TOM CRIBB AND MOLINEUX
With those whose charity begins--and ends--at the farthest possible
point from home, with those who, to be more particular, born of British
blood, cannot speak of the British Lion without referring to mange, who
never refer to British traditions or institutions without a sneer, the
present writer has little patience. It is necessary to say that at some
point in this chronicle in order to avoid misunderstanding. Tutored by
Pierce Egan, Borrow, and other and later writers, we are apt to lose
all sense of perspective in regarding that one-time wholly British
institution, the Prize-Ring. Further, other sources of enlightenment,
and especially our schoolmasters, have blinded us to any flaw in the
tradition of British Fair Play, the love of which, as already said,
is an acquired and not an inherent virtue. And if in this and other
chapters some account is given of events where the love of fair play
was conspicuously lacking, and which perhaps tend to show that a great
tradition can be, after all, but a great superstition, that will not, I
trust, be taken as evidence of the writer’s anti-English proclivities.
At this time of day, the truth, so far as one can discover it, can
do no harm--if indeed it ever can. And with that much by way of
explanation and warning, we proceed to some account of the two immortal
battles between Cribb and Molineux, the black.
The history of the Nigger in Boxing has yet to be fully explored. From
the time of Bill Richmond and Molineux (the first black boxers whose
names have come down to us) till the time of Jack Johnson, negroes in
this country have fought, with certain exceptions, under the severe
handicap of unpopularity. Without entering too deeply into the Colour
question, we may say that this unpopularity comes also from tradition.
The vast majority of negro boxers had been slaves or the descendants
of slaves. In early days and in the popular imagination they were
savages, or almost savages. Also it was recognised from the first that
the African negro and his descendants in the West Indies and America
were harder-headed than white men, less sensitive about the face and
jaw; most black boxers can take without pain or trouble a smashing
which would cause the collapse of a white man. Occasionally this is
balanced by the nigger’s weakness in the stomach--but, one thing with
another, the white man is at a disadvantage. But physical inequality
is not the only point of difference. Niggers are usually children in
temperament, with the children’s bad points as well as their good
ones. The black man’s head is easily turned, and when his personal and
physical success over a white man is manifest he generally behaves like
the worst kind of spoiled child. In extreme cases his overwhelming
sense of triumph knows no bounds at all, and he turns from a primitive
man into a fiend. His insolence is appalling. When the black is in this
condition ignorant white men lose their heads, their betters are coldly
disgusted. There have been exceptions, the most notable of whom was
Peter Jackson, whose exploits will be found in the second part of this
book. Peter Jackson was a thoroughly good fellow. As a rule, however,
it is far better that negroes, if fight they must, should fight amongst
themselves. No crowd is ever big-hearted enough, or “sporting” enough,
to regard an encounter between white and black with a purely sporting
interest.
Thomas Molineux was born of slave parents in the State of Virginia. He
himself had been legally freed, and he came over to England, without
friends, with the idea of earning a living with his fists. “Thormanby”
(the pen name of the late W. Wilmott Dixon) tells us that he had been
in the service, in America, of Mr. Pinckney, subsequently United States
Ambassador at the Court of St. James’s; and he was a good friend
to the lonely black on his arrival in London. Molineux put himself
in the hands of Bill Richmond, a fellow negro who had been taken
into the service of the Duke of Northumberland when that nobleman
was campaigning in America, and, later, educated at his expense and
by him set up as a carpenter. Richmond appears to have been a very
well-behaved fellow, and at the time of Molineux’s arrival was keeping
an inn in the West End of London.
By all that is fair, even in love and war, Molineux should have won the
first of the two battles he fought with Tom Cribb. He was aiming high,
for his conquests, previous to his challenging the champion, were few
and insignificant. However, Tom could do no less than accept, though he
underrated the black: and a match was made for £200 a side. The place
chosen was Copthall Common, near East Grinstead, in Sussex, and the
day December 10th, 1810. Vast numbers of people came down from London
to see the fight, travelling through a downpour of rain which made the
ring into a mere pool of mud. Cribb was seconded by John Gulley and Joe
Ward, and Molineux by Bill Richmond and Paddington Jones. “Time” was
kept by Sir Thomas Apreece.
Bets were made that Molineux would not last for half an hour--and, as
the event proved, lost.
The men were splendidly matched. Cribb stood 5 feet 10½ inches and
weighed 14 stone 2 lb.: Molineux was two inches shorter and almost
exactly the same weight. Neither man was in absolutely first-rate
condition. Cribb was always inclined to be “beefy” and the Moor (as
Egan calls him) was a somewhat dissipated customer. Indeed the majority
of fighters in those days were plucky enough in battle, but lacked the
higher and more enduring courage to go through a long period of arduous
training.
