CHAPTER I.

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PUGILISTICA

THE HISTORY

OF

BRITISH BOXING

[Illustration:

SOUTHWARK FAIR.

VOL. 1. _Frontispiece_

]

PUGILISTICA

THE HISTORY

OF

BRITISH BOXING

CONTAINING

LIVES OF THE MOST CELEBRATED PUGILISTS; FULL REPORTS OF THEIR BATTLES

FROM CONTEMPORARY NEWSPAPERS, WITH AUTHENTIC PORTRAITS, PERSONAL

ANECDOTES, AND SKETCHES OF THE PRINCIPAL PATRONS OF THE PRIZE RING,

FORMING A COMPLETE HISTORY OF THE RING FROM FIG AND BROUGHTON, 1719‒40,

TO THE LAST CHAMPIONSHIP BATTLE BETWEEN KING AND HEENAN, IN DECEMBER

1863

BY HENRY DOWNES MILES

EDITOR OF “THE SPORTSMAN’S MAGAZINE.” AUTHOR OF “THE BOOK OF FIELD

SPORTS,” “ENGLISH COUNTRY LIFE,” ETC., ETC.

VOLUME ONE

Edinburgh

JOHN GRANT

1906

------------------------------------------------------------------------

PREFACE TO THE FIRST VOLUME.

The history of “the Ring,” its rise and progress, the deeds of the men

whose manly courage illustrate its contests in the days of its

prosperity and popularity, with the story of its decline and fall, as

yet remain unwritten. The author proposes in the pages which follow to

supply this blank in the home-records of the English people in the

eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. The space covered in these volumes

extends over one hundred and forty-four years, from the time when James

Fig (the first acknowledged champion) opened his amphitheatre in the

Oxford Road, in May, 1719, to the championship battle between John Camel

Heenan, the American, and Tom King, the English champion, at Wadhurst,

in Kent, on the 10th of December, 1863.

The author trusts he may claim, without laying himself open to a charge

of egotism, exceptional qualifications for the task he has undertaken.

His acquaintance with the doings of the Ring, and his personal knowledge

of the most eminent professors of pugilism, extend over a retrospect of

more than forty years. For a considerable portion of that period he was

the reporter of its various incidents in _Bell’s Life in London_, in the

_Morning Advertiser_, and various periodical publications which, during

the better days of its career, gave a portion of their space to

chronicle its doings. That the misconduct of its members, the degeneracy

and dishonesty of its followers led to the deserved extinction of the

Ring, he is free to admit: still, as a septuagenarian, he desires to

preserve the memory of many brave and honourable deeds which the reader

will here find recorded.

A few lines will suffice to elucidate the plan of the work.

Having decided that its most readable form would be that of a series of

biographies of the principal boxers, in chronological order, so far as

practicable, it was found convenient to group them in “Periods;” as each

notable champion will be seen to have visibly impressed his style and

characteristics on the period in which he and his imitators, antagonists

or, as we may call it, “school” flourished in popular favour and

success.

A glance at the “Lives of the Boxers” thus thrown into groups will

explain this arrangement:—

VOLUME I.

PERIOD I.—1719 to 1791.—From the Championship of Fig to the first

appearance of Daniel Mendoza.

PERIOD II.—1784 to 1798.—From Daniel Mendoza to the first battle of

James Belcher.

PERIOD III.—1798 to 1809.—From the Championship of Belcher to the

appearance of Tom Cribb.

PERIOD IV.—1805 to 1820.—From Cribb’s first battle to the Championship

of Tom Spring.

⁂ To each period there is an Appendix containing notices and sketches of

the minor professors of the ars pugnandi and of the light-weight boxers

of the day.

VOLUME II.

PERIOD V.—1820 to 1824.—From the Championship of Spring to his

retirement from the Ring.

PERIOD VI.—1825 to 1835.—From the Championship of Jem Ward to the

appearance of Bendigo (William Thompson) of

Nottingham.

VOLUME III.

PERIOD VII.—1835 to 1845.—From the appearance of Bendigo to his last

battle with Caunt.

PERIOD VIII.—1845 to 1857.—The interregnum. Bill Perry (the Tipton

Slasher), Harry Broome, Tom Paddock, &c.

PERIOD IX.—1856 to 1863.—From the appearance of Tom Sayers to the last

Championship battle of King and Heenan, December,

1863.

In “the Introduction” I have dealt with the “Classic” pugilism of Greece

and Rome. The darkness of the middle ages is as barren of record of “the

art of self-defence” as of other arts. With their revival in Italy we

have an amusing coincidence in the “Memoirs of Benvenuto Cellini,” in

which a triumvirate of renowned names are associated with the

common-place event of “un grande punzone del naso”—a mighty punch on the

nose.

“Michael-Angelo (Buonarotti’s) nose was flat from a blow which he

received in his youth from Torrigiano,[1] a brother artist and

countryman, who gave me the following account of the occurrence: ‘I

was,’ said Torrigiano, ‘extremely irritated, and, doubling my fist, gave

him such a violent blow on the nose that I felt the cartilages yield as

if they had been made of paste, and the mark I then gave him he will

carry to the grave.’” Cellini adds: “Torrigiano was a handsome man, of

consummate audacity, having rather the air of a bravo than a sculptor:

above all, his strange gestures,” [were they boxing attitudes?] “his

enormous voice, with a manner of knitting his brows, enough to frighten

any man who faced him, gave him a tremendous aspect, and he was

continually talking of his great feats among ‘those bears of

Englishmen,’ whose country he had lately quitted.”

Who knows—_sempre il mal non vien par nocuere_—but we have to thank the

now-neglected art, whose precepts and practice inculcated the use of

Nature’s weapon, that the clenched hand of Torrigiano did not grasp a

stiletto? What then would have been the world’s loss? The majestic

cupola of St. Peter’s, the wondrous frescoes of the Sistine Chapel, “The

Last Judgment,” the “Sleeping Cupid” of Mautua, the “Bacchus” of Rome,

and all the mighty works of the greatest painter, sculptor, and

architect of the 16th century, had probably been uncreated had not

Michael-Angelo’s fellow-student learned among “those bears of

Englishmen,” the art of administering a “mighty punch on the nose” in

lieu of the then ready stab of a lethal weapon.

The testimony of St. Bernard to the merits of boxing as a substitute for

the deadly combats of his time, with an extract from Forsyth’s

“Excursion in Italy,” will be found at page xv. of the Introduction to

this volume; and these may bring us to the period when the first Stuart

ascended the throne of “Merrie Englande.”

In Dr. Noble’s “History of the Cromwell Family,” we find the following

interesting notice of the fistic prowess of the statesman-warrior who,

in after-times, “made the sovereigns of Europe court the alliance and

dread the might of England’s arm.” At p. 94 vol. i., we read:—

“They have a tradition at Huntingdon, that when King Charles I. (then

Duke of York), in his journey from Scotland to London, in the year 1604,

rested in his way at Hinchenbrooke, the seat of Sir Oliver Cromwell; the

knight, to divert the young prince, sent for his nephew Oliver, that he,

with his own sons, might play with his Royal Highness. It so chanced

that the boys had not long been together before Charles and Oliver

disagreed, and came to blows. As the former was a somewhat weakly boy,

and the latter strong, it was no wonder the royal visitor was worsted.

Oliver, even at this age, so little regarded dignity that he made the

royal blood flow copiously from the Prince’s nose. This was looked upon

by many as a bad presage for the King when the civil war had commenced.”

The probability of this incident has been flippantly questioned. The

writer has lighted on the following in the dry pages of “Toone’s

Chronology,” under James I. “1603. April 27th. The King, arriving at

Hinchenbrooke, was magnificently entertained by Sir Oliver Cromwell,

where also the Cambridge Doctors waited upon his Majesty. May 3. The

King arrived at Theobalds, in Hertfordshire, the seat of Mr. Secretary

Cecil’s. He made 200 Knights on his arrival in London and on his journey

thither from Edinburgh.” And in the next page we read: “1604. Jan. 4.

Prince Charles came into England (from Scotland) and was created Duke of

York. He had forty pounds per annum settled on him that he might more

honourably maintain that dignity.” It may be as well to observe that

Charles I. and Cromwell were of an age (both born in 1599), and each of

them five years old in 1604‒5; so that this juvenile encounter is highly

probable, exemplifying that “the child is father of the man.”

Again in Malcolm’s “Manners and Customs of London,” vol. i., p. 425, we

find the subjoined extract from _The Protestant Mercury_, of January,

1681, which we take to be the first prize-fight on newspaper record.

“Yesterday a match of boxing was performed before his Grace the Duke of

Albemarle, between the Duke’s footman and a butcher. The latter won the

prize, as he hath done many before, being accounted, though but a little

man, the best at that exercise in England.”

“Here be proofs”: 1, of ducal patronage; 2, of a stake of money; 3, of

the custom of public boxing; 4, of the skill of the victor, “he being

but a little man;” and all in a five-line paragraph. The names of the

Champions are unwritten.

This brings us to the period at which our first volume opens, in which

will be found the deeds and incidents of the Pugilists, the Prize-ring,

and its patrons, detailed from contemporary and authentic sources, down

to the opening of the present century. We cannot, however, close this

somewhat gossiping preface without an extract from a pleasant paper

which has just fallen under our notice, in which some of the notable men

who admired and upheld the now-fallen fortunes of boxing are vividly

introduced by one whose reminiscences of bygone men and manners are

given in a sketch called “The Last of Limmer’s.” To the younger reader

it may be necessary to premise, that from the days when the Prince

Regent, Sheridan, and Beau Brummel imbibed their beeswing—when the

nineteenth century was in its infancy—down to the year of grace 1860,

the name of “Limmer’s Hotel” was “familiar in sporting men’s mouths as

household words,” and co-extensive in celebrity with “Tattersall’s” and

“Weatherby’s.”

My name is John Collins, head-waiter at “Limmer’s,”

Corner of Conduit Street, Hanover Square;

My chief occupation is filling of brimmers,

For spicy young gentlemen frequenting there.

Said “brimmers,” _hodie_ “bumpers,” being a compound of gin, soda-water,

ice lemon, and sugar, said to have been invented by John Collins, but

recently re-imported as a Yankee novelty. This per parenthesis, and we

return to our author.

“In that little tunnelled recess at the bottom of the dark, low-browed

coffee-oom, the preliminaries of more prize-fights have been arranged by

Sir St. Vincent Cotton, Parson Ambrose, the late Lord Queensberry,

Colonel Berkeley, his son, the Marquis Drumlanrig, Sir Edward Kent, the

famous Marquis of Waterford, Tom Crommelin, the two Jack Myttons, the

late Lord Longford, and the committee of the Fair-play Club, than in the

parlour of No. 5, Norfolk Street (the sanctum of Vincent Dowling, Editor

of _Bell’s Life_), in Tom Spring’s parlour, or Jem Burn’s ‘snuggery.’

“Let it not be imagined that any apology is needed, nor will be here

vouchsafed in defence of those to whom, whatever may have been their

station in life, the prize-ring was formerly dear. The once well-known

and well-liked Tom Crommelin, for instance, is the only survivor among

those whom we chance to have named, but in his far-distant Australian

home he will have no cause to remember with regret that he has often

taken part in the promotion of pugilistic encounters.

“During the present century Great Britain has produced no more manly, no

honester, or more thoroughly English statesman than the uncle of the

present Earl Spencer, better known in political history under the name

of Lord Althorp. The late Sir Denis Le Marchant, in his delightful

memoir of the nobleman who led the House of Commons when the great

Reform Bill was passed, tells us that ‘Lord Althorp made a real study of

boxing, taking lessons from the best instructors, whilst practising most

assiduously, and, as he boasted, with great success. He had many matches

with his school-fellow, Lord Byron, and those who witnessed his exploits

with the gloves, and observed his cool, steady eye, his broad chest and

muscular limbs, and, above all, felt his hard blows, would have been

justified in saying that he was born to be a prize-fighter rather than a

Minister of State.’ Long after the retirement of Lord Althorp from

office, Mr. Evelyn Denison, who died as Lord Ossington, paid him a visit

at Wiseton, ‘The _pros_ and _cons_ of boxing were discussed,’ writes the

late Speaker, ‘and Lord Althorp became eloquent. He said that his

conviction of the advantages of pugilism was so strong that he had been

seriously considering whether it was not a duty that he owed to the

public to go and attend every prize-fight which took place, and thus to

encourage the noble science to the extent of his power. He gave us an

account of prize-fights which he had attended—how he had seen Mendoza

knocked down for the first five or six rounds by Humphries, and seeming

almost beaten until the Jews got their money on, when, a hint being

given, he began in earnest and soon turned the tables. He described the

fight between Gully and the Chicken—how he rode down to Brickhill

himself, and was loitering about the inn door, when a barouche and four

drove up with Lord Byron and a party, and Jackson, the trainer—how they

all dined together, and how pleasant it had been. Next day came the

fight, and he described the men stripping, the intense excitement, the

sparring, then the first round, and the attitudes of the men—it was

really worthy of Homer.’

“A pursuit which was enthusiastically supported and believed in by

William Windham, Charles James Fox, Lord Althorp, and Lord Byron, stands

in little need of modern excuse on behalf of its promoters when Limmer’s

was at its apogee. Full many a well-known pugilist, with Michael-Angelo

nose and square-cut jaw, has stood, cap in hand, at the door of that

historical coffee-room within which Lord Queensberry—then Lord

Drumlanrig—and Captain William Peel and the late Lord Strathmore were

taking their meals. In one window stands Colonel Ouseley Higgins,

Captain Little, and Major Hope Johnstone. A servant of the major’s, with

an unmistakable fighting face, enters with a note for his master. It is

from Lord Longford and Sir St. Vincent Cotton asking him to allow his

valet to be trained by Johnny Walker for a proximate prize fight. The

servant, who is no other than William Nelson, the breeder (before his

death) of Plebeian, winner of the Middle Park Plate, however, firmly

declines the pugilistic honours his aristocratic patrons design for him,

so the fight is off. Hard by maybe seen the stately Lord George

Bentinck, in conference with his chief-commissioner, Harry Hill,” &c.,

&c. We here break off the reminiscences of Limmer’s, as the rest of this

most readable paper deals solely with the celebrities of the turf.

The last time the writer saw the late Sir Robert Peel, was at Willis’s

Rooms, in King Street, on the occasion of an Assault of Arms, given by

the Officers of the Household Brigade, whereat the art of self-defence

was illustrated by the non-commissioned officers of the Life Guards,

Grenadier Guards, and Royal Artillery. Corporal-Majors Limbert and Gray,

Sergeants Dean and Venn, Corporal Toohig (Royal Artillery), with

Professors Gillemand, Shury, and Arnold, displayed their skill with

broadsword, foil, single-stick, and sabre against bayonet. The gloves,

too, were put on, and some sharp and manly bouts played by the stalwart

Guardsmen. The lamented Minister watched these with approving attention.

Then came a glove display in which Alec Keene put on the mittens with

Arnold, the “Professor of the Bond Street Gymnasium.” The sparring was

admirable, and sir Robert, who was in the midst of an aristocratic

group, pressed forward to the woollen boundary-rope. His eyes lighted up

with the memories of Harrow school-days and he clapped his hands in

hearty applause of each well-delivered left or right and each neat stop

or parry. The bout was over, and neither was best man. The writer

perceived the deep interest of Sir Robert, and conveyed to the friendly

antagonists the desire of several gentlemen for “one round more.” It was

complied with, and closed with a pretty rally, in which a clean

cross-counter and first and sharpest home from Keene’s left proved the

finale amid a round of applause. The practised pugilist was too many for

the professor of “mimic warfare.” Next came another clever demonstration

of the arts of attack and defence by Johnny Walker and Ned Donnelly. Sir

Robert was as hilarious as a schoolboy cricketer when the winning run is

got on the second innings. Turning to Mr. C. C. Greville and the Hon.

Robert Grimstone, he exclaimed, “There is nothing that interests me like

good boxing. It asks more steadiness, self-control, aye, and manly

courage than any other combat. You must take as well as give—eye to eye,

toe to toe, and arm to arm. Give my thanks to both the men, they are

brave and clever fellows, and I hope we shall never want such among our

countrymen.” It is gratifying to add that, to our knowledge, these

sentiments are the inheritance of the third Sir Robert, whose manly and

patriotic speech, at Exeter Hall, on the 17th of February, 1878, rings

in our ears as we write these lines.

With such patrons of pugilism as those who faded away in “the last days

of Limmer’s,” departed the fair play, the spirit, and the very honesty,

often tainted, of the Ring. A few exceptional struggles—due rather to

the uncompromising honesty and courage of the men, or the absence of the

blacklegs, low gamblers, Hebrews, and flash publicans from the finding

of the stakes, or making the market odds—occurred from time to time; but

these were mere flickerings of the expiring flame. The Ring was doomed,

not less by the misconduct of its professors than by the discord and

dishonest doings of its so-called patrons and their ruffianly followers,

unchecked by the saving salt of sporting gentlemen and men of honour,

courage, and standing in society. Down, deeper down, and ever downward

it went, till in its last days it became merely a ticket-selling swindle

in the hands of keepers of Haymarket night-houses, and slowly perished

in infamy and indigence. Yet, cannot the writer, looking back through a

long vista of memorable battles, and with the personal recollection of

such men as Cribb (in his latter days), Tom Spring, Jem Ward (still

living), Painter, Neale, Jem Burn, John Martin, Frank Redmond, Owen

Swift, Alec Keene, with Tom Sayers, his opponent John Heenan, and Tom

King, the _Ultimus Romanorum_ (now—1878—taking prizes as a

floriculturist at horticultural shows), believe that the art which was

practised by such men was without redeeming qualities. He would not seek

to revive the “glory of the Ring,” that is past, but he has thought it a

worthy task to collect and preserve its memories and its deeds of

fortitude, skill, courage, and forbearance, of which these pages will be

found to contain memorable, spirit-stirring, and honourable examples.

A BIBLIOGRAPHY OF BOXING.

The curious reader may find some interest in a few paragraphs on the

Bibliography of Boxing; for the Ring had a contemporary literature,

contributed to by the ablest pens; and to this, in the earlier periods

of its history, the author would be an ingrate were he not to

acknowledge his indebtedness.

The earliest monograph is a neatly printed small quarto volume,

entitled, _A Treatise on the Useful Art of Self-Defence_. By Captain

Godfrey. The copy in the British Museum (bearing date 1740) appears to

be a second edition. It has for its title _Characters of the Masters_.

There is also a handsomely bound copy of the work in the Royal Library,

presented to the nation by George III. The volume is dedicated to H.R.H.

William, Duke of Cumberland. Frequent quotations are made from this

book.

_The Gymnasiud, or Boxing Match._ A Poem. By the Champion and Bard of

Leicester House, the Poet Laureate (Paul Whitehead), 1757. See page 19

of this volume.

In _Dodsley’s Collections_, 1777, &c., are various poetic pieces by Dr.

John Byrom, Bramston (_Man of Taste_), and others, containing sketches

of pugilism and allusions to the “fashionable art” of boxing, “or

self-defence.”

During this period, _The Gentleman’s Magazine_, _The Carlton House

Magazine_, _The Flying Post_, _The Daily News Letter_, _The World_, _The

Mercury_, _The Daily Advertiser_ (Woodfall’s), and other periodical

publications, contained reports of the principal battles in the Ring.

_Recollections of Pugilism and Sketches of the Ring._ By an Amateur.

8vo. London, 1801.

_Recollections of an Octogenarian._ By J. C. 8vo. London, 1805. (See pp

29, 30.)

_Lives of the Boxers._ By Jon Bee, author of the “Lexicon Balatronium,”

and “The Like o’ That.” 8vo. London, 1811.

_Pancratia: a History of Pugilism._ 1 vol. 8vo. 1811. By J. B. London:

George Smeeton, St. Martin’s Lane.

_Training for Pedestrianism and Boxing._ 8vo. 1816. By Captain Robert

Barclay (Allardyce of Ury).

This pamphlet contains an account of the Captain’s training of Cribb for

his fight with Molineaux.

_The Fancy: A Selection_ from the poetical remains of Peter Corcoran,

Esq., student of Law (Pseudonymous). London: 1820. Quoted p. 313 of this

volume.

_Boxiana: Sketches of Antient and Modern Pugilism._ Vol. I. 8vo. London:

G. Smeeton, 139, St. Martin’s Lane, Charing Cross, July, 1812.

This very scarce volume, which was the production of George Smeeton, a

well known sporting printer and engraver, was the basis of the larger

work _Boxiana_, subsequently written and edited by Pierce Egan, and of

which _five_ volumes, appeared between 1818 and 1828. The well-written

“Introduction,” much disfigured by the illiterate editor, were

incorporated, and the handsome copperplate title-page will be found

bound into the later work published by Sherwoods, Jones & Co. Pierce

Egan was, at one time, a compositor in Smeeton’s office, and continued

the work for Sherwoods.

_Boxiana. Sketches of Ancient and Modern Pugilism, from the days of the

renowned Broughton and Slack to the Championship of Crib._ By Pierce

Egan. In two volumes. London: Sherwood, Neely, and Jones, Paternoster

Row, 1818.

This was the first complete book. A third volume followed in 1825. There

are _two_ fourth volumes owing to a circumstance which requires

explanation. That published by George Virtue, and bearing the name of

Pierce Egan, has for its title _New Series of Boxiana: the only Original

and Complete Lives of the Boxers_. By Pierce Egan. London: George

Virtue, Ivy Lane, Paternoster Row. Vol. I., 1828. Vol. II., 1829. These

are generally bound as Vols. IV. and V., in sets of _Boxiana_. The other

volume, IV., is identical in title, but not in contents, with Pierce

Egan’s first volume of the “new series,” omitting those words. It was

written by Jon Bee, for Messrs. Sherwoods, who moved an injunction

against Pierce Egan for selling his fourth volume to another publisher.

Lord Chancellor Eldon merely compelled Pierce Egan to prefix the words

“new series” to his book, and the matter ended.

_A Lecture on Pugilism_: Delivered at the Society for Mutual

Improvement, established by Jeremy Bentham, Esq., at No. 52, Great

Marlborough Street, Oxford Street, April 14th, 1820. By S[eptimus]

M[iles]. 8vo., 24 pp., White, 1820. This curious and elaborate defence

of pugilism seems rather to have been a rhetorical exercitation for

discussion at a debating society than a defence. It is printed at the

end of the third volume of Boxiana.

_Boxing; with a Chronology of the Ring, and a Memoir of Owen Swift._ By

Renton Nicholson. London: Published at 163, Fleet Street. 1837.

_Owen Swift’s Handbook of Boxing._ 1840. With Steel Portrait by Henning.

This was also written by the facetious Renton Nicholson—styled

“Chief-Baron Nicholson,” and originator of the once-famous “Judge and

Jury” Society.

_The Handbook of Boxing and Training for Athletic Sports._ By H. D.

M[iles]. London: W. M. Clark, Warwick Lane, Paternoster Row, 1838.

_Fistiana; or, the Oracle of the Ring. By the Editor of Bell’s Life in

London._ This pocket volume, containing a Chronology of the Ring, the

revised rules, forms of articles, duties of seconds, umpires, and

referee, reached its 24th and last edition in 1864, and expired only

with the ring itself. Its author, Mr. Vincent George Dowling, the

“Nestor of the Ring,” a gentleman and a scholar, also contributed the

article “Boxing” to Blaine’s “Cyclopædia of Rural Sports,” Longmans,

1840.

_Fights for the Championship._ 1 vol., 8vo. By the Editor of _Bell’s

Life in London_. London: published at 170, Strand, 1858.

_Championship Sketches_, with Portraits. By Alfred Henry Holt. London:

Newbold, Strand, 1862.

_The Life of Tom Sayers._ By Philopugilis. 8vo., with Portrait. London:

S. O. Beeton, 248, Strand, 1864. [By the author of the present work.]

Among the authors of the early years of the present century, whose pens

illustrated the current events of boxers and boxing, we may note, Tom

Moore the poet, who contributed occasional squibs to the columns of the

_Morning Chronicle_, and in 1818 published the humorous versicles, _Tom

Cribb’s Memorial to Congress_, quoted at p. 306 of this volume. Lord

Byron. See Moore’s “Life and Letters,” “Memoir of Jackson,” pp. 97, 98.

Christopher North (Professor Wilson) the Editor of Blackwood’s Magazine

in the _Noctes Ambrosiane_, puts into the mouth of the Ettrick Shepherd

(James Hogg) an eloquent defence of pugilism, while he takes

opportunity, through Sir Morgan O’Doherty, to praise the manliness, fair

play, and bravery of contemporary professors of boxing. Several sonnets

and other extracts from Blackwood will be found scattered in these

volumes.

Dr. Maginn (the Editor of Frazer’s Magazine), also exercised his pen in

classic imitations apropos of our brave boxers.

Last, but not least, the gifted author of _Pendennis_, _The Virginians_,

_Esmond_, _Vanity Fair_, _Jeames’s Diary_, &c., &c., has perpetuated the

greatness of our latest champions in a paraphrase, rather than a parody

of Macaulay’s “Lays of Ancient Rome,” entitled “Sayerinus and Henanus; a

Lay of Ancient London,” which contains lines of power to make the blood

of your Englishmen stir in days to come, should the preachers of

peace-at-any-price, pump water, parsimonious pusillanimity, puritanic

precision and propriety have left our youth any blood to stir. See “Life

of Sayers,” in vol. iii. Volumes cannot better express the contempt

which this keen observer of human nature and satirist of shams

entertained for the mawworms, who “compound for sins they are inclined

to by damning those they have no mind to,” than the subjoined brief

extract:—

“Fighting, of course, is wrong; but there are occasions when.... I mean

that one-handed fight of Sayers is one of the most spirit-stirring

little stories; and with every love and respect for Morality, my spirit

says to her, ‘Do, for goodness’ sake, my dear madam, keep your true, and

pure, and womanly, and gentle remarks for another day. Have the great

kindness to stand a _leetle_ aside, and just let us see one or two more

rounds between the men. That little man with the one hand powerless on

his breast facing yonder giant for hours, and felling him, too, every

now and then! It is the little Java and the Constitution over

again.’”—W. M. THACKERAY.

Or the following “happy thought,” to which Leech furnished an

illustrative sketch:—

“SERIOUS GOVERNOR.—‘I am surprised, Charles, that you can take any

interest in these repulsive details! How many rounds (I believe you term

them) do you say these ruffians fought? Um, disgraceful! the Legislature

ought to interfere; and it appears that this Benicia Man did not gain

the—hem—best of it? I’ll take the paper when you have done with it,

Charles.’”—_Punch Illustration, April 8, 1860._

CHAMPIONS OF ENGLAND

FROM 1719 TO 1863.

1719. James Fig, of Thame, Oxfordshire.

1730‒1733. Pipes and Gretting (with alternate success).

1734. George Taylor.

1740. Jack Broughton, the waterman.

1750. Jack Slack, of Norfolk.

1760. Bill Stevens, the nailer.

1761. George Meggs, of Bristol.

1762. George Millsom, the baker.

1764. Tom Juchau, the paviour.

1765‒9. Bill Darts.

1769. Lyons, the waterman.

1771. Peter Corcoran (doubtful). He beat Bill Darts, who had

previously been defeated by Lyons.

1777. Harry Sellers.

1780. Jack Harris (doubtful).

1783‒91. Tom Johnson (Jackling), of York.

1791. Benjamin Brain (Big Ben), of Bristol.

1792. Daniel Mendoza.

1795. John Jackson. (Retired.)

1800‒5. Jem Belcher, of Bristol.

1805. Henry Pearce, the “Game Chicken.”

1808. (Retired). John Gully (afterwards M.P. for Pontefract).

1809. Tom Cribb, received a belt and cup, and retired.

1824. Tom Spring, received four cups, and retired.

1825. Jem Ward, received the belt.

1833. Jem Burke (the Deaf ’un), claimed the title.

1839. Bendigo (Wm. Thompson), of Nottingham, beat Burke, and received

the belt from Ward.

1841. Benjamin Caunt, of Hucknall, beat Nick Ward, and received belt

(transferable).

1845. Bendigo beat Caunt, and received the belt.

1850. Wm. Perry (Tipton Slasher), claimed belt, Bendigo declining his

challenge.

1851. Harry Broome beat Perry, and claimed the title.

1853. Perry again challenged the title, and Broome retired from the

ring.

1857. Tom Sayers beat Perry, and received the belt.

1860. Tom Sayers retired after his battle with Heenan, and left belt

for competition.

1860. Samuel Hurst (the Staleybridge Infant), beat Paddock, the

claimant, and received the belt.

1861. Jem Mace, of Norwich, beat Hurst, and claimed the title.

1863. Tom King beat Mace, and claimed the belt, but retired, and Mace

claimed the trophy.

1863. Tom King beat J. C. Heenan for £1,000 a-side at Wadhurst,

December 10th.

INTRODUCTION.

BOXING AND BOXERS AMONG THE ANCIENTS.

The origin of boxing has been assumed by some superficial writers as

coeval with the earliest contests of man. This view appears to the

writer both crude and unphilosophical. It might be argued with equal

probability that the foil was antecedent to the sword, the sword to the

dagger, or the singlestick to the club with which the first murder was

perpetrated. The clumsiest and, so far as rude and blood-thirsty attack

could contrive them, the most deadly weapons were the first used; the

sudden destruction of life, not the art of defence, being the brutal

instinct of the vengeful, cunning, and cowardly savage, or the

treacherous manslayer. This, too, would lead us fairly to infer—as the

most dangerous forms of the cæstus are the most ancient, and the naked

fist in combat appears nowhere to have been used in the gladiatorial

combats of Greece or Rome—that to England and her Anglo-Saxon race is

due this fairest and least dangerous of all forms of the duel; and to

attribute to a recent period the padded boxing-glove (at present the air

or pneumatic glove), by means of which the truly noble art of

self-defence can be safely and healthfully practised and illustrated.

The most polished people of antiquity included boxing among their

sports. With them it was also a _discipline_, an _exercise_, and an

_art_. A discipline, inasmuch as it was taught to pupils; an exercise,

as followed in the public games; and an art, on account of the previous

trainings and studies it presupposed in those who professed and

practised it. Plutarch indeed asserts that the “pugilate” was the most

ancient of the three gymnic games performed by the athletæ, who were

divided into three classes—the BOXERS, the WRESTLERS, and the RUNNERS.

And thus Homer views the subject, and generally follows this order in

his descriptions of public celebrations. This, too, is the natural

sequence, in what philosopher Square would call “the eternal fitness of

things.” First, the man attacks (or defends himself) with the fist;

secondly, he closes or wrestles; and should fear, inferior skill, or

deficient strength tell him he had better avoid the conflict, he resorts

to the third course, and _runs_.

A word on the derivation of our words, pugilism, pugilist, and boxing,

all of which have a common origin. _Pugilism_ comes to us through the

Latin _pugilatus_, the art of fighting with the fist, as also does

_pugnus_, a fight. The Latin again took these words from the Greek πυγμὴ

(_pugmè_), the fist doubled for fighting; whence also they had πύγμάχος

(_pugmachos_), a fist-fighter, and πύγμαχια (_pugmachia_), a fist-fight.

They had also πυγδον (_pugdon_), a measure of length from the elbow

(_cubitus_) to the end of the hand _with the fingers clenched_. Another

form of the word, the Greek adverb πυξ (_pux_), _pugno vel pugnis_,

gives us πυξος (_puxos_, Lat. _buxus_), in English, BOX; and it is

remarkable that this form of the closed hand is the Greek synonyme for

anything in the shape of a closed _box_ or receptacle, and so it has

passed to the moderns. The πυξ, _box_ or _pyx_, is the chest in which

the sacramental vessels are contained. Thus mine Ancient Pistol pleads

for his red-nosed comrade:—

“Fortune is Bardolph’s foe, and frowns on him;

For he hath stolen a PYX, and hanged must ’a be.

Let gallows gape for dog; let man go free,

But Exeter hath given the doom of death,

For PYX of little price.”

HENRY V., act iii., sc. vi.

The French have also imported _le boxe_ into their dictionaries, where

the Germans had it already, as _buchs_, a box. But enough of etymology;

wherever we got the word, the thing itself—fair boxing, as we practise

it—is of pure English origin. The Greeks, however, cultivated the

science in their fashion, confined it by strict rules, and selected

experienced masters and professors, who, by public lessons, delivered

gratis in Palestræ and Gymnasiæ, instructed youth in the theory and

practice of the art. Kings and princes, as we learn from the poets, laid

aside their dignity for a few hours, and exchanged the sceptre for the

cæstus; indeed, in Greece, boxing, as a liberal art, was cultivated with

ardour, and when (once in three years) the whole nation assembled at

Corinth to celebrate their Isthmian games, in honour of Neptune, the

generous admiration of an applauding people placed the crown on the brow

of the successful pugilist, who, on his return home, was hailed as the

supporter of his country’s fame. Even Horace places the pugilist

_before_ the poet:—

“Quem tu, Melpomene, semel

Nascentem placido lumine videris,

Illum non labor Isthmius

Clarabit pugilem.”

Lib. iv., Ode 3, l. 1‒4.

And in another place:—

“Musa debit fidibus divos, puerosque deorum,

Et PUGILEM victorem, et equum certamine primum.”

_De Arte Poet._, l. 83‒84.

The sententious Cicero also says:—“It is certainly a glorious thing to

_do_ well for the republic, but also to _speak_ well is not

contemptible.”

Having alluded to the poets who have celebrated pugilism, we will take a

hasty glance at the demigods and heroes by whom boxing has been

illustrated. POLLUX, the twin brother of Castor—sprung from the intrigue

of Jupiter with the beauteous Leda, wife of Tyndarus, King of Sparta,

and mother of the fair Helen of Troy—presents us with a lofty pedigree

as the tutelary deity of the boxers. The twins fought their way to a

seat on Mount Olympus, as also did Hercules himself:—

“_Hac arte_ Pollux, et vagus Hercules

Innixus arces attigit igneas;”

the sign Gemini in our zodiac representing this pair of “pugs.” As one

of the unsuccessful competitors with Pollux, we may here mention AMYCUS.

He was a son of Neptune, by Melia, and was king of the Bebryces. When

the Argonauts touched at his port, on their voyage to Colchis, he

received them with much hospitality. Amycus was renowned for his skill

with the cæstus, and he kept up a standing challenge to all strangers

for a trial of skill. Pollux accepted his challenge; but we learn from

Apollonius that Amycus did not fight fair, and tried by a trick to beat

Pollux, whereupon that “out-and-outer” killed him, _pour encourager les

autres_, we presume.[2] There were two other pugilists of the same name

among the “school” taken by Æneas into Italy as we shall presently see.

