REMARKS.――Having commented upon the want of condition

of Tom Sayers, and having gone at some length into a

description of this short but busy fight, it is

unnecessary to trouble our readers with many remarks

thereupon. That Benjamin succeeded in redeeming his

character, and proving that he can receive punishment

and struggle hard for victory when properly looked

after, is not for a moment to be denied, but that he

will ever make a star in the pugilistic horizon we do

not for a moment believe. He is, at 34, too old to

learn the rudiments of the business; at that age even

the limbs of a practised boxer begin to get stiff, and

it is therefore extremely improbable that those of a

man trained to other pursuits can acquire that

quickness and readiness so necessary to a finished

pugilist. Had he begun some years ago, we think it not

improbable, with such strength and activity as he

possesses, he might have hoped to rank in the first

division. The desperation with which he contested the

seventh round――which was one of the sharpest and

severest we ever saw――evidently showed what he might

have done; but as it is we think, having fulfilled his

mission and proved to his friends that he is composed

of more sterling metal than they gave him credit for,

the best advice we can give him is to shun for the

future the attractions of the P.R., and devote himself

to the duties of his station in his own country. We are

glad for his own credit sake that he determined to

undergo this second ordeal, and equally glad that he

came out of it so successfully. It also gives us

pleasure to know that he has good and staunch friends

at his back, who having witnessed his performance on

Tuesday, are perfectly satisfied with him. Of Tom

Sayers we have only to say that he did not fight so

well on this as on former occasions; and, as we think

this was entirely owing to want of condition, we feel

we are only doing him a favour in impressing upon him

the necessity in future of leaving no stone unturned to

retain that confidence which has been hitherto so

implicitly placed in him.

Thus ended the second attempt of the Broomes (Harry and Frederick) to

wrest the belt from the great little Champion, but there were other

“Richmonds” now in the field. Bob Brettle, of Birmingham, could not

persuade himself that he was unable to interpose a check to the

victorious career of the hardy Tom. Bob had his own reasons, too, for

believing in his chance. He had tried conclusions with the Champion

with the gloves, and felt assured he had the best of it; and in this,

perhaps, he was not far wrong, for it was pretty generally known that

Tom was much more at home with his digits in nature’s habiliments, and

in a four-and-twenty-feet ring, than when they were muffled in

horsehair in the sparring-school. The backers of Tom at first laughed

at Bob’s propositions, but he declared he was in earnest, and went so

far as to say they would wish they had let him alone before they had

done with him. After much palaver Sayers offered to stake £400 to

£200, but Brettle then required the belt to be thrown in. This, of

course, was rejected, Tom considering that as holder of that trophy he

was only bound to defend it on even terms. Brettle was extremely loth

to give up his chance for the belt, but still he did not think it

equivalent to the extra £200 which Sayers had offered to stake, and

eventually he waived all pretensions to the “ornamental,” and closed

the bargain on the chance of obtaining the “useful,” which would have

sufficed to purchase a belt of double the mere intrinsic value.

At the meeting at Owen Swift’s, where the articles were finally

ratified, a friend of the Champion’s treated the match with such

ridicule that he ventured to suggest the probability of Bob being

licked in _ten minutes_, whereupon Brettle, in the heat of the moment,

offered to bet £100 to £10 against such a contingency. “Make it £200

to £20,” said Tom’s friend, “and it’s a bet.” “Done,” said Bob, and

the money was staked in the hands of Alec Keene. All these

preliminaries were adjusted before the second fight for the

Championship in April between Tom Sayers and Bill Benjamin, it being

stipulated that Tom should name a day after that event was decided.

At Tattersall’s, on the previous Monday, September 18th, the event

seemed to attract as much attention as the speculations on either of

the great handicaps, and in the yard a regular ring was formed, where

betting, or offers to bet, went on very briskly. The backers of Tom

commenced by offering 5 to 2, at which some few investments were made,

but the Brums soon opened their mouths for longer odds, and would take

no less than 3 to 1, and at this price again money was laid until the

Sayersites in their turn held back, and speculation left off at offers

of 5 to 2. In the evening, at the sporting houses, 3 to 1 might have

been got in some few instances, and a sanguine admirer of Tom’s

actually laid 4 to 1, but we believe he was a solitary specimen.

For at least a month, Mr. John Gideon, one of the most earnest backers

of Sayers, had been on the look-out for a scene of action which might

be reached with ease and comfort, and which, at the same time, should

be so situated as to be beyond the reach of the rough and ready

attendants at boxing matches, whose presence is anything but

desirable, and also tolerably safe from the too-prying eyes of the

powers that be, who do not love a mill, and who will in the most

unaccountable manner interfere with the pleasures of the Fancy, on the

ground that a friendly boxing-match is a breach of the peace. A few

consultations with other managers of excursions, and a considerable

expenditure of time and trouble, ended in the perfect success of Mr.

Gideon’s arrangements, and not only did he carry the expedition to a

triumphant _dénouement_, but ensured the utmost comfort to all the

travellers. Of course the profits of the expedition were equally

divided between the backers of both men, and the figure being

tolerably high, and the company unusually numerous, there is no doubt

each realised a handsome sum. Owing to the distance to be travelled, a

very early start was found absolutely necessary, and seven o’clock

being the hour named, the “lads wot loves a mill” had to be early

afoot; and many there were who having, as usual, devoted the first two

or three hours of the morning of the 20th of September to “seeing

life,” found some difficulty in opening their eyes in their very first

sleep to enable them to get to the starting-post in time. Many a one

started breakfastless, and many were the wistful glances cast at the

victualling department under the able charge of Mr. Dan Pinkstone, an

old and well-known caterer, long before the end of the journey was

attained; but as the train could not be stopped there was of course no

chance of an issue of stores from the commissariat until the goal was

reached――a field near Ashford, in Kent, being the _champ clos_ for

combat.

The train comprised thirty-six carriages, every one of which had at

least its full complement of travellers, and many were over-full. The

start was effected by a quarter before eight, and with the aid of two

powerful engines a rapid and pleasant journey was effected to the

scene of action, on entirely maiden ground, some sixty miles from the

Metropolis, which was reached shortly after ten o’clock. The vast

multitude lost no time in clearing out from the carriages, and a

pioneer, who had gone on ahead the previous evening, placing himself

at the head of the army, proceeded, closely followed by the veteran

Commissary and his _posse comitatus_, to the proposed scene of action.

No time was cut to waste in preparing the lists, which were in

readiness before eleven o’clock. While these preliminaries were being

arranged, a brisk business was carried on in the sale of inner ring

tickets, and our readers may judge of the class of spectators and

their number when we tell them that the sale realised a sum of £54

10s. for the benefit of the P.B.A. This done, Billy Duncan and his

constables proceeded to clear out the ring, and experienced the usual

difficulty in persuading the company to seat themselves at a

sufficient distance from the enclosure. All were naturally anxious to

be as close as possible, and accordingly had seated themselves in

compact rows, those in front close to the ropes. The consequence was,

that all were crowded together, and many were scarcely able to get a

glimpse of the ring. And now as we have brought the men _en face_, we

will say a few words concerning Tom’s antagonist, as we do not purpose

to devote space to him in a separate Memoir.

BOB BRETTLE was born at Portobello, near Edinburgh, in January, 1832,

and was therefore, six years younger than Tom Sayers. On the present

occasion he just turned the scale at 10st. 4lb., and did not appear in

any way too fleshy. By calling he was a glassblower, and it was while

he was engaged in one of the larger establishments in the hardware

districts that he first became connected with the P.R. His first essay

of which we have any record was with Malpas, of Birmingham, whom he

fought for £50 a side, on the 14th of February, 1854. There were 80

rounds, principally in favour of Bob, but eventually there was a claim

of foul on his part. A wrangle took place; the referee gave two

decisions, and ultimately the stakes were drawn. Brettle’s next

encounter was with old Jack Jones of Portsmouth, for £100 a side, on

the 21st of November, 1854. Jack had only been out of the hospital a

few weeks, and was in anything but condition; but still he had the

best of the mill, Brettle resorting to the dropping system. Forty-nine

rounds were fought in 105 minutes, when darkness came on, and as

neither man was much punished, the referee ordered them to fight again

on the following Saturday. On that day Jones was at the appointed

place, but Brettle did not show, and it being discovered subsequently

that he had been apprehended, either through the kind offices of his

friends or by his own negligence, the stakes were awarded to Jones.

After this Bob was idle until the 20th of November, 1855, when he

defeated Roger Coyne, of Birmingham, for £25 a side, in 49 rounds and

48 minutes. Then came his match with Sam Simmonds, for £200 a side,

which took place near Didcot, June 3rd, 1856, and was won by Bob very

easily in 13 rounds and 16 minutes.

Another year, or rather more, elapsed before Bob made another essay,

his next opponent being Job Cobley, dubbed by his patron Baron

(Renton) Nicholson, “the Enthusiastic Potboy,” whom he fought for £100

a side, August 4th, 1857. Here Bob’s greater weight and superior

strength enabled him to take a decided lead, and Job, finding it too

hot to be pleasant, resorted to dropping, and finally lost the battle

by falling without a blow in the 47th round, at the expiration of 90

minutes.

On the 25th of January following, Brettle met Bob Travers for £100 a

side at Appledore, when, after fighting 42 rounds in 65 minutes, the

police interfered. An adjournment took place to the following day,

when they met again at Shell Haven, and after fighting 100 rounds in 2

hours and 5 minutes, Bob Travers, who had, like “the Enthusiastic

Potboy,” found the earth the safest place, was decided to have lost

the battle by falling without a blow.

Bob’s only subsequent encounter was with Jem Mace of Norwich, who, as

may be seen in our next chapter, met him, for £100 a side, on the 21st

of September, 1858, and at the end of two rounds and three minutes,

although with none the worst of it, hid his diminished head, and

declined to have any more. This was Bob’s last appearance prior to the

present, and it was imagined by most people that he would retire from

the Ring, but the temptation of a turn at the Champion was too great

for him, and induced him to try a flight at the top of the tree. It is

difficult to understand whence he got the confidence to match himself

against Sayers, unless it was from his supposed superiority with the

gloves――in the case of Tom Sayers an unusually delusive test. This

brings us to the eventful 20th of September, 1858, and the ring at

Ashford.

So soon as all were seated a cap was seen to fly over the heads of the

dense mass, and in a second Bob Brettle, aided by his seconds, Alec

Keene and Jem Hodgkiss, of Birmingham, was seen elbowing his way

through the crowd. He was vociferously cheered on all hands, and his

good-humoured mug brightened up with a broad grin of delight at the

hearty welcome. Tom Sayers was not long behind him, and as he entered

on the scene, attended by Jack Macdonald and Harry Brunton, he too was

greeted with a tremendous ovation, which he acknowledged in a becoming

manner, and then shook hands good-humouredly with his opponent. The

spectators now began to make their final investments, and several bets

of 3 to 1 were made and staked to considerable amounts. The last,

however, that we heard was £25 to £10 on Sayers. After the lads had

completed their toilettes Brettle came forward and offered to take

£150 to £50 from Tom, but the Champion declined, as his money was all

on. Bob then held up the note and offered to take the same odds from

any spectator, but silence was the only reply, and he had to return

the flimsy to his “cly.” Tom’s colour was a very handsome blue and

white stripe, with blue border; and Bob’s a dark blue, with a white

star. Brettle’s boots having been examined by Tom’s seconds, it was

found that the spikes were beyond the regulation length, and had to be

filed, but this was so inefficiently done that they were still far too

sharp and long for the purpose for which they were intended. Had

Sayers’s seconds done their duty resolutely they would have shown them

to the referee, who doubtless would have ordered a still further

curtailment, but Tom personally requested them to make no bother about

it, as, in his own words, he “could give all that in.”

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.――On throwing off their blankets there was a

great disparity in the appearance of the men, much

greater, indeed, than would have been expected from the

slight difference in weight. Tom, whose condition was

superb, was broad-shouldered, thick-loined, and

muscular, the weight being just where it ought to be;

while Brettle looked narrow and round on the shoulders,

and had not the upright, firm bearing of the Champion.

