” armed with a warrant for

“three counties,” as we were informed, made their unwelcome

appearance. In justice to these officials, however, we must say that

they behaved in what poor Jack Scroggins called “a gentlemanlike sort

of a way,” and gave all to understand that they should exercise their

undoubted powers with moderation, and that if “the peace” of

Derbyshire was unmolested, their function would then and there cease.

Away, then, for Leicestershire, towards Ashby-de-la-Zouch――renowned in

days of old for its tournaments and “passage of arms”――was the word.

Now, as fighting Ashby (fifteen miles from Leicester) was about

seventeen from where we then were, and as it was already past twelve

o’clock, the “fixture” was indeed a damper, many remembering how they

were thrown out when Caunt and Bendigo held their first “joust” at

Appleby. The cloud, however, passed away when, about a mile and a half

beyond Castle Donington, a hint was given that in a field not three

hundred yards from the turnpike-road, yet out of view of it, a

secluded spot was at the service of the weary wayfarers. A general

halt was made; each man was temporarily housed in an adjacent “Tom and

Jerry;” and these establishments being each luckily provided with

considerable stabling, every stall and shed was at once occupied by

vehicles and quadrupeds, while the bipeds consumed every eatable and

drinkable, to the last loaf and the last “tilt of the barrel,” in both

establishments. These despatched, word was brought that the Birmingham

Commissary had pitched his stakes, and all moved off to a pretty dell,

where, on a nice bit of turf, surrounded by gentle slopes thickly

wooded, the lists were formed; not a few aspiring countrymen and

youths ascending the trees nearest the ring, and forming a “rookery”

whence a vocal, but not very musical, “cawing” was heard at intervals

of the fight.

At two o’clock precisely, Preston made his appearance, and shied his

pimple-coverer into the ring; an example immediately followed by

Parker, who stepped briskly into the arena, and with a good-humoured

smile went up to Preston and shook hands with apparent cordiality.

There was a buoyant springiness in Parker, and a confidence in his

appearance, which seemed to say “I mean winning, and nothing else.”

Preston’s manner was more subdued――he looked serious, but exhibited

nothing like distrust in his own powers. Betting was 6 to 4 on

Preston, which, in a few instances, was taken, Parker’s partisans

seeming doubtful of their man. The colours having been fastened to the

stakes, and umpires and a referee chosen, the men stripped. Parker’s

condition appeared excellent――he looked as fine as a star, and weighed

exactly 11st. 4lbs. Preston looked delicate――his flesh did not appear

firm, nor had it the roseate hue of health. At fourteen minutes after

two the men came to the scratch――Peter Taylor and Nick Ward seconding

Parker; and Dick Davis and Holland, both of Birmingham, performing the

same friendly office for Preston. After the usual formalities,

THE FIGHT

Commenced, Preston having the sun shining brilliantly

in his face. “It will be a merry fight,” said Taylor,

who had been taking the odds of 3 to 2; “but my man is

in a merry mood, and means winning, and nothing else.”

Preston’s attitude was good; he appeared ready either

for the offensive or defensive, and watched his man

closely, who was also on the alert; Preston trying to

draw him, and making two or three feints, but Parker

was wide awake. Preston made a hit, but Parker jumped

back, keeping his hands well up. After two or three

feints, Preston hit right and left; Parker countered;

several exchanges, slightly in favour of Preston. A

smartish rally, each trying to give the upper-cut; a

short struggle, and both down, Preston under. “First

blood” was claimed for Parker, and admitted; it was

from a slight blow on the mouth. This round occupied

four minutes, and was in favour of Preston; but the

Parkerites were uproarious, Tassey having gained the

first event.

Round 2.――After sparring for some time, neither man

liking to commence operations, Preston put in a tidy

one with his left on the ribs without a return; more

sparring; Preston got in his left, and Parker countered

well. Both on their mettle, and rapid exchanges of

compliments passed, each anxiously trying to give the

upper-cut. Parker planted a facer, and Preston returned

under the left ear. Loud cheering for both men animated

them to redouble their exertions; and after a sharp and

merry round, in which there was good fighting on both

sides, both down, Preston under. Preston had rather the

best of this round. This round lasted 16 minutes.

3.――Long sparring; Preston trying to “gammon” his man

to begin, but Parker seemed to be down to Preston’s

moves. At length Preston led off with his left, which

was well stopped; Parker countered smartly, and fought

well before him, boring his man, who gave his head

away. Preston tried to give the upper-cut, but failed.