Owing to Gentleman Jackson’s perspicacity, the ring had been formed at
the bottom of a hill, so that the great crowd of spectators could get
an excellent view of the proceedings.
Nothing of any importance occurred in the first four rounds. Molineux
was thrown in the first and drew first blood from the champion in the
second. The wet ground made foothold precarious, and on that account
a comparatively light blow knocked a man down. Even so it was Cribb
who did the most knocking. The fifth round was very fierce. Each in
turn had some little advantage. The round was a long series of rallies,
quick leads neatly stopped, hot counters, one of which landed on
Cribb’s left eye. There was no betting at the end of this round. In the
eighth the champion had a good deal the worst of it, but stood and took
his gruel like the man he always was. Egan’s description of the ninth
round may be quoted in full as being typical of that author, with his
numerous exaggerations and underlinings.
“The battle had now arrived at that doubtful state, and things
seemed not to prove so easy and tractable as was anticipated, that
the betters were rather puzzled to know how they should proceed
with success. _Molineux_ gave such proofs of _gluttony_, that four
to one now made many tremble who had sported it; but still there
was a ray of hope remaining from the senseless state in which
the _Moor_ appeared at the conclusion of the last round. Both
the combatants appeared dreadfully _punished_; and Cribb’s head
was terribly swelled on the left side; _Molineux’s nob_ was also
much the worse for the fight. On Cribb’s displaying weakness, the
_flash side_ were full of palpitation--it was not looked for, and
operated more severe upon their minds upon that account. Molineux
rallied with a spirit unexpected, bored in upon Cribb, and by a
strong blow through the Champion’s guard, which he planted in his
face, brought him down. It would be futile here to attempt to
pourtray the countenances of the interested part of the spectators,
who appeared, as it were, panic-struck, and those who were not
thoroughly acquainted with the game of the _Champion_ began hastily
to _hedge-off_; while others, better informed, still placed their
confidence on _Cribb_, from what they had seen him hitherto _take_.”
By the thirteenth round the betting had changed to 6-4 on the Moor.
But the fight remained extraordinarily level until the end of the
eighteenth round, when both appeared to be exhausted. They were both
heavily punished, and on the whole fight perhaps Cribb had been the
more severely handled. Both were unrecognisable, and their colour only
distinguished them.
In the nineteenth round, during which the half-hour from the beginning
was up, Cribb, who for some time past had been “milling on the
retreat,” tried to land a desperate blow at the moment when Molineux
had him up against the ropes. These were in three rows, the top one
being five feet from the ground. The black dodged the blow, and,
seizing the top rope on either side of Cribb with his two hands,
pressed upon the champion with all his might. Cribb could neither
hit, nor fall. The seconds on either side argued the propriety of
separating the men: but the umpires decided that no such interference
was allowable. One of the combatants must fall before a second touched
either. At that moment about two hundred of the onlookers, infuriated
at the black man’s behaviour, rushed the outer ropes and pressed upon
the ring-side. Several men snatched at Molineux’s fingers, which still
clung to the top rope, and tried to dislodge them. Some say that one
or more of the black’s fingers were broken, others that they were at
least injured. But all the time Molineux was resting and getting his
wind, his head down on Cribb’s chest, his weight thrown forward upon
his body. At last, what with his own efforts and the people plucking at
his opponent’s hands, Cribb got free and retreated towards the nearest
corner. A less courageous man would have contrived to slip down. As
it was, Molineux caught him, and, avoiding a hard left with which
Cribb lunged at his body, seized the champion’s head under his arm and
proceeded to punish him with short, jolting blows, from which presently
Cribb fell exhausted to the ground. He brought Cribb down again the
next round as well. The twenty-second round, Egan tells us, was “of no
importance,” and he leaves it at that, whilst we sadly reflect how many
rounds of nowadays, tediously described in detail, deserve the same
fate.
It was at the end of the next round that Molineux should have won,
though Pierce Egan entirely omits the incident from his full
account, merely observing, in another volume of _Boxiana_ (where he
makes a note upon the negro’s death in Ireland):--
[Illustration: THE BOXING MATCH BETWEEN RICHARD HUMPHREYS AND DANIEL
MENDOZA ON THE 9TH OF JANUARY, 1788.
“It was decided on an oak stage of twenty-four feet square. On the
combatant mounting the stage, the odds were two to one on Humphreys. In
the first round Mendoza obtained the advantage, and kept it for near
twenty minutes. Humphreys then got the lead, and retained it about
eight minutes; when, after a well contested fight, it terminated in his
favour. The print represents Johnson as second to Humphreys, and Ryan
to Mendoza. Of the figures surrounding the stage sixteen are portraits
of amateurs.”]