In height, too, there appeared more than the actual

difference of a bare inch. Tom’s mug, of the two, was

fleshier than his opponent’s, but it looked hard as

nails. In point of age it was evident there was a

considerable difference in favour of the Brum, whose

fresh, fair skin and healthful country appearance

contrasted strongly with the Champion’s bronzed but

somewhat stale complexion. The wear and tear of fifteen

contests, and the gay life he had led, had evidently

left their mark. Each had a pleasant, good-humoured

smile on his phiz, but the Champion seemed to be more

at home than his adversary. Bob looked cunning and

shifty, walking round his man with a kind of crab-like,

sideway movement, and leering out of the corner of his

eye, evidently on the look-out to catch the Champion

tripping, and make a dash at him with his right. Tom

was awake, however, and though not moving far from the

scratch, stepped with his adversary, and contrived to

keep continually facing him. At length Bob, finding his

man so “fly” to his “little game,” dashed straight at

him, and let go the left, which caught Tom very

slightly on the nose. Tom nodded and smiled as much as

to say, “Wait a minute;” and Bob renewed his journey

round his man, who remained in the middle of the ring.

At length Brettle again dashed in, and exchanges took

place, in which Tom left his mark on Bob’s forehead,

the bump being of considerable size. Brettle retreated,

came again, and lunging out his left was prettily

countered on the mouth, from which “first blood” was

instantly visible, the blow being a hot ’un. Some neat

exchanges followed on the side of the head; they then

broke away, and, as Sayers followed his man, Bob ducked

his head, but Sayers caught him a sharp spank on the

proboscis, which led to counter-hitting, when Tom got

well on the forehead, and Bob fell. A claim of first

knock-down for Tom was made but disallowed, as Bob was

evidently getting down when the blow reached him.

2.――Bob’s nose and mouth showed that Tom had been

there; he, however, dashed in, and heavy exchanges took

place, Tom getting on to the left peeper and Brettle

the body. Brettle now broke away, and resorted to his

cunning peripatetic dodge, but Tom only grinned, turned

as he moved, and waited for him. At length Bob dashed

in, and got on the chest very slightly, Sayers

returning well on the kisser. Brettle, after another

pedestrian excursion, came again and let go the left,

which was stopped, and he again “walked round and

showed his muscle.” Tom stepped with him, and each

tried to draw the other, until Brettle at last let go

his left, and sharp exchanges followed on the cheek

with the left, and Sayers fell. A claim of knockdown

for Brettle not allowed, Tom being on the hop, and

partially slipping down.

3.――Sayers, on owning up, had a slight mark on the left

cheek, which caused the Brums to cheer vociferously.

Brettle, seeing it, made a dash to force the fighting,

but Tom stopped him by a straight one on the whistler,

and then closed. This led to some sharp but very wild

in-fighting in Tom’s corner, and at last Brettle was

down on his knees with all the worst of it.

4.――The Brum came up blinking with his left eye, which

had evidently got pepper in the last wild rally, and

seemed as if about to close. It was now discovered that

the ten minutes had just expired, and that his bet of

£200 was saved. He lost no time in getting to work, but

giving one or two sideway steps he dashed in, planted

his right on the ribs, and then one or two sharp

counter-hits were exchanged. While dodging and stepping

in and out, Brettle’s spikes came into dangerous

collision with Tom’s shin, and inflicted a serious

wound; Tom pointed to the injured spot and shook his

head, whereupon Bob apologised, assured him that it was

unintentional, and promised to be more careful for the

future. The wound was excessively deep, and only shows

the extreme danger of using such absurd spikes, which

are utterly useless to a man who intends really to keep

on his legs. Tom, after a little dodging, got heavily

on the nose, and counter-hits were exchanged, Tom

getting very heavily on the left peeper, and receiving

a hot one on the jaw, which knocked him clean off his

legs. (“First knock down” for Brettle, who was

enthusiastically cheered as he went to his corner.)

5.――On coming up there was no mark of Bob’s visitation

on Tom’s jaw, but the effect of Tom’s blows on

Brettle’s mouth and eye was very visible. His nose and

left eye were swollen, and the claret was still visible

from his mouth. (The backers of Tom offered 4 to 1, but

in only one instance was it taken――viz., by Bob

Travers, who invested “a tenner” on the Brummagem pet.)

Brettle, after a little queer manœuvring, rushed in

left and right, and got the latter on the body, but not

heavily. He looked serious, and walked round and round,

but finding Tom ready he tried a dash, succeeding in

landing the right on the body. Tom got heavily on the

forehead, and then, counter-hits being exchanged,

Brettle got slightly on the neck, and Tom, with his

right, caught Brettle very heavily on the left

shoulder, and Bob went down in Tom’s corner. Sayers ran

after Brettle as he was being carried to his corner,

with a curious look of anxiety and alarm on his

countenance, evidently thinking that he had inflicted

some dangerous injury. Finding, however, that the blow

had not had the serious effect he feared, he walked

smiling to his corner.

6.――Brettle came up looking very serious, and several

times led off left and right, but quite out of

distance. Tom then stepped in and tried his left, which

Brettle cleverly avoided, and then returned on the

chest. They quickly got to close quarters, and after a

sharp exchange on the neck, Brettle fell forward on his

hands in Sayers’s corner, Tom missing a terrific

upper-cut with his right as he fell.

7th and last.――Brettle missed several well-intended

lunges with the right, and then walked round the ring;

he came again, and tried the left with a similar

result. He kept hitting out of distance, as if afraid

of Tom’s right, which had already missed him so

narrowly. Again and again did he step in and out, and

as Sayers tried to catch him on the hop he would point

and grin; at last he got slightly on the chest,

receiving a little one on the cheek. Brettle retreated,

and then hit out with his left most furiously, but

missed, and Tom countered him heavily on the shoulder;

Brettle immediately put his right hand to his shoulder

as if in pain; he, however, shook himself together, and

tried to stand and prop his man with his right, but

from the expression of his countenance something

evidently was amiss, and on Tom’s approaching him he

got down in his own corner, apparently suffering

considerable pain. Solid Coates, his umpire, at once

went to his corner, and on inquiry found that he had

dislocated his shoulder, either by the force of his own

blow, or from the effect of Tom’s heavy counter; and

this being the case, of course he had no option but to

resign the victory to Tom Sayers, who was hailed the

conqueror in _fifteen minutes_. Tom at once went to

shake hands with his fallen foe, and then resuming his

clothes, quickly reappeared among his friends without a

mark to show that he had been fighting. A medical

friend who was on the ground quickly attended upon poor

Brettle, and lost no time in restoring his arm to its

position, and the poor fellow, more injured in mind

than body, was soon sufficiently recovered to enter

freely into conversation with his friends, many of whom

believed, and still believe, that he had to the full as

good a chance as Tom Sayers at the time so disastrous a

termination to the battle occurred. That this was so

is, of course, but a matter of opinion; our ideas on

the subject will be found in the remarks appended. That

Bob’s own opinion did not coincide with that of his

friends may be gathered from the fact that he

subsequently called upon us to state his intention of

retiring from the ring. He says he knows of no man of

his weight who is likely to try conclusions with him;

that he has no intention of again overmatching himself

as on the present occasion, and as he has a good

business in Birmingham, he thinks he can well afford to

leave fighting alone, at any rate as an active

professor of the art. In this resolve we think he is

perfectly right, and as he is a thoroughly honest,

upright young fellow, and of an excellent temper, we do

not doubt of his success.

Before closing this part of our account we should not

be rendering justice where it is due did we not mention

that Jack Macdonald, one of Tom Sayers’s seconds, on

finding the nature of Bob’s injuries, rushed to his

corner, and rendered very material assistance to the

surgeon in attendance in restoring the dislocated arm

to its socket.

REMARKS.――Where the battle was of such short duration,

it is, of course, difficult to find much to say in the

shape of remarks. To every judge of milling who was on

the ground, not excluding some of Brettle’s own

friends, it was obvious from the very first round that,

bar an accident, the victory must lie with the

favourite. In fact, in our own hearing, at the

conclusion of the first round, where Tom drew the

crimson from Brettle’s mouth, and set his sign manual

on his forehead, one of the backers of the latter said,

“It’s all over; we shan’t win.” It had been anticipated

that the Champion, in his anxiety to win the bet of

£200 to £20, would at once take the initiative, and

that thereby he would throw himself open to the

dangerous right-handed counters of Bob; but those who

knew Tom Sayers were too well acquainted with his

judgment and tact to believe any such thing; hence

their confidence and the great odds they so freely

laid. From the very commencement it was obvious Tom saw

the game he had to play, and the calm way in which he

shifted his position so as always to present a square

front to the enemy delighted every one. He was, of

course, taken by surprise at Bob’s getting home first,

but this only rendered him steadier, and convinced him

that he must act in a cautious manner. We do not

believe he for a moment contemplated going for the bet,

although we feel convinced that had one vicious

upper-cut got home he must have won it to the greatest

certainty. In all his recent fights he has been the one

that has fought in the jump-about, dancing-master

style, but here he was the steady old stager, quietly

biding his time and seldom throwing away a hit. The

knock-down blow in the fourth round was indubitably a

fair knock-down, but it must not be forgotten that

although matters thereby looked favourable for Brettle,

the real fact was that Tom in his counter got home much

heavier than his opponent, and that had he been

stepping in instead of back at the moment he would not

have been floored. The proof of the effectiveness of

the blow was seen on the men again appearing at the

scratch, when Tom showed no mark, while the evidence of

his visitation to Bob’s eye was unmistakable. That the

battle terminated as it did we cannot help feeling was

fortunate for Brettle. Tom’s dangerous right――never

brought into play until he has his man “safe,” as he

says――was already busy; true, he missed once or twice,

but he is not the man to do this often, and had it got

home effectively there is no telling what injury he

might have inflicted. The actual cause of Bob’s

accident it is impossible to fathom. Some aver that it

was partly caused by the heavy blow in the fifth round,

others that the shoulder was injured by the fall on his

hands, but, as he was able to use it so vigorously in

the last round, we believe both these suppositions to

be wrong. Possibly they may have rendered the muscles

weaker than usual, and predisposed the arm for such a

_contretemps_, but our own idea is that Bob, swinging

his arm out so very viciously at a distance from his

man, and receiving a tap on the collar-bone at the same

moment, the joint was jerked out entirely in that

manner. That his arm was dislocated there was not the

slightest doubt, for we have the evidence not only of

the surgeon himself, but also of Jack Macdonald, as to

the dislocation being reduced: and even if we had not,

the expression of poor Brettle’s countenance and his

contortions when in his corner were far too natural to

have been put on for the occasion. We should not have

thought it necessary to make these observations had we

not heard it whispered that a set of idiots, who think

everything connected with the ring is “a barney,” or

something tantamount to it, have been going about

saying that there was no accident at all, and that the

statement as to Brettle’s accident was all moonshine.

The gentry who make these remarks should look at home,

and before throwing mud at persons in a different walk

of life, should consider whether in the event of a

similar compliment being paid to themselves, there

would not be a much larger portion of the sticking part

attached to them, and whether they could be as easily

whitewashed as their humbler, though perhaps, honester,

brethren of the P.R. Of Brettle’s performances we need

say but little. He evidently found himself

out-generalled from the first; and this being the case,

all that remained for him to do was to make the best of

a bad bargain, and this we are bound to say he did to

the utmost of his ability. Our own opinion was, before

the battle, that he had not the ghost of a chance, and

that opinion was borne out by the result. We are sorry

that he was disappointed in his expectations, which

were entirely raised by his underrating his man; but as

we do not believe he will be a loser by his defeat, he

is, perhaps, not to be so much pitied as some of his

less fortunate compeers. He has been always a general

favourite, and so long as he perseveres in his present

straightforward course he must retain the good wishes

of all parties. As we have stated above, we think he

has taken a wise resolution in retiring from the Ring,

and we hope that no vain flattery on the part of any

interested admirers will induce him to change his

resolution.

These excellent remarks of the writer, on the readiness of silly

persons to impute dishonesty to the losing pugilist, are as laudable

as they are just and honest. We shall elsewhere have occasion to

remark upon a recent work devoted to the resuscitation and reassertion

of these defunct, discreditable, and often dishonest “shaves.”