“Give and take as much and as quickly as you can”

appeared to be the motto of each, and they rattled away

merrily without any decided lead to either. This was

the best-contested round in the fight, and Parker

proved himself a better man than many anticipated. He

stood well to his gun, and not a few thought Preston

began not to fancy his man quite so much. Indeed, Harry

found him stick closer to him than he expected, and a

much sharper fighter than he had calculated upon;

still, the round was, if anything, favourable to

Preston. 25 minutes had elapsed.

4.――The effects of the last round and the heat of the

day appeared not to suit Preston. He had a slight mouse

on the left eye, when he came to the scratch, and

hemmed several times, as if a “little” touched in the

wind. Preston manœuvring to draw his man; Parker hit

short. After sparring for some time, Parker put his

hands down as a “ticer.” After a little more sparring,

Parker made his one-two without a return, and followed

his man briskly. Preston’s face covered with

perspiration, both hit together; exchanges, Parker

driving his man to the ropes, where he fell, Parker

upon him. (Shouts for Parker, and cries of “He’s got

Harry; where’s your 6 to 4?”)

5.――This was a short round; Parker took the lead, and

hit his man well and smartly, gave him no time for

parrying, but bustled away. Preston relished this mode

of attack so little that he turned from his man. (“What

do you say now? Why it’s Donington Hall to a cowshed!”

exclaimed Peter Taylor. “Oh, my man’s got him

beautifully――it’ll soon be over.”) Parker stuck to his

man; delivering rapidly as he went in, and Preston went

down.

6.――Preston looked as if he meant mischief, but was

fearful of going in; after he had made a few feints,

Parker went boldly in, hitting away right and left,

and, to avoid punishment as well as fatigue, Preston

went down in a short rally. (“He’s coming it”――the

Tassites uproarious, and the layers of odds rather

blue.)

7.――Parker found he had got his man, went to work

instanter, and drove him before him, and Preston fell

outside of the ropes. (“He’s done for!” was the general

exclamation of the Parkerites).

8.――Parker determined not to give a chance away,

commenced fighting instanter; Preston giving his head,

and making no defence, slipped down. (Cries of

disapprobation.)

In the next round Preston was driven out of the ropes;

and the three following rounds were all one way. It was

clear that Preston’s chance was gone. From the fourth

round he appeared to fight like a man who had either

made up his mind to be beaten, or was so dreadfully out

of condition that he had not the power to make any

defence. At the end of the thirteenth round, on being

lifted up, he could not, or would not, stand; and his

seconds gave in for him. Preston’s friends said he was

seriously hurt, in a very tender part of the body, by

Parker falling upon him. He certainly looked faint and

ill, but Parker’s friends denied the assertion, and the

Brums were loud and deep in their expression of disgust

and indignation. Time 40 minutes.

REMARKS.――The fight was over at twenty minutes to

three, and certainly disappointed every one who saw it;

after the third round Preston appeared to be “down on

his luck;” still, many thought he was only “gammoning,”

but the conclusion of the fourth round convinced the

most sceptical that the glory of Harry had departed,

for he never stood well up to his man afterwards. He

gave his head every round, and fell to avoid punishment

in a manner that excited feelings of contempt. Parker

from the first showed great confidence; when he found

he had “got his man,” he bustled in and gave him no

time for breathing, and although two pounds the

lighter, proved himself by far the stronger man; he

used both hands well and quickly. Among the members of

the Ring on the ground were Hammer Lane and his brother

Surrender, Lazarus, Johnny Broome, and Bill Atkinson;

Caunt, Merryman, and several others were thrown out.

Preston exhibited no severe marks of punishment,

excepting a mouse under the left eye, and a swelling of

the left ear, although Parker appeared to have given

him several “hot ’uns.” Parker appeared as fresh as

when he began. If, as Preston said, “He never was

better,” it is clear he never used his physical

advantages to less effect. That he is a game man he has

on more occasions than one signally proved, and his

defeat can only be attributed to a falling off in power

and lasting quality; while the proverb that “youth will

be served” receives another illustration in Parker’s

rapid success when he found his adversary’s strength

had left him. Tom Spring being stakeholder the money

was handed to the victorious Tass at the “Castle,”

Holborn, on the ensuing Thursday week, who then and

there challenged Britton of Liverpool. With that boxer

Tass fought, on the 8th May, 1839, a drawn battle.