“His first contest with _Cribb_ will long be remembered by the
Sporting World. It will also not be forgotten, if Justice holds the
scales, that his _colour_ alone prevented him from becoming the
hero of that fight.”
The following is Egan’s exact account of the twenty-third and
twenty-fourth rounds:--
“TWENTY-THIRD.--The wind of both the combatants appearing somewhat
damaged, they sparred some time to recruit it, when Cribb put in
a blow on the left eye of _Molineux_, which hitherto had escaped
_milling_. The _Moor_ ran in, gave Cribb a severe hit on the body,
and threw him heavily.
“TWENTY-FOURTH.--_Molineux_ began this round with considerable
spirit, and some hits were exchanged, when Cribb was thrown. The
betting tolerably even.”
Now at the end of the twenty-second round Molineux was doing better
than the champion, and the betting was 4-1 on him. The crowd at the
ring side shouted: “Now, Tom, now! Don’t be beat by the nigger.” But
all the same Cribb went down at the end of the twenty-third round
utterly done. What followed throws no shadow upon the character of Tom
Cribb himself. From all we can gather he was a perfectly straight and
honest bruiser. But he had been badly knocked about, and Joe Ward,
one of his seconds, was desperately afraid that he would never get
him up to the scratch by the call of time. There seems to be, indeed,
no doubt that Cribb was, but for the squeezing against the ropes,
fairly beaten. Ward was a clever rascal, and he ran across the ring to
Molineux’s corner and accused Bill Richmond of putting bullets into his
principal’s hands.[2] He must have known perfectly well that this was
false, just as he must have known, incidentally, that such foul play
would do far more harm to the striker than to his opponent. But the
altercation achieved its purpose, and Cribb got a good deal more than
his due thirty seconds in which to recover.
Immediately after this the black got a fit of shivering, as by now,
despite the pace at which they had been fighting, the chill of the
December day had got into his bones, fresh as he was from a warm
climate. Molineux weakened rapidly, though, urged by his seconds, he
fought on till the fortieth round. Of the end of this battle Egan
says:--
“This (the 34th) was the last round of what might be termed
fighting, in which _Molineux_ had materially the worst of it;
but the battle was continued to the 39th, when _Cribb_ evidently
appeared the best man, and at its conclusion, the Moor _for the
first time complained_, that ‘_he could fight no more!_’ but his
seconds, who viewed the nicety of the point, persuaded him to try
the _chance_ of another round, to which request he acquiesced, when
he fell from weakness, reflecting additional credit on the manhood
of his brave _conqueror, Tom Cribb_.”
What additional credit is reflected by knocking down an exhausted man,
I find it a little difficult to perceive. Whether we like the fact or
not, Molineux should have been Champion of England that day, a day
which is indeed black for the fair name of good sport. No possible good
can come of trying, as Pierce Egan did, to disguise it. The referee was
grossly unfair in not stopping Joe Ward’s trick, which he can hardly
have failed to see. It should also be added that the crowd hooted and
jeered at Molineux throughout the fight--but then, crowds are like
that. Crowds are seldom genuinely sporting in the finest sense. It
should be said, however, that the Stock Exchange gave the black a warm
reception after the fight, and sent him away with a present of £45.
We may be sure, however, that Tom Cribb himself treated his antagonist
with chivalry. This is manifest in the fact that Molineux in after
years did his utmost in support of the champion, sparring at his
benefit performance, and, unasked, selling tickets for it.
At the time the black man was anxious for another trial; and the
following letter appeared in _The Times_ for Christmas Day, 1810:--
“ST. MARTIN’S STREET,
“LEICESTER SQUARE,
“_Dec. 21st, 1810._”
“TO MR. THOMAS CRIBB.
“SIR,--My friends think, that had the weather on last Tuesday, the day
upon which I contended with you, not been so unfavourable, I should
have won the battle: I, therefore, challenge you to a second meeting,
at any time within two months, for such sum as those gentlemen who
place confidence in me may be pleased to arrange.
“As it is possible this letter may meet the public eye, I cannot omit
the opportunity of expressing a confident hope, that the circumstance
of my being of a different colour to that of a people amongst whom I
have sought protection will not in any way operate to my prejudice.
“I am, sir,
“Your most obedient, humble servant,
“T. MOLINEUX.”
“_Witness_, J. Scholfield.”
The announcement of Cribb’s acceptance of the challenge was given in
_The Times_ for December 29th, and the match was made for a purse of
600 guineas.
It took place at Thistleton Gap, in the county of Rutland, on September
28th, 1811, and though a much shorter affair, the second battle is
hardly less famous than the other. The final blow of this encounter
is depicted in a print published less than a week afterwards, a
reproduction of which will be found in this book.