ERYX, also, figures among the heaven-descended pugilists. He was the son

of Venus, by Butes, a descendant of Amycus, and very skilful in the use

of the cæstus. He, too, kept up a standing challenge to all comers, and

so came to grief. For Hercules, who “barred neither weight, country, nor

colour,” coming that way, took up the gauntlet, and knocked poor Eryx

clean out of time; so they buried him on a hill where he had, like a

pious son, built a beautiful temple in honour of his rather too easy

mamma. It is but fair, however, in this instance, to state that there is

another version of the parentage of Eryx, not quite so lofty, but, to

our poor thinking, quite as creditable. It runs thus:—Butes, being on a

Mediterranean voyage, touched at the three-cornered island of Sicily

(Trinacria), and there, sailor fashion, was hooked by one Lycaste, a

beautiful harlot, who was called by the islanders “Venus.” She was the

mother of Eryx, and so he was called the son of Venus. (See Virgil,

Æneid, b. v., l. 372.) However this may be, the temple of Eryx and the

“Erycinian Venus” were most renowned, and Diodorus, the Sicilian, tells

us that the Carthaginians revered Venus Erycina as much as the Sicilians

themselves, identifying her with the Phœnician Astarte. So much for the

genealogy of the fourth boxer.

ANTÆUS here claims a place. We have had a couple from heaven (by

Jupiter), and one from the sea (by Neptune), our next shall be from

earth and ocean combined. Antæus, though principally renowned as a

wrestler, is represented with the cæstus. He was the son of Terra, by

Neptune; or, as the stud-book would put it, by Neptune out of Terra. He

was certainly dreadfully given to “bounce,” for he threatened to erect a

temple to his father with the skulls of his conquered antagonists; but

he planned his house before he had procured the materials. The story

runs, that whenever he kissed his “mother earth” she renewed his

strength, from which we may fairly infer that he was an adept in the art

of “getting down,” like many of our modern pugilists. Hercules, however,

found out the dodge by which the artful Antæus got “second wind” and

renewed strength. He accordingly put on “the squeeze,” and giving him a

cross-lift, held him off the ground till he expired, which we take to

have been foul play on the part of his Herculean godship.[3] There was

another Antæus, a friend of Turnus, killed by Æneas in the Latin wars.

Of the Homeric boxers, EPEUS and EURYALUS are the most renowned. Epeus

was king of the Epei, a people of the Peloponnesus; he was son of

Endymion, and brother to Pæon and Æolus. As his papa was the paramour of

the goddess of chastity, Diana, the family may be said to have moved in

high society. The story of Endymion and the goddess of the moon has been

a favourite with poets. Epeus was a “big one,” and, like others of

Homer’s heroes, a bit of a bully.

In the twenty-third book of the Iliad we find the father of poetry

places the games at the funeral of Patroclus in this order:—1, The

chariot race; 2, the cæstus fight; 3, the wrestling; 4, the foot race.

As it is with the second of these only that Epeus and Euryalus are

concerned, we shall confine ourselves to the Homeric description.

“The prizes next are ordered to the field,

For the bold champions who the cæstus wield;

A stately mule, as yet by toil unbroke,

Of six years’ age, unconscious of the yoke,

Is to the circus led and firmly bound:

Next stands a goblet, massive, large, and round.

Achilles, rising, thus: ‘Let Greece excite

Two heroes equal to this hardy fight;

Who dares the foe with lifted arms provoke,

And rush beneath the swift descending stroke,

On whom Apollo shall the palm bestow,

And whom the Greeks supreme by conquest know,

This mule his dauntless labours shall repay:

The vanquished bear the massy bowl away.’

This dreadful combat great Epeus chose.

High o’er the crowd, enormous bulk! he rose,

And seized the beast, and thus began to say:

‘Stand forth some man to bear the bowl away!

Price of his ruin; for who dares deny

This mule my right, the undoubted victor I?

Others, ’tis owned, in fields of battle shine,

But the first honours of this fight are mine.

For who excels in all? Then let my foe

Draw near, but first his certain fortune know,

Secure, this hand shall his whole frame confound,

Mash all his bones, and all his body pound:

So let his friends be nigh, a needful train,

To heave the battered carcase off the plain.’

The giant spoke; and in a stupid gaze

The host beheld him, silent with amaze!

’Twas thou, Euryalus! who durst aspire

To meet his might, and emulate thy sire,

The great Megestheus, who, in days of yore,

In Theban games the noblest trophy bore—

(The games ordain’d dead Œdipus to grace),

And singly vanquished the Cadmæan race.

Him great Tydides urges to contend,

Warm with the hopes of conquest for his friend:

Officious with the cincture girds him round;

And to his wrists _the gloves of death_ are bound.

Amid the circle now each champion stands,

And poises high in air his iron hands:

With clashing gauntlets now they fiercely close,

Their crackling jaws re-echo to the blows,

And painful sweat from all their members flows.

At length Epeus dealt a weighty blow

Full on the cheek of his unwary foe;

Beneath the ponderous arm’s resistless sway

Down dropp’d he nerveless, and extended lay.

As a large fish, when winds and waters roar,

By some huge billow dash’d against the shore,

Lies panting: not less battered with the wound

The bleeding hero pants upon the ground.

To rear his fallen foe the victor lends,

Scornful, his hand, and gives him to his friends.

Whose arms support him reeling through the throng,

And dragging his disabled legs along,

Nodding, his head hangs down his shoulders o’er;

His mouth and nostrils pour the clotted gore:

Wrapped round in mists he lies, and lost to thought—

His friends receive the bowl too dearly bought.”

So far the first report of a prize fight, which came off 1184 years

B.C., in the last year of the siege of Troy, anno mundi, 3530.

There was another EPEUS, son of Panopæus, who was a skilful carpenter,

and made the Greek mare, commonly but erroneously called the Trojan

horse,[4] in the womb of which the Argive warriors were introduced to

the ruin of beleaguered Troy, as related in the second book of the

“Æneid.”

EURYALUS will be known by name to newspaper readers of the present day

as having given name to the steam frigate in which our sailor Prince

Alfred took his earliest voyages to sea: to the scholar he is known as a

valiant Greek prince, who went to the Trojan war with eighty ships, at

least so says Homer, “Iliad,” b. ii.

“Next move to war the generous Argive train,

From high Trœzenè and Maseta’s plain;

And fair Ægina circled by the main,

Whom strong Tyrinthe’s lofty walls surround,

And Epidaure with viny harvest crowned,

And where fair Asinen and Hermion show

Their cliffs above and ample bay below.

These by the brave EURYALUS were led,

Great Sthenelus and greater Diomed.

But chief Tydides bore the sovereign sway;

In fourscore barks they plough their watery way.”

We may here note that Tydides (the family name of Diomed, as the son of

Tydeus) was Euryalus’s second in the mill with Epeus, wherein we have

just seen him so soundly thrashed by the big and bounceable Epeus. As

Virgil generally invents a “continuation” or counterpart of the Homeric

heroes for his “Æneid,” we find Euryalus made the hero of an episode,

and celebrated for his immortal friendship with Nisus: with him he had a

partnership in fighting, and they died together in a night encounter

with the troops of the Rutulians, whose camp they had plundered, but

were overtaken and slain. (Virg. Æneid, ix., 176.) We will now therefore

shift the scene from Greece, and come to Sicily and Italy, and the early

boxing matches there.

Æneas’ companions were a “school” of boxers, and met with the like in

Italy, among whom ENTELLUS, ERYX, and ANTÆUS (already mentioned), DARES,

CLOANTHUS, GYGES, GYAS, etc., may be numbered.

ENTELLUS, the intimate of Eryx, and who conquered Dares at the funeral

games of Anchises (father of Æneas) in Sicily, deserves first mention.

He was even then an “old ’un,” but, unlike most who have “trusted a

battle to a waning age,” comes off gloriously in the encounter; which,

as we shall presently see, under Dares, gives an occasion for the second

ring report of antiquity, as well as a minute description of the cæstus

itself. The lines from the fifth book of the “Æneid” need no preface.

After the rowing match (with galleys), in which Cloanthus (see _post_)

is the victor, Æneas thus addresses his assembled companions:—

“‘If there be here whose dauntless courage dare

In gauntlet-fight, with back and body bare,

His opposite sustain in open view,

Stand forth thou, champion, and the games renew:

Two prizes I propose, and thus divide—

A bull with gilded horns and fillets tied,

Shall be the portion of the conq’ring chief;

A sword and helm shall cheer the loser’s grief.’

Then haughty Dares in the lists appears;

Stalking he strides, his head erected bears;

His nervous arms the weighty gauntlets wield

And loud applauses echo through the field.

Dares alone in combat sued to stand,

The match of mighty Paris, hand to hand;

The same at Hector’s funerals undertook

Gigantic Butes of the Amycian stock,

And by the stroke of his resistless hand,

Stretched his vast bulk along the yellow sand.

Such Dares was, and such he strode along,

And drew the wonder of the gazing throng.

His brawny bulk and ample breast he shows,

His lifted arms around his head he throws,

And deals, in whistling air, his empty blows.

His match is sought; but through the trembling band

Not one dares answer to his proud demand.

Presuming of his force, with sparkling eyes,

Already he devours the promised prize.

He claims the bull with lawless insolence,

And, having seized his horns, addressed the prince:

‘If none my matchless valour dares oppose,

How long shall Dares wait his dastard foes?

Permit me, chief, permit without delay,

To lead this uncontested gift away.’

The crowd assents, and, with redoubled cries,

For the proud challenger demands the prize.”

Acestes then reproaches Entellus for allowing the prize to be carried

off uncontested. Entellus pleads “staleness” and “want of condition,”

but accepts the challenge.

“Acestes fired with just disdain to see

A plain usurped without a victory,

Reproached Entellus thus, who sate beside,

And heard and saw, unmoved, the Trojan’s pride.

‘Once, but in vain, a champion of renown,

So tamely can you bear the ravished crown,

The prize in triumph borne before your sight,

And shun for fear the danger of the fight.

Where is your Eryx now, the boasted name,

The god who taught your thundering arm the game?

Where now your baffled honour? where the spoil

That filled your house, and fame that filled our isle?’

Entellus thus: ‘My soul is still the same,

Unmoved with fears, and moved with martial fame;

But my chill blood is curdled in my veins,

And scarce the shadow of a man remains.

Oh! could I turn to that fair prime again,

That prime of which this boaster is so vain,

The brave, who this decrepit age defies,

Should feel my force without the promised prize.’”

Entellus then throws down the gauntlets of Eryx (engraved under Cæstus,

pp. xiii., xiv.), but Dares, declining the ponderous weapons, old

Entellus offers to accommodate him, by permission of the umpires, with a

round or two with a lighter pair.

“‘But if the challenger these arms refuse,

And cannot wield their weight, or dare not use;

If great Æneas and Acestes join

In his request, these gauntlets I resign:

Let us with equal arms perform the fight,

And let him learn to fear since I forego my right.

This said, Entellus for the fight prepares,

Stripped of his quilted coat, his body bares:

Composed of mighty bones and brawn he stands,

A goodly towering object on the sands.

Then just Æneas equal arms supplied,

Which round their shoulders to their wrists they tied.

Both on the tiptoe stand, at full extent,

Their arms aloft, their bodies inly bent;

Their heads from aiming blows they bear afar,

With clashing gauntlets then provoke the war.

One on his youth and pliant limbs relies,

One on his sinews and his giant size.

This last is stiff with age, his motion slow;

He heaves for breath, he staggers to and fro,

And clouds of issuing smoke his nostrils loudly blow

Yet equal in success, they ward, they strike,

Their ways are different, but their art alike.

Before, behind, the blows are dealt; around

Their hollow sides the rattling thumps resound;

A storm of strokes, well meant, with fury flies,

And errs about their temples, ears, and eyes—

Nor always errs, for oft the gauntlet draws

A sweeping stroke along the crackling jaws.

Hoary with age Entellus stands his ground,

But with his warping body wards the wound.

His hand and watchful eye keep even pace,

While Dares traverses and shifts his place,

And, like a captain who beleaguers round

Some strong-built castle on a rising ground,

Views all the approaches with observing eyes;

This and that other part in vain he tries,

And more on industry than force relies.

With hands on high Entellus threats the foe;

But Dares watched the motion from below,

And slipped a-side, and shunned the long-descending blow.

Entellus wastes his forces on the wind,

And, thus deluded of the stroke designed,

Headlong and heavy fell, his ample breast

And weighty limbs his ancient mother pressed.

So falls a hollow pine that long had stood

On Ida’s height or Erymanthus’ wood,

Torn from the roots. The differing nations rise,

And shouts, with mingled murmurs, rend the skies.

Acestes runs with eager haste to raise

The fallen companion of his youthful days.

Dauntless he rose, and to the fight returned;

With shame his glowing cheeks, his eyes with fury burned

Disdain and conscious virtue filled his breast,

And with redoubled force his foe he pressed.

He lays on load with either hand amain

And headlong drives the Trojan o’er the plain;

Nor stops nor stays nor rests nor breath allows

But storms of strokes descend about his brows,

A rattling tempest and a hail of blows.”

At this point of the combat—when, after what ought to have closed round

1, by the fall of old Entellus, the latter jumps up and renews the

fight, driving Dares in confusion before him—we find that the referee

and stakeholder had a judicial discretionary power to stop the fight,

the more necessary on account of the deadly gloves in use. Some such

power, in cases of closing and attempts at garotting (such as occurred

at Farnham and at Wadhurst in 1860 and 1863, and numerous minor

battles), should be vested in the referee; but then where is the man who

in modern times would be efficiently supported or obeyed in this

judicial exercise of authority?

“But now the prince, who saw the wild increase

Of wounds, commands the combatants to cease,

And bounds Entellus’ wrath, and bids the peace.

First to the Trojan, spent with toil, he came,

And soothed his sorrow for the suffered shame.

‘What fury seized my friend? The gods,’ said he,

‘To him propitions, are averse to thee,

Have given his arm superior force to thine,

’Tis madness to contend with strength divine.’

The gauntlet fight thus ended, from the shore

His faithful friends the unhappy Dares bore:

His mouth and nostrils poured a purple flood,

And pounded teeth came rushing with his blood.

Faintly he staggered through the hissing throng,

And hung his head and trailed his legs along.

The sword and casque are carried by his train,

But with his foe the palm and ox remain.”

The reader will doubtless be forcibly struck with the close imitation of

Homer by the later epic poet. The length of this account—given, as are

those in the ensuing pages, under the name of the winner—will render

superfluous a lengthy notice of the vanquished—

DARES, another of the companions of Æneas, who also, like St. Patrick,

was “a jontleman, and came of dacent people.” Indeed, we see that he

claimed to be descended from King Amycus. Your ancient pugilists seem to

have been as anxious about “blood” as a modern horse-breeder. Dares was

afterwards slain by Turnus in Italy. See Virg. Æneid, v. 369, xii. 363.

CLOANTHUS, too, fought some good battles; and from him the noble Roman

family of the Cluentii boasted their descent. In “Æneid,” v. 122, he

wins the rowing match.

Of GYGES’ match we merely learn that Turnus also slew him; and of GYAS,

that he greatly distinguished himself by his prowess in the funeral

games of Anchises in Sicily. As to the “pious” ÆNEAS himself, another

son of Venus, by Anchises, he was a fighting man all his days. First, in

the Trojan war, where he engaged in combat with Diomed and with Achilles

himself, and afterwards, on his various voyagings in Sicily, Africa, and

Italy, where he fought for a wife and a kingdom, and won both by killing

his rival Turnus, marrying Lavinia, and succeeding his father-in-law,

Latinus. Despite his “piety” in carrying off his old father Anchises

from the flames of Troy, and giving him such a grand funeral, Æneas

seems to have been a filibustering sort of vagrant; and after getting

rid of poor Turnus, not without suspicions of foul play, he was drowned

in crossing a river in Etruria, which territory he had invaded on a

marauding expedition. We cannot say much against him on the score of

“cruelty and desertion” in the matter of Queen Dido, seeing that

chronology proves that the Carthaginian Queen was not born until about

three hundred years after the fall of Troy, and therefore the whole

story is the pure fabrication of the Roman poets, Virgil and Ovid. This,

however, is by the way, so we will proceed to give a short account of

the implements used in ancient boxing.

These were the CÆSTUS, a formidable gauntlet composed of thongs of raw

hide, with the woollen glove covering the hand with its vellus or

fringe; and the AMPHOTIDES, a kind of helmet or defensive armour for the

head. Four principal forms of the cæstus are known by extant

representations. The first is the most tremendous, and was found in

bronze at Herculaneum. The original hand is somewhat above the natural

size, and appears to have been part of the statue of some armed

gladiator. It is formed of several thicknesses of raw hide strongly

fastened together, and cut into a circular form. These have holes to

admit the four fingers, the thumb being closed on the outer edge to

secure the hold, while the whole is bound by thongs round the wrist and

forearm, with its inner side on the palm of the hand and its outer edge

projecting in front of the knuckles. Our Yankee friends have a small

imitation in their modern “knuckle-dusters.” A glove of thick worsted

was worn beneath the gauntlet, ending in a fringe or bunch of wool,

called _vellus_. Lactantius says: “Pentedactylos laneos sub cæstibus

habent.” The figure given in the Abbé St. Non’s, “Voyage Pittoresque de

Naples et de Sicile,” is here copied.

[Illustration:

FIG. 1.—CÆSTUS.

]

The second form of cæstus, though less deadly at first aspect, is

capable of administering the most fatal blows. This sort is represented

in a bronze group, engraved in the first volume of the “Bronzi del Museo

Kircheriano,” which represents the battle between Amycus and Pollux,

already noticed.

[Illustration:

FIG. 2.

]

This (or the fourth form of glove) would also seem to have been that

offered by Entellus to Dares in the fifth book of the Æneid, though the

“knobs of brass,” “blunt points of iron,” “plummets of lead,” and other

superfluities of barbarity, are not visible. Virgil’s description of the

cæstus being the best, we here quote it:—

“He (Entellus) threw

Two pond’rous gauntlets down, in open view;

Gauntlets, which Eryx wont in fight to wield,

And sheathe his hands within the listed field.

With fear and wonder seiz’d the crowd beholds

The gloves of death,—with sev’n distinguish’d folds

Of tough bull’s hides; the space within is spread

With iron or with loads of heavy lead.

Dares himself was daunted at the sight,

Renounc’d his challenge, and refused to fight.

Astonish’d at their weight, the hero stands,

And pois’d the pond’rous engines in his hands.”

In Smith’s “Antiquities of Greece and Rome,” and in Lenu’s “Costumes des

Peuples de l’Antiquité,” are other patterns. The subjoined is from the

last named work.

[Illustration:

FIG. 3.

]

The last form (No. 4) we shall give is also from a bas-relief found at

Herculaneum. It is certainly of a less destructive form, the knuckles

and back of the hand being covered by the leather, held in its place by

a thumbhole, and further secured by two crossed straps to the vellus,

which ends half way up the forearm. A similar engraving forms the

tail-piece to the fifty-first page of the second volume of the Abbé St.

Non’s “Voyage Pittoresque,” already quoted.

[Illustration:

FIG. 4.

]

The AMPHOTIDES, a helmet or head-guard, to secure the temporal bones and

arteries, encompassed the ears with thongs and ligatures, which were

buckled either under the chin or behind the head. They bore some

resemblance to the head guards used in modern broadsword and stick play,

but seem to have fitted close. They were made of hides of bulls, studded

with knobs of iron, and thickly quilted inside to dull the concussion of

the blows. Though it may be doubted whether the amphotides were

introduced until a later period of the pugilistic era, yet as their

representation would prevent the faces or heads of the combatants being

seen, sculptors and fresco painters would leave them out unhesitatingly,

as they do head-dresses, belts, reins, horses’ harness, etc., regardless

of reality, and seeking only what they deemed high art in their

representations.

The search after traces of boxing among the barbarism of the Middle

Ages, with their iron cruelty and deadly warfare—not unredeemed,

however, by rude codes of honour, knightly courtesy, and chivalrous

gallantry, in defence of the weak and in honour of the fair—would not be

worth the while. The higher orders jousted and tilted with lance, mace,

and sword, the lower fought with sand-bags and the quarter-staff.

Wrestling, as an art, seems to have only survived among Gothic or

Scandinavian peoples. A “punch on the head,” advocated by Mr. Grantley

Berkeley as a poacher’s punishment, is, however, spoken of by Ariosto as

the result of his romantic hero’s wrath, who gives the offender “un gran

punzone sulla testa,” by way of caution. That there were “men before

their time,” who saw the best remedy for the fatal abuse of deadly

weapons in popular brawls, we have the testimony of no less an authority

than St. Bernard. That holy and peace-loving father of the Church, as we

are told by Forsyth, and numerous other writers, established boxing as a

safety-valve for the pugnacious propensities of the people. He tells us:

“The strongest bond of union among the Italians is only a coincidence of

hatred. Never were the Tuscans so unanimous as in hating the other

States of Italy. The Senesi agreed best in hating all the other Tuscans;

the citizens of Siena in hating the rest of the Senesi; and in the city

itself the same amiable passion was subdivided among the different

wards.

“This last ramification of hatred had formerly exposed the town to very

fatal conflicts, till at length, in the year 1200, St. Bernardine

instituted BOXING as a more innocent vent to their hot blood, and laid

the bruisers under certain laws, which are sacredly observed to this

day. As they improved in prowess and skill, the pugilists came forward

on every point of national honour: they were sung by poets and recorded

in inscriptions. The elegant Savini ranks boxing among the holiday

pleasures of Siena.”[5]

These desultory jottings must suffice to bring the history of boxing

among the ancients down to the period of its gradual extinction as an

art and its public and authorised practice. A few sentences from the pen

of the late V. G. Dowling, Esq.[6] will appropriately close this

introductory chapter.

“Both among the Greeks and Romans the practice of pugilism, although

differing in its main features from our modern and less dangerous

combats, was considered essential in the education of their youth, from

its manifest utility in ‘strengthening the body, dissipating all fear,

and infusing a manly courage into the system.’ The power of punishment,

rather than the ‘art of self-defence,’ however, seems to have been the

main object of the ancients; and he who dealt the heaviest blow, without

regard to protecting his own person, stood foremost in the list of

heroes. Not so in modern times; for while the quantum of punishment in

the end must decide the question of victory or defeat, yet the true

British boxer gains most applause by the degree of science which he

displays in defending his own person, while with quickness and precision

he returns the intended compliments of his antagonist, and like a

skilful chess-player, takes advantage of every opening which chance

presents, thereby illustrating the value of coolness and self-possession

at the moment when danger is most imminent. The annals of our country

from the invasion of the Romans downwards sufficiently demonstrates that

the native Briton trusted more to the strength of his arm, the muscular

vigour of his frame, and the fearless attributes of his mind in the hour

of danger, than to any artificial expedients; and that, whether in

attack or defence, the combination of those qualities rendered him at

all times formidable in the eyes of his assailants, however skilled in

the science or practice of warfare. If illustrations were required to

establish this proposition, they are to be found in every page of our

history, from the days of Alfred to the battle of Waterloo; and if it be

asked how it is that Englishmen stand thus pre-eminent in the eyes of

the world, it may be answered that it is to be ascribed to the

encouragement given to those manly games (boxing more especially) which

are characteristic of their country, and which, while they invigorate

the system, sustain and induce that moral courage which experience has

shown us to be the result as much of education as of constitution,

perhaps more of the former than of the latter. The truth of this

conclusion was so strongly impressed on the feelings of our forefathers,

even in the most barbarous ages, that we find all their pastimes were

tinctured with a desire to acquire superiority in their athletic

recreations, thus in peace inculcating those principles which in war

became their safest reliance.” _Esto perpetua!_

[Illustration:

BOXERS WITH THE CÆSTUS.

]

[Illustration:

JAMES FIG (CHAMPION).

_From_ SIR JAMES THORNHILL’S _Portrait_, 1732.

]

PUGILISTICA:

THE HISTORY OF BRITISH BOXING.

PERIOD I.—1719 TO 1791.

FROM THE CHAMPIONSHIP OF FIG TO THE APPEARANCE OF DANIEL MENDOZA.

CHAPTER I.

PREFATORY REMARKS.—FIG—SUTTON—WHITAKER—PEARTREE—PIPES—GRETTING.

We have collected in our Introductory Chapter the few scattered notices

of pugilism as practised and understood by the earlier Celtic nations.

Despite, however, the proclivity of antiquaries, historians, and

scholars to find a Roman or Greek origin for every manner, custom, and

tradition—as if we had none originally of our own,—we may safely say

that Boxing, in the noble manly forbearing and humane practice of the

art, is the indigenous offspring of British hardihood, steady courage,

and love of gymnic exercise and feats of bodily strength and skill, not

unaccompanied with that amount of risk and severe exertion which lend a

zest to sports unappreciated and unknown to more effeminate, more cruel,

and more cowardly peoples. Let not this be taken as the hasty expression

of insular prejudice. The writer, after deeply considering, and often

witnessing, the personal contests of men in his own country and abroad,

and dispassionately weighing the manner, accessories, and consequences

of such contests, feels it a duty he owes to a half-informed and

prejudiced society to express the result of his experience and his

reflection, without fear, favour, or affection:—fear of the onslaughts

of spiritual and moral quacks; favour for those who have degraded or

debased a useful and laudable national exercise and sport; or affection,

more than is due to an art which he would fain rescue from the obloquy

and condemnation to which blind hostility and canting prejudice have

consigned it. He would fain uphold that pugilistic combat which a fair

field, no favour, and surrender at all times at the will of either

party, distinguishes from every mode of conflict yet devised or

practised for the settlement of those “offences” which the highest

authority has told us “needs must come.” At a period within the earlier

memories of the writer, a school of babblers flooded the press with

theories of the perfectibility of man, the ultimate establishment of

universal freedom, and the sublimation of the human faculties by general

education and popular science; and a period was confidently predicted by

these theorising shallowpates, when war would be an “impossibility” as

against the “interests” of men and nations. We have lived to see the

most sanguinary and ferocious contest in history among the people whom

these sciolists set up as the bright example to the “less educated”

nations of the Old World. We may, therefore, safely despise the “new

light” philosophy, and revert to the eternal truth already cited—“needs

must be that offences will come;” and this necessity being inevitable,

the next logical step is to consider how these “offences” may be best

dealt with and atoned.

So long as man is liable to the imperfections of his nature he will need

the art of defending himself from attack and injury, and of redressing

wrong or insult that may be offered him. All experience has taught us

that the passions of pride and emulation (honourable like every human

attribute within limits), and resentment for injury, are the springs of

some of our noblest actions. It is to the stifling and too severe

repression of the active energies of a resolute and independent spirit

that the soul of man as an individual, and of a nation as a whole, sinks

into the vengeful cowardice and cruel pusillanimity of the abject yet

ferocious slave. As, then, a greater or less portion of evil must be

attached to the best system of popular moral or civil restraint, the

wisest policy is that which legislates for man _as we find him_, and not

as the perfect or perfectible (?) creature which theorists and bigots

pretend that _he ought to be_.

At the risk of repetition we will return to our argument. Individuals,

as well as states, must have their disputes, their quarrels, and

then—their battles. This is, there is no denying, the sad but

natural—the regrettable but inevitable, condition and tenure on which

human life—nay, all animal existence—is held. There must, then, be some

mode through which the passions, when aroused, from whatever cause,—

Ambition, love, or greed and thirst of gold,—

may be assuaged, subdued, or extinguished; when the necessity for an

appeal to the _ultima ratio_ of conflict is unavoidable. And surely, in

this extremity the _fists_—the symbol of personal courage, of prompt

readiness for defence and attack—are the most harmless, the

ever-present, and the least fatal weapons. We will leave, gentle or

simple reader, the pistol to your higher-born countrymen of the “upper

ten thousand,” if it so please them; the fatal _fleuret_ to the

fire-eating Gaul (whether soldier, _litterateur_, or “pekin”); the

back-handed stiletto to the stabbing Italian; the sharp, triangular

rapier or the dagger to the saturnine Spaniard; the slaughterous

_schlager_ to the beer-bemused burschen[7] of dreamy Vaterland; the

gash-inflicting knife to the Dutch boor or seaman’s snicker-snee; the

death-dealing “bowie,” “Kansas toothpick,” and murderous “six-shooter”

to the catawampous citizen of the “univarsal Yankee nation;” the waved

kreese, to the muck-running Malay; each tawny savage to his sharp

tomahawk, his poisoned arrow, or his barbed assagai; and then we would

ask the scribblers of the anti-pugilistic press which of these they are

prepared to champion against the fist of the British boxer,—a weapon of

defence which, as exemplified in the practice laid down in the latest

code of Ring Law, is the perfection of the practice of cool courage,

self-reticent combat, restraint, skill, and endurance that can

illustrate and adorn the character of an unsophisticated and

true-hearted Englishman in the supreme moment of conquest or of defeat.

It has frequently been urged by magistrates, and even ermined judges[8]

of quasi-liberal sentiments, that pugilism, as a national practice, and

an occasional or fortuitous occurrence, may be winked at by the

authorities, or tacitly allowed, and prohibited or punished at

discretion, as the occasion may seem to require: but that gymnastic

schools where boxing is regularly taught, and pitched battles, are

social nuisances which the law should rigorously suppress. Granting the

possibility of this utter repression, which we deny, it may well be

questioned whether we have not tried to suppress a lesser evil to evolve

a greater.[9]

To boxing-schools and regulated combats we owe that noble system of

fistic ethics, of fair play, which distinguishes and elevates our common

people, and which stern, impartial, unprejudiced and logical minds must

hail and foster as one of the proud attributes of our national

character. We do not in the least undervalue peaceful pursuits, which

constitute and uphold the blessings of peaceful life; yet a nation with

no idea or principle beyond commerce would be unworthy, nay, would be

impotent for national existence, much more for national power and

progress. Subjection, conquest, and hence serfdom and poverty, must be

its fate in presence of strong, rapacious, and encroaching neighbours.

“The people that possesses steel,” said the ancient assailant of the

Lydian Crœsus, “needs not long want for gold.” A portion, then, of a

nation must be set apart, whose vocation it will be to secure and to

defend the lives, liberties, and properties of the whole. Hence the

honourable calling of the soldier and the sailor; and hence, to fit the

people for these, and to prevent the too general indulgence of

effeminacy, dread of enterprise, and the contagious spread of an

enervating and fanatical peace-at-any-price quietism, it is wise and

politic to encourage the manly and athletic sports and contests which

invigorate the frame, brace the nerves, inspire contempt of personal

suffering, and enable man to defend his rights as well as to enjoy them.

Englishmen have learned, and we sincerely hope will continue to learn

and to practise, fair boxing, as they have learned other arts of

defence,—the use of the rifle among others, in which (as their sires of

old did with the yeoman’s bow) they have already excelled Swiss,

American, and Australian mountaineers and woodmen: men from countries

celebrated for their practice of long shots, and constant handling of

the weapon. Let them, therefore, see that the fair use of the fist is

not sneered down by the craven or the canter. Were every pugilistic

school shut up, the practice of boxing discouraged, and the fiat of our

modern intolerant saints carried out, the manly spirit of fair play in

our combats would disappear, and the people of this country lose one of

their fairest characteristics. A retrospect of the last ten years will

answer whether these are times to incur such risk; while at home,

how-much-soever we may have had of the fist, we have indeed had too much

of the loaded bludgeon, the mis-named “life-preserver,” the garotte, the

knife, and the revolver.

Pugilistic exhibitions are falsely said to harden the heart, to induce

ferocity of character, and that they are generally attended by the dregs

of society. The last aspersion, for reasons that lie on the surface, has

the most truth in it. The principle only, indeed the utility and

necessity of the practice of boxing, is all we here propose to

vindicate. Pugilism includes nothing essentially vicious; nothing, in

itself, prompting to excess or debauchery. On the contrary, it asks

temperance, exercise, and self-denial. If we are to argue and decide

from the abuse of a custom or institution, where are we to stop? Men are

not to be cured, even of errors, by the mere arbitrary force of laws, or

by a cherished pursuit being vilified and contemned, mostly by those who

are ignorant or averse to it. Teach men to respect themselves—this is

the first step to make them respect others. Let this rule be applied to

the Ring; let it be viewed as a popular institution; it may then, and we

have warrant from experience, and in the history contained in these

pages, become worthy of support and patronage. A series of biographies,

which include the names of Cribb, Jackson, Gully, Shaw, Spring, Sayers,

etc. (within the memory of men yet living) may be pointed to without a

blush; while individual traits of heroism, generosity, forbearance, and

humanity, will be found scattered as bright redeeming points through the

lives of many of the “rough diamonds” preserved in the “setting” of our

pages. We doubt not, were the character of the Ring raised, that

successors of as good repute as these worthies would yet be found and

arise among the brotherhood of the fist. Should this “consummation

devoutly to be wished” ever be realised, our gymnasia, a public

necessity, might then be licensed,—a security for their visitors, and

adding respectability to their proprietors; for every government

possesses the power of making expedient regulations, in the interest of

society, even where it may not have the right to absolutely suppress or

interdict. If free trade, and unrestricted leave to carry on profession

or calling are such fundamental principles with our state economists,

why not free boxing? and why not leave the morale of pugilism, as well

as the morality of its professors, to find its level in the neglect or

the patronage, the esteem or the contempt, of the people at large?

Boxing and boxing schools, as free Britons, we must have. Let us, then,

consider, how they can be best made to serve the cause of regulated

pugilism. On the whole, there is no reason to doubt the practicability,

as well as the desirability, of public boxing-schools as a branch of a

system of national gymnastics. It is absurd as well as scandalous to

assert that they must, _ex necessitate_, be the resort of profligates

and thieves. As to the last named scourges of society, long observation

and experience[10] have convinced us that we have our metropolitan and

even rural nurseries for them; our “sin and crime gardens” for their

special propagation, rearing, and multiplication; and we can

conscientiously say, from an equally long observation, that among those

thieves’ nurseries and “sin-gardens” the much-vilified Prize Ring has no

special claim to be counted.

These remarks have extended to an extreme length, and we will here break

off, premising that many opportunities will present themselves in the

course of our history to illustrate and enforce the arguments and

principles here laid down. Waiving, then, all question as to its origin,

the _ars pugilistica_ may be accepted as interwoven for many generations

in the manners and habits of the English people; that it has become one

of our “popular prejudices,” if you so please to term it; and that we

will not abandon it to be suppressed by force or sneered down by cant or

sophistry. It has long since, in this favoured country, been purged of

its cruelty and barbarism, and restrained within well-considered bounds.