Britton was subsequently arrested, and bound over for

twelve months. The men met again on the 9th of June,

1840, when Parker was victorious after 77 rounds fought

in 1 hour and 50 minutes, and was thereafter matched

with Brassey of Bradford, with the result we have

already narrated in a former page.

Harry Preston appeared no more in the 24-foot after this defeat. He

died at Birmingham on the 25th of February, 1850, in his 41st year.

IV.――AARON JONES AND BOB WADE (THE DOVER CHAMPION).

“’Tis not in mortals to command success,” says Addison in his

sententious “Cato,” though they may “do more――that is, deserve it.”

Aaron Jones, born in 1831――who, in his first essay in the Ring, at the

age of 18, had the ill luck to encounter the formidable Harry Orme (in

1849), when he fought him for 2 hours and 45 minutes, at Frimley, as

we have already narrated――was a notable instance of this. Jones’s

after-defeats by Orme, Paddock, and Tom Sayers being herein set down,

we now propose to resuscitate and “photo” the only gleam of sunshine

in Aaron’s clouded career. This was his battle with Bob Wade, called

the Dover Champion, on the 24th September, 1850.

From the time of Jones’s first defeat he had been anxious for a second

customer; but his friends dissuaded him, and gave him the good advice

to wait until another year or two had hardened gristle into bone, and

set the stamp of endurance on his frame. The youngster, however, was

impatient and importunate, and a cavalry officer, to whom Jones had

been known in his boyhood, and who was a constant visitor at Jem

Burn’s, on Jones calling his attention to a challenge from Bob Wade,

offering himself as a candidate for the favours of any 12 stone man,

for the small stake of £25 a side, consented to find the quarter of a

hundred needful for the match. To improve the amount for the men, it

was arranged that they should join in hiring a train on the South

Eastern line, in conjunction with the clever little Joe Hoiles (“The

Spider”), who was articled to do battle with Jemmy Madden, on the 24th

of September. Accordingly, the “excursionists” repaired, on the

morning of that day, to the London Bridge terminus of the South

Eastern; for as yet the London, Chatham, and Dover was not. The day

was delightful, and the destination, Edenbridge, Kent, was reached by

noon. Here the travellers alighted at the foot of a rude set of steps

cut in the turf embankment. These surmounted, a walk of a few hundred

yards down a shady lane, out of sight of travellers by the rail,

brought Tom Oliver’s roped square in view, and the smaller couple of

heroes were soon at work. After a lively exhibition of game and

resolution on one side, and artistic skill, with precise and cutting

execution, on the other, “The Spider” succeeded in knocking his sturdy

little opponent out of time.

The bantams having settled their difference of opinion, the bigger

brace of “unfeathered bipeds” appeared in the pit――we beg pardon, the

ring. Jones looked youthful, fair, cheerful, and symmetrical; his

height 5 feet 11 inches, his weight 11st. 7lbs. Wade, on the other

hand, was a brown and hardy veteran, his look as solid as his carcase,

and his weight the same as Jones. His more compact frame, however,

gave him quite two inches less stature than the Young’un. Jones had

two excellent seconds in Alec Keene and Bob Fuller, while Wade had no

reason to complain, having the services of the gallant Jack Grant and

the accomplished Bill Hayes. It was currently reported that Jones had

made rapid improvement since his encounter with Harry Orme, in the

previous December, and hence he had the call in the betting at 5 to 4.

We prefer giving a description to a mere numbered detail of the

rounds.

In leading off, after a few seconds spent in manœuvring, Jones got in

his left so cleverly and effectively on Wade’s jaw-bone that he not

only staggered the veteran, but sent him against the centre stake with

such force that his head was cut severely, and bled profusely

throughout the after rounds of the fight. Wade, nevertheless, returned

to the charge, and in the exchanges caught Jones a sounding

right-hander in the ribs, after which both were down in a scrambling

rally. In the second round Jones displayed superior science, nobbing

Wade neatly, who, however, when he got to half-arm hitting, pegged

away with resolution and effect, until again both were on the grass,

with hardly any “best” in the matter, though Jones’s friends were

uproarious in their encouragement of their man.