With this very easy defeat of the Birmingham Pet, Tom Sayers, as was

generally supposed, had disposed of the last of his competitors for

the belt; but it was not to be so. A breeze, whispering of war, was

heard from across the broad Atlantic. Aaron Jones, not long after his

defeat by Sayers, had emigrated to the land of the stars and stripes,

and being a fine-looking young fellow, of good address, and of quiet

and civil deportment, had found much favour as a teacher of the art

pugilistic among our Yankee cousins. His anecdotes of British boxers

and exemplifications of the English method became fashionable among

the young bloods of New York, and the subject of pugilism grew to be

the talk of the town. John Heenan had been selected by a party to

“whip” John Morrissey, who for some reason had become obnoxious to

some of them, and Heenan’s friends made choice of Aaron Jones as

trainer and ring adviser of “The Benicia Boy.” Heenan, however, being

attacked by illness, was stopped in his work, and thus forced to go

into the ring with a stone of superabundant flesh, and suffered defeat

at the hands of Morrissey. About the close of the year 1858, distance

lending enchantment to the view, the Transatlantic papers told us that

Aaron did not think Tom Sayers such a very formidable customer after

all, and “Had a mind to return and have a second (third?) shy for the

belt.” Rumour added that, failing Aaron, Uncle Sam was about to send

over one of his champions, to see what he could do towards humbling

the pride of the little Englishman. Early in 1849 rumour ripened into

certainty, and a letter reached _Bell’s Life_ office from Mr. Wilkes,

inquiring on what terms Heenan could be placed on the rota to have his

turn against Sayers. A good deal of astonishment was created at the

time by the fact that the defeated man, and not the winner of the

American fight for the championship, had been selected; but when it

came to be remembered that Morrissey, the winner, was an Irishman by

birth, and not a native American, the wonderment ceased, and Heenan

was recognised as the proper representative of America. The Editor of

_Bell’s Life_ replied to Mr. Wilkes’s letter, intimating that

immediately on the receipt of a deposit from Heenan he could be placed

on the list. He further stated, however, that, in the event of his

winning, he would not be permitted to take the belt back to America,

without leaving its equivalent in value or remaining here three years

to contest its possession against all comers on the usual terms. By

the next mail, after Mr. Wilkes’s first letter, came a second, dated

New York, March 29, 1859, which was as follows:――

“Office _Wilkes’s Spirit of the Times_, New York.

“March 29, 1859.

“DEAR SIR,――Enclosed please find a draft for £200 sterling,

drawn in your favour on the Bank of Liverpool, which I have

been requested to forward to you, on the part of Aaron

Jones, in order that you may deposit for him the necessary

sum for a meeting with the Champion of England within six

months of the date of the battle of the 5th April, between

Sayers and Benjamin; and in case the winner of that fight do

not accept, you will please hold the money subject to my

order. The language with which Jones accompanies this draft

is as follows:――‘I, Aaron Jones, hereby challenge the winner

of the coming fight for the championship, to fight me in six

months from that time for _two hundred pounds and the

Champion’s belt_. The fight to take place near London, and

to be governed by the rules of the London Prize Ring.’ Jones

also requests me to say to you for him that ‘he would prefer

having the forfeit or first deposit to be as much as _fifty

pounds_, as he does not wish to be at the trouble of

crossing the Atlantic for nothing, though he is willing to

pay his own expenses over and back to get the fight.’ He

also hopes that Sayers will, for old acquaintance’ sake,

give him the first chance; but this is a consideration which

I have no right to press, after having previously consented

to lay before you the wishes or the claims of Heenan. Your

sense of propriety will find a law for the matter, and will,

I hope, likewise permit me to remain, yours, very truly at

command,

“GEO. WILKES.

“P.S.――I am also desired by the backers of Jones to say that

the stakes will be increased to _five hundred pounds a

side_, if the Champion wishes it.

“G. W.”

To this letter Sayers at once replied, closing with the proposition of

Jones, and thus placing that hero first on the list of candidates

after his second battle with Benjamin. Hardly had the missive of the

gallant Tom been despatched when another letter arrived from Mr.

Wilkes――who throughout acted as the adviser and amanuensis of both

Jones and Heenan――enclosing a sum of £50, which he had been directed

by his friends to stake on the part of Heenan. In that letter he

requested the stakeholder, if not contrary to rule, to give Heenan’s

claim the preference, as that aspiring youth had been the first to

challenge Sayers, and was fearful that if he was not at once placed on

the list of candidates, his chance of encountering Sayers might be

entirely lost by some unforeseen accident. Inasmuch, however, as

Jones, with prudent foresight, had been the first to post the coal,

the stakeholder felt bound, according to practice, to give him the

priority, and Heenan was compelled reluctantly to moderate his

impatience; Heenan, like Jones, offered, if Sayers wished, to increase

the stakes to £500 a side.

Shortly after the second defeat of Bill Benjamin, Tom Sayers was

called upon to meet Jack Macdonald, who had been delegated by Aaron

Jones to act the part of plenipotentiary on his behalf. Another

conference was held, and after many _pros_ and _cons._, articles were

signed, sealed, and delivered, under which Jones was bound to fight

the Champion early in the current year, a margin of one month being

allowed on either side as to the actual day of battle. For this match

£50 a side was deposited. It was not long after this that a further

communication was received from Mr. Wilkes, requesting the stakeholder

to return him £50 out of the £200 he had sent for Jones, to pay the

passage of Aaron to Europe, and to transfer the remaining £100 to the

account of the match between Heenan and Sayers. He added, that if

Jones intended to go on with his match he would have to find the

remainder of his money himself, his American friends having some

reason to be dissatisfied with him, and being desirous of transferring

all their interest to the Benicia Boy. By the very next mail came

another letter intimating that Jones would be able to find all his

money himself, and therefore the match was still to be considered

“on,” and so for several months the matter rested.

In the following October the public were startled at reading the

following letter from Mr. Wilkes to the Editor of _Bell’s Life in

London_:――

“Office, _Wilkes’s Spirit of the Times_, New York, Oct. 7, 1859.

“MY DEAR SIR,――I take pleasure of informing you that Aaron

Jones, conceding to the common desire on this side of the

Atlantic to see Heenan have the first chance at Sayers for

the Championship (after the Unknown), has desired me to have

forfeited the £50 which now remain staked for him in your

hands against Sayers. Enclosed I send you Jones’s letter

authorising me to take this course; and as I represent the

money of his backers, your authority for declaring the match

“off” will, I suppose, be considered complete. I forget, as

I write, whether Sayers has already covered a deposit of

Heenan’s for the Championship; if not, please let the same

deposit be made and covered in his case (£50) as was made

and covered in the case of Aaron Jones. I am very solicitous

about this point as, for special reasons, I want Heenan

regularly upon the record at as early a moment as possible.

I send with this a note to Sayers, directed to your care, in

which I apprise him of Jones’s forfeit. Please preserve the

note of Jones to me, and believe me to be yours, ever truly,

at command,

“GEO. WILKES, Editor _Wilkes’s Spirit of the Times_.”

This communication was of course made known to Sayers without loss of

time, and having now no business on hand, the way was clear for the

Benicia Boy, and Tom’s backers being anxious that he should finish his

career as quickly as possible, and get into business, at once covered

the £50 of Heenan, and signed articles for Tom to fight him on or

about the day originally fixed for the fight with Jones, supposing it

was the wish of Heenan to step into Jones’s shoes. In this, however,

the English managers of the affair had mistaken the meaning of Mr.

Wilkes’s letter, for on their writing to him, with details of what had

been done, the following reply was forwarded:――

“Office, _Wilkes’s Spirit_, New York, Nov. 23, 1859.

“MY DEAR SIR,――Your letter of 3rd inst., enclosing copy of

articles for a fight between Heenan and Sayers, and signed

by the latter, for our acceptance, reached me yesterday, and

have been communicated to Heenan. We are all, however, taken

by surprise at the proposal that the fight should come off

in February next, instead of at the expiration of the

regular six months, as was stipulated in the original

proposition, and I am requested on Heenan’s part to say,

that he expects the usual preparatory term will be granted

to him. By reference to his cartel you will find he

challenged Sayers to fight him near London for £200 and the

Champion’s belt, in six months from the date of his (Sayers)

reception of that challenge, or the date of the first

deposit under it. This challenge having reached England

during the pendency of the engagement between Sayers and the

Unknown, was kept in abeyance in your hands, and having been

further kept back by the next succeeding engagement of

Sayers with Jones, was not recognised or _received_ by

Sayers until after he had accepted forfeit from Aaron Jones.

Being thus left free of all engagements, he responded to the

challenge of Heenan, and on the 26th October (I believe)

covered the £50 deposit which you had, for months, held in

Heenan’s name. The articles for this _new match_, however,

were not signed by Sayers until the 3rd Nov. inst., and

consequently Heenan claims that he is entitled to six

months’ preliminary time from either one or the other of

those dates. He, however, desires me to say that if there be

anything in the rules of the P. R. Benevolent Association

which entitles the Champion to reduce the term for meeting

on his acceptance of a regular six months’ challenge, he

will conform to those rules, and fight Sayers at the

indicated time, even though it will leave him deficient of

the due preparation; but he utterly repudiates the idea

(which the selection of February by Sayers perhaps infers)

that his match with Sayers is a continuation of the match

with Jones. With this explanation he desires to state that

he will be ready to put up his second deposit of £50 at Owen

Swift’s in London, on the 15th December next, and if he be

not represented at that time by any agent from this country,

he begs you will continue your past kindness and again put

up the money for him. Waiving no right, but conceding to all

rules, he remains your obedient servant, though very

respectfully yours,

“GEORGE WILKES.”

At first it was feared this would occasion a hitch in the match, but

it was not the case. Tom was nothing loth to let the affair take its

course. He had promised to give Heenan a chance, and would not

disappoint him. He proposed, therefore, to extend the time to the end

of March, and a missive with this proposition was despatched across

the Atlantic, together with a proposition from Tom that the stakes

should be £500 a side, or as much more as Heenan could get. Before,

however, it could reach its destination, a Mr. Falkland had left that

country as the representative and forerunner of Heenan, prepared,

immediately on his arrival, to do the needful on his behalf. Early in

December, Mr. Falkland presented himself at the stakeholder’s, where

he was met by some of the friends of Sayers, but as Tom was not

present it was agreed that the evening of December 15, which was set

apart for staking a further sum of £50 a side at Owen Swift’s, should

be selected for coming to terms. At Owen’s, on the night in question,

Tom made his appearance, and quickly fraternising with the ambassador

of his foe, found not the slightest difficulty in arranging everything

on that satisfactory footing upon which the match afterwards stood.

Mr. Falkland had instructions not to make the match for more than

£200, as Heenan could lay out the remainder of his money to more

advantage in bets, the odds being against him. The following day

articles were drawn in the approved form, and information was

forthwith despatched to Heenan that his presence in the Old Country

was at once required.

In the meantime, on the other side of the Atlantic, things had well

nigh tended to prevent the consummation of the wishes of the Fancy.

John Heenan and his quondam opponent Morrissey had got to loggerheads,

and Heenan proposed to fight Morrissey a second time before fighting

Sayers. Through the timely diplomacy of Mr. Wilkes, however, the

difficulty was solved, by Morrissey promising to give Heenan another

chance, in either England or America, for his own sum, should he prove

fortunate enough to defeat our Champion. With this promise the “Boy”

was forced to be content, and after innumerable hair-breadth escapes

from warrants out against him for an alleged breach of the peace, he

succeeded (again thanks to the good management of Mr. Wilkes) in

getting on board the “Asia,” which brought him to this country,

landing at Liverpool on the 16th of January, 1860.

Thenceforward all went serenely and smoothly; the whole of the

deposits were made good, and the 17th of April, 1860, was waited for

with feverish expectation.

Though it was made known to those who invested their gold in the

ticket for “there and back,” that the start must be made as early as

four o’clock, this had no effect in diminishing the number of those

who resolved to be “thar,” as our Yankee visitors expressed it.

The scene at Owen Swift’s and Harry Brunton’s, where tickets were

obtainable, beggars description, the rush was terrific, and many were

entirely unsuccessful in getting tickets at all. Nat Langham’s, Alec

Keene’s, and other sporting houses were also crammed, but there was

not the same difficulty in carrying on the business of the landlord as

at the first houses named, where at one time trade was at a

standstill. Many of the frequenters of the sporting hostelries

evidently determined to make a night of it in order to make a

certainty of being up betimes in the morning, and that they carried

their intentions fully into effect was plainly visible in their

countenances on their emerging into daylight. The more prudent

ring-goers, however, took time by the forelock, and early ensconced

themselves in their beds until the summons to be up and doing should

arouse them.