No lacerating or stunning additions, such as we see pictured in our

sketches of the ancient athletes, have been allowed to Nature’s

weapon—the clenched fist. On the contrary, for the practice of the

neophyte and the demonstration of the art by the professor, soft

wool-padded gloves cover the knuckles and backs of the hands of the

sparrers. Finally, foul blows, butting with the head, and deliberate

falls, have been particularised and forbidden, and an unimpeachable

system of fair play established, to be found in the “New Rules of the

Ring.” We have nationally imbibed these principles, and hence among our

lower orders the feeling of “fair play” is more remarkably prevalent

than among any other people of Europe or the New World. Hence personal

safety—the exceptions, though occasionally alarming, prove the

rule[11]—is more general in England than in any other country. Here

alone the fallen combatant is protected; and here the detestable

practices of gouging, biting, kicking in vital parts, practised by

Americans, Hiberno-Americans, and other foreigners, are heartily

denounced and scouted; and to what do we owe these characteristics? We

repeat it, to the PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE OF PUGILISM.

FIG (CHAMPION)—1719‒1734.

Although, doubtless, brave boxers in every shire of “merrie England”

sported their Adam’s livery on the greensward, and stood up toe to toe

for “love and a bellyful,” yet the name of James Fig, a native of Thame,

in Oxfordshire, is, thanks to the pen of Captain Godfrey and the pencil

of the great Hogarth, the first public champion “of the Ring” of whom we

have authentic record. Doubtless—

“Vixere fortes ante Agamemnon;”

but their deeds and glories, for want of a chronicler, have lapsed into

oblivion (carent quia vates sacro), and—

“Sleep where lie the songs and wars of earth

Before Pelides’ death, or Homer’s birth.”

[Illustration:

FIG’S CARD.

DISTRIBUTED TO HIS PATRONS, AND AT HIS BOOTHS AT SOUTHWARK FAIR AND

ELSEWHERE.

]

To Captain Godfrey’s spirited and scarce quarto, entitled “A Treatise on

the Useful Science of Defence,” we are indebted for the preservation of

the names and descriptions of the persons and styles of the athletes who

were his contemporaries. It would seem that though Fig has been

acknowledged as the Father of the Ring, he was as much, if not more,

distinguished as a cudgel and back-sword player then as a pugilist.

Captain Godfrey thus speaks of Fig:—“I have purchased my knowledge with

many a broken head, and bruises in every part of me. I chose mostly to

go to Fig[12] and exercise with him; partly, as I knew him to be the

ablest master, and partly, as he was of a rugged temper, and would spare

no man, high or low, who took up a stick against him. I bore his rough

treatment with determined patience, and followed him so long, that Fig,

at last, finding he could not have the beating of me at so cheap a rate

as usual, did not show such fondness for my company. This is well known

by gentlemen of distinguished rank, who used to be pleased in setting us

together.”

The reputation of Fig having induced him to open an academy (A.D. 1719),

known as “Fig’s Amphitheatre,” in Tottenham Court Road, the place became

shortly a great attraction, and was crowded with spectators. It was here

that Captain Godfrey (the Barclay of his time) displayed his skill and

elegance in manly sports with the most determined competitors, the

sports being witnessed by royal and noble personages, who supported the

science as tending to endue the people with hardihood and intrepidity.

About 1720 Fig resided in Oxford Road, now Oxford-street, and at the

period of the curious fac-simile, here for the first time engraved, we

find him still in the same neighbourhood.

The science of pugilism, as we now understand it, was certainly in its

infancy; the system of “give and take” was adopted, and he who could hit

the hardest, or submit to punishment with the best grace, seems to have

been in highest favour with the amateurs. Yet Fig’s placards profess to

teach “defence scientifically,” and his fame for “stops and parries” was

so great, that we find him mentioned in the _Tatler_, _Guardian_, and

_Craftsman_, the foremost miscellanies of the time.[13] Fig, like modern

managers, added to the attractions of his amphitheatre by “stars;” among

these were NED SUTTON, the Pipemaker of Gravesend, Timothy Buck, Thomas

Stokes, and others, of whom only the names remain. Bill Flanders, or

Flinders, “a noted scholar of Fig’s,” fought at the amphitheatre, in

1723, with one Chris. Clarkson, known as “the Old Soldier.” The battle

is highly spoken of for determined courage in the “diurnals” of the

period.

Smithfield, Moorfields, St. George’s Fields, Southwark, and Hyde

Park,[14] during this period also had “booths” and “rings” for the

display of boxing and stick play. In Hogarth’s celebrated picture of

“Southwark Fair” our hero prominently figures, in a caricatured

exaggeration, challenging any of the crowd to enter the lists with him

for “money, love, or a bellyful.” This picture we have also chosen as an

interesting illustration of the great English painter,—a record of

manners in a rude period. As one of the bills relating to this fair

(which was suppressed in 1763) is extant, we subjoin it:

AT

FIG’S GREAT TIL’D BOOTH,

_On the_ Bowling Green, Southwark,

During the Time of the _FAIR_,

(Which begins on SATURDAY, the 18th of SEPTEMBER),

The TOWN will be entertained with the

MANLY ARTS OF

Foil-play, Back-sword, Cudgelling, and Boxing,

in which

The noted PARKS, from Coventry, and the celebrated gentleman

prize-fighter, Mr. MILLAR,

will display their skill in a tilting-bout, showing the advantages

of _Time_ and _Measure_:

ALSO

Mr. JOHNSON, the great Swordsman, superior to any man in the world

for his unrivalled

display of the _hanging-guard_, in a grand attack of SELF-DEFENCE,

against the all-powerful

arm of the renowned SUTTON.

DELFORCE, the finished Cudgeller, will likewise exhibit his uncommon

feats with the

_single-stick_; and who challenges any man in the kingdom to enter

the lists with him for a

_broken-head_ or a _belly-full_!

BUCKHORSE, and several other _Pugilists_, will show the Art of

Boxing.

To conclude

With a GRAND PARADE by the Valiant FIG, who will exhibit his

knowledge in various

Combats—with the Foil, Back-sword, Cudgel, and Fist.

To begin each Day at Twelve o’clock, and close at Ten.

_Vivat Rex._

N.B. The Booth is fitted up in a most commodious manner, for the

better reception of Gentlemen, &c. &c.

Besides this nobly patronised amphitheatre of Fig, there were several

booths and rings strongly supported. That in Smithfield, we have it upon

good authority, was presided over by one “Mr. Andrew Johnson,” asserted

to be an uncle of the great lexicographer,[15] There was also that in

Moorfields, called at times “the booth,” at others “the ring.” The

“ring” was kept by an eccentric character known as “Old Vinegar,” the

“booth” by Rimmington, whose _sobriquet_ was “Long Charles.” This, it

appears, had a curious emblazonment,—a skull and cross-bones on a black

ground, inscribed “Death or Victory.” During the high tide of Fig’s

prosperity (1733) occurred the battle between Bob Whitaker and the

Venetian Gondolier, narrated under the head of “WHITAKER.”

Let it not be thought that Fig, among his many antagonists, was without

a rival. Sutton, the Gravesend Pipemaker, already mentioned, publicly

dared the mighty Fig to the combat, and met him with alternate success,

till a third trial “proved the fact” of Fig’s superiority. These

contests, though given in all the “Chronologies” and “Histories” of the

Ring, were neither more nor less than cudgel-matches, as will be seen by

the subjoined contemporary verses by Dr. John Byrom. They are printed in

“Dodsley’s Collection,” vol. vi., p. 312, under the title of—

EXTEMPORE VERSES UPON A TRIAL OF SKILL BETWEEN THOSE TWO GREAT MASTERS

OF DEFENCE, MESSIEURS FIG AND SUTTON.

I.

Long was the great Fig, by the prize-fighting swains,

Sole monarch acknowledged of Marybone plains,

To the towns far and near did his glory extend,

And swam down the river from Thame to Gravesend,

Where lived Mister Sutton, pipemaker by trade,

Who hearing that Fig was thought such a stout blade,

Resolved to go in for a share of his fame,

And so sent a challenge to the Champion of Thame.

II.

With alternate advantage two trials had past,

When they fought out the rubber on Wednesday last;

To see such a contest, the house was quite full,

There hardly was room to thrust in your skull.

With a prelude of cudgels we first were saluted,

And two or three shoulders were handsomely fluted,

Till, weary at last with inferior disasters,

All the company cried, “The Masters! the Masters!”

III.

Whereupon the bold Sutton first mounted the stage,

Made his honours as usual, and yearned to engage;

When Fig, with a visage so fierce, yet sedate,

Came and entered the lists with his fresh shaven pate;

Their arms were encircled with armigers too,

With a red ribbon Sutton’s, and Fig’s with a blue.

Thus advanced the two heroes, ’tween shoulder and elbow,

Shook hands, and went to’t, and the word it was, “Bilbo!”

Stanzas iv. to viii. describe the back-sword play, in which both men

broke their weapons, and Fig has blood drawn by his own broken blade,

whereon he appeals and another bout is granted. Fig then wounds Sutton

in the arm and the sword play is over. Stanzas ix. and x. wind up the

match (with cudgels), as follows:—

Then after that bout they went on to another,

But the matter must end in some fashion or other,

So Jove told the gods he had made a decree,

That Fig should hit Sutton a stroke on the knee;

Though Sutton, disabled as soon as he hit him,

Would still have fought on, strength would not permit him;

’Twas his fate, not his fault, that constrained him to yield

And thus the great Fig remained Lord of the Field.

At length the time arrived when “the valiant Fig’s” “cunning o’ the

fence” no longer availed him. On December 8th, 1734,[16] grim death gave

him his final knock down, as appears from a notice in the _Gentleman’s

Magazine_ for the month of January, 1735.

“In Fig,” says his pupil and admirer Captain Godfrey (in his “Characters

of the Masters,” p. 40, ed. 1747), “strength, resolution, and

unparalleled judgment, conspired to form a matchless master. There was a

majesty shone in his countenance, and blazed in all his actions, beyond

all I ever saw. His right leg bold and firm, and his left, which could

hardly ever be disturbed, gave him the surprising advantage already

proved, and struck his adversary with despair and panic.”

BOB WHITAKER—1733.

Two only of Whitaker’s battles have survived the tooth of old Tempus

edax rerum: his victory over the Venetian Gondolier and his defeat by

Ned Peartree.

In the year 1733 a gigantic Venetian came to this country in the suite

of one of our travelling nobility, whose name not being recorded we may

set down this part of the story as apocryphal; in fact, as a managerial

trick to attract aristocratic patronage. Be that as it may, this immense

fellow, who was known by the name of “The Gondolier,” was celebrated for

feats of strength: his fame ran before him, and his length of arm and

jaw-breaking power of fist were loudly trumpeted. Indeed, a challenge

having been issued by the backers of the Venetian, Fig was applied to to

find a man to meet this Goliath. The sequel shall be told in Captain

Godfrey’s own words:—

“Bob Whitaker was the man pitched upon to fight the big Venetian. I was

at Slaughter’s Coffee-house when the match was made by a gentleman of

advanced station: he sent for Fig to procure a proper man for him. He

told him to take care of his man, because it was for a large sum; and

the Venetian was of wonderful strength, and famous for breaking the

jawbone in boxing. Fig replied, in his rough manner, ‘I do not know,

master, but he may break one of his countrymen’s jawbones with his fist;

but I’ll bring him a man, and he shall not be able to break his jawbone

with a sledge hammer.’

“The battle was fought at Fig’s amphitheatre, before a splendid company,

the politest house of that kind I ever saw. While the Gondolier was

stripping my heart yearned for my countryman. His arm took up all

observation; it was surprisingly large, long, and muscular. He pitched

himself forward with his right leg, and his arm full extended; and, as

Whitaker approached, caught him a blow at the side of the head which

knocked him quite off the stage, which was remarkable for its height.

Whitaker’s misfortune in his fall was the grandeur of the company, on

which account they suffered no common people in, that usually sat on the

ground, and lined the stage all round. It was thus all clear, and

Whitaker had nothing to stop him but the bottom. There was a general

foreign huzza on the side of the Venetian, as proclaiming our

countryman’s downfall; but Whitaker took no more time than was required

to get up again, when, finding his fault in standing out to the length

of the other’s arm, he, with a little stoop, dashed boldly in beyond the

heavy mallet, and with one English peg in the stomach,” by which the

captain in another place explains he means what is called “the

mark,”—“quite a new thing to foreigners, brought him on his breech. The

blow carried too much of the English rudeness with it for him to bear,

and finding himself so unmannerly used, he scorned to have any more

doings with such a slovenly fist.” We could not resist transcribing this

graphic, terse, and natural account of a prize-fight; the rarity of

Captain Godfrey’s book, and the bald, diluted, silly amplification of it

in “Boxiana,” pp. 22‒25, vol. i., being the moving reasons thereto.

“So fine a house,” says Captain Godfrey, alluding to the company which

assembled to see Whitaker fight the Gondolier, “was too engaging to Fig

not to court another. He therefore stepped up, and told the gentlemen

that they might think he had picked out the best man in London on this

occasion; but to convince them to the contrary, he said, that if they

would come on that day se’nnight, he would bring a man who should beat

this Whitaker in ten minutes by fair hitting. This brought near as great

and fine a company as the week before. The ‘man’ was Nathaniel Peartree,

who, knowing the other’s bottom, and his deadly way of flinging, took a

most judicious manner to beat him. Let his character come in here.—He

was an admirable boxer, and I do not know one he was not a match for,

before he lost his finger. He was famous, like Pipes, for fighting at

the face, but was stronger in his blows. He knew Whitaker’s hardiness,

and, being doubtful of beating him, cunningly determined to fight at his

eyes. His judgment carried his arm so well, that, in about six minutes,

both Whitaker’s eyes were shut; when, groping about a while for his man,

and finding him not, he wisely gave out (_modernicè_, gave in), with

these odd words—‘Damme, I’m not beat; but what signifies my fighting

when I can’t see my man?’”

The columns of the _Flying Post_ and _Daily News Letter_ have many

advertisements of “battles royal,” but none of sufficient merit to

deserve a place in this history.

TOM PIPES AND GEORGE GRETTING—1724‒1734.

Two other pugilists only of the school of Fig claim our notice, and

these are Pipes and Gretting. “Pipes was the neatest boxer I remember.

He put in his blows about the face (which he fought at most) with

surprising time and judgment. He maintained his battles for many years

with extraordinary skill, against men of far superior strength. Pipes

was but weakly made: his appearance bespoke activity, but his hand, arm,

and body were small; though by that acquired spring of his arm he hit

prodigious blows; and at last, when he was beat out of his championship,

it was more owing to his debauchery than the merit of those who beat

him.”

There is a moral in the downfall of Gretting, as tersely given by

Captain Godfrey:—“Gretting was a strong antagonist to Pipes. They

contended together for some time, and were almost alternate victors.

Gretting had the nearest way of going to the stomach (which is what they

call the ‘mark’) of any man I knew. He was a most artful boxer, much

stronger made than Pipes, and dealt the straightest blows. But what made

Pipes a match for him, was his rare bottom spirit, which would bear a

great deal of beating; and this, in my mind, Gretting was not

sufficiently furnished with; for after he was beaten twice by Pipes, a

mere sloven of a boxer, and everybody that fought him afterwards beat

him. I must, notwithstanding, do that justice to Gretting’s memory to

own that his debauchery contributed to spoil a great boxer; yet, I

think, he had not the bottom of the other.”

It was the opinion throughout Europe, at this period, that the English

nation were more expert than any other, not only in boxing, but in the

use of the back-sword; and sorry should we be were it not so at this

day. The amphitheatre, boxing, foil-play, and cudgelling-schools, were

openly advertised, and the amusements made known, like any of the

regular theatres; the audiences were equally fashionable, and they were

patronised by the noble and great, and not disturbed by the magistrates.

Although it was admitted that these amphitheatrical practices were

productive of some ill, as offering encouragement to idleness and

extravagance among the vulgar, yet there is hardly any useful thing that

does not present some opening for mischief, or is not liable to abuse.

CHAPTER II.

GEORGE TAYLOR—1734‒1758.

PRINCE BOSWELL—JAMES—HARRIS—SMALLWOOD—SLACK—BUCKHORSE—TOM FAULKNER.

On the decease of Fig the immediate patrons of pugilism seem to have

cooled in their ardour, as we hear but little of the doings at the

amphitheatre. For four years George Taylor was his successor, and in

1740 we find him assuming the title of “Champion,” and proprietor of the

“Great Booth in Tottenham Court Road.” With regard to the title of

“Champion,” at this period, and for nearly a century subsequent, it was

assumed by and applied to almost every boxer who challenged publicly. We

make this remark to clear the way for some observations we shall make

upon George Taylor’s defeat by the renowned Broughton. There is some

curious blundering about the date of the first fight between George

Taylor and Broughton; indeed, we should feel inclined to say that his

first defeat was much earlier than the date of 1740, which is given in

all the Chronologies, John Bee’s “Fistiana” and “Boxiana” included. He

was proprietor of the “Great Booth” from 1734, and we have Captain

Godfrey’s authority for saying that “he was not, when he fought

Broughton, more than twenty years old,” and comments on the imprudence

of such “a first attempt.” It will be seen, too, in the Life of

Broughton, that the Captain speaks (writing in 1746‒7) thus of

Broughton—“for seventeen or eighteen years he has fought, etc., and

never been beaten.” From this we may fairly infer that it was some years

prior to 1740 that Broughton first defeated George Taylor. Taylor, whose

portrait is certainly good-humoured and prepossessing, is described as

being a “strong, able pugilist,” according to the fashion of those

times, but shifty and “deficient in bottom.” George’s skill in the

“cross-buttock fall” is also recorded, and his cleverness in the

“hanging-guard” and “back-sword” favourably spoken of. With these

qualifications he entered Fig’s amphitheatre, and seems almost

immediately to have become its proprietor. His advertisements invite

“champions” of the different branches of “self-defence” to come and

display their skill. The terms were that the proprietor should take

one-third of the door-money, and the remaining two-thirds be divided

among the “champions,” at the rate of one-third to the loser and

two-thirds to the winner. We are told the entrance-money often reached

£150, and occasionally it was more. Among the more noted boxers who

illustrated the art at George Taylor’s “great booth,” were the renowned

Jack Broughton the waterman, the Father of the English P.R., who beat

all opposed to him, especially George Taylor himself; Prince Boswell,

Stevenson the coachman, Will Willis, Tom Smallwood, Buckhorse, Jack

James, Field the sailor, Pipes and Gretting already mentioned, and

others of the school of Fig.

[Illustration:

GEORGE TAYLOR, 1734‒1758.

_From a Print published in 1740._

]

One of the most remarkable battles at Taylor’s booth was that of

Broughton and Stevenson, April 24, 1741 (see LIFE of BROUGHTON, _post_,

p. 22).

On the 16th of June, 1741, George Taylor met a formidable gipsy, known

as Prince Boswell. He appears to have been a tricky fighter, and, like

most such over-clever pugilists, deficient in pluck. He had, we are

told, a terrific hit with his left (when he could plant it), but this

being forbid by George’s skill, he made but a poor fight of it. Captain

Godfrey says of this Bohemian, who is stated in “Pancratia” to have been

son to the king of that wandering people, “Praise be to his power of

fighting, his excellent choice of time and measure, his superior

judgment despatching forth his executing arm! But fie upon his dastard

heart, that mars it all! As I knew that fellow’s abilities, and his

worm-dread soul, I never saw him beat but I wished him to be beaten.

Though I am charmed with the idea of his power and manner of fighting, I

am sick at the thoughts of his nurse-wanting courage. Farewell to him,

with this fair acknowledgment, that, if he had true English bottom (the

best fighting epithet for a man of spirit), he would carry all before

him, and be a match even for Broughton himself.” Despite of all these

qualifications, the Gipsy lost heart at finding Taylor so difficult to

get at, and surrendered after a few sharp rounds.

On the 19th of July, 1741, we find recorded the name of Jack James, as

beating one Chicken Harris, a poulterer, after a severe though short

battle.

TOM SMALLWOOD, too, was one of Taylor’s team. On the 23rd of November,

1741, one of the severest boxing matches that had taken place for years

was fought between Tom Smallwood and Richard Harris, a backmaker, for

fifty guineas. The fight lasted an hour, with many alternations of

success, Smallwood proving the winner. Smallwood was a mere stripling,

as we shall note hereafter.

On the same day we find a very good bye-battle was fought between

Buckhorse and Harry Gray, the clogmaker (see BUCKHORSE, post).

The advertisements and challenges of the boxers of this period are

matters of curiosity, as illustrating the manners of another age; we

therefore insert a few which have been preserved in connexion with this

period of Taylor’s career

_From the_ DAILY ADVERTISER, _April 26th, 1742_.

“At the Great Booth, Tottenham Court, on Wednesday next, the 28th

instant, will be a trial of manhood, between the two following

champions:

“Whereas I, WILLIAM WILLIS, commonly known by the name of “the

fighting Quaker,” have fought Mr. SMALLWOOD about twelve months

since, and held him the tightest to it, and bruised and battered him

more than any one he ever encountered, though I had the ill-fortune

to be beat by an accidental fall; the said SMALLWOOD, flushed with

the success blind Fortune then gave him, and the weak attempts of a

few vain Irishmen and boys, that have of late fought him for a

minute or two, makes him think himself unconquerable; to convince

him of the falsity of which, I invite him to fight me for ONE

HUNDRED POUNDS, at the time and place above-mentioned, when I doubt

not but I shall prove the truth of what I have asserted by pegs,

darts, hard blows, falls, and cross-buttocks.

“WILLIAM WILLIS.”

“I, THOMAS SMALLWOOD, known for my intrepid manhood and bravery on

and off the stage, accept the challenge of this _puffing Quaker_,

and will shew him that he is led by a false spirit, that means him

no other good than that he should be chastised for offering to take

upon him the _arm of the flesh_.

“THOMAS SMALLWOOD.”

“_Note._—The Doors will be opened at Ten, and the Combatants mount

at Twelve.

“There will be several bye-battles, as usual; and particularly one

between JOHN DIVINE and JOHN TIPPING, for Five Pounds each.”

The next notice is at the lapse of a month, and runs thus:—

“May 4th, 1742.

“At George Taylor’s Booth, Tottenham Court Road.

“There will be a trial of manhood here to-morrow, between the

following champions, viz.:

“Whereas I, JOHN FRANCIS, commonly known by the name of the JUMPING

SOLDIER, who have always had the reputation of a good fellow, and

have fought several bruisers in the street, etc., nor am I ashamed

to mount the stage when my manhood is called in question by an Irish

braggadocio, whom I fought some time ago, in a bye-battle, for

twelve minutes, and though I had not the success due to my courage

and ability in the art of boxing, I now invite him to fight me for

two guineas, at the time and place above-mentioned, where I doubt

not I shall give him the truth of a good beating.

“JOHN FRANCIS.”

THE IRISHMAN’S ANSWER.

“I, PATRICK HENLEY, known to every one for the truth of a good

fellow, who never refused any one on or off the stage, and fight as

often for the diversion of gentlemen as for money, do accept the

challenge of this JUMPING JACK; and shall, if he don’t take care,

give him one of my bothering blows, which will convince him of his

ignorance in the art of boxing.

“PATRICK HENLEY.”

Pierce Egan says, “Paddy kept his promise, for he so _bothered_ the gig

of the _Jumping Sailor_, that he was not able to _move_, much more to

_jump_, for some time. Paddy gave him a _Tipperary fling_, which so

completely _shook_ all his recollection out of him, that he never

troubled the town afterwards with any of his _epistolary_ challenges!”

For all which Hibernian _perfervidum ingenium_ we have no authority on

record. The “Chronologies” say “Henley bt. Francis (J.),” we suppose on

the faith of the accuracy of “Boxiana.”

In the year 1742 differences arose between Broughton, now in the highest

favour with the Duke William of Cumberland (afterwards so fatally known

at Culloden in the year ’46), and other distinguished patrons of the

Ring. The schism, which was fatal to George Taylor’s establishment, will

be noticed in our LIFE of BROUGHTON, and ended in Taylor’s joining

Broughton’s company of “champions” in 1744‒5, after a sounding challenge

to that boxer.

From this period George Taylor appears to have held his own in numerous

displays, but nothing of importance occurred till his memorable battle

with SLACK (see SLACK), a butcher from Norwich, afterwards so renowned

for his conquest of the great Broughton. Taylor’s battle with Slack has

come down with no details, farther than that it lasted twenty-five

minutes, and was a display of steady coolness and science over rushing

impetuosity. Slack proved an awkward fellow to keep off, but George was

too wary, and in less than half-an-hour the butcher was beaten to a

stand-still.

Among the patrons of “the noble art,” during the period of George

Taylor’s proprietorship of the Great Booth, may be numbered Frederick,

Prince of Wales, the father of George the Third, before whom we may

fairly infer Taylor many times exhibited. It was not then the custom,

except incidentally, to give the people anything like our present “Court

Circular,” thus keeping the general public _au courant_ to the movements

of royalty and its branches. We find, however, among the works of Paul

Whitehead, the poet, who is styled by Captain Thompson, his biographer,

“_The Champion_ and Bard of Leicester House,”[17] a poem entitled, “The

Gymnasiad, or Boxing Match.” It is printed entire in the edition of his

collected works. Dodsley, London, 1777.

Taylor, when he retired from the stage, became landlord of the Fountain

Inn at Deptford. But as the old war-horse is said to prick his ears at

the sound of the trumpet, so, although declining in the vale of years,

he replied to the challenge of Tom Faulkner, “the noted cricketer.” Tom,

it appears, had twice been worsted by Taylor, in bygone days; yet he

felt so confident he could reverse the verdict, that he challenged

George for 200 guineas and “the gate money.” They met on August the 5th,

1758, at a mile and a-half from St. Alban’s, Herts. The betting was

three to one on Taylor, who is called in the account “the old successor

of Fig.” It would appear that there was “no love lost” between the

combatants. It was a complete hammering set-to. For the first twelve or

thirteen rounds, Faulkner was dreadfully punished and floored several

times. The fourteenth round proved a proper trial of skill and strength;

at length, Faulkner levelled Taylor, when the odds began to drop a

little, and Faulkner was getting into favour. George, finding that his

man gained upon him, began to shift, and fell now and then without a

blow, which occasioned considerable murmuring, and the friends of

Faulkner insisted that he had won the battle; but Faulkner was above

taking any advantage and wished to fight it out. The combatants set-to

more furiously than ever.

Taylor, inspired with the thought of his fame and former victories,

stood up like a hero; and Faulkner, recollecting that it must either

make or break him, fought like a lion. After a terrible conflict of an

hour and fifteen minutes, the veteran George Taylor acknowledged he was

conquered. Greater courage and skill could not be displayed; and it was

supposed, that had not Taylor laboured under the manifest disadvantage

of an eye of which he had been blind for some time, Faulkner could not

have beaten him; as the contest was only put an end to by Taylor having

the other eye closed from a blow. The veteran hero thus added another to

the list of great men who have “lingered too long upon the stage,” or

returned to exhibit those powers in their decadence which were admired

in their prime. “We shall have many occasions in the course of this

history to show the unconsciousness of decaying powers among the heroes

of the ring. George Taylor did not recover the shock of this defeat, and

died in the December following (1758) at his house at Deptford.”

[Illustration]

CHAPTER III.

JACK BROUGHTON (CHAMPION)—1734‒1750.

Broughton is indisputably entitled to be regarded as the founder of the

modern art of self-defence. The successor of Fig in popularity, he far

exceeded that stalwart cudgeller in fistic science, and in the

application of those principles which stripped the practice of boxing of

many of those features of ruffianism and barbarity with which the

unregulated contests of mere bruisers had invested it. There was a

neatness and quickness in his style which far distanced his competitors,

and drew crowds to witness his exhibitions. He appears first to have

introduced stopping and barring blows, then hitting and getting away;

before him it appears to have been toe-to-toe work, or downright

hammering; at any rate, his method appears to have had the novelty of a

discovery with his spectators and his antagonists. He stopped the blows

aimed at any part of him by his adversaries with so much skill, and hit

his man away with so much ease, that he astonished and daunted his

opponents, and those persons who had the temerity to enter the lists

with Broughton, were soon convinced of his superior knowledge and

athletic prowess: while most of his competitors, who were compelled to

give in from their exhausted and beaten state, had the mortification to

behold Broughton scarcely touched, displaying as much cheerfulness and

indifference as if he had scarcely been engaged in a set-to.

He was indebted to nature for a good person; his countenance was manly

and open, possessing a sharp and penetrating eye, that almost looked

through the object before him, which gave animation to his face. His

form was athletic and commanding, and denoted uncommon strength. Every

spectator felt impressed who beheld him. Six feet, wanting an inch, in

height, and fourteen stone, or thereabouts, in weight.

Broughton became as a fixed star in the pugilistic hemisphere, His

talents as a boxer gained him many admirers and patrons; but his good

temper, generosity of disposition, and gentleness of manners, ensured

him numerous friends. He was intelligent, communicative, and not

destitute of wit. The system he laid down was plain, and easy to be

understood; and, under his instruction, several of his pupils arrived at

pugilistic eminence, and gave distinguished proofs of the acquirements

they had gained under so great a master.

Broughton was still, up to 1742, an exhibitor at the Great Booth of

George Taylor; we shall, therefore, before giving an account of his

adventures “on his own hook,” turn to his exploits at the Tottenham

Court Road establishment.

Like all great masters, Broughton, we learn, always exhibited something

new in his several contests; and those pugilists who had seen him fight,

and supposed they had observed his method, were awfully deceived when

they entered the lists with him, and expected to “nail” him on “the old

suit.”

Contrary to most other boxers, he did not depend upon any particular

blow, although he was distinguished for giving some remarkable hits,

which were not easily forgotten. Broughton, when necessary in the

conflict, by putting in “_his_ stomach blow,” often decided the battle;

and his lunge under the ear generally produced terrible consequences to

his opponent. The eye of Broughton was lively, piercing, and acute, soon

perceiving the weakness of any adversary; his arm, keeping pace with

that valuable assistant, protected him from the most destructive blows;

and his quick penetration made him always aware of any direct intent

pursued by his adversary, so as immediately to render it unavailing. His

guard was so complete, that his frame appeared secured as if in a fence,

uncommon strength and bottom often fell before him, and his expertness

in the cross-buttock was great. His various attitudes in the fight were

fine and impressive, and his countenance always animated and cheerful.

Pipes and Gretting, already named, both distinguished pugilists—the

former of whom hardily maintained the title of a “Champion” for a number

of years—appeared nothing in the hands of Broughton, who gave them

several chances to recover their lost laurels; these each proved

beatings to them, and tended to increase his growing fame.

George Taylor, of whom honourable mention has been made, fell as a

conquest to Broughton.

[Illustration:

JACK BROUGHTON (CHAMPION), 1734‒1750.

_From the Painting by_ FRANK HAYMAN, R.A., _formerly in the possession

of the Duke of Cumberland_.

]

“George Stevenson, the coachman,” says our perpetual resource, Captain

Godfrey, whose thin quarto we must almost plead guilty to reprinting

piecemeal, “stood up for the length of forty minutes in a most heroic

style to Broughton. It was a hasty match, and although Broughton was

extremely unwell, sooner than make any excuse, he agreed to fight

Stevenson without having that regard for his preparation which he

afterwards found he ought to have had. But here his true bottom was

proved, and his conduct shone and admired. The battle was fought in one

of the fair booths at Tottenham Court Road, railed at the end towards

the pit. After a most desperate conflict of thirty-five minutes, being

both against the rails, and the coachman endeavouring to get the

whip-hand of Broughton, the latter, by his superior genius, got such a

lock upon Stevenson as no mathematician could have devised a better.

There he held him by this artificial lock, depriving him of all power of

rising or falling, till resting his head for about three or four minutes

upon his back, he found himself recovering, then loosed his hold. By

this manœuvre Broughton became as a new man, and, on setting-to again,

he gave the coachman a tremendous blow, as hard as any he had given him

in the whole battle, so that he could no longer stand, and his brave

contending heart, though with reluctance, was forced to yield. Stevenson

was a beautiful hitter; he put in his blows faster than Broughton, but

then one of the latter’s told for three of the former’s. Stevenson had a

most daring spirit, but his strength could not keep pace with it.”

Broughton expressed a very high opinion of Stevenson as a pugilist.

Jack James, a dashing boxer, who ranked high in the annals of pugilism

as a thorough-bred man, was compelled to acknowledge that he had found

his master in Broughton. James’s wrist, which in other contests had been

considered so remarkably “handsome,” lost its attraction when in contact

with the athletic arm of Broughton.

We need not proceed further with an enumeration of his earlier contests,

but come at once to his appearance at his own theatre, in the character

of CHAMPION OF ENGLAND.

We have noticed his differences with George Taylor. Broughton was

promised liberal support and patronage if he would open a theatre for

the better accommodation of the admirers of boxing.

Under the patronage we have already spoken of, Broughton seceded from

the Tottenham Court Road establishment, rapidly completing a new

building adjoining the Oxford Road, near the spot where Hanway Street,

Oxford Street, now stands, and opened it on March 10th, 1743, with the

subjoined advertisement in the _Daily Advertiser_. From prints yet

existing in the British Museum, it appears that this edifice was

somewhat similar to Astley’s original circus and riding school, in the

Westminster Road, or rather the large temporary and removable theatres,

which have of late travelled with equestrian exhibitions round our

principal provincial towns. There were boxes, pit, and a gallery; a

stage for the combatants in the centre of the ring, and the _tout

ensemble_ bore some resemblance to the pictures of the Old Fives Court,

in Windmill Street. The following is a copy of the announcement:—

AT BROUGHTON’S NEW AMPHITHEATRE,

OXFORD-STREET,

_The back of the late Mr._ FIG’S,

On Tuesday next, the 13th instant,

Will be exhibited

THE TRUE ART OF BOXING,

By the _eight famed_ following men, _viz._,

ABRAHAM EVANS, | —— ROGER,

—— SWEEP, | —— ALLEN,

—— BELAS, | ROBERT SPIKES, and

—— GLOVER, | HARRY GRAY, the Clogmaker.

The above eight men to be brought on the stage, and to be matched

according to the

approbation of the gentlemen who shall be pleased to honour them

with their company.

N.B.—There will be a BATTLE ROYAL between the

NOTED BUCKHORSE,

And SEVEN or EIGHT more; after which there will be several

BYE-BATTLES by others.