From the third to the tenth round Wade worked away well, Jones not

seeming able to meet him with sufficient precision and certainty as he

came in. When the men got together, ding-dong hitting and give and

take was the order of the day; thus they roughed away until one or the

other was down in the hitting, Wade the most frequently, Jones’s

superior and straighter style gradually improving his position. In the

twelfth round Wade, who had certainly by far the larger share of the

punishment, caught Aaron a stinging hit on the nose, and so severe was

its effect that for the moment it brought the Young’un forward in a

state of mystification, and, hitting out at random, he came upon his

knees. The Dover lads were vociferous in their acclamations, but Jones

came up steady, and in the next round, nailing Wade as he came rashly

in, balanced the account by battering his already damaged figure-head.

In the succeeding three or four rounds Jones stopped Wade’s rush

effectually. Both men rallied with great determination, and many

thought that the lasting stamina of Wade must wear out the active

spurts of Jones. In a rally in the 25th round, the Dover veteran hit

Jones down with a swinging body-blow, and the hopes of his partisans

were again buoyant. Wade, however, was too much abroad from severe

hitting to take full advantage of his chance, and again and again his

adversary administered punishment, as he followed him up to force the

fighting. In the 39th round, Jones having propped Wade three or four

times in succession without a return, the Old’un fell. Fifty-six

minutes had elapsed, and amidst cries of “Take him away!” Wade came up

for the 40th round, and Jones, in a half-arm rally, milled him down.

The 41st and 42nd rounds presented little variation, Wade obstinately

refusing to give in, though so advised by his friends; and at length,

just as the hour had expired, and Wade had come up for the 43rd bout,

Jones nailed him two straight ones, the first on the side of the head,

the second on the mouth, and down went poor Bob, to all intents and

purposes a beaten man. Jones was highly elated at his conquest, which

was certainly creditable to the youngster, as his experienced

antagonist was one of that old-fashioned “give and take” school, the

members of which are not to be beaten by any boxer who cannot stand

heavy retaliation in return for the favours he may bestow upon his

opponent, even by superior skill or activity. The money, £50, was

given up to Jones on the following Thursday, at Mr. Prior’s, South

Audley Street, when the brave Old Bob received a liberal supply of

“golden ointment” to heal his disappointment and his bodily hurts.

Jones, for a long period, up to the present year, 1881, has been

living in America, where he has earned respect for his civility,

steadiness, good behavour, and his skill as a teacher of the art of

boxing. A paragraph in a recent newspaper informs us of his return to

the Old Country at the age of fifty-one.

[Illustration: TOM SAYERS (CHAMPION)]

PERIOD VIII.――1846-1863.

FROM THE CHAMPIONSHIP OF TOM SAYERS TO THE FIGHT BETWEEN HEENAN AND

KING.

CHAPTER I.

TOM SAYERS (CHAMPION).――1849-1860.

As seven cities contended for the honour of being the birthplace of

Homer, so, _parvis componere magna_, half a dozen places, English and

Irish, have been named as the spot of dull earth whereon the last

Champion of England opened his sharp little grey eyes. Somers Town and

Camden Town, his favourite haunts in later life; Pimlico, now a

palatial precinct of Belgravia, and several other places, have been

oracularly declared, in “Answers to Correspondents,” in sundry

sporting journals, to have been the _locus in quo_ Tom struggled into

what proved in his case literally “the battle of life.” A clever

sporting writer (“Augur”) remarks with truth that “Ireland makes it

her rule of faith always to claim the winner, be it man, woman, or

quadruped. The ‘divided honours’ of Farnborough presented no obstacle

to this. She adopted the maternity of Heenan out of hand, and with

fair pretence, and now she has put in a _post mortem_ claim to Tom

Sayers. A regular county Kerry genealogy has been found for him,

including a maternal aunt, who, naturally and nationally attributes

his valour to her family infusion of the ‘blood of the Fitzgeralds!’”

