BENDIGO AND BEN CAUNT
After this battle with Deaf Burke, Bendigo was given a champion’s belt
by Jem Ward, and for a year he remained undisputed Champion of England.
In March of 1840, however, whilst skylarking and turning somersaults
at some military steeplechases at Nottingham, he slipped his knee-cap
and was told by his doctor that he would never be able to run or fight
again. For two years he had to remain in retirement. During this time
Burke tried to assert himself as champion, but was beaten by Nick Ward,
and shortly afterwards died of consumption. Ward won on a foul from Ben
Caunt, who, however, came back on him and thrashed him in forty-seven
minutes. Then Bendigo, who had taken the utmost care of his injured
knee, considered himself strong enough to win the championship back.
But first of all he came from Nottingham to London and practised with
the gloves for a time. He then challenged Tass Parker for £200 a
side. A match was arranged, but on the eve of it Bendigo was arrested
and clapped into jail, and the forfeit money was paid to Parker. The
evidence with regard to this arrest is somewhat conflicting. There
is no doubt at all but that it was made at the instance of Bendigo’s
elder brother, John Thompson: the reason generally given being that
he was afraid lest Bendigo should injure his knee again. “Thormanby,”
however, assures us that John’s motive was his abhorrence of the Ring.
The Thompsons were a family of quite marked respectability: one of
their uncles had been a dissenting minister.... Brother John was a
well-to-do manufacturer, of the most unctuous rectitude, and there were
two great troubles in his comfortable life. One was his prize-fighting
and disreputable brother William and the second, sad to tell, was his
mother. Mrs. Thompson was not at all the sort of person that you would
anticipate in such a family. How she came to be the mother of John
(and of other respectable children) passes comprehension. And Bendigo
loved her dearly, and she was intensely proud of him. But she was so
“coarse,” so violent--a big, jolly, generous creature. On the days when
he was fighting Ben Caunt she would sit in her kitchen and listen to
the clock ticking, and she would declare that it always ticked “Ben-dy
Ben-dy.” “By Gosh,” she said, “if it’d ticked ‘Ben Caunt,’ I’d have
oop and smashed its blasted face for it.” And we can see her, sitting
there, comfortable, with her hair loose and untidy, her face red,
big-mouthed, gap-toothed, with dark, small eyes, immoderately buxom--a
jewel of a woman.
After some negotiation (which in the ‘forties of last century were
almost as long drawn out and as exasperating as the corresponding
negotiations of to-day) a third battle between Bendigo and Ben Caunt
was finally arranged for £200 a side and the belt. This encounter
was fought out, after principals and expectant onlookers had been
hounded by the police from two different places, at Sutfield Green in
Oxfordshire.
Now this battle with Ben Caunt has been branded as the most disgraceful
affair in all the annals of the Ring, but it is representative of its
period, and as such must be described.
Bendigo had been trained at Crosby, near Liverpool; Caunt at Hatfield,
to which place Tom Spring used constantly to come from London to see
how the big fellow was getting on. Caunt was now thirty-three, and
before he began training he weighed 18 stone. During that very arduous
process he reduced himself to 14 stone, without actually injuring
himself. Bendigo was three years older and only 12 stone 1 lb. Both men
entered the ring in fine condition. There were about 10,000 spectators
with a remarkably strong leaven of roughs from Nottingham. These
gentry came armed with bludgeons and yelled for Bendigo. The betting
immediately before the fight was chiefly in the proportion of 6-4 on
Ben Caunt.
The men came with their seconds to the scratch and, following the old
custom, all four crossed hands in the middle of the ring, the seconds
presently retiring to their corners, leaving the antagonists facing
one another. Caunt had won the toss for corners, and had his back to
the sun. There was a good deal of difficulty about the choice of a
referee, and at last much against his own personal inclination, Mr.
Osbaldiston--“The Old Squire,” as he was everywhere called--consented
to act. Bendigo walked a little lame, but his activity in the ring
was not much impaired. Right foot foremost, he crouched with his left
shoulder held high in an exceedingly awkward and ungainly position: but
his jaw was thus well protected from Caunt’s mighty right. The giant,
on the other hand, stood nearly square with both arms well out in the
manner of Bill Neate. Bendigo, as befitted the smaller man, circled
round, looking for an opening and biding his time. Caunt pivoted about
slowly in order to face him. Each time he went round Bendigo got nearer
and nearer to his man by imperceptible stages. Then at last Caunt let
go, and Bendigo, who had deliberately drawn the blow, ducked it and
sent in a heavy counter to his opponent’s eye. For an instant the big
man’s face expressed rage and ferocity, and then he grinned. There was
always something about Bendigo which made folk laugh. He was ever a
merry-andrew, always playing the goat; you couldn’t help but grin even
when he hurt you. And then in the next minute he had hit again, this
time with a tremendous left which reopened an old scar, and Caunt bled
profusely. He lumbered in, trying to land a blow on the smaller man:
but Bendigo ducked and dodged and sidestepped and avoided them all.
In the third round Caunt managed to catch hold of his opponent and
threw him. But although his training had not exactly hurt him, his
strength was not at its greatest, and Bendigo’s speed quite overwhelmed
him. He hit him as he liked, smashed his face with left and right, and
would get away without a reply: then lest the reply turned out to be
belated but sure, Bendigo would slip down.