Gentlemen are therefore desired to come by times. The doors will be

open at nine; the

champions mount at eleven: and no person is to pay more than A

SHILLING.

The appearance of this rival was a cruel blow to George Taylor, who saw

the ruinous results which must ensue to his “booth” from Broughton’s

popularity: he, therefore, as a counter hit, instantly let fly in the

following terms:—

TO THE PATRONS AND ENCOURAGERS OF THE MANLY ART OF BOXING.

Whereas, Mr. Broughton, well knowing that I was to fight Mr. Field

on Tuesday next, the 13th of March, 1743, in order to injure me, has

maliciously advertised to open his Amphitheatre on that day, and

where several battles are then to be fought. To prevent the public

from being deceived, I feel it my duty to inform them, that the

principal part of the persons mentioned were never made acquainted

with such circumstances, and have no intention of so doing. Mr.

Broughton wishes to make it appear that he never imposed upon any of

the pugilists who had been concerned with him in any transaction

whatever; but his imposition shall soon be made manifest to the

world. And to show Mr. Broughton that I have no animosity against

him as a pugilist, or any jealousy concerning his amphitheatre, I am

willing to fight him, as soon as he may think proper, wherever it

may please him, not regarding, as he loudly sets forth, the strength

of his arm.

GEORGE TAYLOR.

We are inclined to suspect that there was a little “gag” in the names of

the pugilists set forth by Broughton, from subsequent occurrences; be

that as it may, Taylor had already fallen beneath his conquering fist,

and his challenge was viewed as nothing more than mere bounce, to

detract from the triumph of the rival manager.

The charges of Taylor, made from time to time, led to a sort of paper

war. Taylor charged Broughton with appropriating to himself the “Lion’s

Share” of the door-money, to the injury of the other pugilists. This

accusation Broughton replied to by showing to the satisfaction of his

patrons that he had not received one hundred pounds; that his

amphitheatre had cost him upwards of £400; that he had appropriated but

a third part of the door-money for his own individual emolument, and

that the rest had been shared among the pugilists. This account proving

satisfactory, firmly established Broughton; and Taylor, perceiving that

it would be useless to oppose so powerful an opponent, relinquished his

booth, and was engaged at the Amphitheatre, where the most noted of his

“merry men” followed him, under an engagement to fight on no stage but

his.

We now come to one of the most important epochs in the history of

boxing, namely the promulgation of a “Code” for the guidance of the

combatants, and the satisfaction of the judges. These rules were

“produced by Mr. Broughton, for the better regulation of the

Amphitheatre, and approved of by the gentlemen, and agreed to by the

pugilists, August 18th, 1743.” The code promulgated by this Fistic

Napoleon, whose law-making and fall were much like those of his great

successor, had a much longer duration than the “Code Napoleon!” for they

lasted in perfect integrity from the period of their date until 1838,

when, after the fight between Owen Swift and Brighton Bill, the “New

Rules of the Ring” superseded Broughton’s. We here give the original—

BROUGHTON’S RULES.

1. That a square of a yard be chalked in the middle of the stage;

and every fresh set-to after a fall, or being parted from the rails,

each second is to bring his man to the side of the square, and place

him opposite to the other; and till they are fairly set-to at the

lines, it shall not be lawful for the one to strike the other.

2. That, in order to prevent any disputes as to the time a man lies

after a fall, if the second does not bring his man to the side of

the square, within the space of half a minute, he shall be deemed a

beaten man.

3. That, in every main battle, no person whatever shall be upon the

stage, except the principals and their seconds; the same rule to be

observed in bye-battles, except that in the latter, Mr. Broughton is

allowed to be upon the stage to keep decorum, and to assist

gentlemen in getting to their places; provided always, he does not

interfere in the battle; and whoever presumes to infringe these

rules, to be turned immediately out of the house. Everybody is to

quit the stage as soon as the champions are stripped, before they

set-to.

4. That no champion be deemed beaten, unless he fails coming up to

the line in the limited time; or that his own second declares him

beaten. No second is to be allowed to ask his man’s adversary any

questions or advise him to give out.

5. That, in bye-battles, the winning man to have two-thirds of the

money given, which shall be publicly divided upon the stage,

notwithstanding any private agreement to the contrary.

6. That to prevent disputes, in every main battle, the principals

shall, on the coming on the stage, choose from among the gentlemen

present two umpires, who shall absolutely decide all disputes that

may arise about the battle; and if the two umpires cannot agree, the

said umpires to choose a third, who is to determine it.

7. That no person is to hit his adversary when he is down, or seize

him by the ham, the breeches, or any part below the waist: a man on

his knees to be reckoned down.

These rules may be called the groundwork of fair play and manly boxing,

and no man, from his experience, was better able to frame such a code

than Broughton. “It is to be observed,” says the talented author of

‘Fistiana’ (V. G. Dowling, Esq.), “that to them we greatly owe that

spirit of fair play which offers so wide a contrast to the practices of

barbarous ages, when every advantage was admissible when brute strength

or accidental casualties placed a combatant in the power of his

antagonist. It is to be lamented that, even in modern times, the inhuman

practices of uncivilised periods have subsisted to a disgraceful extent,

and hence we have heard of gouging, that is to say, forcing out the eye

of an antagonist with the thumbs or fingers—purring, kicking a man with

nailed shoes as he lies on the ground, striking him in vital parts below

the waistband, seizing him when on his knees, and administering

punishment till life be extinct, and a variety of other savage

expedients by which revenge or passion has been gratified; and it is

remarkable that in those counties in which pugilism or prize-fights have

been least encouraged, these horrors have been most frequent. We refer

to Lancashire in particular, where, even to this day, that species of

contest called up-and-down fighting—that is, when a man is got down he

is kept down and punished till incapable of motion—is permitted with

impunity, unless indeed the death of the victim leads to the

apprehension and trial of the survivor.”

The adoption of Broughton’s rules in the metropolis soon led to their

extensive dissemination in the provinces, and public boxing was thereby

stripped of half its evils; while in the adjustment of private quarrels,

the settlement of the simple issue of “which was the better man” after

“a fair stand up fight,” put an end to all bad feeling, and the

conqueror or the conquered submitted with a good grace to “the fate of

war;” the strongest proof of the effects of cultivation, and the best

test of a manly and honourable feeling.

“To Broughton, then,” continues Mr. Dowling, “is to be ascribed the

credit of two great reforms in the practice of pugilism, namely, the

introduction of science and humanity; and by the moral effects these

inculcated, more has been done to establish the high character of

Englishmen for honour and fair play, than by all the eloquence of the

pulpit or the senate.” To Broughton also do we owe the introduction of

gloves, or mufflers, for conducting mock combats or sparring matches, as

they are now called, by which men receive lessons without injury, or

display the art of self-defence without those painful consequences to

which Captain Godfrey so willingly submitted, and which he so feelingly

describes, but which deterred young aspirants from entering those arenas

in which, after harmless initiation, they often became distinguished

adepts, or were prepared to take their own parts in unavoidable

encounters. Broughton thus announces his new invention in the _Daily

Advertiser_ of February, 1747:—

“Mr. Broughton proposes, with proper assistance, to open an academy

at his house in the Haymarket, for the instruction of those who are

willing to be initiated in the mystery of boxing, where the whole

theory and practice of that truly British art, with all the various

stops, blows, cross-buttocks, etc., incident to combatants, will be

fully taught and explained; and that persons of quality and

distinction may not be debarred from entering into a course of those

lectures, they will be given with the utmost tenderness and regard

to the delicacy of the frame and constitution of the pupil; for

which reason mufflers are provided, that will effectually secure

them from the inconveniency of black eyes, broken jaws, and bloody

noses.”

We have said that Broughton’s original calling was that of a waterman;

it appears that the interest of his royal patron made him one of the

Yeomen of the Guard to the King. He also accompanied the Duke of

Cumberland on a tour to the Continent, of which an anecdote is

preserved, of which we may say, _si non è vero è ben trovato_. “At

Berlin he saw the fine regiment of Grenadiers raised by Frederick the

Great. The champion was asked by his patron what he thought of any of

them for a _set-to_, when Broughton, with a smile, instantly replied,

‘Why, your Royal Highness, I should have no objection to fight the whole

regiment, only be kind enough to allow me a breakfast between each

battle.’” Thomas Carlyle has omitted this.

Thus far, Broughton appears to have sailed on the wave of triumph. His

patrons were numerous and aristocratic; but the confidence which good

fortune begets was to prove to him a snare, as it has to many before and

since. Slack, a butcher, and a pugilist of some note, but who had

already succumbed to George Taylor, had, it appears, a quarrel with

Broughton on a race-course, which led to a threat on the part of the

champion that he would horsewhip Slack. The result was a challenge:

Slack obtained friends, a match was made for £200 a-side, and as the

door money was included in the sum contended for, it was estimated at

£600 clear. Although properly falling under the biography of Slack, we

here give the battle, for the purpose of rendering as complete as

possible the history of the Father of Scientific Pugilism.

Broughton’s overweening confidence proved his ruin; for, as we learn

from a contemporary authority, “he refused to take training

preparation,” although “he had not fought for a long time.” Let others

take warning by his fall.

On the evening previous to the battle (Tuesday, April 10, 1750)

Broughton, who had invited his patrons and numerous friends to witness

the battle, was rather apprehensive that Slack would not fight, and for

fear any disappointment should take place, made the latter a present of

ten guineas not to break his engagement.

For the first five minutes, Broughton’s superiority over Slack was so

evident, that the odds were ten to one in his favour; when Slack,

recovering a little from the effects of his antagonist’s blows, made a

sudden and unexpected jump, planting a desperate hit between the

champion’s eyes, which immediately closed them up. Broughton now

appeared stupefied; and as it was two or three minutes before the

effects of this fatal blow were manifest, the spectators were at a loss

to account for the unusual movements of Broughton, who appeared to feel

for, instead of boldly facing and attacking his man. At length his

patron, the Duke of Cumberland, exclaimed, “What are you about,

Broughton?—you can’t fight!—you’re beat!” To which Broughton instantly

replied, “I can’t see my man, your highness—I’m blind, but not beat:

only let me see my man, and he shall not gain the day yet.” Broughton’s

situation was truly distressing; and Slack, following up this singular

advantage, obtained a victory in fourteen minutes!

The Duke appears to have been most unworthily angered at his loss, which

has been (we suspect extravagantly) stated to have amounted to £10,000.

He always declared he had been “sold.” There seems no cause for such an

assertion.

This defeat proved Broughton’s ruin. The Duke of Cumberland could never

speak of this contest with any degree of temper, and turned his back on

the beaten man. The legislature interfered, the amphitheatre was closed,

and Broughton never fought more. Previous to this battle, it is said he

had grown plethoric; if so, it requires no great acumen to opine the

cause of the sudden swelling which temporarily blinded him.

The best monument to the memory of Broughton is the character and

description of his pupil and admirer, the gallant Captain, which eulogy,

like that of Lord Byron on the “eminent” Mr. John Jackson, remain

permanent answers to the slanderers of pugilists and pugilism.

“Advance, brave Broughton!” exclaims Captain Godfrey. “Thee I pronounce

captain of the boxers. As far as I can look back, I think I ought to

open the ‘characters’ with him: I know none so fit, so able to lead up

the van. This is giving him the living preference to the rest; but I

hope I have not given any cause to say that there has appeared in any of

my characters a partial tincture. I have thoroughly consulted nothing

but my unbiassed mind, and my heart has known no call but merit.

Wherever I have praised, I have no desire of pleasing; wherever decried,

no fear of offending. Broughton, by his manly merit, has bid the

highest, therefore has my heart. I really think all will poll with me,

who poll with the same principle. Sure there is some standing reason for

this preference: what can be stronger than to say that, for seventeen or

eighteen years, he has fought every able boxer that appeared against

him, and has never yet been beat? This being the case, we may venture to

conclude from it; but not to build alone on this, let us examine farther

into his merits. What is it that he wants? Has he not all that others

want, and all the best can have? Strength equal to what is human, skill

and judgment equal to what can be acquired, undebauched wind, and a

bottom spirit never to pronounce the word ‘enough.’ He fights the stick

as well as most men, and understands a good deal of the small sword.

This practice has given him the distinction of time and measure beyond

the rest. He stops as regularly as the swordsman, and carries his blows

truly in the line; he steps not back, distrusting of himself, to stop a

blow, and puddle in the return, with an arm unaided by his body,

producing but fly-flap blows, such as pastrycooks use to beat those

insects from their tarts and cheese-cakes. No! Broughton steps bold and

firmly in, bids a welcome to the coming blow; receives it with his

guardian arm; then, with a general summons of his swelling muscles, and

his firm body seconding his arm, and supplying it with all its weight,

pours the pile-driving force upon his man.

“That I may not be thought particular in dwelling long upon Broughton, I

leave him with this assertion, that as he, I believe, will scarce trust

a battle to a waning age, I never shall think he is to be beat till I

see him beaten.”[18]

Broughton retired into private life. In his later days he resided in

Walcot Place, Lambeth. He was for many years seen as a constant

frequenter of sales of private property, where he purchased

out-of-the-way things, curiosities, and articles of _vertu_, and adhered

to the costume of the period of the Second George. Of these habits the

author of “Recollections of an Octogenarian,” gives us the following

information:—“He appeared to me,” says the writer, “a heavy, thick,

round-made, large-boned man, about the height of Humphries.[19] To be

sure when I saw him last he was in the vale of years, and had acquired

some corpulency. It might be about the year 1785, when attending a lady,

to look at some household goods, which were to be sold by auction in

Walcot Place, Lambeth, a catalogue could not be procured, and seeing

Broughton with one in his hand, I civilly requested the favour of him to

permit the lady to look at a certain article in it. The old man replied

with a sullen asperity of countenance, ‘I want it myself,’ turning his

back upon me. At the instant, up started a little, pert, natty, humorous

Jew broker, who, with real politeness, made the lady an offer of his

catalogue, and casting an arch look at the testy old champion, who was

still close to us, ‘Ah!’ said he, ‘Master Broughton, then you are a

_bear_ to-day,’ alluding to the bulls and bears of Change Alley, where

Broughton was well known to be daily jobbing with his property.”

The “Octogenarian” confirms the statement given below from the _Annual

Register_:—“He (Broughton) had long before left the ring, and lived

independently on the property he had saved, and on an annuity which he

enjoyed from his Royal Master, the old, or Culloden, Duke of Cumberland,

whom, by the bye, he used in former days to style ‘Duke William.’”

_Boxiana_ says he died January the 8th, 1789, but this can hardly be the

correct date. In the _Annual Register_ for 1789, Chronicle for January,

we read as follows:—“Died, at his house, at Walcot Place, Lambeth, in

his 85th year, the celebrated John Broughton, whose skill in boxing is

well known, and will ever be recorded in the annals of that science. He

was originally bred a waterman. His patron, the late Duke of Cumberland,

got him appointed one of the yeomen of the guard, which place he enjoyed

till his death. He was buried in Lambeth Church on the 21st instant, and

his funeral procession was adorned with the presence of the several

capital professors of boxing. He is supposed to have died worth £7,000.”

His enjoyment of his place and pension till death seems to qualify the

“utter desertion” of his patron, and falsify the “ruin” which is related

in _Boxiana_ apparently to “adorn a tale,” if not “to point a moral.”

[Illustration]

CHAPTER IV.

JACK SLACK (CHAMPION)—1750‒1760.

STEVENS—SMALLWOOD—EDWARD HUNT—BUCKHORSE—TOM FAULKNER—BILL DARTS—LYONS

(THE WATERMAN)—PETER CORCORAN—HARRY SELLERS—JOE HOOD—STEPHEN OLIVER

(DEATH)—SAM PETERS—ELISHA CRABBE—SMALL.

Though the prestige of Broughton has gone far to illustrate the name of

his conqueror, this lucky, rather than skilful, achievement will not

give him the place he deserves among boxers with those with whom success

is not “the be-all and end-all” in war or in worldly fortune. Slack

fought better battles than that in which he tore the laurel from the

brow of the veteran Broughton. We read of him in a contemporary

journal:—“Slack is a butcher from Norwich; his height is five feet eight

inches and a half, and his weight nearly fourteen stone. He is

remarkably compact” (we should think so at fourteen stone for so short a

man), “superior to the generality of men in strength, and of excellent

bottom. His method of hitting is not regular, and he seldom fights on a

preconcerted plan; but his style being suited to the man contending with

him, few were able to resist him, when he resolved on victory. His blows

were usually given with such force, that his name ‘Slack’ passed into a

slang expression, and ‘a slack’un’ meant a smashing hit. His attitude

was remarkably upright, legs little separated, the right hand covering

the pit of the stomach, and the left placed immediately before the

mouth.”[20] It is not possible to distinguish much science in such an

attitude, and had he not been more resolute in attack, and more game in

taking punishment than his opponents, he might have missed the proud

title of champion. We are told, “with the greatest resolution he

disputed every inch of ground, and was so averse to shifting or

retreating, that he has risked and received a knock-down blow rather

than give up his position. Slack frequently used the _chopper_,[21] and

generally with success (this says little for his opponents’ defence), in

a return. Bringing his fist to his breast, and projecting his elbow, he

threw off a blow describing a segment of a circle(!), the centre of

which was the elbow, unexpectedly striking his antagonist in the face

with the back of his hand. This mode was completely his own, but has

since been adopted by many.” (“Pancratia,” p. 40). We do not know that

we have ever read more nonsense in as many lines; but this is not the

place for a treatise on the art.

Slack, after numerous victories in the provinces, came up to Broughton’s

booth, about 1748, to try his fortune. It may interest some of our

readers to see a challenge of the day in which John Slack figures as the

respondent. The advertisement is curious.

_October 30, 1744.—At the Castle, in Framlingham, in Suffolk, on

Monday, the 12th day of November next ensuing, there will be a

severe trial of manhood between the following Champions, viz._,

I, DANIEL SMITH, the Suffolk Champion, do once more invite Mr. John

Slack, the Norfolk Champion, to meet and fight me at the time and

place above said, for the sum of forty guineas: and though I had the

misfortune to be defeated by him before, am sure I am much superior

in the art of boxing, and doubt not but I shall give him and the

company entire satisfaction.

DANIEL SMITH.

I, JOHN SLACK, the Norfolk Champion, do accept the above challenge,

and will be certain to meet and fight the above hero for the said

sum, at the time and place above mentioned; and don’t doubt but I

shall support the character I have hitherto maintained.

JOHN SLACK.

N.B. They are to fight upon a stage, and galleries will be erected

for the reception of gentlemen, &c.

The doors will be opened at nine o’clock, and the champions mount

the stage at one.

It will be seen from this that Daniel Smith had already fallen before

Slack’s ponderous arm. When and where we have found no record. That on

this occasion he again made the Suffolk champion strike his colours, may

be fairly assumed from the fact that when, after some successes over

inferior boxers, he had the audacity to challenge George Taylor himself,

it is recorded as Slack’s first defeat. “He had not been hitherto

beaten.” The battle, as already narrated, took place on the last day of

January, 1750, at Broughton’s amphitheatre, and was a desperate contest

on the part of Slack, who rushed in till he was punished to

helplessness.

[Illustration:

JACK SLACK, OF BRISTOL, THE CONQUEROR OF BROUGHTON.

_From a Bust sculptured by_ SIVIER.

]

Shortly after this defeat Slack was present at Hounslow Races. Here a

dispute arose, in the course of which Broughton, considering Slack’s

conduct insolent, assumed a high tone of superiority, threatening to

horsewhip “the butcher” on the spot. With the merits of the quarrel we

have nothing to do. Slack, in whose composition there was certainly no

fear of man, at once challenged the redoubted and highly patronised

waterman, who upon the spot accepted the defiance. Some of the

preliminary incidents of this remarkable battle have been already

touched upon in the memoir of Broughton. That skilful boxer appears to

have viewed the challenge of Slack with a fatal self-confidence. Indeed,

considering that Slack had recently surrendered to Taylor, whose

qualifications none knew better than Broughton, who had long since

defeated him, probably more than once, there was some ground for

confidence, and we have it on authority that he considered there was no

necessity for regular training, imperfectly as that process was carried

out at that period. We prefer copying an account from a paper of the

day, to the embellished apocrypha of later histories.

“On Wednesday, April 11 (1750), was fought the grand boxing match

between the celebrated Broughton, hitherto invincible, and John Slack,

the Norfolk butcher. Before the battle began Broughton gave Slack ten

guineas to fight him, according to a previous promise, which Slack

immediately betted against one hundred guineas offered as odds against

him. The first two minutes the odds were ten to one in favour of

Broughton; but Slack, recovering himself, struck a blow which blinded

his adversary, and following up his advantage, obtained a complete

victory in fourteen minutes, to the great mortification of the knowing

ones, including a peer of the first rank, who, betting ten to one, lost

£10,000. The money received at the doors was £130, besides 200 tickets

at a guinea and a half each; and as the battle was for the whole house,

it is supposed the victor cleared £600.”

We have already said that the downfal of Broughton was the downfal of

public pugilism in the metropolis; whatever there was of good in the art

to a great extent perishing at the caprice of a prince and the power of

a few aristocrats. If these are necessary concomitants to its existence,

it would not have been worth preserving, but it has survived the frowns

of power, and had a better support in the favour of the people. If

Broughton’s theatre was closed, the _ars pugnandi_ dwelt in the

provinces, and we find our hero engaged in 1751 at Harlston, in Norfolk,

with a gigantic Frenchman, whose name, Petit or Pettit, almost savours

of a jest. Pettit appears to have been an exhibitor in a circus as a

“strong man,” and was noted for immense muscular powers. Of his boxing

capabilities, like those of the Gondolier, we cannot form a high

estimate. The following letter appeared in the papers of the time:—

“_Harlston, Norfolk, July 30th, 1751._

“Yesterday, in the afternoon, Slack and Pettit met and fought. At

the first set-to Pettit seized Slack by the throat, held him up

against the rails, and _grained_[22] him so much as to make him

extremely black. This continued for half a minute, before Slack

could break from Pettit’s hold; after which, for near ten minutes,

Pettit kept fighting and driving hard at Slack, when at length Slack

closed with his antagonist, and gave him a severe fall, after that a

second and a third, but between these falls, Pettit threw Slack

twice off the stage; indeed Pettit so much dreaded Slack’s falls,

that he ran directly at his hams, and tumbled him down,[23] and by

that means gave Slack an opportunity of making the falls easy. When

they had been fighting 18 minutes the odds run against Slack, a

guinea to a shilling; whereas, on first setting out, it was three or

four to one on his head; but after this time Slack _shortened_

Pettit so as to disable him from running and throwing him down in

the manner he had done before, but obliged him to stand to _close

fighting_. Slack then closed one of his eyes, and beat him very much

about the face; at twenty minutes Pettit grew weaker and Slack

stronger. This was occasioned by Slack’s straight way of fighting.

At twenty-two minutes the best judges allowed Slack to have the

advantage over Pettit very considerably, as he was then _recovering

his wind_, owing to his game qualities. When they had boxed

twenty-four minutes, Pettit once more threw Slack over the rails.

This indeed Slack allowed him to do, for as he got his hold, Slack

fired a blow under Pettit’s ribs that hurt severely. While Slack was

again getting upon the stage (it was not half a minute before he

remounted), Pettit had so much the fear of his antagonist before his

eyes, that he walked off without so much as civilly taking leave of

the spectators. The cockers call this rogueing it, for it is

generally thought that Pettit ran away full strong. The whole time

of their fighting was twenty-five minutes, and this morning the

battle was judged to Slack, who drew the first ten guineas out of

the box.”

From the last sentence it would seem that there was a subscribed fund,

and principal and secondary prizes for the winners.

We read in “Pancratia,” that “the name of Slack was, and not unjustly, a

terror to fightable rustics.” “At a country fair a ‘native,’ depending

on his natural prowess, gave Slack a blow in the face. We may presume it

was returned, and ‘a ring’ being called, a sharp set-to began. It is

said the countryman had the advantage, until Slack exclaimed with

fervour, ‘What! shall it be said a ploughman beat Jack Slack?’ The very

name appalled the countryman, who, imagining his antagonist had been

playing with him, said, ‘Have I been fightin’ wi’ Slack? I’ll ha’ no

more on’t.’ And he was as good as his word, donning his clothes and

leaving the field to the veteran professional.”

The next recorded battle of Slack was for 100 guineas with Cornelius

Harris, a collier of Kingswood, near Bristol. It took place on the 13th

of March, 1755. The skill and tactics of Slack were severely tried,

Harris fighting desperately in Slack’s own early style for twenty

minutes, when he gave in.

On October 20th, 1759, Slack is again recorded as victor in a fight for

£50 aside with one Moreton, who had issued a challenge to the champion.

It came off at Acton Wells. Moreton proved himself a courageous, if not

a good boxer; but at the end of thirty-five minutes he acknowledged his

mistake.

Ten years had now elapsed since Slack had vanquished the renowned

Broughton, and held the title of champion—but the honour was dazzling,

and another hero put in his claim for the towering prize. Slack’s fame

was well established; and here royalty once more appeared on the

pugilistic scene; for Broughton’s old patron, the Duke of Cumberland,

stepped forward and backed Slack for £100 against Bill Stevens, the

Nailer, whom the Duke of York took under his patronage. The Haymarket

was the scene of action, and a stage was erected in the Tennis Court,

James Street, on the day of the 17th of June, 1760. Slack entered the

field with all the confidence of a veteran, and was acknowledged to have

the advantage in the first part of the battle; but the Nailer, with an

arm like iron, received the ponderous blows of his antagonist on his

left with ease, while with his right arm he so punished the champion’s

nob, that he knocked off the title, picked it up, and wore it. Thus fell

the hitherto invincible Slack.

This second great mistake of William of Cumberland seems to have

disgusted him with the ring, and we hear no more of him. The Duke of

York here spoken of was one of the uncles of George III., whose father,

Frederick, Prince of Wales, died in George II.’s lifetime.

Slack now quitted the pugilistic profession, and returned to his old

trade, opening a butcher’s shop in Chandos Street, Covent Garden. Here

he carried on a good business, but still mixed himself in fistic

matters. He backed and trained George Meggs, of whom more anon, to fight

Bill Stevens, his conqueror, for the championship and 200 guineas. The

fight came off on the 2nd of March, 1761, at the Tennis Court, St.

James’ Street. The reporter says, “At the first onset Stevens missed his

blow, and Meggs struck him that instant on the side of the head and

knocked him down. This error seems to have lost him the battle. After

this the battle lasted seventeen minutes, with scarcely a blow struck,

when Stevens gave in.” We regret to say that this disgraceful affair was

clearly traced to Slack, who gave Stevens 50 guineas and his stake.

“Pancratia” says: “An old supporter of Stevens, meeting him one day,

expressed his surprise at this defeat, when Bill drily answered him,

‘Why, Lord bless you, the day I fought Jack Slack I got 90 guineas; but

I got 50 guineas more than I should otherwise have done by letting

Georgy beat me; and, damme, ain’t I the same man still?’” The Nailer and

Slack both fell into disrepute; but the latter stuck to his business,

and appears to have prospered until his death in 1778.

BILL STEVENS THE NAILER (CHAMPION)—1760.

This tremendous boxer, whose courage found no counterpart in his

honesty, will aptly come in here. It would be tedious, could they even

be dug up, to give an outline of his many battles before his crowning

victory over Slack, with the exception of one, that with Jacob Taplin,

the coal-eaver.

The winter of 1760 was rendered memorable in the annals of pugilism by a

desperately contested battle, “fought in the month of February between

William Stevens the Nailer and Jacob Taplin. The site fixed on for

deciding the boxing match was the hollow known as Marylebone Basin,

which held about 3,000 spectators. A ring was formed in its centre, and

the champions commenced the combat. Taplin in the first rounds seemed to

have much the best of the Nailer, who received some tremendous blows in

the ‘bread-basket,’ which had several times knocked him down. The last

time Stevens seemed to rise with the fury of a lion roused from slowness

and placidity into excessive irritation. He faced his antagonist and let

fly, levelling him at his feet. The odds, which had been in favour of

Taplin, now became four to one on Stevens. In the next round he repeated

his knock-down by a tremendous blow below the left breast. When Taplin

rose next time, he closed on him suddenly and both fell. The next round

decided the battle in favour of Stevens, who struck Taplin on the left

eye with his left hand, while with the other he followed it by a blow on

the temple, which laid him senseless. Taplin not being prepared in time

to resume the contest, Stevens was declared the victor.”—_Daily

Advertiser, Feb. 20, 1760._

And now the fame of Stevens running abroad he received the highest

patronage, and was matched for 100 guineas aside against the veteran

champion Slack. The result has been already told. He disabled Slack’s

guard by repeated and heavy blows on his left forearm, and followed them

by a right hand lunge at the head, accompanied by a trip at his left

foot, which disturbed the champion’s balance. In the words of the

report, “he with his right hand beat him about the head, while at the

same time tripping him off his centre with his foot.” The champion’s

title fell to Stevens, but he did not long wear it, through his own

misconduct. The battle, or rather sham fight at the Tennis Court with

George Meggs, the collier, has been already noticed. Stevens, after

seventeen minutes of trickery, scarcely knowing how to make a fight of

it, gave in.[24]

Stevens’ later fights were few. His backers had, of course, deserted

him. On July 4, 1769, we find as follows: “William Stevens, the Nailer,

who dexterously played the _cross_ with George Meggs, fought a battle

with M’Guire, an Irish pugilist, on the green stage at the back of

Montague House. M’Guire was beaten.”

Stevens was also defeated by one Turner, but the date and circumstances

are not recorded. We learn this fact from the account of Turner’s

victory over Peter Corcoran, the Irish champion (Sept. 24, 1769).

Stevens’ career closed in defeat and disgrace. Eighteen years after his

victory over Slack, he entered the ring with the rising Harry Sellers

(see SELLERS, _post_). Stevens added another illustration to the ring

proverb—“Youth will be served.” Had Stevens kept the straight course, he

might have emulated Taylor, Broughton, and Slack. The date of his death

is uncertain.

THOMAS SMALLWOOD—1741‒1757.

Among the luminaries of George Taylor’s Great Booth, and subsequently of

Broughton’s Amphitheatre, Tom Smallwood, though never opposed to the

very foremost men of his time, was a ready and resolute boxer of no

small pretensions. Captain Godfrey has enshrined him in his curious

pages, so that entire omission of him would be inexcusable in these

sketches of the early heroes of the ring. “Had he but possessed weight

(whence we may infer he was what we should now call a ‘middle weight,’

say 11 stone), he was capable of standing against any man.” It must be

remembered that “rushing,” and “hammering,” and “driving against the

rails,” seem to have been much in vogue in the stage encounters of the

period; and the preposterous weight of thirteen stone and a half and

fourteen stone was thought advantageous for a man of five feet eight or

nine inches! Smallwood’s battles were numerous and creditable, whether

in defeat or success. His first battle recorded in the “Diurnals” was

with one Dimmocks, a powerful carman, at Taylor’s Booth, in May, 1741,

the month after Broughton had defeated Stevenson, the coachman. It was a

desperate affair, and well contested by Smallwood, then a youth. After

three-quarters of an hour of severe fighting, Smallwood was beaten by

the superior strength of his opponent.

In the following November Tom Smallwood again entered the lists with

Richard Harris, a brick-maker, for 50 guineas. It is described as “one

of the severest boxing matches that had taken place for many years,” and

“contested with alternate successes, with the greatest hardihood and

intrepidity, for one hour, when victory decided in favour of Smallwood.”

Broughton expressed a high opinion of the courage and skill of

Smallwood. The day was also noted for the first appearance of

“Buckhorse” (John Smith) upon this stage, who fought “a draw” with Harry

Gray, the clogmaker. See BUCKHORSE, _post_.

In the notice of GEORGE TAYLOR will be found a couple of specimens of

his booth advertisements. They contain the names of Tom Smallwood and

Will Willis (the Fighting Quaker). On this occasion (April 28, 1742) our

hero despised Willis, who derived his nickname from a remarkably plain

and formal appearance, and a sedateness of manner not common among

“knights of the fives,” with whom fun and flash appear to have been ever

prevalent. At this point, after an imaginary account of Smallwood’s

victory, stuffed with the slang of the first quarter of the present

century, and bald attempts at facetiousness, the “Historian” adds, “Tom

Smallwood fought several other battles, in _all_ of which he proved

victorious; but the combatants were not of sufficient importance to

claim mention.”—Boxiana, vol. i., p. 33. He then proceeds, p. 67, to

give a memoir of Edward Hunt, on whom he lavishes just praises, and

records his _defeat_ by Smallwood, as one out of the many specimens of

_method_ with which his hash is concocted.

Smallwood, after the closing of Taylor’s Booth in 1744, does not appear

to have belonged to Broughton’s company, for we find him fighting one

King, a butcher, at Stanton Green, who beat him, in January, 1746. The

particulars of this battle are not recorded, but King is said to have

also “fought several good battles at the Booth.” There is something

obscure about this battle, as Captain Godfrey, writing in 1747, a

constant visitor at Broughton’s, and _au courant_ with every man in the

fistic world, says, “If I was to choose a boxer for my money, and could

but purchase him strength equal to his resolution, Smallwood should be

the man.”

The most remarkable of Smallwood’s triumphs was his victory over

Broughton’s favourite pupil and _protegé_, Edward Hunt, whose defeat of

Hawksley, the Life-guardsman, had made him the talk of the town. The

battle had been long talked of, and was fought on a stage at Hounslow,

July 14, 1757. The stake was 150 guineas. For thirty minutes the combat

was carried on with equal resolution, and without any leading advantage.

“For the first 35 minutes the odds were alternately on each man. After

this time, Tom, who was the heavier man, closed with Hunt more

frequently, and by superior strength followed it up with such advantage,

that in 50 minutes the battle was decided in his favour.” Hunt is said

to have weighed but nine stone. Smallwood was seconded by “Old George

Taylor,” and Hunt by the champion, Jack Slack.

Smallwood, who had now been at least seventeen years before the public,

seems to have retired a conqueror, as we have no further mention of his

name.

EDWARD HUNT—1746‒1758.

This favourite pupil of Broughton continually appears in his master’s

advertisements. He was a boxer of first-rate science, as then practised,

with unquestionable courage, extreme hardihood, and remarkable activity.