The scene at London Bridge Station was one of continual bustle for at

least an hour before the time appointed for the start, and, judging

from the early arrivals, all seemed impressed with the necessity of

taking time by the forelock. The precincts of the station reminded us

of the crush on the Derby Day, but the effect was far more striking

from the circumstance of its being a “midnight flitting.” The

company’s arrangements, however, were such as to meet the pressing

requirements, and the travellers by the late trains from the

provinces, and those who had postponed the purchase of their tickets

until the last moment were enabled to provide themselves with the

necessary passport at the last moment. Two monster trains were

prepared, and as early as half-past three the first, which consisted

of thirty-three carriages, was so full that the non-arrival of the

men, both of whom were accommodated at private lodgings close by,

alone delayed its departure. The Champion arrived first, and his

fresh, brisk, and natty appearance indicated a good night’s rest, and

especial pains with his _toilette_. He was soon followed by Heenan,

who seemed to wish to avoid recognition, and instantly proceeded to a

compartment reserved for him and his seconds. The tickets were then

collected, and at twenty minutes past four they started on their

journey. By this time night had cast off her sable mantle, and day

dawned with that peculiar tint which foretold the brilliant sunny

weather with which the expedition was favoured. Throughout the whole

of the metropolitan district, which extends for fifteen miles from

London, the police, both mounted and on foot, and all armed with

cutlasses, were on the look out on each side of the line even at this

early hour, but the speed at which the train proceeded at once

satisfied those watchful guardians that the mill was never intended to

take place within their bailiwick, after leaving which scarcely a soul

was to be seen beyond husbandmen proceeding to their daily avocations.

Great preparations were made to “stop the mill” further down, both on

the Dover and Brighton lines; but they were unnecessary, as the

travellers turned off at Reigate Junction on to the Guildford line,

along which the train rattled at a good pace――we may say, “in peaceful

serenity”――until within a short distance of the latter old-fashioned

country town, where the first stoppage was made for water. In due

course the journey was resumed, and in a short time the travellers

entered the wild district where the military town of Aldershott is

situated, the deserted appearance of which satisfied all that the

“pilot” to whom the selection of the _locale_ had been entrusted had

made a “happy choice.” It was near seven o’clock when the first train

discharged its living burthen at Farnborough station, after a most

pleasant journey through one of the prettiest counties in England,

which, illumined by a glorious sun, and shooting forth in vernal

beauty, must have inspired all with feelings of intense gratification;

whilst the Benicia Boy and the numerous Americans present must have

been struck with the highly favourable contrast to the miserable

pilgrimage which from all accounts preceded their representative’s

last appearance in the Ring, when he fought Morrissey in America.

No time was lost in choosing the spot for the ring, which was quickly

and well formed by the veteran Tom Oliver and his son, in a meadow

adjoining the railway, situate on the borders of Hampshire and Surrey,

and within half-a-mile of the Farnborough Station on the South Western

line. By this time the second train had reached its destination, and

the crowd could not have numbered fewer than twelve hundred persons,

both of high and low degree, though compared with former mills the

present “congregation” must unhesitatingly be pronounced the most

aristocratic ever assembled at the ring side. It included the bearers

of names highly distinguished in the pages of Burke and Debrett;

officers of the army and navy, members of Parliament, justices of the

peace, and even brethren of the cloth; whilst the muster of literati

on behalf of the leading metropolitan journals, and the most popular

periodicals and miscellanies――to say nothing of the editorial and

pictorial staffs of our American contemporaries, _Wilkes’s Spirit of

the Times_ and _Frank Leslie’s Illustrated News_――gave quite a new

feature to the gathering, and evinced at the same time the

overwhelming interest and excitement this national rivalry had created

throughout both hemispheres. The sale of inner-ring tickets (raised to

10s. each on this occasion) produced a large revenue to the Pugilistic

Benevolent Association, and Billy Duncan’s speculation in chairs must

have been a most successful one, judging from the demand for those

conveniences, by means of which the spectators were enabled to “see

the fight” with comparative comfort.[29]

[Illustration: JOHN CAMEL HEENAN.]

APPEARANCE OF THE MEN.――All being in readiness, and the immense crowd

disposed in tolerable order by the exertions of those of the

ring-keepers who chose to do their duty, Tom Sayers appeared at the

ring-side, and having deposited his hat within the ropes, quickly

followed it himself, attended by his old pal, Harry Brunton, and the

accomplished Jemmy Welsh, as seconds. The Benicia Boy was not long in

following his example, attended by Jack Macdonald and his trainer,

Cusick. Tom looked as dapper and well set up as ever, and was full of

smiles. “The Boy” (aged 26), whose attire was not quite so

fashionable, was also all on the broad grin. They eyed one another

curiously for a few seconds, this being, it must be recollected, their

first meeting, and then advancing, shook hands most cordially

together, each regarding the other with evident friendly feeling. The

warmth of the greeting appeared to give great satisfaction to the

surrounding multitude, who cheered vociferously. The men conversed for

a few minutes, but of course the subject of their interview did not

transpire. Umpires and a referee having now been appointed, the signal

was given to prepare for the combat. The first ceremony, that of tying

the colours to the stakes, was then proceeded with, and no time was

cut to waste in doffing their upper toggery. Each had taken the

precaution to put on his boots and drawers previous to entering the

ring, so that the usual tedious process of lacing the men’s boots was

dispensed with. In Heenan’s case, however, there would have been no

necessity for this, as his boots were of fashionable make, with

elastic sides. He was the first to appear in buff, and a single glance

was sufficient to show that his condition was all that could be

desired by the most fastidious. Tom’s mahogany bust was quickly after

bared to the gaze of the multitude, and here, too, was evidence of

strict attention to his work. They had a last rub from their seconds,

and now advanced to give the final friendly shake. This was the time

to get a fair idea of their respective proportions, and in size it

really looked a horse to a hen. Heenan stood full four inches and a

half over Tom, and had an immense advantage in length. Every muscle on

his broad back, his shoulders, and arms, was well developed, and gave

evidence of enormous power. His legs were rather light, but still

there was no lack here of wire and activity. His skin was exceedingly

fair and transparent, and shone like that of a thorough-bred. His mug

was hard, and looked older than we expected, his cheek-bones being

very prominent, and now that they had been denuded of much that was

superfluous, his _tout ensemble_ was far more like that of his brother

professional than on his first interview with us. Tom looked brown and

hard as nails: his well-knit frame seemed fitter that we have seen it

for years. He looked visibly older even than when he fought Brettle,

but, considering what he has gone through, this is not to be wondered

at. The only points in which there appeared any advantage on his side

were in his loins and his legs, which were cast in a decidedly

stronger mould than those of his towering opponent. The contrast

between them was far greater than between Tom and the Tipton Slasher,

and taking into consideration the fact that the advantage in age on

this occasion was t’other way, Tom’s work seemed indeed cut out. That

he had the remotest doubt as to the result we do not for an instant

believe. He smiled confidently, and had evidently made up his mind to

do or die. Heenan seemed to have an equally decided opinion as to the

termination of the battle, and, to use an expression of his own

countrymen, he was “all thar.” He won the toss for corners, and, of

course, placed himself with his back to the sun; and, in addition to

this, he had the advantage of being on slightly rising ground, so that

Tom had all the way through to fight up hill. The usual ceremony was

now gone through by the seconds and men. Time was called at

twenty-nine minutes past seven, and they commenced

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.――Heenan at once threw himself into very fair

position, his left well balanced ready for a shoot, and

the right across the body. Tom’s position was the same

as ever, lightly but firmly planted on his pins. He

smiled and nodded, and on Heenan trying to lead off his

left got well back. Heenan tried again, his reach being

tremendous, but again did Tom get well away. Tom now

essayed a draw, but “the Boy” was awake. Each feinted

and dodged to find out a weak point, but for a short

time each fortress was too well guarded. At last Tom

let go his left and right, but out of distance. Heenan

shook his nob and grinned, then again tried a lead, but

was short. They got gradually to Heenan’s corner, who

appeared disposed to fight on the defensive, and the

sun being in Tom’s eyes seemed to bother him not a

little. At length they came together, and sharp

left-handers were exchanged, Tom getting on “the Boy’s”

nose, drawing first blood, and Heenan leaving his sign

manual on Tom’s frontispiece. Heavy counter-hits

followed, Tom again getting on the nose, and receiving

on the nob. More sparring ensued to a close, when

Heenan seized Tom round the neck, but Tom pegged away

at the back of his head until he made him leave that,

and Tom fell laughing.

2.――Heenan showed marks of Tom’s handiwork on the back

of his neck, and Tom’s forehead was flushed. Heenan

kept to his corner, whither Tom went to draw him out;

when he thought Tom was near enough, “the Boy” lunged

out his left, but Tom stopped him and got back. Heenan

tried again, and just reached Tom’s nose. After one or

two feints a pretty counter took place, Tom getting on

the nose, and receiving a sharp one over the right eye.

Heenan then closed, got well hold of him, and threw the

Champion, falling heavily on him. Offers to take 2 to

1.

3.――After a little lively fiddling, Tom got too near to

the big’un, who instantly slung out his left straight

and full on the bridge of Tom’s beak, knocking him

clean off his pins. (“First knock-down” for Heenan.)

4.――Tom, on coming up, looked rather astonished, and

his eyes blinked in the sun like a dissipated owl.

Heenan went at once to him at the scratch, dodged him,

and once more planted a heavy spank with his left, this

time on the jaw, and down went Tom again, amidst the

shouts of the Yankees, who now offered 6 to 4 on

Heenan. The Sayers party looked excessively blue.

5.――Tom’s mug showed visible marks of “the Boy’s”

powers of hitting. He was cautious, and kept away from

his man; Jack followed, and letting go his left on the

mouth was well countered by Tom on the proboscis.

Heenan now bored in, and after dodging Tom, got again

heavily on the sneezer, and Tom fell.

6.――Tom’s countenance, though not swelled, was much

flushed, while the Boy was almost scatheless. He was

somewhat wild, and tried both hands, but missed.

Counter-hits ensued, in which Tom received the full

weight of Heenan’s ponderous fist on his right arm,

which was driven back against his face. Tom reached

Heenan’s left cheek, leaving his mark. Heenan

retaliated on the right brow, and Tom fell.

7.――Tom’s right peeper displayed marks of pepper, and

it was perceptible that he had sustained severe injury

to his right arm, which was beginning to swell, and

which he now kept close to his body, as if to support

it. Still he went to Heenan in his corner, and that

hero delivered his left, but not effectively, on the

chest. Tom danced away, and as he turned round napped a

little one from the right on his back. He was quickly

out of harm’s way, and, coming again, dodged his man

until he let fly, when Tom countered him heavily on the

right cheek, drawing the claret and raising a

considerable bump. The blow staggered Heenan, who stood

all of a heap for a moment. Soon did he collect

himself, and as Tom came again, lodged a little one on

the nose, but was once more countered very heavily on

the right cheek, the cut being increased and the bump

enlarged. Slight exchanges followed, in which Tom

received on the right eye and Heenan on the right

cheek, whereupon Heenan went to his corner for a

sponge. He seemed in no hurry to come away, and Tom

stood in the middle of the ring until Heenan went

slowly to him, and tried his left, but it was no go. He

tried again, but only just reached Tom’s brow. Tom now

feinted and got home on the right peeper, Heenan

missing an upper-cut. Tom danced away, came again on

another tack, and bang went his left on the sore spot,

a heavy spank, and he was instantly out of danger,

laughing; Heenan rushed after him, but was well

stopped, thrice in succession. Again and again Tom went

to him, and baulked his efforts to effect a lodgment,

and then Heenan napped another slashing crack on the

right cheek, which had the effect of at once closing

his dexter goggle. He retreated for a wipe, and was

followed by Tom, and some mutual cautious dodging and

feinting took place. At last Heenan got on the top of

Tom’s smeller, but not heavily, and Tom then avoided

another attempt. Once more did Heenan retire to Jack

Macdonald for consolation and advice; Tom walking round

and eying him in an inquisitive manner, as if admiring

his handiwork. Tom, after satisfying his curiosity,

went close, and slight exchanges followed, without

mischief. Heenan tried his left and was stopped. Both

very cautious, and neither disposed to go within

gunshot. Heenan now led off and got slightly on the

mouth with his left, Tom retaliating on the closed

peeper. Mutual taps and stops, and then Tom got his

left heavily on the old spot another cracker, whereupon

Heenan once more retired into the privacy of his

corner, amidst cries of 2 to 1 on Sayers. Tom, after a

few turns and a touch of the sponge, went to him, but

Heenan shook his nob and seemed disinclined for work.