In the memoir in _Bell’s Life_, at the date alluded to (which to our

knowledge was from the pen of a trueborn Celt), we read “Tom Sayers,

whose parents came from Dingle, in the county of Kerry,” &c. This

gossip we pass, being able to state from personal knowledge, not only

that Tom was born at “Pimlico,” a place of “fish-like smell,” in the

middle of Brighton, Sussex, on May 25th, 1828, but that his father,

“Old Tom,” so called from the bronzed complexion he transmitted to his

son, whom he survives, is a genuine Sussex man, born at Storrington,

near Steyning, in that county, where he was baptised in 1793, and in

1819 married a home-born and home-bred Sussex woman. Tom’s pedigree,

therefore, is indisputably that of an Englishman. How he passed his

youth, pushing off the Brighton hog-boats from the shingly beach of

London-super-mare, we may also pass. In due time he was placed out to

the trade of a bricklayer, and we have heard him say his first “big

job” was on the Preston Viaduct of the Brighton and Lewes Railway, a

noble structure of stone and white brick, visible from the Brighton

terminus, crossing the Preston Road. Tom quitted Sussex, and in 1848

he was following his vocation on the extensive works of the North

Western Railway at Camden Town, a locality for many years a favourite

with the departed Champion.

Sayers’s Ring career was doubtless one of the most remarkable on

record, his fights extending over twelve years, 1849-1860, besides

numerous earlier battles. They were, within the regular P.R. ropes,

sixteen in number, including one defeat and a wrangled “draw;” and in

all but three cases against heavier and bigger men; for soon after the

opening of his career no professional of his weight and inches cared

to tackle him.

Tom was in his twenty-third year when, having migrated in the pursuit

of employment from Brighton to Camden Town, he was induced by the

challenge of one Aby Couch, and the stake of a “fiver,” to meet his

opponent “down the river,” in the ropes of old Commissary Oliver. The

affair came off on March 19th, 1849, near Greenhithe, when Tom sent

Couch to rest in less than 13 minutes. For more than a twelvemonth

Tom’s friends looked in vain for a customer at 10st., or thereabouts,

but could not find one, though they declared him not particular to a

few pounds.

[Illustration: A TRIO OF CHAMPIONS――THE THREE TOMS.]

At length “Tom Spring’s waiter,” Dan Collins, whom we remember as a

civil, smart, intelligent news-boy, petitioned his worthy master for a

shy at Master Thomas, and articles were agreed for £25 a side, to

fight on October 22nd, 1850. Dan was about an inch taller than Sayers,

and a trifle heavier, though each on the day was under 10st. His known

skill, too, from his exhibitions at Spring’s, made him the favourite,

though he had been defeated by Ned Donnelly in the previous year. We

well remember the surprise of the veteran Vincent Dowling (Editor of

_Bell’s Life_ for more than its first quarter of a century), and of

Tom Spring, not only at the tough resolution and remarkable endurance

and strength of the “novice,” as the Camden Town hero was called, but

at the gameness with which poor Dan, sadly overmatched, took his

“gruel.” At Edenbridge, Kent, in the first ring, they fought nine

resolute rounds in 27 minutes, when, the rural constabulary intruding,

the belligerents retired to Red Hill. Spring considerately proposed to

Dan to decline, saying “He had fought quite enough for his money,” but

Dan earnestly entreated, and was indulged, when thirty-nine more

rounds were fought in 1 hour 52 minutes, both men being heavily

punished. Darkness now interposed, and the final trial was postponed

to December 10th, to meet in the same ring as Young Sambo (Welsh) and

Cross. This draught-board game proving a draw between black and white,

burned out two hours and a half of the short daylight, and there was

no time for Sayers and Dan to exhibit; so once more the decision was

deferred.

On April 29th, 1851, Sayers and Collins met in fistic fray at Long

Reach. The improvement of Sayers in skill made poor Dan appear to have

fallen off, and though he struggled gallantly through forty-four

rounds, occupying 84 minutes, the tide never turned in his favour.

Collins scaled 10st. 2lbs. at this second meeting, Sayers 9st. 10lbs.

If Tom reaped fame by this contest, there was but little profit in

training three times for a quarter of a hundred “yellowboys.”

The great improvement of Sayers on this occasion was evident to every

judge of boxing; he took a strong lead, was never headed, and won in a

canter. If there was little profit in three trainings and three fights

for one stake, Tom gained confidence and lots of friends. His weight,

however――too heavy for the nine-stone men, and underweight for the

“middles” and “heavies”――kept him without a match for nearly a year.

The “empty praise” of his friends, too, kept him from the “solid

pudding,” so that none of the 9st. men cared to meddle with him.