Once Caunt caught him up against the ropes and leaned on him there, and
would most likely have hurt him seriously, but that he overbalanced
himself and fell down. Bendigo’s hitting was really terrific. Caunt
was much cut about the face from the earliest rounds, but in the
thirteenth round Bendigo sent in a left which is famous in the history
of boxing. It struck Caunt on the right cheek with such force as to
knock him clean off his legs, actually lifting his fourteen stone
in the air. For a few seconds he was quite stunned. A little later
Bendigo split his man’s upper lip clean through, and the blood poured
from it. Caunt was tremendously game, and though utterly beaten, hit
for hit, stood up and fought. Bendigo was never a cur whenever he did
suffer punishment, but his artful dodge of avoiding it by continually
going down was detestable and ought to have been stopped at once. And
towards the end of this fight, which lasted for ninety-three rounds and
over two hours, Caunt was getting the better of it. Bendigo continued
to drop directly he saw danger. Caunt’s supporters again and again
appealed to the referee, but in the yelling and confusion about the
ring they were either unheard or unheeded. Moreover, the proper way
to appeal--according to the rules--was first to the two umpires, who
in their turn referred to the higher authority. Backers and seconds
frequently forgot this, and referees occasionally took advantage of the
fact.
The roughs who had come to support Bendigo were known as the
“Nottingham lambs,” and they were indeed a pretty crew. Time and again
they tried to cut the ropes when Caunt had forced Bendigo against them,
and one blackguard aimed a blow with his bludgeon at Caunt’s head,
missed, and caught Tom Spring, who was by the ropes at the moment, on
the shoulder. To the last the big man hoped by getting in one frightful
smasher to end the fight, but towards the last they were both using
foul methods, Bendigo hitting below the belt, Caunt trying to use his
knee. In the ninety-third round Caunt knocked Bendigo down--so _Bell’s
Life_ tell us--and turned away, naturally supposing that the round was
over. Bendigo leapt to his feet, however, and dashed after his man,
hoping to be able to hit him at a disadvantage before he could turn.
As his arm was poised to deliver the blow Caunt abruptly sat down.
An appeal was at once made by Bendigo’s seconds, Ward and Hannan,
together with others, direct to the referee, who decided that Caunt had
deliberately gone down without a blow, and that Bendigo was the winner.
It must be remembered that when Bendigo went down as he did, over and
over again, it was in a less obvious manner; that is to say, at the end
of a sharp rally when he was close to his man. His position in this way
would be more equivocal than Caunt’s.
[Illustration: JACK RANDALL
_born Nov. 25 1794 5 feet 6 Inches high weighs 10^{st}, 6^{lb}; has
beaten Jack the Butcher in 20 minutes, Walton in 10 minutes Geo Dodd in
25 minutes, Ugly Borrock the Jew in 12 minutes, West Country Dick in 33
minutes, Holt in 25 minutes & only 8 rounds. Belasco in 51 minutes &
only 7 rounds, Parish in 53 minutes & only 11 rounds, Turner in 2 Hours
& 16 Minutes, Martin in 53 Minutes & many others of late note, in sport
he has never been beaten._]
Reviewing the evidence, it certainly does seem that the referee made
an error of judgment. Having made it, he stuck to it, as he should.
He was, of course, accused of being intimidated by the ruffians whose
heavy sticks were close about his head. The facts of the case were
presented to “The Old Squire” afterwards, especially Caunt’s quite
natural supposition that the round had ended. The referee replied that
he had given his decision to the best of his ability from what he saw.
His view of the proceedings was constantly being interrupted, and it
was quite possible that he did not see everything. He pointed out,
further, that against his wishes he had been chosen as referee by both
the parties.
It is perfectly useless to make any comment other than that the referee
should certainly have been stricter in the earlier stages of the fight.
On this occasion the principals themselves, especially the winner, were
not blameless: but the chief fault, of course, lay with the person
or persons who organised the band of ruffians from Nottingham. These
men had no silly idea of putting money on the chances of Bendigo and
backing their sanguine opinion. They intended to subscribe a certainty.
Caunt and Bendigo were bitter enemies for a long time after this, but
in 1850, they had a great joint Benefit, at which they at last shook
hands and became fast friends.
Bendigo was a bit of rapscallion, certainly; but he was a born clown,
with the keenest sense of fun, which lasted almost to his dying day.
His acrobatic feats even when he was an old man were the astonishment
of his contemporaries and the delight of children. He was, as you
might say, a funny mixture: a great gardener, a patient fisherman, in
bouts a drinker who, with very little liquor in him, went clean off
his weak head, and once cleared a butcher’s shop in his drunken rage,
hurling legs of mutton at the jeering crowd upon the pavement. At the
considerable risk of his own he saved a man’s life from drowning in
the Trent, and indignantly refused a material reward. In 1870, some
revivalists seeing the peculiar possibilities of this brand if he could
only be snatched from the burning, “converted” him; and “Thormanby”
tells the story of how Lord Longford, his old backer, once meeting him
in a London street dressed in a black coat and a white tie, stopped him
and asked, “Hallo, Bendy! What’s _your_ little game now?”
“Truly, my lord,” Bendigo answered with an impeccable unction, “I am
fighting Satan now, and Scripture saith that victory shall be mine.”
“Hope so, Bendy,” said his lordship, “but if you don’t fight Beelzebub
more fairly than you did Ben Caunt, I’ll change sides.”
Like other converts Bendigo occasionally fell from grace: but the
family bias towards evangelical assiduity swung him periodically
towards uprightness till his death in 1880.