Tom finding he could not draw him, retreated, whereupon

“the Boy” came out, and let go his left viciously,

which was beautifully stopped. He then feinted, and got

well on the bridge of Tom’s snorer as he was

retreating, and again knocked him off his pins. Tom

rolled over, laughing, and was carried to his corner.

This round lasted 13 minutes, and was a fine specimen

of stratagem and skill, especially on the part of Tom.

His right arm now was much swollen, and so painful that

he could make little or no use of it.

8.――Tom slowest to the call of time, but directly he

was at the scratch “the Boy” retired to his corner,

whither Tom had to follow him. Heenan at once let go

his left, but Tom laughed and jumped back. A slight

exchange followed, and Tom napped a straight one on the

sniffer. Heenan now missed a couple of well-meant

shots, and Tom jumped away from a third, and as he

turned his back upon Heenan got a right-hander on the

back of the neck. Heenan followed him up, but Tom

grinned and jumped nimbly away. His activity on his

pins was as remarkable as ever. Heenan pursued him, and

at last lodged his left slightly on the nozzle, and

once more turned on the tap. Tom, however, countered

him on the damaged cheek, which caused “the Boy” to

retire for the kind offices of Jack Macdonald. On Tom’s

going to him he let go his left on the kisser, drawing

the carmine, and this led to pretty exchanges at long

shots on the cheek. Heenan at this time appeared weak,

and the hopes of the Sayers party were greatly in the

ascendant. Heenan preferred his corner to the scratch,

and Tom had some difficulty in persuading him to leave.

This he at last accomplished, and some beautiful stops

were made on both sides. Another break away ensued,

after which they countered effectively, but Tom was

heaviest on the right cheek, which was now swelled as

big as two. Heenan’s blow alighted on Tom’s oration

trap, and drew more of the ruby. On his trying to

repeat this lodgment, Tom stopped him cleverly. Capital

exchanges followed, in which Tom was again at home on

the cheek very heavily. Heenan rushed at him, but Tom

was away, and after once or twice being baulked Heenan

again retired to his corner. After Tom had scrutinized

him carefully, he rubbed his hands and went to him,

whereupon Heenan let fly his left, but Tom got well

away laughing; Heenan shook his head and also laughed

good-humouredly. Tom now crept in, and pop went his

left on the plague-spot, and off went the Champion

laughing. More dodging and stopping on both sides,

until Tom was once more on the cheek a slogger. Heenan

retaliated sharply on the bridge of the snout, but was

stopped in a second attempt, and Tom nailed him on the

right cheek very heavily and got away. Heenan tried to

take the lead, but Tom jumped back. “The Boy,”

persevering, got well on the forehead, but was

unsuccessful in a second essay. The first was

sufficient to leave a bump on the gallant Tom. More

sparring until a severe counter-exchange took place, in

which Tom got a hot’un on the whistler, which shook his

ivories, and turned on a fresh tap. It was a staggerer,

but Tom recovered and went to his man, when more severe

counters were interchanged, Heenan getting another rum

one on the cheek, and dropping his left with effect on

Tom’s sneezer. Both now indulged in a wipe, and washed

their mouths out. They came again, now like giants

refreshed, and each in turn tried a lead, but each was

well stopped. Tom’s right arm, from the continual

stopping such a heavy cannonade as Heenan’s, was now

much discoloured and swollen, and utterly useless for

all purposes of hitting, and he was thus deprived of

his principal weapon. After a good deal of this another

heavy exchange followed, in which Tom was at home on

the old spot, and Heenan on the jaw heavily, knocking

Tom once more off his pins. This round lasted 20

minutes, and was a splendid specimen of milling on both

sides. Tom’s nose and mouth were bleeding, but both his

eyes were well open. His arm was his chief drawback.

Heenan’s right eye had been long closed, his cheek was

fearfully swollen, and his mouth was also somewhat out

of straight.

9.――Heenan came up as if he intended to force the

fighting. He led off viciously, but Tom got well away.

“The Boy” followed him closely, and at last got on

Tom’s mouth, drawing more of the juice. He followed

suit on the snuffer-tray with a like result, and

counter-hits ensued, in which each did mischief. Heenan

continued to bore in, and at last Tom, after getting a

little one on the back, dropped laughing.

10.――Tom was very slow to the call of time, and

appeared to want nursing. It was evidently heavy work

struggling against such superior mettle. He stood in

the middle of the ring until Heenan went to him, when

slight counter-hits were exchanged; after which they

closed. Heenan lifted Tom from the ground and threw him

heavily with the greatest ease.

11.――Tom, again very much behindhand in coming to time,

and the friends of Heenan did not appear in much hurry.

When they did come up Tom had to go into Heenan’s

corner. After a dodge or two Tom got his right on the

good eye rather heavily, but it was not such a

right-hander as of yore, and evidently gave him pain.

Heenan returned on the chest, and Tom fell.

12.――“Time, Time!” neither too ready. On Sayers at last

facing his man, Heenan caught him, but not very

heavily, on the jaw, and dropped on the saving suit.

13.――Heenan, first to leave his second’s knee, now went

to Tom, and after a dodge or two popped the left very

straight on Tom’s nose, once more knocking him clean

off his legs. He turned round on returning to his

corner, and looking to Mr. Falkland, his umpire,

exclaimed, “That’s one for you, Fred!” Offers were now

made to lay 5 to 4 on Heenan, but the takers seemed

scarce.

14.――Tom, very weak, came up cautiously and slowly, his

nose being large enough for two. Heenan, seeing Tom’s

state, tried to force the fighting, but Tom got

cleverly out of the difficulty. Heenan followed him up,

and popped a rattler on the throat, without a return.

He paused, and then sent a little one on the

scent-bottle, but Tom countered him well and straight

on the nose, drawing the crimson in profusion. Heenan,

nothing daunted, let go his left, and was stopped. He

then swung round his right heavily on the jaw. They got

to close quarters and some heavy in-fighting took

place, in which Tom was very busy. At length both were

down heavily, Heenan under.

15.――Neither seemed in a hurry to leave his second’s

knee, but Tom was slowest in answering the call. Heenan

at once went to him, got the left well on the proboscis

and his right on the jaw, and down again fell the

Champion in a heap.

16.――Tom shook himself together, but was very cautious.

He sparred as if requiring rest, until Heenan came in,

when slight exchanges took place, Tom getting it on the

nose, and Heenan on the whistler, but neither very

heavily. Heenan then made a sudden dart, and planting

heavily on Tom’s mouth, once more knocked him off his

legs. (Loud cheers for Heenan.)

17.――Tom did not display many marks from his repeated

knock-down blows, but came up smiling, although

somewhat tired. Heenan’s mug was decidedly the most

disfigured, being so much swelled. Heenan took the

lead, but did not get heavily on. He tried again with

his right, but the blow passed over Tom’s nob. Counter

hits followed on the nose, in which Tom’s delivery was

most effective, but Tom was down.

18.――Very slight exchanges, followed by a heavy

counter, in which Heenan’s mouth came in for pepper,

and Tom got it slightly on the nose, and fell.

19.――Tom slow to time; Heenan not in a hurry. At last,

on facing one another, Heenan went in to a close, and,

throwing Tom, fell on him.

20.――Heenan followed Sayers, who was on the retreat,

and after one or two dodges, caught him on the jaw

heavily with his right. He tried again, but Tom jumped

back. Still he persevered, and heavy exchanges followed

at close quarters, and both were in the end down at the

ropes.

21.――Sayers very slow, which Heenan seeing, dashed at

him, slung out the left on the nose, and again floored

the Champion.

22.――Tom seemed none the worse for this floorer; it

rather seemed to do him good, for he came fresher,

which Heenan seeing, he retired to his corner. Tom

followed and tried to deliver, but missed, and the

Benicia Boy dropped him with another straight one on

the jaw. Heenan’s left hand was now much puffed, and

did not seem to leave such impressions as formerly.

23.――The time was very badly kept on both sides, and

there were now complaints that the Benicia Boy was

allowed a stool in the ring. An appeal was made to the

referee, who at once ordered its removal, as contrary

to the laws. Heenan rushed at Tom, who retreated and

got one on the back. Tom then turned round and missed

his right. They closed, and Tom pegged away merrily on

the nose and left cheek, and in the end both down, Tom

under. One hour and eleven minutes had now elapsed.

24.――The Benicia Boy, first up, tried his left by a

sudden dart, but was stopped. An attempt with the right

just landed on the side of Tom’s nut, and he fell. (5

to 4 on Heenan still offered.)

25.――Tom, weak, came up slow, but cheerful. He waited

the attack, which was not long in coming, and after

getting a little one on the side of his head, Tom

popped his left very heavily on the snout, drawing more

home-brewed. Heenan, wild, rushed in and bored Tom

down.

26.――Tom, fresher, came up gaily, and tried to lead off

with his left, but the Boy stopped him prettily.

Another effort landed on Heenan’s good eye. Heenan in

return planted a rattler on Tom’s jaw with his right,

which staggered him, and was all but a knock down. Tom

soon shook himself together, whereupon Heenan let fly

his left, but Tom was well away. Following up, “the

Boy” got on Tom’s chest, but not heavily. Exchanges;

Heenan on the ’tato-trap, and Tom on the nose, a

smasher, each drawing the cork. Heavy counters followed

with the left, and they broke away. Heenan came again,

and got on Tom’s snorer heavily with his left, once

more staggering him. Twice after this did Tom stop

Heenan’s right and they closed. After some slight

fibbing Tom fell, Heenan hitting him when down. An

appeal of foul was overruled, the blow being obviously

accidental.

27.――“The Boy” came up determined and led off, but Tom

was away. A second attempt was equally unsuccessful,

and as Tom turned his back to dash away, the Boy caught

him on the neck, but not heavily. Sharp exchanges

followed, Tom on the left cheek and nose, and “the Boy”

on the mouth. Heenan then went in and tried his left,

but was short, whereupon he retired to his corner, had

a wipe, and wetted his whistle, and then went to the

middle of the ring. Tom joined issue at once, and some

heavy exchanges took place, each on the nose, and

Heenan now tried to close, reaching after Tom to catch

him round the neck. Tom kept out of harm’s way, but at

length “the Boy” bored him down at the ropes.

28.――Both much fatigued, wanted all the time they could

get. After some sparring, Heenan ran at Tom, who darted

away. The Boy rapidly pursued, and they got together,

and in the fibbing Tom was busy on Heenan’s good cheek,

while he caught it on the mouth. In the end Tom was

down.

29.――Tom still slow to time. The Boy at once went to

him, and got heavily on the top of his nut. Tom

countered with effect with his right on the left cheek,

and then popped his left on the proboscis. Heavy

exchanges followed in Tom’s favour, who met “the Boy”

very straight and effectively on the nozzle, opening a

fresh bin. A break away, followed by slight exchanges,

led to a harmless close, and Tom slipped down.

30.――Heenan’s other eye was now quickly closing, and he

had evidently no time to lose. He was strongest on his

legs, but his punishment was far more visible than

Tom’s. He tried to lead off, but Tom met him neatly on

the nose, turning on the red port. “The Boy” rushed at

Tom, and literally ran over and fell on him.

31.――After standing some time in his corner, Heenan was

fetched out by Tom, who had now recovered a little. A

short spar was followed by another retreat, after which

Tom went in and got a little ’un on the left cheek, but

it lacked steam. More sparring, and Heenan again

retired. Tom stood and examined him with the eye of a

connoisseur until he came out, when good exchanges took

place, Tom getting heavily on the mouth, and Heenan on

the nose. A break away; more sparring for wind; Heenan

again to his corner. On Tom going at him he slung out

his left heavily on the nose, and prone once more fell

the brave Champion.