Though barely five feet five inches, and weighing but nine stone, he

often fought and defeated men of large stature, and vastly his superiors

in weight. “Being constantly overmatched, he had more difficulties to

encounter than any other boxer on the list, and of the few instances of

‘shifting’ which occurred in his time, he is the most singular, for he

conquered the stoutest men by his admirable art. With strength so much

beyond his own opposed to him he might have been allowed to drop, but he

seldom fell without a blow. He never confined himself to one attitude,

for, being extremely active, he found he could more effectually confuse

his antagonist by continually changing his guard. He endeavoured to

avoid blows aimed at his body by stepping aside, and then took an

opportunity of dexterously ‘winding’ his man, who was driven forward by

his own force. If a blow was aimed at his head, he stooped to let his

adversary’s arm pass over him, and then succeeded in general in planting

a good body blow. These manœuvres proved highly advantageous to Hunt in

his pugilistic career, for his opponents became aware of these

practices, and accordingly fought on the defensive, by which means he

became the assailant, and avoided being overwhelmed by their superior

power.” This is the description of a consummate boxer by a master hand;

quoted in “Pancratia,” pp. 50, 51. “What a picture of a combination of

the styles of Young Dutch Sam and Bendigo! With this before you read

Pierce Egan’s stuff about Hunt’s not “fearing the _disparagement_

(_sic_) between him and his _lofty_ opponent,” and “stood up to Hawksley

prime as a _game_ cock,” etc. The contemporary account of Hunt’s battle

with Hawksley is brief:—

“On June 11th (1746) a very severe battle was contested at the

Amphitheatre between Edward Hunt, a pupil of Mr. Broughton’s, weighing

only nine stone,[25] and one Hawksley a Life-guardsman, who weighed

seventeen stone. The odds before fighting were ten to one in favour of

Hawksley. The battle lasted only ten minutes, during which the odds

changed in favour of Hunt, who was declared the victor.” This affair is

most unaccountable; shifting, and the “planting” of a nine stone man,

could hardly have beaten Hawksley in ten minutes, unless he was out of

condition, drunk, or a coward.

His next great battle was with Smallwood (1757), already narrated; and

his last recorded appearance was with Richard Mills, a game boxer, known

by the name of “the Onion Boy,” May 17, 1758, at Islington. After an

hour’s severe fighting, Hunt, upon whom large odds were betted, was

compelled to surrender.

BUCKHORSE (JOHN SMITH)—1732‒1746.

There was one pugilist of this period, whose name we rather introduce as

a remarkable _lusus naturæ_ than as an illustrator of the noble art.

This individual was John Smith, more commonly known as BUCKHORSE. The

following particulars are chiefly derived from a memoir which appeared

in the “Eccentric Magazine.”

[Illustration:

BUCKHORSE (JOHN SMITH), 1732‒1746.

_After an Etching by_ WILLIAM HOGARTH.

]

“BUCKHORSE, whose real name is said to have been John Smith, first saw

the light in the house of a sinner, in that part of London known by the

name of Lewkner’s Lane, a place notorious in the extreme for the

eccentricity of the characters it contained: here the disciples of

Bamfylde Moore Carew were to be found in crowds, and cadgers of all

descriptions resorted to regale themselves upon the good things of this

life, laughing at the credulity of the public in being so easily duped

by their impositions; and here the juvenile prig was soon taught to

become an adept in the profession, by taking out a handkerchief or a

snuff-box, from the pocket of a coat covered with bells, without ringing

any of them. In these slums the finished thief roosted from the prying

eyes of society, and laid plans for his future depredations.

“It appears, then, that few places could boast of more originality of

character than that from which BUCKHORSE sprang; and, from the variety

of talents here displayed, there is little doubt he did not remain long

a novice. As we have never been troubled with any account to what

good-natured personage he owed his origin, we cannot determine; but

suffice it to observe, that little BUCKHORSE and his mother were turned

out upon the wide world, long before he knew its slippery qualities, by

the cruel publican, their landlord, which inhuman circumstance took

place about the year 1720.

“This freak of nature, it would seem, was indebted to his mother for

what little instruction he received, the principal of which was an

extraordinary volubility of speech; and from his early acquaintance with

the streets he picked up the rest of his qualifications.

“Buckhorse’s composition, however rude and unsightly, was not without

harmony; and although his fist might not appear musical to his

antagonist by its potent touch, yet when applied to his own chin, was

capable of producing a variety of popular tunes, to the astonishment of

all those who heard and saw him, and by which peculiar trait he mostly

subsisted, added to selling little switches for a halfpenny a-piece, his

cry of which was so singular, that Shuter, the celebrated comedian,

among his other imitations, was more than successful in his mimicry of

Buckhorse, which was repeatedly called for a second time.

“As a pugilist, BUCKHORSE ranked high for strength and endurance among

the boxers of the day, and displayed great muscular power in the battles

he contested.”

“Boxiana” says, under date 1742, after the fight of Smallwood and

Willis, “About this time the noted Buckhorse fought Harry Gray, when the

latter got severely punished by this ugly customer.” It is true that

this battle took place in 1742, but if Mr. Egan had read Fig’s bill,

which he prints at p. 44, vol. i., he would have seen there that, ten

years previous (Sept. 18, 1732), it is announced that “BUCKHORSE and

several other pugilists will show the art of boxing.” Unless the infant

was eight years old in 1720, he must have been “noted” enough to be

specially underlined in capital letters at twelve years old! Fig died in

1734 (see p. 12, _ante_). Buckhorse continues, too, it will be seen, in

Broughton’s bill for his “New Amphitheatre,” on the 13th of March, 1743

(p. 24, _ante_), and is there advertised, not for a match among the

eight men specially named as to be paired, but in a singular manner,

indicative of a _mêlée_ rather than a boxing match. Thus: “N.B. There

will be a battle royal by the NOTED BUCKHORSE and seven or _eight

others_, after which there will be several _bye-battles_ with others.”

Buckhorse seems to have fought previously in these bye-battles, _e.g._,

that with Harry Gray (who here appears among the men to be matched), two

years previously (23rd Nov., 1741), after Tom Smallwood had defeated

Harris. (See _ante_, p. 38.)

There is something truly Hogarthian in the portrait handed down to us;

and as he was a contemporary of “the valiant Fig,” it is no strained

supposition that it came originally from the great English master’s

pencil, as well as that of the champion himself.

“As ugly as Buckhorse” was for a long time the uncomplimentary

expression for a remarkably ugly man. This singular being is said to

have been in the custom of allowing himself to be knocked down for a

trifling gratuity by any one who might fancy a trial of the strength of

his own arm.

TOM FAULKNER, THE CRICKETER—1758‒1791.

One of the best men of his day, and who divided his attention between

the two great English games, cricket and boxing, both, in a scientific

form, nearly contemporaneous, was Tom Faulkner. Twice, fired with the

ambition of holding the champion’s title, did he enter the lists with

the renowned George Taylor, and twice, after a good fight, he succumbed

to his master in skill. But Tom feared not an uphill game. He felt that

he had the key to the secret of his former defeats, and a third time, in

1758, challenged Taylor to the field. Taylor had now retired, and, as

already stated, kept the Fountain at Deptford. The “old ’un” accepted

the challenge without hesitation, and in Hertfordshire, one mile and a

half from St. Alban’s, on the 13th of August, 1758, the heroes met, the

stakes being 200 guineas and the door money. Faulkner, it is said, with

the odds of three to one against him, risked all he possessed upon the

event. Faulkner, knowing his man, determined to keep him to fighting.

“He began the attack with astonishing courage, amounting almost to

ferocity. For several of the earlier rounds Faulkner was either knocked

down or thrown. About the fifteenth, Taylor was blowing, but in a rally

each put in a dozen hard blows before Faulkner levelled his opponent.

Taylor now began to shift, and several times fell without a blow.[26]

This created much disapprobation and confusion, but Faulkner easily

consented to proceed. Afterwards they set to more resolutely, if

possible, than before, when after a severe contest of one hour and a

quarter, Taylor acknowledged himself beaten. They were both carried off

the ground, and it was the general opinion that more skill and courage

never was displayed by any pugilist in this country. Taylor’s loss of an

eye and a blow at the close of the fight on the other were the aiding

excuses of his defeat.”

In the next year (1759) Tom Faulkner was in turn challenged by Joe

James. Joe came of a fighting family, and his brother Jack James, “the

bruiser at Broughton’s Amphitheatre,” with his father, “old Jockey

James, of Newmarket,” seconded young Joe. The battle came off at Putney,

Surrey, on April 8, 1759, for 100 guineas. “A stage was erected near the

White Lion Inn, and they set-to about two o’clock. Before a blow was

struck the odds were two to one (they betted preposterously tempting

odds in those green and early days) in favour of James, and after the

third round five to one. Joe knocked Faulkner down several times (here

was piling up the agony), when, in the last round, _which was not more

than ten minutes from the commencement of the contest_, Faulkner, by a

well-aimed blow, brought down James (!), on which, though apparently not

hurt or even fatigued, he gave in.” We should think so: it would have

been mere tempting fortune to go on. The chronicler adds, “the

indignation of the spectators was very highly expressed by their hissing

him off the ground,”[27] which did not, it seems, prevent the bets going

with the battle-money. Verily, as Bildad the Shuhite said of the man of

Uz, so may we say of this ancient ring-scribe, “Behold, he is yet in his

greenness.” “Old Jockey James” seems to have known when to give “the

office” that the “book was full.”

Tom appears now to have betaken himself to attacking his opponents’

_stumps_, and bowling them out with “underhand twisters,” for as yet the

hand above the elbow was not, the curve-bladed bat was like a

butter-knife, and two stumps with a cross-piece gave every chance that a

straight ball would go harmlessly through the wicket. Yet were there

skill and enjoyment in those days of our forefathers, and the village

green and its May-pole were institutions of “Merrie England.” The

May-pole is as extinct as the megatherium, and what has modern science

given us in its place? Among those who—

“At foot-ball or at cricket,

At prison-base or touching-chase

Right featly then could prick it,”

Tom Faulkner was long remembered. Yet does his name again occur in 1789.

The bruisers of Birmingham challenged those of the best note in London.

Isaac Perrins challenged Tom Johnson, the champion (See life of JOHNSON,

_post_.) Jacombs challenged Bryan (Big Ben); Pickard, George Ingleston,

the brewer; and these fights came off, as we shall see, in favour of the

metropolis. Fired with the idea, Tom FAULKNER (at 53 years of age!)

challenged Watson, and Thornhill threw down the gauntlet to Hooper, the

tinman. These two last matches went off; a proof, we think, that the

Birmingham backers were not without judgment, though they did lose the

first three events.

Tom Faulkner was certainly an evergreen of amazing sap and pith. Early

in 1791 he was challenged by Thornhill (called in the report “the

Warwickshire bruiser”), who had been disappointed in his match with

Hooper, the tinman. The veteran Tom accepted the cartel, and they met at

Studley, in Warwickshire, March 21, 1791. “Ryan seconded Faulkner, and

Williams was his bottleholder. Jack Lea waited upon Thornhill, with

Biggs his bottleholder.” We copy the report. “At two o’clock the

combatants set-to, and throughout the battle Tom’s superiority in

judgment and distance was manifestly evident. Thornhill was much the

stronger man, and only fell by one knock-down blow during the contest,

except the last, which Tom struck him in the neck, too forcibly to be

withstood, and Thornhill gave in. The conflict was extremely severe, and

lasted fifty minutes. The door money amounted to upwards of £80,

two-thirds of which became the property of the winner, and the remainder

to the unsuccessful combatant.” Faulkner was one of those lucky men who

closed a career of exceptional length with the garland of victory on his

grey head. Tom was living in 1798.

BILL DARTS (CHAMPION)—1764‒1771.

Among the boxers of his day, Bill Darts, the dyer, held a high

reputation for steady courage and hard hitting, and by no means a

contemptible amount of science. One of the most remarkable of his

battles was with Tom Juchau,[28] at Guildford, Surrey, in May, 1766. It

was a famous fight for forty minutes, when Juchau was beaten out of

time. The stakes were 1,000 guineas.

Dogget, the West Country Bargeman, had secured so high a name among the

“twoads” that an invite was given to Bill Darts to come down to

Marlborough to be thrashed. With the first part of the invitation Bill

complied; the second he not only declined, but, _per contra_, gave Mr.

Dogget such a thrashing, that he carried off the honours of the day and

the irate countryman’s 100 guineas staked upon the event.

Swansey, the butcher, found friends to back him for 50 guineas, and he

and Darts met, Oct. 13, 1767, on Epping Forest. The butcher was soon

knocked down and thoroughly cut up.

Bill Darts now invited all comers for the championship, which he had

held for five years, when Lyons,[29] a waterman of Kingston-upon-Thames,

disputed his title. They met, and Darts, for the first time, was

defeated in forty-five minutes, on the 27th of June, 1769.

Bill Darts next entered the lists with a competitor of formidable

name—Death (Stephen Oliver). Oliver was certainly “stale,” as he had

been one of Broughton’s favourite pupils. (See DEATH.) It was a

well-contested fight, Oliver proving extremely game and skilful; but the

superior strength and weight of Darts’ hits overcame the darts of Death,

and the namesake of the universal conqueror fell before Bill’s

victorious arm. This battle was fought at Putney, on a stage, March

25th, 1770. “Boxiana” has not given a single date to any of Darts’

fights; accordingly, “Fights for the Championship,” 1855, informs its

readers that, “the dates of these battles,” as well as those of George

Meggs, Millsom, etc., “are not recorded!”

On the 18th of May, 1771, during Epsom races, Bill Darts fought Peter

Corcoran, an Irish bruiser of vast pretensions, about whom Pierce Egan

has indited his usual amount of rhodomontade, which we shall correct

under his name. The match was made for £100 aside, by the notorious

black-leg and bully, Captain O’Kelly, the lucky owner of Eclipse, who,

“before the fight gave Bill Darts 100 guineas to play _cross_.”[30] The

rest of this nefarious swindle we will give, according to our plan,

under the notice of the so-called victor Corcoran. Bill had now sold his

reputation, and was a lost man; his seducer, the greater scoundrel,

fared, like woman’s seducer, none the worse

“Through tattered clothes small vices do appear—

Robes and furred gowns hide all.”

Perhaps one of the funniest pieces of historical perversion on record is

Pierce Egan’s account (without a date) of this scandalous affair. It

would be injustice to mutilate it. “The famous Bill Darts now mounted

the stage with Corcoran for £200, to give additional sport to Epsom

races. The set-to commenced with cautious sparring on the part of Darts,

who soon discovered that he could not win (!), and in a short time gave

in. A singular report crept into circulation, accounting for Darts

losing the battle, that Colonel O’Kelly (one of the most celebrated

sportsmen on the turf) backed his countryman to a large amount; but to

make his bets dead sure, on the night previous to the fight, he

presented Darts with £100 not to win the battle, but positively to lose

it. Surely no thoroughbred sportsman could commit so barefaced a

robbery!” This is rather modest, considering the Colonel’s character;

what follows, however, distances it by lengths. “And upon the best

information, we are assured that Darts in his prime was never half man

enough for Peter Corcoran!” The notes of admiration are Pierce’s: we

have omitted his emphasised italics and small capitals. The reader may

form his own conclusion by reading Corcoran’s actual battles.

Darts appears several times as a second during 1771 and the following

years; notedly in a fight between Sam Peters, of Birmingham, and

Rossemus Gregory, an Irishman, in which Darts seconded the Hibernian,

but behaved so unfairly to save his man that Peters refused to fight on.

The result will be found under PETERS.

PETER CORCORAN

We may as well here dispatch Peter Corcoran, to whom Pierce Egan has

devoted several pages of fabrication in honour of “ould Ireland.” First

he thrashed all the potato diggers in the vicinity of his father’s mud

edifice; then he, and perhaps another, beat an English butcher who

refused to let him and a friend have a shoulder of mutton at their own

price: Pierce almost hints they had no money. It seems that Paddy not

only thrashed the butcher “Master Steel” in a few minutes, but “shortly

afterwards enjoyed his mutton (is the reader or the mutton roasted?)

with as keen an appetite as if nothing had happened (which we suppose

was the case), and next day pursued his journey to London.”[31] At

Portsmouth, after a trip to sea, he performed a number of feats of

strength; one among them was “_beating a whole press gang_, and breaking

the lieutenant’s sword over his head.” Here’s a scene for a new

“Black-eyed Susan.” The promotion of Billy Taylor’s sweetheart did not,

however, fall to the lot of Peter, and “on leaving the navy, he came to

London,” etc.

The first authenticated notice of his name we find under the date of,

“Sept. 4th (1769). A boxing match was decided between Turner, a pugilist

who had beaten Bill Stevens, and Peter Corcoran, an Irishman, for £20

aside, which was won by _the former_.” The battle took place in Hyde

Park, and is correctly given in “Fistiana,” though without a date. Now

let us turn to “Boxiana,” p. 59, vol. i. “Peter beat one Turner, who

fought him for £20, and although the latter had beaten the Nailer, yet,

in the hands of Corcoran, he was soon disposed of.” Three others, “good

men,” Dalton and Davis and “Smiler, the bricklayer,” were also,

according to the same veracious chronicler, “beaten dreadfully.” These

exploits bring us to Corcoran’s two “crosses” and his final thrashing.

That with Bill Darts we have said enough about. Of this we read in a

contemporary print—“After a little sparring, Corcoran gave Darts a blow

on the side of the head, which drove him against the rail of the stage,

when he immediately gave in. It was said that Darts had played booty,

and none of the sporting men would afterwards back him; thus by one

dirty action Darts lost all the fame he had been for so many years

acquiring.” This reflection has a peculiar moral squint, as we have

already said. “What about the Colonel who bought the poor fellow?”

Whether his next battle with Peters was a victory we will just leave to

the reader of the report. “The long expected match between Sam Peters

and Peter Corcoran took place at Waltham Abbey, Essex, in June, 1774. At

setting-to the bets were three to one in favour of Peters (this, we

should say, was a good thing), who, though he maintained the

superiority, gave in without any apparent cause at the expiry of fifteen

minutes, greatly to the disappointment of the sporting ones.” We should

think so. Here is the account from “Boxiana,” p. 86, “Sam Peters was the

best man, according to Corcoran’s account, that ever set-to with him. It

was a complete hammering fight (!), and at the expiration of _ten

minutes_ Peters declared he was satisfied, and Corcoran’s body for

several days afterwards was entirely black, the bruises being extremely

severe.” Heavy work on both sides for _ten_ minutes. The fastest moderns

cannot go this pace. The account of Corcoran’s battle with Harry

Sellers, October 16th, 1776, will be found under HARRY SELLERS. As Peter

was thrashed, it was of course “a sell,” though it looks like a victory

on its merits, and “Boxiana” “points a moral,” which is applicable to

this as to all other cases of betrayal of backers by pugilists, who

should never forget—

“’Tis not in mortals to command success,”

but “do more, deserve it,” is very good—if the case warranted it.

The favourable notice in “Pancratia,” whence Pierce drew the staple he

has spun out so absurdly, thus speaks of Corcoran: “Peter, as a pugilist

of his period, stands first rank as a fair fighter; being generally

engaged with powerful pugilists, he was _unfortunate_ in the _events_ of

his contests, and indeed he had little reason to triumph when

victorious, for as he never shifted or fell, unless accidentally,

without a blow, he seldom escaped a severe drubbing.” These are the

words of truth and soberness, and place Corcoran’s courage and game on a

fair footing, despite the extravagant eulogies of his compatriot.

Perhaps, however, Mr. Vincent Dowling, in his “Fistiana,” has exercised

the wisest discretion; finding the accounts too discrepant for

reconciling, he has left the name of Corcoran out of the letter C

altogether.

HARRY SELLERS (CHAMPION)—1776‒1785.

Harry Sellers, a west country boxer of deserved provincial reputation,

was chosen by some friends as a likely young fellow to reduce the

braggadocia of Corcoran, whose challenges were of the true Hibernian cut

of some hedge-schoolmaster transplanted to the Seven Dials. The match

was made for 100 guineas “and a bet of £500 or £600 on the event,”—we do

not profess to know what the last phrase means—and the combatants met at

the Crown Inn, Staines, October 10, 1776. The attendance appears to have

been remarkably good. Corcoran, with the “gift of the gab,” was the

landlord of the Blakeney’s Head, St. Giles’s, and was a sort of

“Stunning Joe Banks” of his day: what he was good for as a pugilist we

cannot say. “At the first onset,” says the report, “Corcoran gave his

antagonist a violent blow, which threw him to the farthest end of the

stage, and the odds increased from three to four to one in Peter’s

favour. Sellers now fought very shy for about eighteen minutes, in order

to wind his antagonist, which having accomplished, he advanced boldly

and beat him by straight-forward hitting in ten minutes.” Did any one

ever read a more “plain unvarnished tale” of how a natural fighter and

good boxer beat a bounceable publican? What need of the farrago we find

at pages 86, 87, 88, vol. i. of “Boxiana,” to explain that which needs

no explanation? Corcoran was thrashed, and, we believe, couldn’t help

it. Pierce tells us a story of his house in St. Giles’s flowing with

“all sorts of spirits, plenty of new pots, etc., inside and outside

painted, and got up in superior style to what it was ever witnessed

before,” etc. Moreover—and here is the detail that clinches it—“Peter

was playing skittles next morning with all the activity and cheerfulness

of a man who had never been engaged in pugilism.”

As Pierce about this period was a Dublin “gossoon,” he must have had an

exact knowledge of the decorations, interior and exterior, of Peter’s

hostelrie, and a reliable tradition of his morning’s amusements. For

ourselves, a much more careful search than that of the inventor of

“Boxiana” (who made none, by the way), fails to tell us more than we

have hereinbefore set down.

On the 4th of June, 1777, at Ascot Heath races, Joe Hood,[32] a hardy

and successful boxer, fought Harry Sellers for 50 guineas aside. Joe

fought with great courage and skill, but the science and activity of

Sellers secured the victory. Hood fought Sellers again, four weeks

afterwards (June 2), and was again beaten.

In June, 1778, Harry Sellers met the once formidable champion, Bill

Stevens, the Nailer. It was a one-sided affair. Stevens, still

courageous, could not stand against the rapidity, skill, and freshness

of Harry, and was defeated. The stake was but £25, which shows how the

mighty Stevens had fallen.

The Crown, at Slough, a favourite rendezvous of the swell patrons of

pugilism, was the scene, on the 25th of September, 1780, of a boxing

match between Harry Sellers and Duggan Fearns, an Irish boatswain

(called Jack Fearns in “Boxiana”). The accounts read very like a cross,

though we can hardly say that there is clear evidence. “The battle

lasted _one minute and a half_, when victory was declared in favour of

Duggan.” We are not told _how_ the event was brought about, but the

reporter adds his own opinion: “the amateurs were swindled to a large

amount,” and certainly very clumsily.

On the 7th of June (1785), we find that Harry Sellers contested a battle

with William Harvey, an Irishman, in the Ass Field, near Holywell Mount,

Grays Inn Road, “in which, notwithstanding he exerted himself to the

utmost, he was conquered by dint of the Irishman’s strength in twenty

minutes.” The reader will observe the date is the 7th of June. This may

give him sufficient insight to value accordingly the story of “St.

Patrick’s evening” (17th March), the “insult to Mr. Harvey’s shamrock in

his hat,” the “leg of mutton and trimmings,” offered by Sellers to be

let off a thrashing, and the wretched rubbish in “Boxiana,” pp. 88, 89,

“for the greater glory of ould Ireland.” The red hot ire of Mr. Harvey

remained to cool from March 17th to the 7th of the following June, if

there be any truth in the periodical contemporary press.

The appearance of Humphries, Big Ben (Brain), and the rise of the great

Tom Johnson, seem to have quite extinguished the minor pugilistic stars,

and so occupied the whole attention of the patrons and historians of the

ring, that Sellers disappears from the scene. In “Pancratia,” p. 63, we

read, “It has been reported that Sellers actually died with grief, on

account of his friends refusing to match him with the celebrated

pugilist Tom Johnson when first he rose into fame.” This proves, at any

rate, that Sellers was what the west countrymen call “a good woolled

one:” there was no deficiency in breed, whatever there might be in his

probity or judgment.

STEPHEN OLIVER (NICKNAMED DEATH).—1770‒1788.

OF Stephen Oliver, whose singular sobriquet, “Death,” had a less

terrible derivation than it might suggest, we have but scant

contemporary notices, yet these have been neglected, and “Boxiana”

dismisses him with an incidental mention in the notice under DARTS (see

p. 45, _ante_), and four lines in reference to his battle with Small.

Oliver seems, by general consent of the best judges, to have been a

remarkably skilful, steady, and formidable boxer. The deadly paleness of

his visage during his pugilistic contests procured him the nickname of

“Death.” Oliver, as one of Broughton’s pupils, stood high on the list of

his favourites. The veteran often commended him as the best teacher and

exponent of his system. “He was a well made man, and light (as they

reckoned it then), never exceeding twelve stone; he did not possess

great strength, but this he fully compensated by his astonishing

agility. Oliver fought more battles than any man in England, and though

frequently overmatched, often conquered against odds. But his sparring,”

adds the author of “Historical Sketches,”[33] “notwithstanding it was

thought excellent some years back, is now equalled by any pupil of

Mendoza and Humphries. This indisputably shows we moderns have improved

in science.”

We pass over a long interval of Stephen Oliver’s performances to come to

his great fight with Bill Darts, March 25, 1770, wherein he was defeated

by youth, length, weight, and strength.

Six years afterwards, July 3rd, 1776, Death fought a short battle at

Barnet for £20 with a butcher of the name of William Small, a name by no

means corresponding with his bulk. A diurnal print tried a small piece

of wit in the form of what it called “an epigram.” Here it is—

“Ah! foolish wight, why strive to conquer Death?

When he, thou know’st, can stop thy vital breath;

That ruthless tyrant rules the lives of all,

And vanquishes the Great, as well as SMALL.”

The renowned Tom Johnson, of whom anon, had already beaten several

commoners, and especially Jarvis, “the fighting carman.” Stephen

accepted his general challenge, and, though stale and old, made a

creditable fight, at Blackheath, in 1784. (See JOHNSON, _post_.) Though

Jack Towers (brother of William, the bricklayer) is called the

“conqueror of the celebrated DEATH,” we cannot find the record of his

victory.

Oliver still lingered on the stage till 1788, in which year, on April

17th, “he fought one Elisha Crabbe,[34] a Jew, _on the turf_, at

Blackheath.” It was observed in the course of the contest that Death had

the lead in fair boxing, but that Crabbe got the best in closing, when

he was generally successful in flinging his adversary so as to pitch him

on his head. Although Crabbe had received many sharp blows, they did not

impair his strength, but Death was wounded badly in the face by a fall,

and had a severe gash over his right eyebrow. This obstructed his sight,

and very much contributed to lose him the battle. At the end of

thirty-five minutes Crabbe succeeded in giving Death a knock-down blow,

and the Jew was declared the conqueror. (“Pancratia,” p. 78.) The Prince

of Wales (afterwards George IV.), Colonel Hanger (Lord Coleraine), and

the leading patrons of the ring, were present on this occasion. A

bye-battle between Doyle, a well known pugilist, and a sawyer from

Deptford, which followed, ended in the anonymous sawyer beating the

professional in twenty minutes.

SAM PETERS, OF BIRMINGHAM—1771‒1774.

SAM PETERS, of Birmingham, is one of the second rates demanding notice

previous to closing this chapter. After many victories in Warwickshire

and the midland counties, Sam made his way to the metropolis, and was

backed for £20 against Trainer, a stalwart Irish chairman. They met at

Epping Forest, June 7, 1771, but Sam was so overmatched that, after a

clever fight of thirty-seven minutes, he fell before the heavier metal

of his antagonist.

The next month, on the 13th of July, Sam entered the ring at Fair Mead

Bottom, near Epping, with Rossemus Gregory, another Hibernian pugilist.

Bill Darts seconded Gregory, and Peters gave in on the ground of Darts

interfering unfairly in favour of his man. Another match was accordingly

made, and came off in the Riding School at the Three Hats,

Islington.[35] Here Master Gregory found he had better not have “bitten

his thumb” at Sam, for he got a most undeniable thrashing in half an

hour. Sam Peters’ “sell” with Corcoran, in 1774, has been already

commented on. From this time he ceased to find backers.

JOE HOOD—1773‒1780.

JOE HOOD, a weaver, fought some good battles between 1773 and 1780. His

first important contest was with the noted Jem Parrot, on the 9th of

November, 1773, in White Conduit Fields, Islington, for a stake of 20

guineas. Rossemus Gregory (see SAM PETERS, of Birmingham, _ante_)

seconded Parrot, and Sam Peters attended upon Joe Hood. The fight was

obstinately contested for thirty-five minutes, when a dispute arose

between the seconds as to a foul blow. Rossy Gregory would not allow his

man to fight longer, and Parrot left the ground, refusing to return. The

battle, upon a reference, was awarded to Hood.

On the 31st of March, 1775, Joe Hood met and conquered Dennis Kellyhorn,

“a famous Irish bruiser.” The battle was for 50 guineas, and took place

at Chingford Hatch, Essex.

Macdonald, a sawyer, of great strength and stature, issued a challenge

to Joe for £10. The set-to is described by the reporter as “furious on

the part of Macdonald.” Joe fought on the defensive for half an hour,

when the rush of Macdonald having slackened, Joe completely turned the

tables, and milled the sawyer all over the ring. Macdonald fought

obstinately: “he was beaten so dreadfully before he gave in, that both

eyes were closed, and it was found that his jaw was broken.”

Joe’s next battle with the champion, Harry Sellers, June 4, 1777, ended

in a defeat, though “Hood displayed astonishing judgment and bottom.”

This important battle is not mentioned in “Boxiana” (JOE HOOD, p. 81),

nor in “Fistiana,” under HOOD (p. 58, edit. 1864); nor does Hood’s

second defeat (July 2, 1774) appear under his name in either authority.

A noted Birmingham pugilist (the “Hardware Village” has always been

renowned for boxers) hight Joe Higgins, “who had fought fifteen battles,

in all of which he had been the conqueror,”[36] challenged Hood. He had

miscalculated his skill. They met July 23, 1778, when Hood gave him so

severe a beating as, says the authority just quoted, “taught him the

proper respect due to a scientific pugilist.”

The tide of battle now turned against Hood. On the 8th of September,

1778, after a severe attack of illness, Joe met “the Bristol Boy,” Peter

Bath, at Maidenhead races, for £50 a-side. “The bets were two to one in

Joe’s favour, notwithstanding his indifferent health.” Joe soon “found

himself entirely unable to cope with his opponent, and gave in after

fighting twenty minutes, when Bath[37] was hailed the conqueror.”

On the 4th of September, 1779, Hood was again unsuccessful in a pitched

battle in Smithfield with William Day, an active and game pugilist. This

seems to have been Joe’s last appearance as a principal, his

constitution being impaired.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER V.

TOM JOHNSON (THOMAS JACKLING). CHAMPION OF ENGLAND—1783‒1791.

Tom Johnson, whose real name was Jackling, was a native of Derby,

although a general claim of Yorkshire extraction has been made for him,

and “Boxiana” so states it; followed, of course, by “Fights for the

Championship,” London, 1855. However, as he signs himself “Thomas

Jackling, of Derby,” in a printed letter, the point is not worth

disputing. He surely could himself have no motive for such a

misrepresentation.

Johnson, for we shall retain his popular name, was certainly a hero

among heroes; and if Tom was inferior to Broughton in science, he came

certainly nearest of any man that had hitherto appeared to that phœnix

of pugilistic skill. Nature had endowed him with unusual strength of

body, and he was universally admitted to possess a careful and precise

style of hitting. His courage was of the highest order, and he possessed

a constitutional coolness of disposition and temper. Johnson was born in

1750, the very year that Jack Slack defeated his prototype, the champion

Broughton, and at an early age repaired to London, where he followed the

laborious occupation of a corn-porter, on a wharf near Old Swan Stairs.

His surprising strength was paralleled by his kindness of heart; and

while in this employment an anecdote is recorded of him which deserves

preservation. Johnson’s fellow porter was taken ill, and being burdened

with a wife and a numerous family, dependent on his labour for support,

they were likely to be reduced to want, had not Johnson immediately

undertaken (unknown to them) to do his fellow porter’s work, as well as

his own. The warehouses where the corn was deposited were situated at

some distance from the wharf, at the end of a court, denominated, from

its steepness, “Labour-in-vain Court,” and to which place Tom carried

every journey two sacks of corn instead of one, and gave the money to

his family, till his fellow porter was able to return to his work. We

would recommend this anecdote for extract in the next number of the

“Evangelical Magazine;” it can be much better authenticated than most of

the “lose-nothing” benevolences of their portrait-loving “labourers in

the vineyard.”

As we prefer truth unadorned to clumsy rhetoric we have here merely

paraphrased what we find in contemporaries, and, where advisable,

resorted to acknowledged quotations. “After he (Johnson) had assumed the

profession of the gymnasium (somewhat pedantic this, but the writer as

he goes on becomes more natural), he soon proved the most effective

among the whole race of modern athletæ. His strength, science, and

astonishing bottom gave him rank superior to all his contemporaries, but

his greatest excellence was his surprising coolness and judgment. It may

appear somewhat ridiculous to the inconsiderate, and those prejudiced

against the art, to attempt panegyric upon the mental gifts of a

pugilist, but where such a merit did or does exist, it is a duty

incumbent on those who are just and impartial to record it. The natural

powers of Johnson’s mind, although not developed by the care of what the

schoolmaster calls fostering education, were remarkably extensive and

capable of the accomplishment of great difficulties. Unlike many

pugilists, who seldom form any rules for their guidance in emergencies

until they find themselves on the stage, he invariably, long before,

determined on a system of conduct adapted to his own advantage, and

calculated to defeat the style of his adversary. To effect this, he

calmly balanced the respective abilities of his opponents, their

tempers, power, and mode of attack, and particularly noted the

constitution and disposition of his opponent. His grand principle in

fighting was never unnecessarily to expose himself to danger, nor hazard

anything which could be obtained with certainty by waiting. By acting on

this plan, he frequently at the conclusion of a battle, was nearly in as

good condition as at its commencement; for though confident when first

setting-to of an easy conquest, his prudence led him to protract an

engagement, which perhaps he could not speedily terminate, unless by

endangering himself. He usually, therefore, acted on the defensive, and

never made a blow but when confident of getting home. If his opponent

was cool, he was cooler; if warm and precipitate, he endeavoured to make

him still more so, by using every justifiable measure to disappoint and

baffle him; but he never took advantage of his man by unfair

manœuvres.”[38] This description, despite a certain stiffness of the old

school, is written by a master, and an appreciator of the art.