Various challenges in the columns of _Bell’s Life_ show the impatience

with which Tom bore this enforced inactivity. At length, to the

surprise and delight of the Southwarkians, Tom had, what they thought,

the presumptuous hardihood to offer to meet the renowned Jack Grant,

for £100 a side. Jack was at the top of his renown. He had beaten

James Haggerty, drawn with Mike Madden (daylight failing), beaten Alec

Keene, and received forfeit from the talented Callaghan of Derby.

Winning, and nothing else, was the idea of the Borough lads. The mill

came off at Mildenhall, Suffolk, June 29th, 1852, for £100 a side.

Grant was attended by Harry Orme and Jemmy Welsh; Sayers by Nat Adams

and Bob Fuller the pedestrian. Betting 6 and 7 to 4 on Grant.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.――On appearing at the scratch, the condition

and general appearance of Sayers was the theme of

admiration: there was not an ounce of superfluous flesh

about his body――he appeared all wire and muscle. His

phiz wore a good-humoured smile of confidence, and

there was a ruddy glow upon his cheek which told of

good health and condition. His attitude was graceful

and firm, and, to a good judge, it was apparent that if

he was as good as he looked the Borough Champion had

his work cut out. Grant seemed not quite up to the

mark. His arms, it is true, were muscular and brawny,

and his good-tempered mug looked healthy; but there

were certain accumulations of fat upon his chest and

ribs which sufficiently indicated that his exercise had

not been so severe as it might have been, and we were

informed that, instead of weighing about 10st. 2lbs. he

turned the scale at 10st. 6lb. Notwithstanding his

lustiness, however, he appeared to look upon the result

with quiet confidence, and to hold his adversary at a

very cheap rate. His position indicated the old

tactician――the arms well up, and not too far from his

body, his head back, and his eye fixed upon that of his

adversary, who stood well over him, and was longer in

the reach. After a little dodging, Grant, who was

anxious to begin, led off with his left, slightly

reaching Tom’s forehead, and jumped away from the

return. Sayers followed him up, when Grant tried to

repeat the dose on the forehead, but was prettily

stopped. Sayers at length got home with his right on

the ribs, which was followed by heavy counter-hits,

Grant on the left cheek, and Sayers heavily on Grant’s

nose. Ditto repeated, when Sayers gained “first blood”

from a cut over that organ. Grant then went in to force

the fighting, but Sayers stepped back, jobbed him again

on the nose, cleverly stopping the return. Counter hits

succeeded, Sayers catching a nasty one on the left side

of the head, and on getting back slipped down.

2.――Grant tried to lead off several times, but was on

each occasion well stopped. He returned the compliment

by twice stopping Sayers, and then lunged out his

right, catching Sayers heavily under the left ear. Tom

countered him with effect on the nose, and a close

following, both were down; Sayers under.

3.――Grant took the initiative, but Sayers jumped away

smiling; he, however, came again directly, and led off

with his left, but was stopped. He was more successful

a second time, and reached Grant’s damaged nose. Grant

closed for the fall, but Sayers would not struggle,

contenting himself with fibbing Grant on the nose and

left ear until both rolled over.

4.――Mutual good stopping, after which Sayers delivered

his left heavily on Grant’s ribs and jumped away.

Counter-hits with the left followed――Sayers on the

nose, and Grant on the ribs. A close, and some sharp

fibbing. A break away, and at it again, Grant

delivering his right heavily on Tom’s left eye. Slight

exchanges, Grant again getting it on the nose, and

Sayers slipped down.

5.――Both, on coming up, looked flushed. Sayers smiled,

while Grant looked grim. The latter led off, but was

twice stopped. They then got to work; sharp

counter-hits were exchanged, Sayers receiving heavily

on the left cheek, and Grant on the nose and jaw. A

close and struggle for the fall ended in Grant being

thrown, but not heavily.

6.――Sayers tried to lead off, but Grant was wary, and

stopped him. He was not to be denied; however, he made

another attempt, and again reached Grant’s smeller,

getting well away from the return. Sayers then repeated

the dose heavily with both hands, and followed this up

by one or two punches in the ribs. At length Grant

swung round his dangerous right, and caught Master Tom

a tremendous whack on the left ear, which staggered

him. Grant then closed, but Sayers declined to struggle

for the fall, and fibbed away at his man until he

allowed him to slip down.

7.――Sayers showed the effects of Grant’s visitation to

his left ear, which was considerably swelled. Grant

looked flushed from the taps on the nozzle. The latter

led off, but was quite out of distance, and Sayers

followed his example by delivering too high to be of

any service. Exchanges then took place, each catching

it on the right eye, Sayers’ delivery appearing to be

the heavier. In getting away Sayers slipped down.