32.――Tom all alive, dodged, and caught “the Boy” on the

chin. He turned to retreat, and “the Boy” nailed him on

the body, but not heavily. Heenan then tried repeatedly

to draw Tom, but the latter would not go into Heenan’s

corner. “The Boy,” therefore, had to go out, and some

rapid hits and stops followed, without any apparent

damage; each, however, got a small tap on the mouth.

Heenan having taken another rest in his corner, came

out, and got a hot one on the left cheek for his pains,

which all but shut up the other eye. This brought on

exchanges, each on the mazzard, and then Heenan reached

Tom’s nose. Heavy determined counter-deliveries on the

note ensued, after which Heenan floored Tom by a

right-hander on the cheek. The betting was now even,

Sayers for choice. It was obvious that, strong as

Heenan was, unless he could make a decided change, he

must in a very few minutes be blind.

33.――The Benicia Boy, feeling he had no time to lose,

rushed in, but only just reached Tom’s chest. Both

seemed fagged, and they stood a few seconds, and then

went to close quarters, where Tom, as usual, was busy

on “the Boy’s” frontispiece, until he let him slip

through his arms on to the ground.

34.――Heenan again tried to force the fighting, but Tom

got away. They then stood and sparred until Heenan let

fly his left, which did not reach its destination. He

retired for counsel, and then came at Tom and tried his

right at the body, but without success. Steady

exchanges led to close and rapid in-fighting, and both

fell, Tom under. Heenan’s eye all but closed up.

35.――The Benicia Boy dashed viciously in, and caught

Tom on the snout, but the blow was without powder. Tom

retreated from the vigorous onslaught; Heenan followed

and got home on the jaw with the right, still with no

effect. Tom now turned and ran, Heenan after him, when,

on turning round, Tom napped one on the nose. He,

however, landed another little pop on the good eye.

Sharp exchanges at close quarters ended in the downfall

of Tom. Two hours had now elapsed.

36.――The Benicia Boy’s face was a spectacle to behold,

while Tom was very weak. The Boy rushed to a close, and

caught Tom round the neck, dragging him to the ropes.

At this time, the police, who had been gradually making

their way to the ring, began a violent struggle to get

close and put a stop to hostilities. “The Boy” tried to

hold Tom, but the latter slipped through his arms and

fell.

37.――Tom was first up, and seemed the better man; he

made his left twice on Heenan’s eye, and the latter at

length caught him round the neck at the ropes and there

held him. Tom’s efforts to extricate himself were vain,

but he administered severe punishment to Heenan’s face.

The police at this time got closer, there was a rush to

the ropes from all sides, and we, in company with

others, including the referee, were completely shut out

from the view. We are informed that the round ended in

both going to grass at the expiration of _two hours and

six minutes_. We had hoped that the men would now have

been withdrawn, as the referee had been forced from his

post, and the police were close by. The battle, so far

as it may be called a battle, was for the time over,

and the men should have been taken away. However,

although the referee sent orders for a cessation of

hostilities, five more so-called rounds were fought,

with pretty equal advantage. Heenan’s right eye was

fast closing, his left being in complete darkness. The

ring was half full of people, however, and neither man

had a fair chance. Much do we regret the unpleasant

duty that now is imposed upon us, of finding fault with

the Benicia Boy for conduct which was not only unmanly,

but quite against the rules of the Ring, and had the

Referee been present, would inevitably have lost him

the battle. We can ourselves declare, as an impartial

eye witness of the mêlée, that in the fourth of these

supplementary rounds, while Sayers was on his second’s

knee, Heenan rushed at him in a very excited state, let

fly left and right at Tom’s seconds, floored them, and

kicked at them when on the ground in desperate style,

after which he closed with Sayers, and after a wild

rally, they fell together. The final round was merely a

wild scramble, in which both fell. The referee by this

time was able to get near again, and ordered the men to

desist from fighting. Immediately after this Heenan

rushed away from the ring, and ran some distance with

the activity of a deer, proving that as far as strength

was concerned, he was as fit as ever; but he had not

been away from the ring many minutes before he was

totally blind. Tom Sayers, although a little tired, and

suffering from his arm and the desperate hug in the

37th round, was also strong on his pins, and could have

fought some time longer. The blues being now in force,

there was, of course, no chance of the men again

meeting, and an adjournment was necessary. It was found

that the authorities were up in arms in all directions,

so that it would be mere waste of time to go elsewhere.

Backward home was therefore the word, and the men and

their friends returned to the Metropolis shortly after

three o’clock. The whole time occupied, up to the men’s

leaving the ring, was two hours and twenty minutes.

REMARKS.――Up to the unfortunate departure of the

referee, this was decidedly the very best Championship

fight we ever witnessed. It was to the time aforesaid

fought out with a manliness, a fairness, and a

determination on both sides worthy of the highest

commendation. Without any attempt at shifting, each

scorned to take a mean advantage, and loudly and

repeatedly was each of them cheered. The game displayed

on both sides was remarkable. The gluttony and bottom

of Tom Sayers are too proverbial to need further

comment at our hand; but as certain rumours had been

flying about to the effect that Heenan was destitute of

those qualities, we deem it right to express our belief

that a gamer, more determined fellow, never pulled off

a shirt. His punishment was terrible, and yet he took

it round after round without flinching, and almost

invariably with a smile on his face. We are bound to

own that in this, as in his talent, he very agreeably

disappointed us; and had we not known his career, we

certainly should never have set him down for a novice.

He has an excellent delivery with his left, which was

as straight as a dart, and early in the fight was very

heavy. It appears to us, however, that his hands are

not strong, for before half the battle was got through

his left hand was so much swelled as to be almost

useless; and this, doubtless, was fortunate for Tom,

who with his right arm gone, could have made but a poor

stand against such a weapon had it retained its

original hardness. Of his right Heenan makes but little

use. Of his conduct at the conclusion of the battle we

cannot speak in too strong terms. We trust it was

occasioned by the state of excitement in which he was

owing to the ring being broken, and by the fact that,

being almost blind, he took the unoffending seconds of

his opponent for some other persons. The state of

Heenan’s eyesight was shown by the fact that he hit out

with both hands at Jemmy Welsh, who wore a red and

black striped woollen shirt, mistaking him for his

antagonist. Of Tom Sayers we need not say more than

that he fought the battle throughout with consummate

tact and judgment, and, considering that his right arm

(his principal weapon) was rendered almost useless from

the commencement, too much praise cannot be awarded to

him for his courage and coolness. We are of opinion,

even without that arm, that he would eventually have

pulled through, had the fight been finished on the day.

But it is useless speculating on possibilities or

probabilities. On the question of nationality, the only

point that has been decided, and the only point in our

opinion requiring decision, is that both England and

America possess brave sons, and each country had reason

to be proud of the Champion she had selected. Both

were, doubtless, anxious to have it settled; but for

ourselves, were we asked, we should say each is so good

that he is deserving a belt, and we would call on our

countrymen to subscribe for such a trophy as a reward

for Heenan’s enterprise and boldness in coming, as he

has done, to face the British Champion on his own

ground.

The writer of these lines, having been one of the less than half-dozen

sporting writers and reporters who remained among the driving crowd

which swayed hither and thither in the broken ring after the departure

of the referee, and as several of these, notably _The Times_ reporter,

wrote their published accounts from hearsay, feels himself freely

entitled to express his unbiassed opinion on the probable result of

the battle, and to describe “the occurrents of the fight,” in its last

struggles, from the avouchment of his own eyesight.

The fight, which began at twenty-four minutes past seven, was over at

a quarter to ten, lasting two hours and twenty minutes.

When the ring was broken in, in the thirty-seventh round, and the

referee shut out from view, Heenan, who was fast becoming blind,

hugged Sayers on the ropes. The ropes were lowered by Tom’s friends,

doubtless, but were not cut. Had the referee been there, he would

unquestionably have ordered the round to have been closed. Rule 28 of

the Ring Code was as follows, _before_ the Farnborough fight. It has

since been enlarged in its scope to prevent similar dangerous

practices more effectually:――“28. Where a man shall have his

antagonist across the ropes in such a position as to be helpless, and

to endanger his life by strangulation or apoplexy, it shall be in the

power of the referee to direct the seconds to take their man away, and

thus conclude the round; and that the man or his seconds refusing to

obey the direction of the referee shall be deemed the loser.” Of this

the Yankee scribes chose to be utterly oblivious, though the articles

specified the battle to be under the New Rules of the Ring――_i.e._,

those of 1853. The referee, however, so say the American party, sent

an order for the cessation of hostilities. This, though since

confirmed, was not believed by Sayers’ friends, who, seeing victory

within his grasp, thought it a mere _ruse_ to obtain a drawn battle.

Five rounds were thereafter fought, Heenan’s sight being so defective

that, in the fourth of these, the forty-first, Heenan rushed from his

corner while Sayers was on his second’s knee, and, letting fly at

Jemmy Welsh, knocked him nearly over, and kicked at Harry Brunton, if

he did not strike him, of which we are not certain. He then hugged

Sayers, and they both fell; Tom hitting up sharply in Heenan’s

battered frontispiece. A cry was raised that the referee had declared

the fight over, whereon Heenan rushed from the ring with great

activity, followed by his clamorous friends. We stayed, and found

Sayers strong, with his sight good, and in all respects but his

injured dexter arm――of little use since the fourth round――able, as he

said, “to fight an hour.”

Leaving Tom, we hurried to the carriages, the train standing on the

Farnborough embankment, where we saw Heenan, already blind as a bat,

lifted into his compartment. Arrived at the Bricklayers’ Arm Station,

we accompanied the gallant Champion to the hostelrie of his old

friend, Ned Elgee, “The Swan,” Old Kent Road. Here no sooner was the

hero seated, for he refused to go to bed, than he inquired after his

opponent. His friend and backer (Mr. John Gideon) suggested that the

heroes should meet and shake hands, and the writer of this hastened

across the road to invite the Benicia Boy and his friends to an

interview. He was in a close cab wrapped in blankets――blind,

unpresentable, and seemingly unconscious. Tom was soon cheerful, and

over a little tea regretted that the doctor’s veto prevented his

partaking of the champagne creaming around him to his health and

success, amid plaudits to his bravery.

Sayers was next morning at Norfolk Street, at the stakeholder and

referee’s office, and a photograph has fixed beyond dispute his

condition, which, save his right arm already spoken of, was nothing

beyond a tumefied mouth and a few bumps on his hard forehead. Heenan,

on the contrary, despite the absurd declarations of his American

letter-writer, was not in a condition to see or be seen. For fully

forty-eight hours he was in “darkness,” in bed in an upper-room at

Osborne’s Hotel in the Adelphi, and for more than that time in a

critical condition, as we know from unimpugnable proof. The friends of

Heenan pretended to base their great grievance on the fact that, as

the contest was not finished on the day, it ought to have been resumed

during the week. The answer to this is, first, that this was mere

bounce, as Heenan was in no condition to resume hostilities; secondly,

that in the condition of Sayers’s right arm he was entitled, by Ring

precedents (the fight having been once interrupted) to a reasonable

period to recover its use; thirdly, that it would have been contrary

to all dictates of humanity――and fairness, which includes humanity, is

a prized attribute of British boxing; fourthly, that public opinion

was opposed in the strongest manner to the two brave fellows who had

so heroically contended, and had been baulked of a result by no fault

or shortcoming of either, after such punishment as they had undergone,

renewing their interrupted struggle. For these and other cogent

reasons, it was proposed by the referee and stakeholder, and――after

the subsidence of the American mortification to a better state of

feeling――agreed to by both men, that two similar belts should be made,

one to be presented to each champion.

We shall not record the ceremonial of this presentation――which was

performed on the part of England by Frank Dowling, Esq., editor of

_Bell’s Life_, and on that of America by G. Wilkes, Esq., editor of

the _New York Spirit of the Times_――as the whole affair, speeches and

all, savour too strongly of the circus style of bunkum and bombast.