This time Captain Barclay trained Cribb to a hair, so that all his beef
was gone. His system was a savage one and must have killed some men,
would certainly kill many boxers of the present day. But it agreed with
Cribb, much though he is said to have disliked the process at the time.
Cribb’s preparation lasted for eleven weeks, and his weight was brought
down from 16 stone to 13 stone 6 lb. He was probably the first really
trained man that ever stepped into a ring.
If the truth is to be known, Barclay had a special reason for making
a good job of the champion’s training. He was a good amateur boxer
himself, and was used to put the gloves on with the pros at Jackson’s
rooms in Bond Street. But, “Thormanby” informs us, he kept a special
pair of gloves there for his own use. Whether they were harder than
the ordinary we do not know, but they were probably much lighter! The
day on which he had arranged to spar with Molineux he arrived after
the black, who was already wearing his special mufflers. He could not
very well say: “Here, those are my particular gloves,” and so had to
be content with the regulation puddings. The result was that Molineux
broke one of his ribs; and now he wanted to be even with him, though by
proxy.
Molineux did not train. As already suggested, he was a self-indulgent
fellow and a spoiled child. He went on a sparring tour round the
country with Tom Belcher (Jem’s brother), and Bill Richmond. They
were not strong-minded guardians, and only just before the fight the
black ate a whole chicken, and an apple pie, washing them down with a
prodigious draught of porter.
When the men met before a huge crowd of about 20,000 people, the black
was so amazed at Cribb’s appearance that at first he could hardly
recognise him. The simple blackamoor had not believed in the virtue of
getting fit: his strength, skill, and undoubted courage were enough for
him. And here, shaking him by the hand, was a hard-faced fellow without
an ounce of tallow on him, all bone and long, rippling muscles--a very
different Cribb to the well-larded customer he had fought on Copthall
Common. And none of the champion’s strength or stamina was gone--rather
the contrary. Cribb had Gulley and Ward in his corner again, while Bill
Gibbons and Richmond looked after Molineux. There is little to be said
of the battle itself. It was fought on a stage this time, twenty-five
feet square. Cribb scored the first knock-down. Captain Barclay
recommended his man to let the black beat himself and to hold back. In
the third round Molineux by an overhand blow closed Tom’s right eye,
the fist hitting him on the cheek bone, immediately under the eye,
so that the swelling took an upward direction. On his side Cribb was
perfectly confident, but too old a hand not to be extremely careful,
and wisely he gave most of his attention to Molineux’s body--always a
good policy with a black man, especially when he is out of training. He
nearly doubled up the Moor with one terrific right, and yet the plucky
fellow pulled himself together immediately afterwards and threw Cribb
heavily to the boards.
In a short while Cribb showed severe signs of punishment about the head
and face, but he kept smiling amiably, which drove his adversary to
madness, so that in the sixth round he was literally capering about in
sheer frenzy, hitting the air wildly. Cribb came up to him and knocked
him down. Again and again this happened, though at intervals Molineux
regained his composure and fought well. In the ninth round, with a
tremendous right-hander, the champion broke his jaw, after which he
failed by half a minute to come up to time. But this was overlooked,
and at the end of the eleventh round, when the battle had only lasted
nineteen minutes and ten seconds, he sent home a left which knocked
Molineux clean out of time: and the black was carried senseless from
the ring.
Cribb made about £400 out of this fight directly, though no doubt this
sum was largely increased by perquisites later on. Captain Barclay,
by judicious betting, made about £10,000. And “through the kind
interference of Mr. Jackson,” as Egan puts it, a collection realised
£50 extra for the black, whose share of the purse would be £200.
It was on the occasion of this battle that the editor of the _Edinburgh
Star_ wrote:--
“When the amount of money collected for the relief of British
prisoners in France, now suffering for the cause of their country,
scarcely amounts to £49,000, there is--Blush, O Britain!--there
is £50,000 depending upon a _boxing match_! The Champion Cribb’s
arrival, and on a Sunday, too! on a visit to a gentleman of
Aberdeen (we should be glad to know what kind of gentleman he is)
as if he, the meritorious Cribb, did honour to the City of Aberdeen
by his presence!”
(The gentleman of Aberdeen was Captain Barclay, who had property in
that county and brought Cribb up there to train.)
There are two sorts of amusement to be derived from this quotation, and
one of them, having regard to recent memories, is a very bitter sort.
After this, Tom Cribb retired from the Ring, and became, like the
majority of successful bruisers of his own and of later times, a
publican: and thenceforward the Union Arms in Panton Street, Haymarket,
became a very popular house of call with all members of the Fancy.