A few casual turns-up had shown the bent of Johnson’s natural genius for

fistic fame; and at 23 years of age, in June, 1783, he met a carman of

the name of Jarvis in Lock’s Fields, Walworth. The skill of Johnson, a

supposed novice opposed to a practised boxer, astonished the spectators.

Jarvis was severely thrashed, and Tom’s fame spread abroad.

A desperate rough, known as “the Croydon Drover,” next challenged

Johnson, and they fought on Kennington Common, in March, 1784. The

Drover was completely polished off in twenty-seven minutes.

Stephen Oliver (Death), though a decided “ould ’un,” would not believe

in Johnson’s vast superiority until he tried him, on Blackheath, in

June, 1784, when he had ocular demonstration by being beaten blind in

thirty-five minutes.

Johnson now seems to have reposed on his laurels without a competitor

till 1786. On the 11th of January in that year, Bill Love,[39] a

butcher, fancied Tom for 50 guineas a-side. Johnson disposed of Bill

Love’s pretensions in a few minutes.

Jack Towers, “the celebrated conqueror of Death,” says the reporter,

though we have not met with the record, met Johnson (for a stake not

stated), at Barnet, in February, 1786, and was soundly beaten without a

chance of retrieving his fame.

About this period, 1786, Humphries, Martin, the Bath butcher, and

Mendoza appeared. These celebrated men will be found duly chronicled “in

their right place.”

Fry, a big, heavy, and powerful man, next challenged Johnson for 50

guineas, and they fought at Kingston, in June, 1786, but in less than

half an hour Fry got so much broiled as to be very glad to put an end to

the contest; and Tom walked off the ground almost without a scratch.

Johnson, about this period (1787) beat every one that was opposed to

him, and the sporting world was almost nonplussed to find a man who

might stand something like a chance with him. As the metropolis could

produce no such character, Bristol was searched (the _parsley-bed_ of

pugilists), when Bill Warr[40] was selected as an article that could be

depended upon. He was backed to fight Johnson for 200 guineas, on a

stage, at Oakingham, in Berkshire, on January 18, 1787.

In the first round Warr found out he had got a trump to deal with, by

receiving a doubler from Johnson. He immediately assumed the defensive.

In fact, it was scarcely worthy of being called a fight, and the

amateurs were not only disappointed but much displeased. Warr was

convinced that he could not beat Johnson by standing up to him, and

therefore determined to try whether he could not tire him out by

shifting and falling; accordingly, whenever Tom seemed likely to make a

blow, Bill Warr was on his knees praying for pluck, _à la_ Tass Parker

and Nick Ward of more modern days. This humbugging lasted for nearly an

hour and a half, Johnson’s intentions being continually frustrated by

Warr’s dropping. At length an ugly hit nailed him as he was falling. He

insisted on a “foul!” which not being admitted, he instantly bolted,

notwithstanding the remonstrances of his seconds to come back and finish

the fight. In the words of the report: “Warr jumped up from his knees,

crying ‘foul!’ and jumped from the stage. His second called him several

times to return, but he ‘mizzled’ clean off.” Johnson was now firmly

established as the champion; his fame ran before him, and it was some

months before any person could be found hardy enough to dispute his

well-earned title; at length, a brave Hibernian chief, who, like Tom

Johnson, had milled all his opponents, came forward, and soon found

backers.

How this came about must be told by an episode. On November 22, 1787, a

severe contest was decided, in Stepney Fields, between W. Savage and

Doyle. Tom Johnson seconded Savage, and Ryan, his countryman Doyle.

After a sharp battle of forty-five minutes, Doyle was defeated, and Ryan

in some heat challenged Johnson.

Michael Ryan, the Irish champion’s skill and courage stood so high, that

the odds were six to four before the fight, which took place at

Wradisbury, in Buckinghamshire, on December 19, 1787, for 300 guineas

a-side. The seconds were chosen from the first-rate pugilists, Humphries

for Johnson, and Dunn for Ryan; and even the bottle-holders were of

fistic eminence, being Tom Tring for the latter, and Mendoza for the

former. The spectators were numerous. The celebrated Mr. Windham, Sir

Richard Symonds, Colonel Hanger, Colonel Hamilton, Mr. Bradyl, General

Fitzpatrick, etc., were more than spectators on this occasion.

The contest long hung doubtful, though, at the commencement, the odds

were in favour of Ryan. What follows is from “Boxiana.” “After the fight

had continued nearly twenty minutes, and at the close of a most

tremendous round, Ryan put in a blow upon Johnson’s temple, which so

completely stunned him that his arms fell by his side, and was following

up this advantage with another hit, which must have decided the contest,

when Humphries ran in to save Johnson, and caught Ryan in his arms.

Cries of ‘Foul! foul!’ resounded from all parts, and the friends of Ryan

instantly demanded the money, by observing that, as long as Johnson had

not fallen, it was perfectly fair on the part of Ryan to strike him, and

that the latter had won the battle. Here a general clamour took place,

during which Ryan, with the warmth peculiar to his country, indignantly

told his second, Dunn, that he had not done his duty by him as a man, in

suffering such conduct to take place without resenting it, and, had he

not been prevented, he would have milled Dunn upon the spot, his rage

was so great. Considerable time having now elapsed, Johnson was

recovered, and challenged Ryan to renew the combat: the latter, like a

man, notwithstanding it was considered there was no necessity for so

doing, agreed to it, thinking he could beat Johnson.

“The battle was at length renewed; but it was soon perceived that Ryan’s

strength was exhausted by passion, and he now, in about ten minutes,

became an easy conquest to Johnson, by giving away the chance. Ryan’s

conduct in the battle was so noble, and his manly courage and science so

truly apparent, that the amateurs were still left in doubt to decide

accurately which was the best man” (“Boxiana,” pp. 94, 95).

In consequence of this opinion, a second battle was determined upon, and

fought upon a stage in the Rabbit Dell in Cashiobury Park, near

Rickmansworth, in Hertfordshire, for 300 guineas a-side, on February 11,

1789. This was a contest of great anxiety, and the whole sporting world

was there, from the Corinthian to the costermonger.

Johnson, who had for his second, Humphries, and Jackson as his

bottleholder, mounted the stage at three o’clock, and were immediately

followed by Ryan, who was seconded by Mr. Rolfe, a baker, and Nowlan his

bottleholder. The set-to was one of the finest ever witnessed, and much

science was displayed; the parries and feints eliciting general

admiration. At length Ryan put in a severe blow on Johnson’s chest,

which floored him.

The second round, which continued about two minutes, was terrible beyond

description—science seemed forgotten—when Ryan received a knock-down

blow. The battle was well sustained on both sides for some time; but

Ryan’s passion getting the better of him, he began to lose ground.

“Johnson,” says “Pancratia,” p. 83, “stopped Ryan’s blows with the

greatest dexterity, and, hitting over his guard, cut him under the

eyes.” Ryan’s head and eyes made a dreadful appearance. The contest

lasted for thirty-three minutes, when Ryan gave in. A hat, ornamented

with blue ribbons was placed upon the conqueror’s head; and Johnson

gained a considerable sum of money, as, besides the 300 guineas stakes,

and £512 door money, equally divided between the combatants, Mr.

Hollingsworth, a cornfactor, and a former master of Johnson, settled £20

a year upon him for life, in consideration of the money he had won by

backing him.

Brain, better known as Big Ben (see _post_), was now considered the only

man capable of meeting Johnson, and a match was made for £1,000; but

Ben, being taken ill at the appointed time, forfeited the deposit, which

was £100.

We now approach one of the most interesting and remarkable contests in

the annals of pugilism. The various coloured accounts of more modern

writers cannot be excused of exaggerating the incidents of this fight,

yet, as our object is rather authenticity than “sensation,” we shall

simply transcribe the report from the old _Sporting Magazine_, for the

month of September, 1789.

Birmingham having challenged London to produce its most noted men to

meet their best pugilists, the matter has been put in train, and the

combatants paired thus:—Isaac Perrins[41] challenges Tom Johnson, the

champion; Jacombs will fight Bryan (Big Ben); Pickard, George Ingleston

(the brewer); Tom Faulkner (the cricketer), Watson; and Thornhill,

Hooper (the tinman). The challenges of the three first heroes were

accepted, and the terms proposed by “the bruisers” agreed to.

The meeting of Johnson and Perrins was arranged for the first October

meeting at Newmarket, to be fought on the turf, for 250 guineas a-side,

and two-thirds of the door money to the winner, one-third to the

defeated combatant. We continue from the contemporary report:—

“Perrins was an uncommonly strong man, gigantic in height and weight,

with force adapted to his form, and, for his size, of astonishing

activity. He stood six feet two inches in his stocking feet, and weighed

seventeen stone, three stone heavier than Johnson. Perrins is stated to

have lifted eight hundred weight of iron into a waggon, and to have

performed other feats of strength almost beyond credibility. He was

universally allowed to possess much skill in boxing, and excellent

bottom. He had won many battles with ease, beating every competitor in

Warwickshire, Staffordshire, and Worcestershire, and undoubtedly thought

himself superior to every athlete, as is shown by his advertisement,

challenging to fight any man in England for 500 guineas. His Birmingham

friends considered him invincible, and backed him in the contest for

many thousands of pounds, at two, and even three, to one against

Johnson.

“The combatants, however, were not permitted to fight at Newmarket, and

Banbury, in Oxfordshire, was then fixed upon, where they accordingly met

on the 22nd of October, 1789. The battle was fought on a turfed stage,

raised five feet from the ground, twenty-four feet square, and railed

in. Johnson’s second was Will Ward (Warr), and his bottle-holder Joe

Ward; Pickard seconded Perrins, and his brother was his bottle-holder.

Colonel Tarleton was umpire for Johnson, and Mr. Meadows, of Birmingham,

for Perrins.

“At a little before one the combatants set-to, and Johnson’s friends,

who before had flattered themselves with certain success, when they

viewed the wonderful difference of size between the bruisers, began to

tremble for the event.

“For five minutes all was anxious expectation; Perrins then with great

force aimed a blow, which Johnson very dexterously eluded, and gave the

first blow, by which Perrins fell. The three next rounds terminated also

in Johnson’s favour, who confused his antagonist by dancing round him,

and occasionally planting an unexpected hit. Perrins became excessively

irritated at this conduct, and throwing off the caution he had shown at

the beginning, followed Johnson with vast resolution, and appearing to

treat his manœuvres with contempt, he, despite of several sharp hits, at

last got in a successful knock-down blow, which success he followed up

for several rounds, in one of which he brought blood by a severe cut on

Johnson’s lip.

“Johnson watched his opportunity, and in reply to a taunt from the

Birmingham Goliath jumped in, and planting a blow over Perrins’ left

eye, cut the eyebrow, and completely closed it up. This blow, and the

failure of Perrins’ wind, which was now very visible, raised the bets

amazingly in Johnson’s favour; the odds, however, again changed upon

Perrins closing one of Johnson’s eyes; after this Johnson began once

more to fight cunning, and having skilfully parried a violent attack of

Perrins, he caught him so severe and swift a blow in the face as laid

his nose completely open. Odds now rose 100 to 10 on Johnson.

“Perrins recovered his breath, and with great vigour and resolution

attacked Johnson, who retreated parrying, but Perrins got in a blow over

Johnson’s right eye that again brought down the odds, but not to even.

Forty rounds of resolute boxing had now taken place.

“In the following round Johnson fell when not struck, and Perrins

claimed the victory, but the umpires decided it was allowable,[42] as

the articles did not specify to the contrary.” We suspect the Birmingham

men, for Perrins was as brave a boxer as ever pulled off a shirt, were

trying to “snatch a verdict,” as the day was clearly going against them.

“Perrins, in turn, seemed now to lose much of his strength. He tried to

imitate his antagonist’s mode of fighting, with which he was totally

unacquainted.[43] He fought low, and had recourse to chopping

back-handed strokes, which at first drove back Johnson and disconcerted

him, but against which he soon guarded himself very collectedly; often

getting home a sharp return.

[Illustration:

THE FIGHT BETWEEN TOM JOHNSON AND ISAAC PERRINS, AT BANBURY,

OXFORDSHIRE, NOVEMBER 22ND, 1789.

_From an Engraving published in 1790._

]

“Johnson seemed to improve in strength as the battle went on, never

beginning the attack. Perrins, in aiming several heavy blows, fell, as

if from weakness. Johnson watched his falling, and hit him in the face,

generally falling at the same time. He seemed now to hit Perrins

whenever he tried. At the end of one hour and a quarter Johnson gathered

himself for a blow, and it took effect directly, in the centre of the

face,[44] and finished as severe a contest as stands recorded in the

annals of pugilism; the combatants having fought sixty-two rounds of

fair hard boxing.”

Mr. Bullock won £20,000 by the battle. He backed Johnson, taking high

odds, and afterwards made him a present of £1000 (and he deserved the

generous gift). The door-money amounted to £800, of which Johnson had

£533, after expenses deducted. As the song says,

“Shall we ever, shall we ever;

Shall we ever see the like again?”

The remarkable print from which our engraving is furnished, is

certainly, when we compare it with most of the art-productions of the

day, a most creditable production. The descriptions which we have quoted

from witnesses of the fight, and from persons who well knew the

combatants, are fully realised. Although the stoop of Johnson certainly

exaggerated the vast proportion of Perrins, the disparity, upon closer

examination, is not so extreme. The faces, you feel, must be portraits.

The fights which followed will be found under BRAIN (Big Ben) and GEORGE

INGLESTON (note to JOHN JACKSON).

Johnson now seemed to be without a rival to dispute his supremacy; but

about the year 1790, the Duke of Hamilton, who had been the firm friend

and patron of Ben Brain of Bristol (Big Ben), was extremely anxious to

back his _protégé_ against the renowned, and as yet invincible Johnson.

A challenge was accordingly published, the Duke backing Ben for 500

guineas.

“Johnson,” says “Pancratia,” “who the year before possessed the amount

of £5000 acquired by his astonishing success in the battles he had

fought, by an unlucky ‘_leter_’ of shaking the elbow, found himself

obliged, in order to replenish the exchequer, to accept Ben’s offer. The

conditions were agreed upon, and the day fixed for January 17th, 1791.

Never was public curiosity more on tiptoe;” but as this battle belongs

by our system to the memoir of the victor, it will be found in the

memoir of BIG BEN. This was the last fight of both these celebrated

pugilists.

Johnson’s name appears from time to time as second to Hooper, the

tinman, “Gentleman Jackson,” and other pugilists, but no more as

principal. We find Bell soon after his victory over Stanyard, the

Birmingham boxer, (in December 1792) challenging Johnson to “mill for a

guinea;” whereon the reporter remarks: “Tom, however, has lost too many

of the yellow-boys lately to trouble himself to win a single one, and

left the stage.” A sufficient allusion to Tom’s improvidence.

Johnson, becoming a Boniface, took the “Grapes” in Lincoln’s-Inn-Fields.

Here he failed in business, owing to his gambling propensities, which

also caused the loss of his license. He then became the proprietor of an

EO table at races, etc. This, too, failing, he migrated to Ireland. In

Dublin he kept, as we see by advertisements, a public house in

Cooper-Alley: but here again the gaming practices and frequenters

incensed the magistrates, and he was deprived of his license. He next is

found in Cork, where he advertised for pupils in the art of boxing, and

where, on the 21st of January, 1797, aged forty-seven years, the

Champion fell before the arm of the great leveller—death.

“Johnson’s appearance,” says a contemporary, “indicated, when stripped,

more of strength than beauty of form. He was in height nearly five feet

nine inches, and about fourteen stone in weight; a remarkably round-made

man, with very fine chest and shoulders, and displaying immensely strong

loins. He was by no means a showy fighter, and his guard was generally

considered inelegant, and his attitudes more defensive than otherwise.

In the fight he was peculiarly steady, watching every movement of his

antagonist with a coolness unequalled, receiving the attack unappalled,

and scarcely ever failing in the return of planting a most desperate

hit. The head was his favourite object, and if his adversary did not

possess considerable science, he was in extreme danger of being put in

the dark. Johnson walked round his antagonist in a way peculiar to

himself, that so puzzled his adversary to find out his intent, that he

was frequently thrown off his guard, by which manœuvring Johnson often

gained the most important advantages. Tom was thorough game, and showed

the utmost contempt for retreating; at the same time careful to avoid

exposing his person too much to the attacks of his antagonist. One

pugilist,” continues the author of “Pancratia,” “may be superior in

strength, a second in science, a third in endurance, but in Johnson have

been more fully combined the requisites of a complete boxer than in any

pugilist up to this day.”

[Illustration]

CHAPTER VI.

BENJAMIN BRAIN (BIG BEN). CHAMPION—1786‒1791.

Benjamin Brain (called in the chronologies Brian and Bryan) was a native

of Bristol, where he was born in the year 1753. His familiar nickname,

“Big Ben,” was scarcely justified by his size, his weight being rather

under that of Johnson (14 stone), and his height 5 feet 10 inches. Brain

was a powerful pugilist, celebrated for his straight and severe

right-handed deliveries, though remarkably good with both hands. Ben’s

early years were passed as a collier at Kingswood, near his native

place; and it was here that the future champion first signalised himself

by a battle with Clayton, “the Shropshire champion.” A fellow collier,

also of Kingswood, called Bob Harris, who had earned a provincial

reputation in that nursery for pugilists, Bristol, also succumbed to

Ben, after a game and determined conquest.

Brain arrived in London in 1774, shortly after these battles, and passed

several years as a coal-porter, at a wharf in the Strand. He was a

good-looking man, and when out of his business always appeared clean and

respectable, mild and sociable in his demeanour, and never ridiculously

presuming upon his qualities as a boxer.

Ben’s first set-to in London was with “the Fighting Grenadier,” in the

Long Fields, Bloomsbury, on October 31, 1786, in which, had it not been

for the assistance of a medical man, who witnessed the contest, Ben must

have been defeated. The soldier was a first-rate punisher, and Ben’s

eyes were so swelled, from the heavy blows he received, that he could

not see, when just at this juncture the ring was broken, during which

accident the swellings were skilfully lanced by a surgeon, and Ben

restored to vision. A fresh ring was made, and the combat renewed; and

in the course of a few minutes the Grenadier gave in.

Corbally, an Irish chairman, fought Ben, upon a stage, twenty-five feet

square, at Navestock in Essex, on December 31, 1788, after Bill Warr had

defeated Wood, the coachman. Notwithstanding the weather was extremely

severe, the combatants stripped with the most perfect indifference, and

the fight was carried on with determined courage on both sides; Corbally

was eventually defeated. Mr. John Jackson seconded Ben on this occasion.

In 1789 he forfeited £100 to Johnson, as already noticed, which sum was

deposited in part of £500, Brain being in a bad state of health.

Ben received a challenge from Jacombs, a Birmingham pugilist, which he

accepted (See JOHNSON and PERRINS), and the battle came off at Banbury,

in Oxfordshire, on a twenty-four feet square stage, October 23, 1789.

Jacombs[45] was a stout made man, of high courage, and not without

science. In the early part of the combat, Jacombs exhibited determined

resolution, and went into Brain in a style that would take no denial.

Whether Ben felt any doubt about the battle, he did not conduct himself

after his accustomed method, but fought on the retreat, shifting often

to avoid Jacombs’ blows, and fell frequently. Jacombs, on the contrary,

received Ben’s attacks undauntedly. Considerable disapprobation was

expressed by the spectators, particularly the Warwickshire men, who were

getting outrageous at Ben’s manœuvring. Brain at length stood to his

adversary, and showed what he was capable of performing by putting in a

tremendous floorer, which quickly convinced the spectators of his

quality. First-rate courage was displayed upon both sides; but after a

most dreadful battle of one hour and twenty-six minutes, the brave

Jacombs was conquered.

Tom Tring (the Big Porter at Carlton House) was matched, as a sort of

bye-battle, with Ben, who, as we gather from contemporary prints, had so

very “little” opinion of his really “big” opponent’s boxing

qualifications, that he met him at Dartford, for the paltry stake of 10

guineas a-side. Pierce Egan has invented a dreadful battle, in which

“Ben was nearly blind,” “the blows that passed between them were

tremendous in the extreme,” and that Big Ben “refused to enter the lists

with Tom Tring a second time, but declared before his death that his

constitution had suffered most materially from the severe blows which he

had encountered at Dartford,” etc. (see “Boxiana,” vol i., pp. 298, 299,

TOM TRING). The fact is, Tom could not hit his man, and was thoroughly

beaten in twelve rounds, occupying under twenty minutes.[46]

In the following year (1790), the battle, long anxiously looked for

between Big Ben and Hooper, the tinman (see HOOPER’S other battles in

Period II.) at Chapel Row Revel, near Newbury, Berkshire, on August 30,

for 100 guineas.

Hooper’s patron had completely miscalculated his man’s powers. The

affair could not be called a fight. Ben treated his opponent with

perfect contempt. In a close at the end of the first round Ben hit

Hooper so heavily in the body, that he could not be induced again to

come within distance. He fell every time Ben’s hand reached him, and

even before; ran all over the stage, filled his mouth with water and

spirted it in Ben’s face, accompanied by provoking and blackguard

epithets to irritate Ben and throw him off his guard. It is true Hooper

got in some few “facers” by his trickery and activity, and he was on the

ground before Ben could get in a return. At length Ben determined not to

follow him, and none of the stratagems of the tinman could induce him to

break ground. He stood firmly at the scratch, in the middle of the

stage, and called upon Hooper to face him: this the latter did for a few

seconds, and was then off and away. This piece of diversion took place

on August 30, 1790, at Chapel Row Revel, near Newbury, in Berkshire, and

continued for three hours and a half. The night coming on fast, several

of the amateurs asked Ben if he should be able to finish the battle that

day? He jocularly replied, “That it entirely depended upon his

antagonist;” and observed, “they had better begin the next morning at

six o’clock, and have the whole day before them.” The Fancy were

completely disgusted with such treatment. After what was termed one

hundred and eighty rounds had taken place, and it being nearly dark, it

was declared a drawn battle, and Ben walked off without receiving any

particular hurt.[47]

And now came Ben’s crowning victory over the renowned, brave, and

skilful, but imprudent and reckless champion, Tom Johnson.

Towards the close of the year 1790, the Duke of Hamilton, the patron and

firm supporter of Ben Brain in all his matches, was anxious to match him

against the hitherto invincible Johnson, and offered to back his man for

500 guineas. We have already noticed Tom’s reckless prodigality and

gambling, and necessity spurred him not to let pass the chance of such a

golden prize. “Public expectation,” says the _Oracle_ newspaper, “never

was raised so high by any pugilistic contest; great bets were laid, and

it is estimated £20,000 was wagered on this occasion.”

On a stage twenty feet square,[48] at Wrotham, in Kent, on January the

17th, 1791, the two best boxers in England met to decide the

Championship. Punctually at one o’clock, the time named in the articles,

Johnson ascended the theatre of combat, followed by Joe Ward, as second,

and Dan Munday as his bottle-holder. He bore an aspect of steady

composure and modest confidence. Big Ben immediately followed, with a

cheerful countenance, having Will Warr as his second,[49] and Humphries

as his bottle-holder. “The betting, from the first making of the match,”

says the reporter, “was seven to four in favour of Johnson.” Truly our

grandfathers were bold, nay reckless, layers of odds. What follows is a

verbatim transcript of the contemporary report.

“The combatants being prepared, set to, and in the first round, which

was much more violent and quickly terminated than usual, Johnson fell

upon his forehead, from a violent blow on the nose. This blow determined

the fate of the battle, for Johnson never was capable of recovering

himself.

“In the second round he also fell by a severe blow; bets became even.

“Third round he knocked Ben down, and odds again increased in his

favour.

“After this, Ben reassumed his advantage, and kept it to the end. In

this round (the fourth) both combatants seemed to throw aside skill,

and, entering upon a rally, totally depended on strength and courage. At

the expiration of twenty minutes, Johnson drew back, and springing in

with a desperate blow at Ben, which the latter evaded, broke the

metacarpal bone of his middle finger by striking the rail of the stage.

At first this severe accident did not seem to affect his spirits and he

manœuvred actively; but shortly afterwards Ben put in two successive

blows which decided the turn of battle. One struck him in the ribs,

another dreadfully cut his lip.” Another account describes Johnson as

“holding Ben by the hair to prevent his striking, so unlike his conduct

in former fights.” All, however, did not avail; the die was cast, and

Ben Brain was the undisputed conqueror in eighteen rounds, occupying no

more than twenty-one minutes. We resume the report:—“Johnson, in this

battle, did not preserve that coolness and regularity of temper which

hitherto have caused him to be considered so admirably pre-eminent as a

safe boxer. His wind was good, but the first knock-down blow so much

disconcerted him that he frequently shifted, and went back. Ben,

however, seldom advanced, at least not at the instant, and when he did,

he kept up good guard, and penned Johnson in without room to manœuvre,

compelling him to fight out of it if he could. Though Johnson was so

heavily punished, in appearance Ben seemed little hurt, and on the

Monday following he displayed great agility in a sparring match at the

Grecian Theatre, in the Strand.”[50]

After four years’ interval, during which Ben appears now and then as a

second, our hero accepted a challenge from Will Wood, the coachman, to

fight on the 24th of February, 1794. Though Ben’s health had been in a

precarious state, the odds were largely in his favour. But a more

formidable adversary declared himself: a scirrhous liver deranged Ben’s

vital functions; his disease ran on rapidly, and on the 8th of April,

1794, the Champion died in full possession of the honour, at his

dwelling in Gray’s-Inn-Road. On the Friday following (the 11th) we find

him among the burials in St. Sepulchre’s churchyard. His funeral, which

was conducted with the solemnity such occasions demand, was attended by

his old friends and professional brothers, Johnson, Warr, Wood, Symonds,

and several others of inferior note.

A pugilist wrote the following epitaph for his tombstone:—

“Farewell, ye honours of my brow,

Victorious wreaths, farewell!

One blow from Death has laid me low,

By whom such brave ones fell.

Yet bravely I’ll dispute the prize,

Nor yield, though out of breath,

’Tis not a fall—I yet shall rise,

And conquer even Death!”

Of which rhymes we can conscientiously say the anonymous “brother

pugilist” of Ben need not have been ashamed; for far worse have been

written on marble by “unco’ guid folk” who would scorn to bestow a

glance on the grave of a boxer.

END OF PERIOD I.

PERIOD II.—1784‒1798.

FROM THE APPEARANCE OF DANIEL MENDOZA TO THE FIRST BATTLE OF JEM

BELCHER.

CHAPTER I.

DANIEL MENDOZA—1784‒1820.[51]

The conveniences of the plan of a biographical history the editor

flatters himself are by this time sufficiently obvious to the reader:

the index of names and of events at the end of the volume, and the

grouping of the memoirs into Periods, bringing the men who contended

their most important battles with each other into close companionship in

our pages.

As the introducer of a new, a more rapid, and more elegant style of

boxing, and a more artistic _tactique_, the Israelitish champion Mendoza

deserves the distinction of heading a division of followers and pupils.

Accordingly we begin with his pugilistic career, to be succeeded by

those of his clever antagonists, Richard Humphries and Mr. John Jackson,

Bill Warr, Tom Owen, Paddington (Tom) Jones, etc., with Stanyard, George

Ingleston, Fewterel, and many minor stars in the Appendix, and in

foot-notes, where their conflicts with more distinguished boxers have

preserved their names from oblivion.

DANIEL MENDOZA, one of the most elegant and scientific boxers recorded

in the annals of pugilism, was born in the year 1763, of Jewish parents,

in the vicinity of Whitechapel. Of his earlier years nothing worthy of

record is known. His first noted pugilistic contest took place at Mile

End, in 1784, with a big rough, known by the name of Harry the

Coalheaver. Dan appears to have polished off this black diamond in forty

minutes—at least, so says “Boxiana;” yet so far from being drawn from

his regular employment and pursuits by this triumph, his name does not

figure until 1787. Shortly after, Dan rose like a phenomenon in the

fistic horizon, where he long sparkled a star of the first magnitude.

His advent was unquestionably a new feature in the practice of the art,

and his style of fighting gave rise to much controversy and

animadversion among the cognoscenti.[52] So far as it was illustrated in

his own practice, it was substantial and complete; and it may be

candidly allowed that whenever Mendoza failed, it was rather from

insufficient muscular strength, and being overmatched in weight, than

any deficiency of skill or courage. It has been contended that there was

more elegance about his positions than strength, and more show than

utility. No pugilist ever stopped with greater neatness, hit oftener, or

put in his blows quicker, than Mendoza; but they often failed in doing

that execution which might have been expected from want of force. In

height about five feet seven inches, with a well-formed manly chest, and

arms of a strong athletic nature; a courage never impeached; and

possessing wind that was seldom disordered, his battles were numerous

and well-contested.

On the 17th of April, 1787, Mendoza made his first public appearance in

the lists, on Barnet race-course, with Martin, the Bath butcher, an

opponent of Humphries, and of great provincial reputation. The victory

was well disputed, Mendoza exhibiting thus early those points of

excellence which soon afterwards ripened to perfection. The battle was

for 25 guineas, and in twenty minutes the Bath boxer acknowledged that

the young Israelite was his master in the art. Humphries, who had last

fought Martin, in the previous year, had taken 105 minutes to dispose of

him.

This victory was much talked of, and already the youthful Jew was

mentioned as “the coming man” to lower the pretensions of “the Gentleman

Boxer.” In 1787, a casual rencontre took place between these great

rivals, at the Cock, at Epping, in which rumour gave Humphries so much

the best that it led to a match in 1788, which, as Mendoza was defeated,

will be found in Chapter II., under Humphries. The superiority of the

latter was, however, a matter of very serious question with the most

competent judges, and their doubts were proved valid by the sequel, for

a second match was made, the progress and result of which we now proceed

to detail.

May the 6th, 1789, was the day fixed for the long and anxiously expected

battle. The place fixed upon was Mr. Thornton’s park, near Stilton,

Hunts. In order to accommodate the spectators, a building was erected,

enclosing a space of forty-eight feet in diameter (“Boxiana” says “in

circumference”), with seats raised one above the other, capable of

containing nearly three thousand persons, the highest seat being

eighteen feet from the ground.

Humphries, attended by Tom Johnson, as his second, entered between one

and two o’clock, followed by Butcher, as his bottle-holder, and Harvey

Combe, Esq., the brewer and alderman, as his umpire. Mendoza immediately

afterwards made his appearance, attended by Captain Brown and Michael

Ryan, as his second and bottle-holder, having Sir Thomas Apreece for his

umpire. The seconds, according to agreement, retired to separate comers

on the setting-to. The reporter continues: “The first blow was struck by

Humphries at the face of his antagonist, which Mendoza stopping with

great adroitness, returned and knocked Humphries down. The second and

third rounds terminated in precisely the same manner. Astonishment at

the confidence and quickness of Mendoza was expressed by every

spectator.

“After the contest had lasted about forty minutes, in which Mendoza, by

generally catching his opponent’s blows on his arm and returning with

his left hand, or throwing him, had indisputably the advantage of the

combat, it was stopped by a circumstance that created the greatest

confusion on both sides.

“In the twenty-second round, Mendoza having struck at Humphries, the

latter dropped. The articles of agreement particularly specified that

whichever combatant fell ‘without a blow,’ should lose the battle.

Consequently a general cry of ‘Foul! foul!’ took place, and it was

declared by Mendoza’s friends that he had won the battle. Humphries,

Johnson, and the spectators interested on that side of the question,

contended it was fair, asserting that Humphries had stopped the blow

before he fell. The partizans on the opposite side as vehemently

insisted on the contrary, and the whole was a scene of uproar and

confusion. Sir Thomas Apreece, as the umpire of Mendoza, declared it

foul, but Alderman Combe refused giving an opinion. During this affray,

Captain Brown (Mendoza’s second) in a moment of irritation called

Johnson a liar and a blackguard, which was answered by the approach of

Johnson in a stern and menacing manner. This led to the expectation of a

bye-battle between the seconds. Humphries came several times to his

adversary, calling on him to fight out the battle, but Mendoza’s friends

would not permit him. Humphries then threw up his hat, and challenged

him again to the combat. However, numbers present said, that this went

no way to the decision of the point in dispute, and the battle most

likely would have been a drawn one, had not Mendoza, by the advice of

his friends, or perhaps irritated by his adversary’s continually

taunting him for not continuing the fight, consented to resume the

contest.

“They again set-to, and the first two rounds terminated by Mendoza’s

knocking down his adversary. They fought for about half an hour, Mendoza

all the time evidently holding the advantage, and at last gained the

victory, by Humphries again violating the articles of agreement. In the

last round, after some blows had passed, Humphries had given way,

Mendoza followed him up, and was preparing to strike, when his opponent

fell, obviously without receiving any blow. Mendoza was immediately

declared the conqueror.

“Mendoza in this battle displayed great superiority of skill. Humphries

allowed his antagonist to gain ground upon him during the whole combat;

and when he was preparing to strike, he always flinched. Mendoza, on the

contrary, stood up to his man manfully, and followed him with coolness

and resolution, which proved much more serviceable to him than the

impetuosity of temper he displayed in his last contest with Humphries at

Odiham. Several times, when Humphries was in the act of setting-to, he

walked up to him, and viewing him with a keen look, seemed

contemptuously to drop his guard. When Humphries closed, he several

times said to Mendoza, ‘Very well, indeed—very well!’ and which Mendoza,

when he succeeded in throwing him, repeated in a mocking tone of irony.

Nevertheless, during the whole contest, up to his fall, the bets were in

favour of Humphries.

“The only blows of consequence received by Mendoza were one on the

cheek, and several on the ribs and back at the time of closing. Towards

the end of the contest Humphries aimed several very severe darts at the

pit of the stomach, which were admirably stopped by Mendoza; had they

reached their aim, they might have proved fatal to his chance. Humphries

was much beaten about the face; one eye was closed, and his forehead cut

above the other; his lip was also cut, and he frequently spat blood, but

we think the hemorrhage was merely from the last-mentioned wound.”

Humphries was by no means satisfied of the Jew’s superiority, and

persisted he had been “wrangled” out of the fight. A third trial by

battle was therefore sought by him, and readily agreed to. We copy the

report.

[Illustration:

THIRD FIGHT BETWEEN DANIEL MENDOZA AND GEORGE HUMPHRIES, AT DONCASTER,

SEPTEMBER 29TH, 1790.