8.――Grant took the lead, but was again stopped, and

caught an awkward one on the left listener for his

pains. He then succeeded in planting his left on Tom’s

forehead. Grant bored in, but Sayers stepped back,

administering an upper-cut, which led to a rally, in

which some sharp hitting took place, and Sayers

scrambled down.

9.――Both slightly blown. Tom stopped Grant’s attempts

to plant on him, and then delivered his left on the

nose twice in succession. Grant again made his right

sound against the left side of Tom’s head, and then

sent in a heavy one on the ribs. Sayers, nothing

daunted, was at him again, popped in his left on the

cheek and his right on Grant’s left ear, and this

bringing them to a struggle, Sayers letting himself

down easy.

10.――Grant tried to force the fighting by boring in,

but got it on the left eye rather heavily. Sayers,

however, had not the strength to stall him off. He

again went in, caught Sayers on the left eye, and in a

struggle which followed the latter again slipped down

to avoid being thrown.

11.――Grant led off, got well home on Sayers’ left ear,

and then closed, and both rolled over together.

12.――Sayers’ left ear and left side of his head were

much swollen; still he smiled, and calmly awaited the

attack, which was not long in coming. Grant dashed in,

and commenced hitting away with both hands; he drew

blood from Tom’s mouth by a heavy spank from his left.

Sayers delivered on the left cheek, and the round

finished by both falling together at the ropes.

13.――Grant made his right with severity on the ribs,

getting away from Sayers’ return. Sayers followed him

up, and some sharp hits were exchanged left and right,

both catching it on the nose and cheek, and Grant at

length got down.

14.――Grant dashed in resolutely, but twice was well

stopped. Sayers then delivered his left and right on

the nose and left eye. Grant, not liking this, bored

in, made his right on Tom’s left cheek, closed, but

Sayers catching well hold of him, threw him a

cross-buttock and fell on him.

15.――Both, anxious to get to work, led off at the same

time, and each got it on the left eye. Grant was then

neatly stopped twice in succession, but at length

closed, and some sharp in-fighting took place, Sayers

catching it on the left eye, and Grant on the left ear.

The round ended by both going to grass. (Forty minutes

had now elapsed, and those who had backed Grant to win

in an hour began to look blue.)

16.――A capital round. After some excellent stopping and

manœuvring on both sides, they got close together, and

some sharp exchanges took place, each catching it on

the nose and left cheek. A close ensued, followed by a

break away, and both at it again, left and right, until

Grant got down, somewhat blown, his want of condition

evidently beginning to tell.

17.――Somewhat similar to the last, each catching it

severely on the side of the head. The hitting appeared

rather in favour of Grant, who drew more claret from

Tom’s mouth. Both were eventually down.

18.――Grant dashed in and closed for a fall, but Sayers

declined the struggle, fibbed him severely on the left

ear several times, and Grant slipped down. He lay on

his back where he fell, blowing like a grampus until

time was called, when he was carried to his corner,

from whence he walked to the scratch.

19.――Some good exchanges, Sayers on the right eye, and

Grant on the nose, removing the bark, and drawing a

fresh supply of the ruby. Quick exchanges, but both

apparently hitting open-handed, were followed by Tom

getting down cleverly.

20.――Grant, whose ear had been lanced, came up bleeding

from that organ, which was much swelled from the blows

in the 18th round. He rushed in, but Sayers caught him

heavily on the damaged listener. Grant, still

determined, persevered, caught Tom on the left side of

the head twice in succession; exchanges followed in

favour of Grant, and at last Tom got down.

21.――Sayers’ left eye began to show symptoms of

adopting the early closing movement. He tried to lead

off, but was stopped by Jack, who made his left again

on the closing peeper, and then closed. Sayers fiddled

away at his left ear until both were down.

22 and 23.――Both slow but steady, and the rounds ended,

after a few exchanges, in the men slipping down at the

ropes. In the latter round Grant pursued Sayers, who

ran round the ring until he got to his own corner, when

he turned sharp round, caught Grant left and right on

the nose and left eye, which led to the close and fall.

24.――Grant came up bleeding from a cut over his left

eye. Sayers attempted to take the lead, but was well

stopped, Grant making his right heavily on his left

ear, and Sayers fell through the ropes.