The modest paragraph in the _Times_ of May 30th, 1860, though written

as an _avant courrier_, is more to our taste:――

“THE CHAMPIONSHIP BELTS.――America and England shake hands

cordially to-day. What our greatest diplomatists and

engineers have failed to achieve has been accomplished by

the Benicia Boy and Tom Sayers, whose fame will descend to

future generations, and whose posterity will each be enabled

to show a _fac-simile_ of that much desired ‘belt,’ so

boldly challenged, so manfully defended. The Atlantic cable

has not linked the two nations together, but the good

feeling which has been shown by the two gladiators, who on

this day receive at the Alhambra their respective ‘belts,’

will be responded to by the two nations on either side of

the Atlantic. We have been favoured with a view of the old

belt, ‘the belt’ still open to competition, and of the two

other belts to be presented to the ‘two Champions of

England,’ for such is the inscription upon the case of each.

Both are precisely similar in every respect, and the

somewhat clumsy workmanship, in frosted silver, carefully

copied from the original, is by Mr. C. F. Hancock, of Bruton

Street.”

How British admiration of true courage expressed itself in the

substantial form of a public subscription, and how Members of

Parliament, the Stock Exchange, Lloyd’s, and Mark Lane, clubbed their

gold pieces to enable the Champion to pass in peace and competence the

remainder of his days, guarded from the stings and sorrows of poverty,

have been told in the columns of the contemporary sporting press.

After Mace’s victories over Sam Hurst and Tom King, there was some

talk of Sayers coming out from his retirement and having a turn with

the Norwich man, but it ended in smoke. As Tom, from the universal

interest excited by his heroic display, was an object of interest to

the multitude, he received liberal offers from some Yankee circus

proprietors, and by the aid of the “rhino” thus earned became first a

shareholder, and then proprietor of Howes and Cushing’s Circus, under

the management of Jem Myers. The speculation, we suspect, carried Tom

out of his depth, and the horses, mules, carriages, &c., were sold off

some twelve months after their purchase. Tom’s free living degenerated

into excess during this loose and excited life of a travelling showman

and exhibitor; for poor Tom, in his simple faith, was by no means an

Artemus Ward, and no match for Yankee smartness. There is little doubt

that Tom at this time laid the seeds of the inflammatory disease which

shortened his days, and cut him off at the early age of thirty-nine.

The kind friends who uncompromisingly stipulated, when Tom’s capital

was invested, that he should “fight no more,” did not place any

restriction on his re-appearance in the roped arena. When King and

Heenan fought, on December 10, 1863, Sayers conformed to the etiquette

of his profession, and seconded “the American.” Heenan’s party

evidently believed that Tom’s _prestige_ would scatter dismay in the

ranks of King’s followers, and help to overwhelm the “jolly young

waterman” at the outset. Poor Sayers’ descent had, however, commenced,

and when he stepped into the ring, in Heenan’s corner, it was plain he

was there more for dramatic effect than anything else. Attired in a

fur cap, a yellow flannel jacket, and jack-boots, he was vociferously

applauded when he commenced his duties in attending to Heenan’s

toilette. Even then people said, “How are the mighty fallen,” for poor

Tom was no more equal to his onerous task than a child. During the

fight at Wadhurst he looked in strange bewilderment at King and

Heenan, and when the “Benicia Boy” required assistance, his second was

perfectly helpless. Still the gladiator quitted the scene in a

graceful and generous manner, in having stood esquire to the opponent

who was instrumental in bringing out that steel, courage, and pluck of

which the first of English pugilists was composed.

As it no doubt will prove interesting to all those who have admired

the wonderful pluck and endurance of the greatest gladiator of modern

times to know something of the progress of that insidious disease

which gradually but surely did its work, we append a few particulars.

Since the memorable battle of Farnborough――when Sayers appeared in the

ring the picture of health, and the result proved that his _physique_

could not have been improved upon――he now and again showed symptoms of

the hectic flush which is the precursor of an affection of the lungs.

This was brought on by the course of life he subsequently chose, or

rather by the force of circumstances under which he was placed. Unable

to fall back upon the pleasures of a cultivated mind from want of

education, Tom became the idol of his fellows; he cast off all those

restraints which had secured for him health and victory, and plunged

into excesses of living――late hours and dissipation. Nature’s laws are

not to be broken with impunity, and in the beginning of 1866 he fell

into a very low condition, and betrayed symptoms of consumption,

aggravated with diabetes, for which Mr. Adams, F.R.C.S., attended him

on February 20, at his sister’s, Mrs. King’s, 16, Claremont Square,

Pentonville. His robust and healthy frame exhibited a great change for

the worse, and the doctor then feared, from his having wasted away so

much, coughing frequently, and losing strength fast, that he was

sinking into a decline. He was ready to acknowledge his physical

weakness, but when told of the serious nature of the disease then

apprehended, he became as docile as a child, and obeyed the

injunctions of his medical adviser, who, we may remark in passing,

expressed to us the melancholy pleasure which he experienced whilst

Tom was under his care. However, the dreaded enemy was stalled-off by

careful watching and nursing, and he recovered sufficiently to take a

trip to Brighton about the middle of April. When there, he appeared

strong and robust, and like his former self. This, however, was not to

last long, for at the end of August he returned to his sister’s, in

Claremont Square, and in a consultation held there between Dr. Adams

and Mr. Brown, they came to the conclusion that actual and absolute

disease of the lungs had set in, and that he could not survive many

weeks. He took a fancy to go to his old friend’s, Mr. Mensley, High

Street, Camden Town, on October 16, and there he stayed until he died.

For the satisfaction of Dr. Adams himself, that gentleman called in

Dr. Gull to consult, but they both agreed that nothing more could be

done to save him. A reaction took place in his condition after being a

fortnight at Mr. Mensley’s; he seemed to get fresher and stronger, and

for a week remained in a doubtful state, giving hopes to his friends

that he would survive the illness. A relapse came on, and with it

unconsciousness, and for the last few days he had only a few intervals

of consciousness. Mr. Litten, assistant chaplain of St. Pancras,

attended by desire of Sayers, and administered the consolations of

religion. He passed away at six o’clock on Wednesday evening, November

7th, in the presence of his father, with his two children at hand. For

upwards of four-and-twenty hours before his death he was in a state of

semi-insensibility, and could only recognise his friends on being

aroused and appealed to. But the great change came with comparative

peace at last, and when nature compelled him to “throw up the sponge,”

he left the world, let us hope, without that pain which no man feared

less when he stood up in defence of his reputation as the Emperor of

British boxers. Many were the inquiries made for the health of poor

Tom, and it is satisfactory to know that he was visited by some who

had taken a part against him in the battle-field, and that he bid

them, each and all, a peaceful farewell.

The amount of money subscribed for Sayers by his personal admirers and

the public was £3,000, which sum was invested in the names of

trustees, Tom to receive the interest during his life, providing he

never fought again; and, in the event of his fighting again or dying,

the interest was to go to the children until of age, when it was to be

divided between them. Tom left only two children――young Tom, then at

boarding-school, and fourteen years old, and Sarah, in her seventeenth

year. Independent of the interest in this sum, Sayers left a

considerable amount of property in plate and other valuables. Some of

his backers have treasured up _souvenirs_ of him. Mr. John Gideon,

Tom’s earliest “guide, philosopher, and friend,” has the boots in

which Sayers fought Heenan, with the Farnborough grass and earth

attaching to the spikes, just as the great gladiator left them.

Those who remember the personal appearance of the departed Champion

will have his bronzed, square, and good-humoured, lion-like phiz in

their mind’s eye; those who did not see him in the flesh must imagine

a round, broad, but not particularly thick-set man, standing 5 feet 8½

inches in his stocking-feet, with finely turned hips, and small but

powerful and flat loins, remarkably round ribs and girth, and square

shoulders. His arms were of medium length, and so round as not to show

prominently the biceps, or even the outer muscles of the fore-arm, to

the extent often seen in men of far inferior powers of hitting and

general strength. Indeed, the bulk of Sayers was so compactly packed

that you did not realise his true size and weight at a cursory glance,

and it was this close and neat packing of his trunk――excuse the

pun――that doubtless was an important ingredient in many a “long day”

in which Tom’s lasting powers were the admiration of every spectator.

Tom’s head was certainly of the “bullet” shape, and it was supported

by a neck of the sort known as “bull,” conveying the idea of enduring

strength and determination to back it. We have no phrenological

examination of Tom’s “bumps” before us, but we doubt not those of

combativeness and amativeness were fully developed. Tom’s fighting

weight began at 10st. 6lb.; in his later battles it was 10st. 10lb. to

10st. 12lb. The photographs which figure in the print-shop windows do

not convey a fair idea of Tom’s good-tempered and often merry

expression: he seems to have been taken when filled with the

contemplation of the seriousness of the position of having one’s

“counterfeit presentment” multiplied and sent forth to the world. From

the hips downward Tom was not a “model man.” Though round in the calf,

his thighs were decidedly deficient in muscular development; yet no

man made better use of his pins in getting in and out again, as

witness his _up_-hill performances with the six-foot Slasher, and the

ponderous and more active Benicia Boy. It was to Tom’s excellent

judgment of time and distance that the severity of his hitting was

due, and to his mighty heart――a bigger never found place in man’s

bosom――that his triumphant finish of many a well-fought day is to be

attributed. No man ever fought more faithfully to his friends or

bravely with his foes in “the battle of life;” and therefore is the

tribute of a record of his deeds due to TOM SAYERS.

His remains were consigned to their parent earth, on Wednesday,

November 15th, 1866, at the Highgate Cemetery, attended by an immense

concourse of the sympathising and curious. A committee of friends, the

admirers of true British courage, raised a monument over the spot

where――

“After life’s fitful fever he sleeps well.”

Of this monument we present a faithful delineation.

[Illustration]

It would be an unpardonable omission were we to conclude the biography

of Tom Sayers without appending the remarkable poem, attributed to the

pen of William Makepeace Thackeray, which appeared in _Punch_, April

28th, 1860. We need hardly say that it is a paraphrase rather than a

parody of Lord Macaulay’s legend of “Horatius” in the “Lays of Ancient

Rome.”

THE COMBAT OF SAYERIUS AND HEENANUS.

A LAY OF ANCIENT LONDON.

(Supposed to be recounted to his Great-grandchildren,

April 17th, A.D. 1920, by an Ancient Gladiator.)

Close round my chair, my children,

And gather at my knee,

The while your mother poureth

The Old Tom in my tea;

What while your father quaffeth

His meagre Bordeaux wine――

’Twas not on such potations

Were reared these thews o’ mine.

Such drinks came in the very year――

Methinks I mind it well――

That the great fight of HEENANUS

With SAYERIUS befell.[30]

These knuckles then were iron,

This biceps like a cord,

This fist shot from the shoulder

A bullock would have floored.

CRAWLEIUS his Novice,

They used to call me then

In the Domus Savilliana[31]

Among the sporting men.

There, on benefit occasions,

The gloves I oft put on,

Walking round to show my muscle

When the set-to was done;

While ringing in the arena

The showered denarii fell,

That told CRAWLEIUS’ Novice

Had used his mauleys well.

’Tis but some sixty years since

The times of which I speak,

And yet the words I’m using

Will sound to you like Greek.

What know ye, race of milksops,

Untaught of the P.R.,

What stopping, lunging, countering,

Fibbing, or rallying are?

What boots to use the _lingo_,

When you have lost the _thing_?

How paint to you the glories

Of BELCHER, CRIBB, or SPRING――

To _you_, whose sire turns up his eyes

At mention of the Ring?

Yet, in despite of all the jaw

And gammon of this time,

That brands the art of self-defence――

Old England’s art――as crime,

From off mine ancient memories

The rust of time I’ll shake.

Your youthful bloods to quicken

And your British pluck to wake;

I know it only slumbers,

Let cant do what it will,

The British bull-dog _will_ be

The British bull-dog still.

Then gather to your grandsire’s knee,

The while his tale is told

How SAYERIUS and HEENANUS

Milled in those days of old.

Y FYGHTE.

The Beaks and Blues were watching

Agog to atop the mill,

As we gathered to the station

In the April morning chill;

By twos and threes, by fours and tens,

To London Bridge we drew;

For we had had “the office”

That were good men and true;

And saving such, the place of fight

Was ne’er a man that knew.