_From an original Picture._

]

“September 29th, 1790, is rendered memorable in the annals of pugilism

by the well-fought third battle between the celebrated champions

Humphries and Mendoza. An inn-yard at Doncaster was pitched upon as the

spot for the decision of the contest. The time (the Sellinger and Cup

week), and the place were capitally chosen. The ground was bounded on

two sides by the backs of houses, at one end by the inn, at the other by

a strong palisade, behind which ran the river Don.” Upwards of 500

tickets at half-a-guinea were sold, and the persons admitted. But the

Yorkshire “tykes” of humbler means were not to be baffled; and a ‘cute

ferryman having brought over some hundreds at sixpence a-head, the crowd

outside soon demolished the paling, stout as it was, and an immense

concourse got in. The spectators seated around the stage, however,

prevented any inconvenience or interruption of the principal performers.

“At about half-past ten Humphries made his appearance, immediately

followed by Mendoza; the former mounted the stage, which was about four

feet high, and twenty-four square, with astonishing agility, evidently

in high spirits. Mendoza also seemed equally alert and devoid of

apprehension. Ward seconded Humphries, and Jackson was his

bottle-holder; Colonel Hamilton being chosen by him as his umpire. Tom

Johnson was second to Mendoza, and his bottle-holder Butcher. Sir Thomas

Apreece, who was umpire for Mendoza on his last battle with Humphries,

at Stilton, was also chosen on this occasion, and Mr. Harvey Aston was

mutually agreed upon as the third umpire, should any altercation arise

during the combat, and a difference of opinion arise between the Colonel

and Sir Thomas with respect to its decision.

“Everything being thus arranged, the combatants began to strip. Odds

were laid five to four in favour of Mendoza, and readily accepted by

Humphries’s friends, who considered that although perhaps it might be

impossible for him to beat the Jew by carrying on the fight regularly

and in a scientific style, yet, by his impetuous exertions at the

commencement, would be able to overcome his antagonist, and bear away

the palm.”

THE FIGHT.

ROUND 1.—The onset of Humphries was bold and

astonishingly vigorous, but was repelled by

Mendoza with equal force; they mutually closed,

struggled, and both fell.

2.—The same vigorous spirit was manifested on

both sides, but Humphries struck the most blows,

though apparently without overpowering Mendoza.

3.—This round was fought with much caution on

both sides, each being equally careful of giving

or receiving a blow; what passed, however, were

in Mendoza’s favour, and it terminated by his

giving Humphries a knock-down blow.

4.—They engaged, but only for a few moments.

5.—Humphries aimed a severe blow at Mendoza’s

stomach, which he dexterously stopped, and

struck him in the face; this blow, however,

Humphries returned, but at the same time fell.

“A number of rounds after this took place, but

in every one of them Mendoza evidently had the

advantage, and odds had risen forty to five, and

ten to one in his favour; Humphries continually

fell, sometimes in consequence of blows, but

more frequently from a policy often used in

boxing, which perhaps may be considered fair;

several times he sunk without a blow, which

conduct, although contrary to the articles of

agreement, was passed unnoticed, as his general

manners placed him above the suspicion of

cowardice. For although he had undoubtedly the

worst throughout the battle, he fought with

great resolution, and even when his friends,

perceiving him conquered, and one eye perfectly

closed, persuaded him to yield, he solicited to

fight a little longer. Notwithstanding all this

display of excellent bottom, he was again

obliged to acknowledge the ascendancy of the

Israelite.

“Mendoza was very much cut about the left side

of his head, his left eye and ear being much

mutilated, and he had received a severe cut

in the ribs on the right side by a projectile

left-handed blow of his antagonist.

“Humphries had several hits which drew blood

under his left arm; his right eye was closed

early in the battle, and he had a severe cut

over his left. He had a wound clear as a razor

cut by the left side of his nose by a

straight-forward springing blow of Mendoza’s.

The same hit also split his upper lip. He was

carried through the crowd on the shoulders of

his friends, who conveyed him in a post-chaise

out of the town. Mendoza walked on the

race-ground on the Town Moor for some time after

the combat, ‘the observed of all observers.’”

“Money was collected from the spectators and amateurs present, as a

prize to be fought for between Aaron Mendoza, a cousin of the successful

champion, and Packer, a West-country boxer; the former was seconded by

Johnson, and the latter by Ward. It was a most severe contest; they

fought for an hour with the greatest violence, when on closing, they

fell, and when down, Aaron being uppermost, Packer raised his knee, and

so threw him a perfect somerset against the railing.[53] This decided

the battle, and Packer was declared the conqueror.”

Dan spent the year 1791 in a sparring tour; for like most of the

“prophets” he had an eye to the “jewels of gold and the jewels of

silver” to be collected from the Gentiles. He crossed from Liverpool to

Ireland, and there we find one “Squire Fitzgerald,” a swell of “great

weight” and little prudence, tried his “prentice han’” on Dan. He soon

found he had a workman to deal with, for Mendoza soundly thrashed him in

twenty minutes, on the 2nd of August, 1791, fully demonstrating the

striking difference between professionals and amateurs in boxing as in

most other arts and sciences.

On his return to “Duke’s Plashe,” the Fancy, who had been looking out

for the triumphant Jew, decided that Bill Warr[54] was a likely man to

lower the pride of Dan, and a match was made to come off in June, 1791.

Stokenchurch, in Oxfordshire, was named as the rendezvous. As, however,

the company were on the road, they received intimation that the

magistrates of Oxfordshire were resolved to prevent the battle. Upon

this the cavalcade stopped at Uxbridge, and an arrangement was made to

fight in Fenner’s Cricket Ground. Objections were, however, started, and

the Duke of Hamilton, on the part of Warr, and Alderman Macaulay, on the

part of Mendoza, agreed that they should postpone the affair till the

Doncaster Meeting in September; all bets to stand over. Here, however,

the old cup and lip proverb was verified; the authorities interposed,

and the treat was postponed till May 14th, 1792, when the venue was

changed to Smitham Bottom, near Croydon. On this eventful morn

pedestrians out of number, and vehicles of every quality, were seen in

rapid motion, eager to arrive at the destined spot. Between one and two

the combatants appeared upon the stage, and were greeted with shouts of

applause. Mendoza had for his second and bottle-holder, Tom Johnson and

Butcher, with Harvey Aston, Esq., as his umpire; Warr was attended by

Joe Ward and Jackson, and Mr. Watson as umpire.

At the commencement of the fight the odds were in favour of Warr; and

much was expected from his well-known skill and strength. For the first

eight rounds of the battle he fought tremendously; and in the fourteenth

he succeeded in nailing Mendoza on the jaw in such a style that the Star

of Israel came down with uncommon violence. Warr’s friends were now in

high spirits, as it was thought that Dan had received a sickener; but

his game soon brought him about, and he finished two successive rounds

by flooring his opponent cleverly. The superiority of Mendoza now became

manifest, Warr perceived he was in the hands of his master, and the

spectators began to change their opinions. Mendoza knocked down his

antagonist every round; nevertheless, Warr fought gamely an uphill

battle, and put in some good hits. In the twenty-third round the

combatants closed, Warr was completely exhausted, and Mendoza falling on

him, he reluctantly gave in. This victory established Dan’s fame as a

game man.

Nevertheless, Bill Warr fancied that in another trial he might regain

his laurels; accordingly a match was made to come off in January, 1794,

near Hounslow, but the magistrates interfering, it was postponed till

the 12th of November following, when it was decided upon Bexley Common.

The opening of the battle was good, and Warr seemed to feel that he

should accomplish his wish; as before, in the earlier rounds he seemed

to have a slight advantage, and his opponent fell before him. Whether

Mendoza permitted him to show himself off in this manner that he might

be enabled to exhibit his great superiority afterwards, or that he could

not resist the efforts of his antagonist, cannot be ascertained; but it

was evident that he treated all the attempts of Warr with perfect

coolness, and seemed quite confident of the success of his waiting game.

In the fifth round he went in, stopped the hits of his opponent with the

greatest ease, and returned so tremendously, that Bill was disposed of

in the short space of fifteen minutes! It was clear that Warr, from the

moment Mendoza assumed the offensive, was lost; his opponent’s

confidence completely overawed him, and it was visible that he laboured

under its depressing effects.

But amid all his glory he was doomed to experience the vicissitudes of

fortune by a mortifying defeat in his contest with Mr. Jackson, at

Hornchurch, on April 15, 1795, which will be detailed in the memoir of

Mr. JOHN JACKSON. This preyed so much upon his feelings that, after six

years had elapsed, they burst forth with fury, occasioned by the

following circumstance. Jem Belcher, after defeating Burke at Hurley

Bottom, challenged Dan to fight, who immediately replied, that he had

given up pugilism, and supported by his industry (as a publican, at the

Lord Nelson, in Whitechapel), a wife and six children, and only wished

to fight Jackson, who had dealt unhandsomely by him as a pugilist; and

he now publicly declared himself ready to enter the lists with him for

100 guineas, provided that he would not take the unmanly and cowardly

advantage of holding his hair. This speech of Mendoza’s was soon

trumpeted abroad, and some busy persons inserted a sort of challenge to

Mr. Jackson in the _Oracle_ and _Daily Advertiser_, which was

immediately answered by the latter. The letters, as mere specimens of

the ring correspondence of the time are given under the head of JACKSON.

It will be observed that Mendoza asserts therein that he had fought

_thirty-two_ pitched battles, and Pierce Egan makes up a list to that

amount of names, which, for aught the records of pugilism show, may have

been selected from the London Directory.[55] It will be, however, to the

point to give one of Mendoza’s letters, from which it would seem that

Dan’s challenge was not, in the first instance, inserted with his

permission.

_To the Editor of the_ DAILY ADVERTISER.

MR. EDITOR,—It was with inexpressible concern that, in your paper of

Wednesday last, I observed a letter signed “John Jackson,”

purporting to be an answer to a supposed challenge from me, inserted

in your detailed account of the recent pugilistic contest at

Maidenhead. Mistake me not, Sir. I was not concerned at the contents

of Mr. Jackson’s elegant effusion, nor in the least affected or

surprised at the opprobrious falsity, brazen impudence, or malignant

calumny of his assertions, which I deny _in toto_; but felt

particularly hurt at the idea that I was compelled either to sit

down tamely under injury, or incur the risk of offending my best

friends, and particularly the respectable magistrates of this

division, by resuming a profession which, both from principle and

conviction, I had wholly relinquished.

In order satisfactorily to refute Mr. Jackson’s allegations, it is

only necessary to observe that a month after our battle at

Hornchurch I waited on him, upbraided him with his unmanly conduct,

by laying hold of my hair, and offered to fight him for 200 guineas.

Jackson proposed to fight for 100 guineas; and upon that sum being

procured, declined fighting under 500 guineas. Here was courage,

here was consistency, here was bottom, and yet Mr. Jackson is a man

of honour and of his word!!!

Mr. Editor, after this I left London for five years, which may

easily account to Mr. Jackson for the interval of silence. I have

fought thirty-two pitched battles—four with Humphries (three of

which I won), and two with Will Warr, in both of which I was

victorious; these two men were both game, and good fighters, and of

course, having received so many blows, my only motive for wishing

again to fight Mr. Jackson must be that spirit of honour and

retaliation ever inherent in the breast of man.

Mr. Editor, I repeat that I am delicately situated. I wish to fight

Mr. Jackson, and intend it; but that, from a dread of injuring my

family, by offending the magistrates as a challenger in a newspaper

(which would be indecorous in a publican), I can only observe, that

I should be very happy to see, as soon as possible, either Mr.

Jackson or his friends, at my house, where they shall receive every

attention from me, as I wish most earnestly to convince the world

what a deep and just sense I entertain of all Mr. Jackson’s favours

conferred upon

“Admiral Nelson,” Whitechapel.

DANIEL MENDOZA.

Mendoza, in the year 1806, again introduced himself to the notice of the

public in a diffuse correspondence, arising out of a personal quarrel

with Harry Lee. Those curious may read the whole in “Boxiana,” vol. i.

pp. 272‒276. We learn from it incidentally that Dan, after his

retirement from the ring, was an officer of the Sheriff of Middlesex, a

favourite Jewish calling in the days of arrest on mesne process and of

sponging-houses. Harry, in his last letter, accepts the challenge of

Dan, which is all we care about the quarrel.

Harry was well known as an elegant sparrer, but his ring capabilities

were untried. He was also taller, younger, and more active than the

veteran Dan.

On March 21, 1806, at Grinstead Green, a short distance beyond Bromley,

in Kent, the combatants met, and 50 guineas were the stakes deposited.

It was a roped ring of twenty-five feet. Mendoza had for his second his

old opponent and firm friend, Bill Warr, and for his bottleholder, Bill

Gibbons; Harry Lee was attended by the Game Chicken and John Gully. The

odds were three to one that Dan proved the conqueror.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Mendoza, with his piercing black eye,

looked at his opponent with scornful contempt,

and a more than usual degree of confidence.

Lee soon showed he was no novice in the art.

He stood well up, with his left arm extended,

and tried rather artfully to pop in a hit over

Mendoza’s guard; but the latter stopped several

of these, and eventually sent Harry down. The

odds rose ten to one on Dan, and the bets were

decided respecting the first knock-down and

first blood.

2.—Lee rose exasperated, the claret flowing

copiously. Mendoza made a hit, which was neatly

returned by Lee upon Dan’s nose—they closed and

fell.

3.—Lee, out of temper, went in to mill away; but

Mendoza punished him right and left for his

temerity, and he saluted his mother earth.

4.—Lee now convinced the spectators that he

was something more than a sparrer, by showing

game—he put in a good hit over the left eye of

Mendoza; but Dan threw him in the close. The

opinions of the cognoscenti began to waver,

for it appeared not quite so easy a thing as

imagined; and two to one was sported that

Mendoza did not beat Lee in half an hour.

5.—Lee, not destitute of pluck, attempted to

rally; but Mendoza, aware of his intentions, put

in so severe a blow, that Harry went under the

ropes. Three to one against Lee.

6.—Mendoza, experienced in all the manœuvres of

the art, with the coolness of the veteran,

judging that his opponent would attempt another

rally, waited for him with the greatest

composure; as he came in Dan put in a tremendous

hit over Harry’s nose, and threw him.

7.—Of no account.

8.—Lee, trusting to impetuosity more than

judgment, went in rapidly; but the folly of such

conduct was self-evident—Mendoza hit him away

with the greatest ease, following him, and, in

the event, throwing him a cross-buttock. Lee’s

frontispiece had now a variegated appearance.

9.—Lee, full of gaiety, rallied; but Mendoza hit

him sharply over the left eye, which was already

terribly swelled. Five to one on Mendoza.

10.—Dan laughed at his opponent; who made a

feeble hit and fell upon his knees.

11.—It appeared from Lee’s conduct that he

entertained an idea that his opponent was to be

conquered by impetuosity. He rushed in most

furiously, when the latter hit him; Harry

retreated and took refuge upon the ground.

12.—Mendoza thought it was necessary to show a

little fight, and, in a sharp rally, quickly

punished his opponent out of the ring.

13.—Rallying was the order of the day with Lee;

Dan put in a severe hit, and, to avoid going

down, Harry caught hold of his opponent.

14.—Mendoza struck his adversary, who, to the

astonishment of the spectators, laid himself

down as before. (Some hisses and disapprobation

occurred; and cries of “Foul—take him away!”)

15.—Trifling away time; Lee went down without a

hit, and Dan laughed at him. (Six to one against

Lee.)

16.—Mendoza waiting for his opponent, hit him in

the throat, which more than tickled him, and he

fell from its effects, to all appearance

extremely weak. (The odds now were out of

comparison: a guinea to half-a-crown was

offered.)

17.—Lee went to the ground on the first blow.

18.—Mere flourishing-the men closed and fell.

19.—Harry, quite gay, tried what effect another

rally might produce; but Mendoza’s sagacity

rendered the attempt futile. He gave Lee a

desperate blow upon the chin, which not only cut

it severely, but sent him under the ropes.

20.—Mendoza laughing at the insufficiency of his

opponent’s attempts—who now appeared quite

passionate—stopped Harry’s blows with the

greatest _sang froid_. In closing, both went to

the ground.

21.—Dan gave Lee so severe a body hit that it

instantly floored him. (All betters, no takers.)

22.—As Mendoza made himself up to strike his

opponent, Lee fell. (Cries of “Foul!”)

23.—Of no consequence-both closed and fell.

24.—Lee, still fond of rallying, tried it on;

but Mendoza hit him away easily, and Lee slipped

down.

25.—Mendoza, as if expecting Lee would rally

again, was perfectly prepared for the attempt.

Lee went in, and got punished right and left,

finally going to the ground, much exhausted.

26.—Dan, full of spirits and vigour, as soon as

Lee stood up gave him a floorer.

27.—Lee, in making a hit, lost his distance and

fell.

28.—This was a most singular round. Harry went

in to his opponent, and by main force threw him

down by the arm.

29.—A rally on both sides—Lee, undismayed, put

in several hits: in the close Mendoza was

uppermost.

30.—The science of Dan was truly conspicuous, he

stopped every blow; but happening to slip, Lee

put in some facers as Mendoza was going down.

31.—Of no note whatever.

32.—Dan appeared rather fatigued, in making a

blow he went down upon his knees.

33.—Lee now endeavoured to show that his spirits

were in good trim, and made the best use of his

knowledge, which was by no means mediocre; but

it was in vain: his heart was better than his

skill, and Dan milled him down.

34.—Both the combatants fought well; but the

turn was in Dan’s favour.

35.—Mendoza sent Lee under the ropes, from a

well-directed blow.

36.—Dan repeated the dose.

37. 38, 39.—In all these rounds the superiority

of Mendoza was manifest: Dan stopped and hit as

he pleased.

40.—Mendoza punished Lee’s ribs severely; he

fell from the effects of the blows.

41.—Lee was now becoming much exhausted: he fell

from a mere touch.

42.—Lee began to be convinced that the chances

were against him; his exertions were on the

decline. Mendoza did as he pleased, and closed

the round by throwing him.

53.—For the last ten rounds Lee had not the

smallest prospect of success; still his game

prompted him to continue the fight in hopes

that some lucky chance might offer; but having

fallen a second time without a blow, Mendoza

was declared the conqueror.

The amateurs were completely surprised at the protraction of the above

fight, for one hour and ten minutes. It is certain that Lee was not

equal to the task of encountering so experienced and finished a pugilist

as Mendoza; but it is equally true that his conduct was entitled to

honourable mention; and, considering it was his first appearance in the

ring, Lee acquitted himself in a superior manner. That he was not

wanting either in courage or resolution was evident; and his scientific

efforts, in several instances, were entitled to much praise; indeed, he

eradicated the prevalent idea that he was nothing more than a sparrer.

Among the amateurs present the reporter enumerates, Lords Albemarle and

Seften, Count Beaujolais, Sir Watkin Williams Wynne, Sir John Shelley,

Sir Eden Nagle, Captain Halliday, Squire Thornhill, General Keppel,

Messrs. Baxter, Fletcher Reid, Bagley, Challis, Robert Allen, etc.

Year after year we find “Ould Dan,” with an eye to business, making

tours and exhibiting the “noble art,” of which he was unquestionably a

talented demonstrator. In the summer of 1819, Dan made a most successful

sparring tour, and we find him at Lincoln issuing a hand-bill, of which

the following is an extract:—

“Mr. Mendoza has the authority of members of the Senate and Judges on

the Bench in asserting the tendency of the practice of boxing to prevent

the more fatal resort to the knife or other deadly weapons. To gentlemen

it may prove more than an exercise or an amusement, by initiating them

in the principles of a science by which the skilful, though of inferior

strength, may protect themselves from the ruffian assault of the

powerful vulgar, or save their friends and those who are defenceless

from insult and imposition.”

We have already had occasion to observe the rarity of men believing in

the decline of their own physical capabilities; and Mendoza,

unfortunately, must be added to the list of those who, in the words of

Captain Godfrey, when speaking of Broughton, allow their “valour” so far

to get the upper hand of their “discretion” as to “trust a battle to

waning age.” But other men, as well as pugilists, are guilty of this

mistake: we shall not therefore dwell upon it further than to say that

Dan ended his career, like so many other celebrated men, in defeat,

though by no means in disgrace.

In July, 1820, being fourteen years from his last appearance within the

roped ring, Mendoza met Tom Owen, in a contest for fame and 50 guineas.

The battle arose from an old grudge; and although no one can doubt the

game of Tom Owen, as we shall duly note in our memoir of that boxer, yet

the frothy outpourings of the “Historian” in honour of his friend “Tom,”

and at the expense of Mendoza,[56] are as bad in taste as they are

extravagant in phrase. Be that as it may, Dan was defeated, and we need

hardly add it was his “last appearance” within the ropes, though not

“upon any stage,” the Fives Court being occasionally illuminated by his

displays. In August, 1820, he made an “appeal” to the amateurs for “past

services” to the pugilistic state, and delivered the subjoined address,

which breathes a tone of reproach to the boxers as well as gratitude to

his patrons:—

“GENTLEMEN,—I return you my most sincere thanks for the patronage you

have afforded me to-day, and likewise for all past favours. To those

persons who have set-to for me to-day, I also acknowledge my gratitude;

and their services will never be forgotten by me. Gentlemen, after what

I have done for the pugilists belonging to the prize ring, I do say they

have not used me well upon this occasion; in fact, the principal men

have deserted me _in toto_. Gentlemen, I think I have a right to call

myself the father of the science; for it is well known that prize

fighting lay dormant for several years after the time of Broughton and

Slack. It was myself and Humphries that revived it in our three contests

for superiority, and the science of pugilism has been highly patronised

ever since. (Hear, hear, from some old amateurs.) Gentlemen, I have once

more to thank you for the present, and all other past favours; nay,

more, I now take my leave of you, and I trust that I shall never trouble

you for another benefit. (Applause.) I have now only to say—Farewell.”

From this period Dan’s life no longer belongs to the history of the

ring. We may, however, observe that for several years he supported a

large family, a wife and eleven children, as a publican, keeping the

Admiral Nelson, in Whitechapel. He died on the 3rd of September, 1836,

among his “peoplesh” in the East, in the region where he had been so

long the milling star, at the advanced age of 73.

Mendoza was, in company, a shrewd, intelligent, and communicative man.

As a scientific professor of the art of self-defence it was Mendoza who

trod most immediately in the steps of Broughton. His success as a

professor was unrivalled; and there was scarcely a town in the kingdom

where he did not exhibit his finished talents to admiring and applauding

assemblages. It seems, from a work we have before us, published by

Mendoza himself, and containing much forgotten squabbling between

himself and Humphries, that he derived his first knowledge of the art,

scientifically, from his elegant competitor, “the Gentleman Boxer.” But

he so rapidly improved upon his master’s system as to stand for years

without a rival. No man of his time united the _theory_ of sparring with

the _practice_ of boxing so successfully as Daniel Mendoza; and hence,

as a distinctive feature, the “School of Mendoza” marks a period in the

HISTORY OF PUGILISM.

CHAPTER II.

RICHARD HUMPHRIES, “THE GENTLEMAN BOXER”—1784‒1790.

The popular cognomen of the “Gentleman Boxer” may give the cue to the

prepossessing appearance, quiet self-possession, and amenity of manners,

which contemporary writers agree in attributing to Richard Humphries.

“His attitudes,” says the author of “Sketches and Reminiscences,”

already quoted, “were remarkable for their impressive grace;” of course

according to the taste of the old school. We doubt if modern

cognoscenti, as they inspect our faithful copy of a contemporary

engraving, will endorse the opinion; but, as the Latin poet told us two

thousand years ago, “times change, and men change with them:”[57] though

we must admit that our progress has brought improvement.

Humphries was about the middle size, 5 feet 8 inches, well-limbed, and

had practised boxing to great advantage. He was apt and ready; his blows

were effective; and his aims at the “mark,” or wind, and under the ear,

are talked of by contemporaries. Contrary to our modern notions,

Humphries puzzled his antagonists by hitting with his right at leading

off, and stopping with his left. He did not, however, like Mendoza, use

both hands with equal facility. His game was unquestionable, and he was

justly esteemed a model of pugilistic excellence. He was so attractive

as to give a new and increased impetus to the art of self-defence; and

on the public announcement that “the Gentleman Boxer” would fight Samuel

Martin, the Bath Butcher, on a stage at Newmarket, on the 3rd of May,

1786, the battle was attended by their Royal Highnesses the Prince of

Wales and Duke of York (_arcades ambo_), the Dukes of Orleans and De

Fitzjames, and most of the French nobility then in England, with a crowd

of the best and bravest of the land. A guinea was the admission-fee,

which hundreds cheerfully paid, to go to the winner, and between £30,000

and £40,000 awaited the wager of battle.

Sam Martin[58] was a boxer of some repute, shorter than Humphries,

strongly made, a little heavier, and had seen some service in the field

of battle. The set-to was remarkable for science, Humphries parrying

Martin’s attacks with singular adroitness, and standing up to Martin

manfully. Martin seemed deficient in distance, and occasionally fell;

hence his deliveries were ineffective. Humphries retained his position

of favourite. Martin, finding himself kept out of distance, went in

boldly. Humphries exchanged, and fought “with” his man, till the betting

became equal. Humphries appeared the stronger man, giving his opponent a

most tremendous knock down, which brought the odds to his favour.

Martin, notwithstanding, appeared game, and fought well, contesting

every inch of ground; and it was not until after a determined combat of

an hour and three quarters, (“Boxiana” states three quarters of an hour)

that Martin declared he had had enough. The distinguished company were

highly gratified, and Humphries won—“golden opinions from all sorts of

men.”

Numerous sporting men rallied round pugilism, and the professors of the

science were not without high and noble patrons. Royalty now frequently

witnessed the display of the art, accompanied by dukes, earls,

honourables, etc.; and men of the first distinction did not feel ashamed

of being seen in the ring, or acting as umpires at a manly boxing match.

The science, courage, and gentleman-like conduct of Humphries had

secured him many friends; and, with a mind by no means destitute of

intelligence, he could not fail in obtaining admiration and respect.

But, deservedly distinguished as Humphries stood in the boxing

hemisphere, a competitor arose to share his fame and glory, if not to

aspire to superiority. He was not only a daring, but a most formidable

rival, as his pretensions to pugilistic excellence were known to be

sound. He had been proved, and his displays of skill in trying conflicts

had made a deep impression upon the best judges. As there was beyond

this a personal jealousy and rivalry, there was little difficulty in

bringing together Daniel Mendoza and Richard Humphries.

We have already noticed the preliminary brush between the rivals at the

“Cock,” at Epping.

Preliminaries being agreed to, Odiham, in Hampshire, was fixed upon as

the place, and 400 guineas as the sum for which these masters of the art

should contend. A raised twenty-four feet stage was prepared, in a

paddock, and the door-money was to be divided between the combatants. On

the day (January 9, 1788) being announced, the anxiety which prevailed

upon the decision of this tourney was unprecedented. Odiham was then a

distance from town; it is now a steam steed’s “stride.” Everybody was

there, for Humphries and Mendoza were to fight. In the towns and

villages near the scene of action, the country people were equally

interested, and innumerable pedestrians were seen in all directions

moving towards the fight, so that within an hour previous to the battle

the multitude collected was truly astonishing. To prevent the combatants

from being bilked of the door-money (which was half a guinea each), the

most athletic of the milling _corps_ were selected for the protection of

the entrance, and the potent arms of Dunn, Ryan, Warr, and Tring,

assisted by other powerful pugilists, kept for some time order in the

crowd. But, as the time drew near for the combatants to mount the stage,

John Bull’s anxiety increased beyond every other thought; and, with one

desperate effort, the “majesty of the people,” like a mighty flood,

swept all before it. The door-keepers were soon lost in the violence of

the torrent, and thousands never gave themselves the trouble of asking

the price of admission. All was noise, uproar, and confusion, for some

minutes; but upon the appearance of the combatants their attention was

so completely riveted that silence instantly prevailed.

According to our practice, whenever procurable we quote the report:—

“About one o’clock on Wednesday (January 9th, 1788), Humphries ascended

the stage amid the cheers of the spectators, attended by Tom Johnson as

his second, Tom Tring as his bottle-holder, and Mr. Allen as his chosen

umpire. After bowing to all around, he proceeded to strip. His dress,

when prepared for the contest, was a pair of fine flannel drawers, white

silk stockings with gold-coloured clocks, pumps, and black shoe-ribands.

While Humphries was preparing, Mendoza mounted the stage, and was

received with reiterated plaudits. His second was David Benjamin; his

bottle-holder, Jacobs, both Jews; and his umpire, Mr. Moravia. Mendoza’s

dress was more plain than his opponent’s.

“In a few minutes the combatants were prepared for the onset, shook

hands, and immediately Mendoza assumed his attitude with the air of a

man determined on victory. Humphries appeared astonished, and both

remained in serious expectation for some minutes before a blow was

offered. Mendoza struck first, but recoiling, slipped and fell;

Humphries caught it, and retreated. The second blow Mendoza gave his

opponent brought him down, and in the next round they closed, and

Mendoza threw his adversary. For full fifteen minutes did Mendoza attack

with such violence and superiority, that the odds, which at the

beginning were two to one against him, changed considerably in his

favour; and during this time Humphries had many falls, but still

remained undaunted.

“Whether the defensive mode of fighting adopted by Humphries in his

first onset was manœuvre, or the _nouvelle_ style in which he was

attacked, and the unexpected vigour of his antagonist, made him give

way, cannot but remain a matter of dispute. At the commencement of the

battle Mendoza drove him to the side of the rail, and, while his body

was suspended, aimed a blow at the bottom of his ribs, which undoubtedly

would have decided the battle, had not Johnson caught it. Mendoza’s

friends immediately exclaimed, ‘foul, foul;’ but the umpires decided

Johnson was perfectly justified in acting as he had done, for that

Humphries must be considered as being knocked down.[59]

“From the wetness of the day, the stage was extremely slippery, and this

was particularly unfavourable to Humphries: he therefore took off his

shoes; but silk stockings were ill calculated to remedy the

inconvenience, and he afterwards put on a pair of worsted stockings, in

which he stood more firm, and began to manifest great superiority.

Having very much recovered himself, he stood up to his antagonist, and

with great dexterity threw Mendoza, pitching him on the face, which cut

his forehead above the right eye, and very much bruised his nose. From

this moment odds changed again in favour of Humphries. He threw in a

blow near the loins of his antagonist, and in the next round planted a

most severe one in the neck. In this round Mendoza also struck him in

the face; but slipping, he fell with his leg under him, sprained his

foot, and immediately gave in: he shortly after fainted, and was carried

off the stage.

“The contest lasted twenty-nine minutes (twenty-eight minutes fifty-four

seconds), and it was acknowledged there never was more skill and science

displayed in any boxing match in this kingdom.

“Mr. Bradyl, Humphries’ patron, not being on the ground, he immediately

forwarded to him the result in the following laconic style:—

“SIR,—I have done the Jew, and am in good health.

“RICHARD HUMPHRIES.”

The Israelites were severe sufferers; but although Mendoza was defeated,

his fame and character as a pugilist were considerably increased. His

style of fighting was highly spoken of by the scientific; and at close

quarters, and as a quick hitter, he was evidently superior to his

antagonist. The advantage was also upon the side of Mendoza in strength

of arm; and, when struggling to obtain the throw, he punished his

adversary considerably by keeping down his head. His guard was

excellent, and displayed a thorough knowledge of the art; in consequence

of keeping it closer to his body than that of his adversary, his blows

were given with more force when he hit out; and with respect to stopping

he was not inferior to Humphries. For elegance of position, cool and

prompt judgment, fortitude of manner, and force of blow, however, he was

thought much inferior. He wanted also that manly bearing which was so

apparent in Humphries, whose confidence rendered him so apparently

indifferent of self. In throwing, Mendoza, to the great surprise of

many, had the advantage.

Humphries’ attitudes were of the most manly and tasteful description,

and, even in the most trying moments of the fight, his postures were

considered graceful. His intellectual capacity had rendered him more

acquainted with the properties of the human frame than pugilists in

general; and his habits of life had tended to make him more conversant

and attractive in society than fighting men perhaps think essentially

necessary. His manners were conciliatory, and he endeavoured through

life to enact the gentleman. His friends were materially increased by

such conduct.

It was extremely difficult to decide which was the neatest pugilist; so

much activity, science, elegance, and courage, were displayed upon both

sides, though extremely different as to character and manner: but it

appeared that Humphries, in the defensive position, although he kept his

adversary at a distance by extending his arms, lost that celerity and

power which his hits might have possessed had his arms been nearer his

body.

Thenceforward, the pugilistic career of Humphries was a fruitless

attempt to prevent his victor’s wreath from falling into the hands and

adorning the brow of his able Israelitish rival. Twice did he do all

that man can do—his best—to stem the advancing tide of fate, but in

vain. How he struggled is already written in the memoir of MENDOZA.

Humphries lived for many years after their last contest (September 29th,

1790), and died in respectable circumstances, his calling being that of

a coal-merchant in the Adelphi, Strand.

CHAPTER III.

MR. JOHN JACKSON—1788‒1795.

In penning the History of Pugilism, one object has been our polestar—a

desire on the one hand to avoid fulsome adulation, and, on the other,

never to cast undeserved censure: to “nothing extenuate, nor set down

aught in malice,” but to speak of men as they were, and as their actions

proved them.

These remarks appear appropriate to a notice of John Jackson, inasmuch

as, blinded by early prejudices, which no after information has tended

to dispel, and imposed upon by the contemptible sophisms and paltry

libels of lily-livered scribes, who “earn their dirty pay” by pandering

to what they suppose the taste of the reading public, no small

proportion of that public has taken it for granted that pugilism and

blackguardism are synonymes. It is as an antidote to these slanderers

that we pen a candid history of the boxers; and, taking the general

habits of men of humble origin (elevated by their courage and bodily

gifts to be the associates of those more fortunate in worldly position),

we fearlessly maintain that the best of our boxers (we take no account

of outsiders, inasmuch as they have no claim to the designation,)

present as good samples of honesty, generosity of spirit, goodness of

heart, and humanity, as an equal number of men of any class of society.

But the manly art of self-defence—one of the most generous, noble, and

national traits of the English character—has never lacked detractors.

The mean-spirited, the treacherous, and the cruel can never be its

admirers. But does it appear that the mind is debased from witnessing

such public displays? would the usages of society be infringed upon if

such exhibitions were legalised? Are the feelings of men so blunted from

these specimens of hardihood and valour, as to prevent them from

fulfilling those public situations in life which many are called upon to

perform, with fidelity, justice, and reputation? We reply, no! and

experience corroborates our assertion. Were it otherwise, we should

admit pugilism to be a disgrace to the country where it is permitted,

and boxers obnoxious to society.