25.――Sayers was again neatly stopped, and in stepping

back from Grant’s return, caught his heel and fell.

26.――Mutual good stopping, Sayers evidently the more

active; he caught Grant again on his left ear, which

was terribly swollen, received a heavy thump on the

ribs from Grant’s right, and dropped on his south pole.

27.――Grant dashed in with his left on the mouth, and

then his right on the side of Sayers’s head.

Exchanges――Grant drawing blood from Tom’s nose. Some

good in-fighting in favour of Sayers, and Grant got

down.

28.――Good counter-hits, each catching it heavily on the

nose. They now went to work in earnest; the hitting on

both sides was tremendous, but owing to the excellence

of Sayers’s condition, he did not show it much, while

Grant, who received principally on the left ear and

nose, looked considerably the worse for wear.

Eventually Sayers slipped to avoid Jack’s friendly hug,

and Grant, who fell over him, cleverly avoided touching

him with his spikes.

29 to 32.――In these rounds Grant led off, but his want

of condition prevented his being as quick as he

otherwise might have been, consequently he was often

stopped, and of course exhausted himself by throwing

away his blows. When, however, they got at it he gave

as good as he got, and the rounds ended by Sayers

slipping down. In the 32nd, however, Grant threw

Sayers, and fell heavily on him.

33.――Grant came up bleeding from the mouth and left

ear; he tried to lead off, but was stopped. Sayers

popped in his left and right on the mouth and throat,

getting it in return on the nose heavily, more of the

bark being displaced, and in the end both were down.

34.――Grant planted both hands, but the steam was gone;

Sayers returned on the mouth and left eye. A rally,

Grant delivering on the damaged cheek-bone of his

adversary, and receiving another gentle tap on his

nose, which drew more fluid. A close struggle for the

fall, and both down, Sayers under.

35.――One hour and a half had now elapsed, and both

appeared fatigued from their exertions. Grant stopped

several well-intentioned deliveries, and returned on

Tom’s left eye and nose, drawing blood from both. Good

exchanges led to a close, when both were down.

36.――Sayers came up weak, while Grant had slightly

recovered. The latter led off, was twice well stopped,

but ultimately sent home his right on Sayers’ left

cheek and the latter slipped down.

37.――Sayers, whose left cheek and eyebrow were much

swollen and discoloured, led off, and caught Grant on

the left eye and nose, but not heavily, and in

retreating fell.

38.――Grant took the lead, but was propped in the throat

by Tom’s right. Grant, however, found out the side of

his head with effect. Exchanges followed, both

receiving on the nose; but Sayers, who was the weaker,

got down on the saving suit.

39.――Grant dashed in with his right on Tom’s left

cheek, who closed, fibbed him heavily on his damaged

ear, and then slipped down.

40 to 42.――In these rounds but little mischief was

done, both sparring for wind, and eventually Sayers got

down cleverly.

43.――Grant, who seemed to have got second wind, led off

quickly, but Sayers jumped away. Grant followed him up,

caught him on the ribs, heavily with his right, and

then on the nose with his left. Sayers returned on the

throat, and some heavy deliveries on both sides took

place, both standing and hitting away for some time

without an attempt at stopping, and there appeared to

be no decided advantage on either side; at length

Sayers slipped down exhausted. This was unexceptionally

the severest round in the fight. The men appeared to

think this was the turning-point, and each wished to

make some decided impression on his game adversary.

44.――Both were the worse for the exertions in the last

round. Grant’s left ear bore marks of having been again

severely visited, and we believe his seconds again

found it necessary to lance it. Sayers did not show

such decided marks of Grant’s handiwork, but this was

mainly accounted for by his excellent condition. His

left eye was, however, closing, and his left cheek much

swollen. Both unwilling to begin, and some slight blows

having been exchanged, Sayers slipped down.

Pugilistica: The History of British Boxing, Volume 3 (of 3) Containing Lives of the Most Celebrated Pugilists; Full Reports of Their Battles from Contemporary Newspapers, With Authentic Portraits, Personal Anecdotes, and Sketches of the Principal Patrons of the Prize Ring, Forming a Complete History of the Ring from Fig and Broughton, 1719-40, to the Last Championship Battle Between King and Heenan, in December 1863 · 第 11 / 17 章

12.――Broome, in coming up, looked weak and distressed.