From East, from West, from North and South,

The London Fancy poured,

Down to the sporting cabman,

Up to the sporting lord;

From the “Horseshoe” in Tichbourne Street

Sharp OWEN SWIFT was there;

JEM BURN had left the “Rising Sun,”

All in the Street of Air;

LANGHAM had out the “Cambrian,”

With tough old ALEC REID,

And towering high above the crowd

Shone BEN CAUNT’S fragrant weed;

Not only fighting covies,

But sporting swells besides――

Dukes, Lords, M.P’s., and Guardsmen,

With county Beaks for guides;

And tongues that sway our Senators,

And hands the pen that wield,

Were cheering on the Champions

Upon that morning’s field.

And hark! the bell is ringing,

The engine puffs amain,

And through the dark towards Brighton

On shrieks the tearing train;

But turning off where Reigate

Unites the clustering lines,

By poultry-haunted Dorking

A devious course it twines,

By Wootton, Shier, and Guildford,

Across the winding Wey,

Till by heath-girded Farnborough

Our doubling course we stay,

Where Aldershot lay snoring

All in the morning gray,

Nor dreamed “the Camp” what combat

Should be fought here to-day.

The stakes are pitched, the ropes are rove,

The men have ta’en their stand;

HEENANUS wins the toss for place,

And takes the eastward hand;

CUSSICCIUS and MACDONALDUS[32]

Upon “the BOY” attend;

SAYERIUS owns BRUNTONIUS

With JIM WELSHIUS for friend.[33]

And each upon the other now

A curious eye may throw,

And from the seconds’ final rub

In buff at length they show,

And from their corners to the scratch

Move stalwartly and slow.

Then each his hand stretched forth to grasp

His foeman’s fives in friendly clasp;

Each felt his balance trim and true――

Each up to square his mauleys threw――

Each tried his best to draw his man――

The feint, the dodge, the opening plan,

Till right and left SAYERIUS tried――

HEENANUS’ grin proclaimed him “wide;”

Then shook his nut――a “lead” essayed,

Nor reached SAYERIUS’ watchful head.

At length each left is sudden flung,

We heard the ponderous thud,

And from each tongue the news was rung,

SAYERIUS hath “first blood!”

Adown HEENANUS’ Roman nose

Freely the tell-tale claret flows,

While stern SAYERIUS’ forehead shows

That in the interchange of blows

HEENANUS’ aim was good!

Again each iron mauley swung,

And loud the counter-hitting rung,

Till breathless both, and wild with blows,

Fiercely they grappled for a close;

One moment in close hug they swing,

Hither and thither round the ring,

Then from HEENANUS’ clinch of brass,

SAYERIUS, smiling, slips to grass!

I trow mine ancient breath would fail

To follow through the fight

Each gallant round’s still changing tale,

Each feat of left and right.

How through two well-fought hours and more

Through bruise, and blow, and blood,

Like sturdy bull-dogs, as they were,

Those well-matched heroes stood.

How nine times in that desperate mill

HEENANUS, in his strength,

Knocked stout SAYERIUS off his pins,

And laid him all at length;

But how in each succeeding round

SAYERIUS smiling came,

With head as cool, and wind as sound,

As his first moment on the ground,

Still confident and game.

How from HEENANUS’ sledge-like fist,

Striving a smasher to resist,

SAYERIUS’ stout right arm gave way,

Yet the maimed hero still made play,

And when “in-fighting” threatened ill,

Was nimble in “out-fighting,” still――

Still did his own maintain――

In mourning put HEENANUS’ glims,

Till blinded eyes and helpless limbs,

The chances squared again.

How blind HEENANUS, in despite

Of bleeding face and waning sight,

So gallantly kept up the fight,

That not a man could say

Which of the two ’twere wise to back,

Or on which side some random crack

Might not decide the day;

And leave us――whoso won the prize――

Victor and vanquished, in all eyes,

An equal meed to pay.

Two hours and more the fight had sped,

Near unto ten it drew,

But still opposed――one-armed to blind――

They stood, those dauntless two.

Ah, me! that I have lived to hear

Such men as ruffians scorned,

Such deeds of valour “brutal” called,

Canted, preached-down, and mourned!

Ah! that these old eyes ne’er again,

A gallant mill shall see!

No more behold the ropes and stakes,

With colours flying free!

* * * * *

But I forget the combat――

How shall I tell the close?

That left the Champion’s belt in doubt

Between those well-matched foes?

Fain would I shroud the tale in night――

The meddling Blues that thrust in sight――

The ring-keepers o’erthrown;

The broken ropes――th’ encumbered fight――

HEENANUS’ sudden blinded flight――

SAYERIUS pausing, as he might,

Just when ten minutes, used aright

Had made the day his own!

Alas! e’en in those brighter days

We still had Beaks and Blues――

Still canting rogues, their mud to fling,

On self-defence, and on the Ring,

And fistic art abuse!

And ’twas such varmint had the power

The Champions’ fight to stay,

And leave unsettled to this hour

The honours of that day!

But had those honours rested――

Divided as was due,

SAYERIUS and HEENANUS

Had cut the Belt in two.

And now my fists are feeble,

And my blood is thin and cold,

But ’tis better than Old Tom to me

To recall those days of old.

And may you, my great-grandchildren,

That gather round my knee,

Ne’er see worse men, nor iller times

Than I and mine might be,

Though England then had prize-fighters――

Even reprobates like me.

[29] There were numerous pictorial representations of the

battle both in England and America; some of them amusingly

imaginative. The large, coloured engraving, published by

Newbold, and its smaller American piracy, are faithful as to

the men and the field of action. The object in view in these

pictures――that of giving recognisable portraits of most of

the pugilistic, and many of the sporting, and a few of the

literary notabilities of the day, of course destroys all

truthfulness or reality of grouping, as in so many works

professing to represent great battles, festivals, or public

commemorations. Our frontispiece, from a contemporary

sketch, is less pretentious, and therefore more realistic

and truthful.

[30] An allusion to “Gladstone claret;” cheap, thin French

wines being admitted first at low duty in 1860.――ED.

[31] Domus Savilliana――Saville House, on the north side of

Leicester Square, where sparring exhibitions and bouts with

the gloves were frequent in those days. See also

PUGILISTICA, vol. i., page 19, for a notice of Saville

House.――ED.

[32] Cusick, Heenan’s trainer, and Jack Macdonald (still

living, 1881).

[33] Harry Brunton, now host of the “Nag’s Head,” at Wood

Green. Jemmy Welsh, late of the “Griffin,” Boro’.――ED.

CHAPTER II.

JEM MACE, OF NORWICH (CHAMPION).

1855-1864.

None who have witnessed the public appearances of this accomplished

boxer will dispute that he was one of the cleverest, smartest, and

most skilful pugilists that have sported buff in the 24-foot. Indeed,

had Jem appeared at an earlier and better period than the latter days

of the failing and moribund P.R.; and (another _if_) had he chosen

honestly and manfully to exert his powers, the fame that accompanies

the championships of the two elder Jems――Jem Belcher and Jem

Ward――might have shone on the career of Jem Mace. As we have already

more than once said, such as the patrons of the Ring (or, indeed, of

the turf and any other sport) are, such will the character of its

professors or exponents be. If horse owners are mere mercenary

speculators, can we expect jockeys to go straight? When the patronage

of the P.R. had fallen from noblemen, gentlemen, and the admirers of

courage and fair-play into the hands of the keepers of night houses,

“hells,” and even resorts yet more detestable, whose sole object was

to fleece the dissipated and unwary by the sale of high-priced railway

passes for “special excursions,” and bring customers and victims to

their dens of debauchery and robbery, could it be expected that boxers

would remain honest and brave? The encouragement of bravery and skill

being as nothing to these debased speculators. This, we regret to say,

was the degradation into which the Ring had fallen, or was fast

falling, when Jem Mace first became known as a boxer, and to these

influences some of the “shady” incidents of his career are easily

traceable.

[Illustration: JEM MACE, OF NORWICH (CHAMPION) 1855-1864.]

Jem, who was born at Beeston, near Swaffham, in Norfolk, made his

first appearance on the stage of life in May, 1831, and, like St.

Patrick, “came of dacent people.” His “forebears,” as transpired

incidentally in evidence at the Commission _de lunatico inquirendo_

known as “The great Windham scandal,” which was tried at Gray’s Inn,

in 1861, seem to have been tenants on the Windham estates for more

than a hundred years. We have mentioned this fact, as a general

impression prevailed, from Jem’s nomadic antecedents and propensities,

that he was a born Bohemian; indeed, we more than once read in

newspapers that he was of gipsy extraction. Of Jem’s youth we know

nothing, except that he “growed,” like Topsy, and we should say rather

wild; for when we first heard of him he was proprietor of a travelling

booth, wherein, at fairs, races, and public gatherings he not only

played the violin――on which he is a tolerable performer――and supplied

refreshments, but was acknowledged as a skilful professor of the art

of self-defence. Indeed, he had not long been in this line of business

before Jem Mace’s booth was the resort of numerous admirers of

glove-practice, and Jem himself was famed for his readiness and

success in polishing off any aspiring yokel who might desire to try a

bout with the mittens. As Jem’s youthful weight did not quite balance

ten stone he was of course often “overweighted,” though never

overmatched in these encounters, and as he was always ready “to

accommodate” without regard to size or avoirdupois, Jem’s early career

taught him how to deal with “big ones,” as his after-fights with Tom

King and the gigantic Sam Hurst bear witness.

Jem was not a precocious pugilist, having attained his twenty-fourth

year before engaging himself to strip with a local boxer, bearing the

formidable name of Slack, in October, 1855. Of this “illustrious

obscure” we need only say that _Fistiana_ has but one line chronicling

his defeat by one Jack Baston (fighting as Mace’s Novice) in

September, 1857, when Slack broke his arm. Mace’s fight with Slack,

which took place at Mildenhall, October 2, 1855, was a one-sided

affair, Jem snuffing out his adversary’s pretensions in nineteen

minutes, which included the 9th and last round, and leaving off

without a mark of punishment. From this time, for more than a year,

Jem pursued the even tenor of his way, increasing his fame as a fistic

practitioner and professor, when the rumour of his “gift” of hitting

reached the great metropolis, and with it came an announcement that

Mace would be happy, upon finding a suitable customer, to exhibit his

talents in the London Ring with any 10 stone practitioner, and give a

few pounds.

Bill Thorpe, a fine made and well-proportioned 10 stone man, standing

about 5 feet 9 inches in his stocking-feet, had crept into favour with

some “over-the-water” sporting circles by his defeat of a man named

Bromley, in the same ring in which Dan Collins (Sayers’s early

opponent) beat Patsy Daly, on September 28, 1856. Thorpe, being on the

look-out for a job, was considered a fit match for Jem Mace, and his

friends placing him in the hands of Dan Dismore, the articles were

drawn and signed to fight on the 17th February, 1857, for £50, neither

man to exceed 10 stone. This limitation of weight suggests a rather

curious reflection as to the remarkable manner in which some modern

pugilists may be said to have increased in weight by “leaps and

bounds.” Jemmy Massey, who fought at 8st. 10lbs., could not latterly

scale under 10 stone. Sayers increased from 9st. to 10st. 12lbs., yet

he was twenty-four years old when he fought Dan Collins; Harry Broome

in two years grew from 10st. to 12st.; he, however, began unusually

young, while Jem Mace, who was twenty-six when he first appeared in

the London ring, increased from 9st. 10lbs. to 11st. 4lbs. just as Tom

Sayers did. The affair came off, after a shift from the Kentish

marshes, on Canvey Island, and although the men were termed novices,

there was a better muster than usual of the patrons of the ring, owing

to the popularity of Dan Dismore and Keene, who severally backed the

men. The weather was genial and more like a May day than February, and

a pleasant voyage was followed by an easy debarkation, and well-kept

ring. Thorpe first threw in his hat, esquired by Jemmy Welsh and Tom

Sayers――the appearance of the latter bearing testimony to the

wonderful strength of his constitution, one week only having elapsed

since his renewed and tremendous battle with Aaron Jones! Mace was not

long in following Thorpe’s example, being accompanied by the

accomplished Bill Hayes and a Norwich amateur. At three o’clock, all

being in apple-pie order, the men and seconds crossed hands, and the

former were left face to face to begin

THE FIGHT.