The “great moralist,” Samuel Johnson, surely saw the rough side of

pugilism in his day; yet we read in his works, “Courage is a quality so

necessary for maintaining virtue, that it is always respected, even when

found associated with vice.” Without accepting the corollary of the

ponderous Doctor, himself—as in the case of the brewer’s servant in

Fleet Street, and of Davies, the bookseller in Covent Garden—a practical

exponent of the _ars pugnandi_, we are ready to appeal to the readers of

these pages, whether courage of the highest order, in the case of the

leading pugilists, is not associated with forbearance, humanity, and

active benevolence?

One of the most respected public characters in the early part of this

century, whose patriotic attention to the preservation and due

administration of the laws; whose firmness in supporting, upon all

occasions, the liberty of the subject; whose dignity and consistency of

conduct in representing the first city in the world in Parliament; and

who filled the office of Lord Mayor of London, with honour to himself,

and advantage to his fellow citizens, was an ardent and firm patron of

pugilism, and “a friend” of John Jackson. We allude to Harvey Christian

Coombe, Esq., whose name never suffered the slightest tarnish from his

patronage of the Old English custom of boxing in the early part of his

life; but, through a long and distinguished career, proved his

pretensions so clearly to the character of a real Englishman, an honest

citizen, and an independent senator, that in 1816 he was returned a

fourth time as member for the City of London.

Another member of the senate, whose enlightened mind, classical

acquirements, and transcendent talents, shone at a time when wits and

orators were rife in St. Stephen’s Chapel, was the friend of John

Jackson, and of pugilism. To a mind stored with ancient and modern

literature, conversant with popular recreations in all their gradations,

from the rusticity of a cudgelling bout at a country fair to an _assaut

d’armes_ in the aristocratic fencing-school, the Right Hon. William

Windham added a true English spirit of fair play, when he thus publicly

declared his sentiments:—“A smart contest this, between Maddox and

Richmond! Why are we to boast so much of the native valour of our

troops, as shown at Talavera, at Vimiera, and at Maida, yet to

discourage all the practices and habits which tend to keep alive the

same sentiments and feelings?” The sentiments that filled the minds of

three thousand spectators who witnessed those two pugilists were the

same in kind as those which inspired the higher combatants on that

occasion. It is the circumstances only in which they are displayed that

make the difference.

‘He that the world subdued, had been

But the best wrestler on the green.’

[Illustration:

MR. JOHN JACKSON, 1798.

_From an original Painting in possession of_ SIR HENRY SMYTHE, Bart.

]

There is no sense in the answer always made to this, ‘Are no men brave

but boxers?’ Bravery is found in all habits, classes, circumstances, and

conditions. But have habits and institutions of one sort no tendency to

form it more than another? Longevity is found in persons of habits the

most opposite; but are not certain habits more favourable to it than

others? The courage does not arise from mere boxing, from the mere

beating, or being beat, but from the sentiments excited by the

contemplation and cultivation of such practices. “Will it make no

difference in the mass of people, whether their amusements are all of a

pacific, pleasurable, and effeminate nature; or whether they are of a

sort that calls forth a continued admiration of prowess and hardihood?”

A slight anecdote, apropos of the prevalence of the taste for the use of

the “muffles,” as boxing-gloves were then called, will take us back to

the days when Vauxhall was in the height of its splendour. Old Tyers,

then the proprietor of the Gardens, had commissioned Hayman, the

painter, to panel the “Hall of British Worthies” with portraits of the

heroes of our land. The gallant and good-natured Marquis of Granby was

waited upon by Tyers, with a request that he would honour Hayman with a

sitting. In consequence, the hero of Minden dropped in at the artist’s

studio in St. Martin’s Lane. “But, Frank,” said the peer, “before I sit

to you, I insist upon having a set-to with you.” Hayman, astonished at

the oddity of the observation, affected not to understand his visitor,

whereupon the Marquis exclaimed, “I have been told that you are one of

the last boxers of the school of Broughton, and I flatter myself not

altogether deficient in the pugilistic art; but since I have been in

Germany I have got out of practice, therefore I want a little trial of

your skill.” Hayman pleaded age and gout as obstacles to his consent. To

the first the Marquis replied, “There was very little difference between

them; and to the second, that he considered exercise as a specific

remedy,” adding, laughing, “besides, a few rounds will cause a glow of

countenance that will give animation to the canvass.” Hayman no longer

resisted; the gloves were donned, and to it they went. After a good

display of strength and science, Hayman delivered such a straight hit in

the “breadbasket,” that down they both went with a tremendous crash.

This brought up stairs the affrighted Mrs. Hayman, who found the

academician and commander-in-chief rolling over each other on the carpet

like two unchained bears. Frank, who was a humourist and _bon vivant_,

often narrated this anecdote of the nobleman,

“Who filled our sign-posts then as Wellesley now,”

over a social glass at his own and his friends’ merry meetings.

We cannot but think the reader will consider these slight notices of how

our fathers viewed the science of self-defence—now, for a season only,

as we trust, “fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf”—as a fitting

preface to the life of Jackson, who flourished in the palmy days of

pugilism; one of “nature’s gentlemen,” who not only supplanted Mendoza,

but took a higher position in the social scale than any boxer who

preceded or followed him, no less from the firmness and urbanity of his

manners, than the high requisites he possessed for shining as an

athlete.

John Jackson was born in London, in 1768, and was the son of an eminent

builder, by whom the arch was thrown over the Old Fleet Ditch, near the

mouth of the River Fleet, flowing from the Hampstead and Highgate Hills,

and crossed by bridges at Holborn and Ludgate. This forms the great

sewer of Blackfriars from the north into the new Low Level, over which

run Farringdon Street (the site of the old Fleet Market), and Bridge

Street, leading to the splendid bridge by Cubitt, with its ugly iron

companion carrying the L. C. & D. R. John Jackson’s uncles were farmers,

and tenants of the Duke of Bedford and the Marquis of Hertford. Nature

had bestowed upon him all those athletic requisites which constitute the

_beau ideal_ of perfect manhood. There was a happy combination of

muscular development with proportionate symmetry in his frame (his

height was five feet eleven, and his weight fourteen stone), which

rendered him a fitting model for the sculptor, and excited the

admiration of all those by whom these qualities are appreciated. At the

age of nineteen he became a frequenter of the sparring schools, and

displayed such talents as proved that he was destined to eclipse the

most favoured of his cotemporaries; added to which, possessing as he did

the _suaviter in modo_ as well as the _fortiter in re_, he soon found

patrons of the highest grade.

It is stated that a conversation with Colonel Harvey Aston[60] led to

his first encounter in the prize ring. Fewterel, a Birmingham boxer, as

yet unbeaten, had been the conqueror, says “Pancratia,” in eighteen

battles. The meeting took place at Smitham Bottom, near Croydon, June

9th, 1788. We copy the report.

“This day there were decided three boxing matches, which had been long

depending, and great bets were depending on. The first was between

Jackson, a fine young man of nineteen years only, and Fewterel,[61] of

Birmingham. Tom Johnson seconded Jackson, and Bill Warr, Fewterel;

Humphries and Dunn were the bottle-holders. Fewterel is a man of

extremely great bulk, so much so that, at first setting-to, it was

doubted whether Jackson would ever level such an opponent. Yet this he

never failed to do when he could plant his blows at distance. The

contest lasted one hour and seven minutes; its decision being very much

procrastinated by Fewterel fighting shifty, getting down to avoid a

blow, and then remaining so long on the floor as often to require the

interposition of the umpires to remind his seconds of ‘time.’ Fewterel

at last gave up the contest, and Major Hanger, by command of the Prince

of Wales, who was present, gave young Jackson a bank note.”[62]

Jackson’s next contest (March 12th, 1789) was with George Ingleston, the

brewer. It closed by an untoward accident, by which Jackson broke the

small-bone of his leg, as will be seen under the head of Ingleston, in

the Appendix to Period II.

Jackson’s next contest was one of the greatest interest to the

pugilistic world. The victories of Mendoza had placed him on the

pinnacle of fame; and the attempt to defeat the conqueror of Sam Martin,

of Humphries (twice), of Bill Warr (twice), to say nothing of minor

boxers, was viewed as indeed a bold flight of young ambition. On April

15th, 1795, the men met at Hornchurch, in Essex, for a stake of 200

guineas aside. We copy the contemporary report:—

“A twenty-four feet stage was erected in a most advantageous hollow,

which accommodated upwards of three thousand spectators, and so

excellently adapted that no one could claim a superiority of situation.

All the eminent patrons and amateurs were present: the Duke of Hamilton,

Lord Delaval, Sir John Phillipson, Mr. Clark, Mr. Bullock, Mr. Lee, Mr.

Fawcett, etc.; and among the pugilists of note were Jackling, Will Warr

and Joe Warr, George the Brewer, Tom Tyne, Fearby (the Young Ruffian),

etc.

“At one o’clock Mendoza mounted the spot of combat, accompanied by his

second, Harry Lea, and Symonds (the Old Ruffian), as his bottle-holder.

Jackson immediately followed, with Tom Johnson as his second, and Wood,

the coachman, for his bottle-holder. The chosen umpires were Mr.

Alexander and Mr. Allen.

“They each politely bowed to the people, and were received with general

acclamations. About five minutes after one they, as usual, saluted each

other by shaking hands, and immediately set-to. Bets five to four in

favour of Mendoza.”

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Both having assumed their attitude,

displayed the greatest caution; full a minute

expired before a blow was struck, when Jackson

made a hit, and his antagonist fell.

2.—Mendoza guarded with great science, avoided

the blows of his opponent, and put in several

severe ones.

3.—In this round there was much hard fighting.

Odds rose two to one in favour of Mendoza, but

the round terminated by Mendoza falling.

4.—This was the most severely contested round

throughout the battle. Jackson seemed to hold

his opponent’s manœuvres in contempt, followed

him up with great resolution, and put in some

dreadfully severe blows, by the last of which

Mendoza fell, and his right eye was much cut;

Jackson now evidently had the advantage.

5.—In this round Jackson caught his opponent by

the hair, and holding him down, gave him several

severe blows, which brought him to the ground;

Mendoza’s friends called “foul,” but the umpires

decided on the contrary. Odds had now changed

two to one on Jackson.

6, 7, 8.—Throughout these three rounds Jackson

supported his superiority. Mendoza acted

entirely on the defensive.

9.—This was the last round. Jackson manifestly

displayed astonishing advantage; he several

times struck his adversary, when he fell quite

exhausted, and gave in.

The battle only lasted ten minutes and a-half,

and was acknowledged by every spectator to be

the hardest contested that ever was fought in so

short a time. Jackson was very little hurt,

leaping from the stage with great agility, but

Mendoza was quite cut up.

“A subscription purse was made and fought for between a Jew called Black

Baruk, who was seconded by Symonds (the Old Ruffian), and Burk a

glass-blower, seconded by James the waterman. It was very well contested

for half an hour, when a dispute arose about a foul blow, and it was

terminated by sharing the money between them.”

Nearly seven years after his combat with Mendoza, a “gag” paragraph

having appeared in the newspaper, announcing a forthcoming fight as in

arrangement between Mendoza and Jackson, the latter inserted the

following letter to the Editor of the _Oracle and Daily Advertiser_ of

Wednesday, December 1, 1801:—

“SIR,—I was somewhat astonished on my return to town on Saturday, to

learn that a challenge was inserted in your paper on Thursday last,

as if from Mr. Mendoza. Should I be right in my conclusion, by

believing that it came from that celebrated pugilist, I beg you will

inform the public through the medium of your paper, that for some

years I have entirely withdrawn from a public life, and am more and

more convinced of the propriety of my conduct by the happiness which

I enjoy in private among many friends of great respectability, with

whom it is my pride to be received on terms of familiarity and

friendship: goaded, however, as I am to a petty conflict, I hope

that it will not be considered too much arrogance on my part simply

to observe, that, after waiting for more than three years to accept

the challenge of any pugilist, however dexterous in the science, and

however highly flattered by his friends, I think it rather

extraordinary that Mr. Mendoza should add a silence of four years to

those three, it being nearly seven years since I had the

satisfaction of chastising him; but Mr. Mendoza derived one great

good from the issue of that contest—he was taught to be less hasty

in forming his resolutions, more slow in carrying them into effect.

“This cautious and wise principle of action deserves much

commendation; and having served an apprenticeship of seven years to

learn a certain portion of artificial courage, he now comes forward

with a stock of impudence (the only capital which during that time

he seems to have acquired) to force me to appear once more in that

situation which I have for years cheerfully avoided.

“Reluctant, however, as I am to attract again, even for a moment,

the public attention, I shall have no objection to vindicate my

character by a meeting with Mr. Mendoza when and where he pleases,

provided he’ll promise to fight, and provided he’ll also promise not

to give previous information to the magistrates at Bow Street, or

elsewhere.

“I am, Sir, yours and the public’s most respectfully,

“JOHN JACKSON.”

_Nov. 20, 1801._

Need we say that this was on the part of Mendoza a mere piece of that

absurd system of gagging then so much in vogue, and on which we have

elsewhere commented.

Independent of his pugilistic prowess, Mr. Jackson was distinguished for

his extraordinary powers as a runner of a short distance, and as a

leaper no man of his day was equal to him at a standing jump, of which

many extraordinary feats are on record. His muscular strength was equal

to his bodily activity, and in the presence of Mr. Harvey Coombe, and

other gentlemen, he lifted ten hundred weight and one quarter, and wrote

his own name with eighty-four pounds weight suspended from his little

finger!

One of the most able and experienced sporting writers, the late Vincent

George Dowling, Esq., the founder, and for more than thirty years the

editor of _Bell’s Life in London_, has left on record a graceful tribute

to the memory of his friend of many years, John Jackson, in the form of

an obituary notice. From this we shall here make a few extracts.

“John Jackson was an instance of the glorious truth which this country

is constantly evolving—that if a man be true to himself, he may defy the

obloquy and malice of millions. No matter in what grade of life a

creature be thrown; no matter whether from necessity or choice he

mingles with the learned or the illiterate, the high or the low; give

him the attribute of genius, or, if that be denied, honesty and

perseverance, and he must distinguish himself. The choice of a

profession is the puzzle of boyhood—be it so. _A profession never

degraded a man, if that man took care not to degrade his profession._”

This last axiom deserves to be written in letters of adamant; it

contains the philosophy we hope to inculcate by our pages. Mr. Dowling

continues: “As there always have been, and always will be, ruffians

loose upon society, who can only be met and quelled by the arguments

such brutes can appreciate; and as

“Heads, nineteen in twenty, ’tis confest,

Can feel a crabstick quicker than a jest,”

it is essential that boxing, as an art, should not fall into

desuetude. It empowers the little man to defend himself against the

big one; makes the weaker man, to a considerable extent, able to

protect himself against the onset of the stronger one, and, in some

cases, to punish his want of skill and his presumption. Doubtless much

has been done in our great cities by gas and an improved police; but

even now things do occasionally occur to call upon every man to know

how with his own hands to defend his own head, or, what is doubtless

of more consequence, the heads of those near and dear to him, or under

his protection. Such a power is a _corps de reserve_, which, though it

_may_ never be called into action, it is valuable and assuring to

possess. So thought our grandfathers, so thought our grandfathers’

fathers in the days of Fielding. Boxing, to a gentleman, was a more

modern and practical application of knight-errantry; it enabled a man

to protect himself against aggression, and yet more, to defend an

insulted woman. ‘Good,’ exclaims the anti-pugilist, ‘but what say you

to the prize-fighter?’ The response is plain: He is the exemplar, the

professor, the demonstrator of a practice, of an exercise. Could or

can the sword or the bow be taught without professors, and can they

teach without exemplifying?” * * * After a few facts, which will be

found embodied in our Memoir, Mr. Dowling concludes: “From 1785, Mr.

Jackson ceased to be a public pugilist, having fought but three

battles, winning two, and not gaining (for it cannot be called losing)

the third by an accident. On what basis, then, rests his fame as a

thoroughly tried boxer? On none whatever; the pedestal of his

popularity was conduct, the keystone to fortune in every grade of

life. There is a singular similarity in the career of John Jackson and

John Gully: the latter fought but thrice, was beaten once, won the

other two, and then retired to enjoy a better fortune in a higher

sphere of society.”

Ere quitting the mere active sporting career of Mr. Jackson, it may be

as well to state that as a runner his speed was extraordinary, but he

could not last: he also excelled as a jumper until the celebrated

Ireland “took the shine out of all England.”

The opening of “Jackson’s Rooms, 13, Old Bond Street,” was literally an

era in the gymnastic education of the aristocracy. Not to have had

lessons of Jackson was a reproach. To attempt a list of his pupils would

be to copy one-third of the then peerage. Byron, who was proud of being

thought a pugilist, has in his correspondence spoken highly of his

tutor; but the fact is, from lameness, the poet could neither hit nor

stop effectively. When Jackson taught the author of “Childe Harold,” he

was forty-four, Byron about twenty-three; the latter therefore stood a

boy before a veteran. In a note to the 11th Canto of “Don Juan,” we find

this: “My friend and corporeal pastor and master, John Jackson, Esquire,

professor of pugilism, who I trust still retains the strength and

symmetry of his model of a form, together with his good humour, and

athletic as well as mental accomplishments.”

And in his diary we read:—“Jackson has been here; the boxing world much

as usual, but the club increases (_i.e._ Pugilistic Club). I shall dine

at Cribb’s to-morrow.”

He records going to this dinner thus: “Just returned from dinner with

Jackson (the Emperor of Pugilism), and another of the select, at

Cribb’s, the Champion’s.”

The next extract shows the author of “Childe Harold” actually in

training: “I have been sparring with Jackson for exercise this morning,

and mean to continue and renew my acquaintance with my muffles. My

chest, and arms, and wind are in very good plight, and I am not in

flesh. I used to be a hard hitter, and my arms are very long for my

height (5 feet 8¼ inches); at any rate exercise is good, and this the

severest of all; fencing and the broadsword never fatigued me half so

much.” This latter is dated the 17th of March, 1814.

“Got up, if anything, earlier than usual; sparred with Jackson _ad

sudorem_, and have been much better in health for many days.”

Byron kept at his work, for we find him writing thus on the 9th of

April, 1814: “I have been boxing for exercise for the last month daily.”

In returning to the younger days of the “finest formed man in Europe,”

we shall take the liberty of borrowing a graphic colloquial sketch from

the lips of a veteran: “There were the Lades, the Hangers, the Bullocks,

the Vernons, but give me Jack Jackson, as he stood alone amid the

throng. I can see him now, as I saw him in ’84, walking down Holborn

Hill, towards Smithfield. He had on a scarlet coat, worked in gold at

the buttonholes, ruffles, and frill of fine lace, a small white stock,

no collar (they were not then invented), a looped hat with a broad black

band, buff knee-breeches, and long silk strings, striped white silk

stockings, pumps, and paste buckles; his waistcoat was pale blue satin,

sprigged with white. It was impossible to look on his fine ample chest,

his noble shoulders, his waist, (if anything too small), his large, but

not too large hips (the fulcrum of the human form, whether male or

female), his limbs, his balustrade calf and beautifully turned but not

over delicate ankle, his firm foot, and peculiarly small hand, without

thinking that nature had sent him on earth as a model. On he went at a

good five miles and a half an hour, the envy of all men, and the

admiration of all women.”

As regards his face nature had not been bountiful; his forehead was

rather low, and the mode he wore his hair made it peculiarly so. His

cheek bones were high, and his nose and mouth coarse. His ears projected

too much from his head, but his eyes were eyes to look at rather than

look with; they were full and piercing, and formed a great portion of

his power as a pugilist—with them he riveted his men.

Anatomists of the first standing examined Jackson, and artists and

sculptors without number took sketches and models of his arm; but it was

the extraordinary proportion of the man throughout that formed the

wonder.

After 1795 Mr. Jackson resolved to teach others the art in which he

himself excelled. For an instructor he had that invaluable requisite,

temper; he was never too fast with his pupils. This made his initiatory

lessons tedious to young gentlemen who go ahead, and it may readily be

conceived that amid the aristocracy of England he had plenty of rough

assailants to deal with. But he was always on his guard; there was no

chance of rushing suddenly in and taking Jackson by surprise—he could

not be flurried. Amid the other qualifications he had studied Lavater,

and managed to reckon up his customers at first sight, and knew what he

had to trust to. It has been said “he defied any man to hit him;” this

is the truth, but not the whole truth—he defied any man to hit him

whilst he (Jackson) stood merely on the defensive; in a fight, of

course, it is impossible to avoid being hit.

“His sparring was elegant and easy. He was peculiarly light upon his

feet, a good judge of distance, and when he indulged his friends with a

taste of his real quality, the delivery of his blow was only observable

in its effect. It literally came like lightning, and was felt before it

was seen. Most big men are comparatively slow, but he was as rapid as

Owen Swift or Johnny Walker, and this, too, when upwards of fifty years

of age.

“Jackson not only told you what to do, but why you should do it; in this

essential point many capital instructors are and have been deficient.

The want of this power of explaining the purpose of an action made Young

Dutch Sam and Richard Curtis bad instructors, though they were finished

pugilists, and, which does not always follow, capital sparrers.

“Jackson was not unmindful of the fact that art never ends. If there was

anything new in the gymnastic, equestrian, or pedestrian way, there be

assured was Jackson; not merely witnessing the exhibition, but examining

the means by which the effects were produced. He was consequently often

at Astley’s and at the Surrey, when Ireland, the jumper, was there, and

knew all the famous fencers, funambulists, dancers, and riders of his

day, and his day was a long one.

“Of his private character, what can be said more than that all his

pupils became his friends. Save with Dan Mendoza, it is not known that

he ever had a quarrel. He was a careful man, not a mean man—saving, but

not penurious. It is to be remembered, too, from his peculiar situation,

continued calls were made upon his purse by the ruffianly and

profligate, who claimed a brotherhood that he utterly and properly

repudiated.”

In 1811, he procured a benefit at the Fives Court, in aid of the

subscription for the suffering Portuguese; it realised £114. Next year

he did the same for the British prisoners in France; this benefit

amounted to £132 6_s._ He also aided the benefit for the Lancashire

weavers (1826).

One old boxer (but who was not of Jackson’s day) pestered him

incessantly for money. “No,” said Jackson, “I’ll give you no money; but

you may go to the Horse and Groom, and you will find a clean bed, three

meals, and a pot of beer a day; stay there until matters mend.” The man

was thankful in the extreme; but a week had not elapsed ere he was found

in the taproom bartering his dinner for gin!

Of course a “lion” like Jackson could not avoid being made a “show” of

on particular occasions; accordingly, when the allied sovereigns were in

England, his aid was required. On the 15th of June, 1814, at the house

of Lord Lowther, in Pall Mall, a pugilistic fete came off in the

presence of the Emperor of Russia, Platoff, Blucher, etc. The display so

delighted those illustrious fighting men that it was resolved to carry

the thing out on a grander scale; accordingly, the King of Prussia, the

Prince Royal, Prince of Mecklenburg, and others assembled. Jackson,

Cribb, Belcher, Oliver, Painter, and Richmond, were the principal

performers. The foreign nobility now wanted a peep, and at Angelo’s

rooms some splendid displays took place. It was said that Jackson had

inoculated them with a pugilistic fever, but it is believed he never

obtained a single pupil from among them. If this be a fact, it is an

extraordinary one.

At the coronation of George the Fourth, 1821, Mr. Jackson was applied to

to furnish an unarmed force “to preserve order.” Cribb, Spring, Belcher,

Carter, Richmond, Ben Burn, Harmer, Harry Lee, Tom Owen, Joshua Hudson,

Tom Oliver, Harry Holt, Crawley, Curtis, Medley, Purcell, Sampson, and

Eales, with Jackson at their head, formed the corps, dressed as Royal

Pages.

One gold coronation medal was given to the boxers—they raffled for it at

a dinner. Tom Belcher won and wore it.

In 1822, a number of noblemen and gentlemen, admirers of the gymnastic

sports of their country, with a Royal Duke (Clarence) at their head,

presented John Jackson with a service of plate. The salver, which bears

the subjoined inscription, is of magnificent workmanship, weighing one

hundred and eighty-seven ounces.

THIS SALVER

(With other Plate),

_Was purchased by Subscriptions from_

A ROYAL DUKE

AND SEVERAL OF THE NOBILITY AND GENTRY,

And presented to

JOHN JACKSON, ESQ.,

_Under the Superintendence of the following Committee_:

The Most Noble the Marquis of | Admiral Tollemache,

Worcester, | Major General Barton, and

Henry Smith, Bart, M.P., | John Harrison, Esq.

Mr. Jackson had for many years been stakeholder, frequently referee, and

was always ready to go round personally to solicit a subscription for

the beaten man—and who could refuse John Jackson? A match was made in

1822, between Randall and Martin for 500 guineas a side, but Mr. Elliot,

Martin’s backer, “cried for his toy again,” in fact, demanded his money

back. Mr. Jackson declared he would never again be a stakeholder, and he

kept his word. Thus virtually he retired from the ring, and from that

moment the ring declined. Its progress downwards has been checked, now

and then, by men of good conduct, and battles of great interest. Spring

and Langan (1824) revived the hopes of many. Dutch Sam from 1827 to

1839, rallied a few of the right sort around him, so did Burn and Owen

Swift. A sort of reaction took place when Broome fought Bungaree;

another, when Caunt fought Bendigo; again on the occasion of the great

resultless battle of Farnborough between Sayers and Heenan in 1861; and

lastly, the Benicia Boy’s pulley-hauley match with Tom King, awakened

attention; but down, down, down, the ring was doomed to go, and in 1879

we may safely say that in writing its later history we have penned its

epitaph. The management of fights fell into the hands of Jew speculators

in special railway trains, whose interest it became _not_ to allow the

announced battle to come off, and to repeat the process of plunder in

the shape of extortionately charged “excursion tickets,” at one to three

pounds each, until the fraud would no longer be submitted to.[63]

John Jackson lived for many years at the house in which he died, No. 4,

Lower Grosvenor Street West. The Old “Tattersall’s” may be said to have

divided his residence from that of another great artist, the late John

Liston. “It is with pleasing melancholy we remember,” says his old

friend Vincent Dowling, “the Yarmouths, the Coombes, the Lades, the

Ashtons, wending their way to the house of the one, while the Kembles,

with perhaps Charles Mathews and Charles Taylor, Theodore Hook and

Young, were standing in converse near, or visiting the low-roofed house

of the latter.”[64]

There is little more to say. Loved by many, respected by all, enjoying a

large circle of excellent society, John Jackson passed his later days.

Affluent, but not rich in the vulgar sense, he wanted less than he had,

and his income exceeded his expenditure. He was a cheerful companion,

sang a good song, told his anecdotes with great tact, and never obtruded

them. For the last year or two before his death his health declined, but

until then he rarely had a day’s illness. Peacefully and trustfully,

with his hand in that of his niece (whom he loved, and had assisted as a

daughter), John Jackson expired on the 7th of October, 1845, in the

seventy-seventh year of his age. His death was as calm and resigned as

his life had been exemplary.

The remains of John Jackson rest in Brompton Cemetery, beneath a

handsome monument, by Mr. Thomas Butler, of which we give a faithful

representation. On the side of the mausoleum nearest to the entrance is

inscribed on each side of a medallion portrait of the deceased:—

HERE LIE THE Born, Sept. 28,

REMAINS OF 1769,

JOHN JACKSON, Died, Oct. 7, 1845.

HIC VICTOR CÆSTUS

ARTEMQUE REPONO.

On the opposite side to the footpath is a nude gladiator, holding a

laurel wreath, and plunged in grief. On the top is a lion couchant, and

on the farther end we read the following:—

“Stay, traveller,” the Roman records said,

To mark the classic dust beneath it laid;—

“Stay, traveller,” this brief memorial cries,

And read the record with attentive eyes.

Hast thou a lion’s heart, a giant’s strength?

Exult not, for these gifts must yield at length.

Do health and symmetry adorn thy frame?

The mouldering bones below possessed the same.

Does love, does friendship every step attend?

This man ne’er made a foe, ne’er lost a friend.

But death too soon dissolves all human ties,

And, his last combat o’er, here Jackson lies.

THIS MONUMENT was erected by the subscriptions

of several noblemen and gentlemen,

to record their admiration of one

whose excellence of heart and incorruptible worth

endeared him to all who knew him.

[Illustration:

MONUMENT TO JOHN JACKSON IN BROMPTON CEMETERY.

THOMAS BUTLER, _Sculpsit_, 1847.

]

CHAPTER IV.

BILL HOOPER (THE TINMAN)—1789‒1797.

As a foil to the bright memoir of a high-minded, self-respecting, and

honoured athlete, we cannot better “point a moral” than by devoting a

brief chapter to the sudden rise and inglorious fall of the

“lion-hearted” boxer, known in the latter part of his career as “Bully

Hooper;” his story is a beacon of warning to the successful pugilist in

the day of his patronage, prosperity, and success.

William Hooper was born at Bristol in 1766, and previously to his

unfortunate connexion with the notorious Lord Barrymore, followed his

trade as a tinman in Tottenham Court Road, where he had the character of

a smart, industrious, well-behaved young man. His qualifications as a

pugilist were undoubted. Fear formed no part of his composition. His

confidence was innate; and neither the size nor strength of his

antagonist deterred him any more than a thorough-bred bull-dog would

calculate the bulk of his unwieldy bovine foe. Transplanted from making

saucepans to the festivities of Wargrave, and made the personal

companion of a _roué_ nobleman, he lost his head, as many better

nurtured men than poor Hooper have done. The transition from narrow

means and humble station made him insolent, overbearing, and

ostentatious, and finally the petted pugilist sunk into the ferocious

“bully,” thence from dissipation and violent excess into a shattered

human wreck, his melancholy end marked by poverty, desertion, and

disease.[65]

In person Hooper was compact and symmetrical. His shoulders and arms

were fine, his chest deep and broad; his height under five feet eight

inches, giving him the weight of 11 stone, showing him to have been

nowhere overloaded.

He is said to have fought “a number of good battles,” of which we have

no evidence, save Pierce Egan’s assertion, to set against the _per

contra_ of a contemporary, that he had “fought but twice before he met

Lord Barrymore’s man.” We suspect, however, an incidental trace of our

hero to lurk in the following paragraph at the end of the account of the

great battle between Tom Johnson and Ryan, at Cashiobury Park (see

_ante_, page 59).

“Two other battles were likewise fought on the 11th of February, 1789,

on the same stage. The first between Solly Sodicky, the Jew, and Wilson,

in which the Jew beat. The second was between the Welchman and _a

Tinman_, in which the former was cleverly defeated.” Be this as it may,

on the 19th of August, 1789, Hooper was matched with a local celebrity,

Bill Clarke, the plasterer, and the affair came off in Bloomsbury

Fields, a plot now covered with streets and squares, adjacent to

Tottenham Court Road, where Hooper exercised his vocation of a tinman.

The battle was obstinately contested, Clarke being a powerful man, but

the intuitive skill, activity, and courage of Hooper carried him

through, and his fame as a boxer spread.

Cotterel, the shoemaker, challenged Hooper for 10 guineas a side, and

they met on Barnet Common, September 5th, 1789. There was a numerous

assemblage, for Hooper was looked upon as something surprising, and was

seconded by Tom Johnson, the Champion, while Bill Warr picked up

Cotterel. Thirty-five minutes’ desperate fighting on the part of

Cotterel led to his utter defeat, and Hooper, little the worse for the

conflict, was proclaimed the conqueror.

A carpenter at Binfield Heath, of the name of Wright, having acquired

much fame in Berkshire for his fistic skill, was proposed by Lord

Falkland as a competitor for the Tinman, and Lord Barrymore, who had

witnessed Hooper’s prowess, at once accepted the cartel on Hooper’s

behalf, naming his own seat of Wargrave as the place of battle. Whatever

might have been Wright’s pretensions among the yokels, he made a poor

figure before Hooper, who fought with such skill and rapidity at his

opponent’s head, that in twenty minutes Wright[66] was all wrong, and so

punished as to be compelled to give in. This battle took place December

3, 1789.

Bob Watson, of Bristol, whom we shall have occasion to mention elsewhere

(see WATSON, Appendix to Period II.), was next introduced as an

antagonist for Hooper. This proved a most remarkable battle. The place

was Langley Close, near Salt Hill, in the neighbourhood of Windsor, and

the day February 17th, 1790. Bill Warr seconded, and Joe Ward was

bottleholder to Watson; Hooper was waited on by Tom Johnson and Butcher.

Major Churchill and Colonel Harvey Aston acted as umpires, but called in

a referee, owing to several differences of opinion during the prolonged

contest. In the third round the Tinman cleverly floored his opponent,

being the first knock-down blow; and this success he repeated in the

three following rounds: the odds were now high in favour of Hooper, and

continued to increase as the battle went on. Watson, though he could not

ward off Hooper’s attacks, proved thorough game, and rallied strongly at

the close of each bout. Two hours and a half, and one hundred rounds

were fought, not without several appeals as to Watson’s style of

delivering a blow and falling, and other unfair practices. Finally,

after Watson had been “seven times accused of striking unfairly,” Hooper

was acknowledged the victor.

Lord Barrymore’s increasing folly now led to Hooper being matched with

Brain (Big Ben). This mockery of boxing took place at Chapel Row Revel,

near Newbury, Berks, August 30th, 1790; night coming on, after three

hours and a half harlequinade by Hooper, it was declared “a drawn

battle!”[67] (See _ante_, p. 67).

This exhibition much tarnished the fame of Hooper, who was now the boon

companion of the depraved Lord Barrymore’s excesses, and for more than

two years he did not appear within the ropes, save in the capacity of a

second. As on one of these occasions we find him officiating for Bill

Treadway in a combat which brings under our notice the earliest record

of a black pugilist, we preserve the paragraph as we find it, under the

date of—

“June 13th, 1791. A pitched match was contested in Marylebone Fields,

between an excellent African pugilist and the well-known Treadway. Peter

Bath seconded the Black, and Hooper, the Tinman, his antagonist. The

battle lasted thirty-five minutes, when Treadway was carried senseless

from the field. During the combat the African showed great agility,

excellent bottom, and a thorough knowledge of the art, not to be

exceeded by the most skilful among the boxers.” This black diamond’s

name is not preserved.

In September, 1792 an announcement appeared in the _Chelmsford

Advertiser_ that two pugilistic contests would take place at Colchester

on the 4th of that month. “The grand jury who were at that time sitting,

addressed the mayor, recorder, and magistrates, expressing their wish

that they might not be permitted within the corporate jurisdiction. The

mayor accordingly, by the public wish, forbad the erection of any public

stage or any prize fight within the limits of his jurisdiction.”

In consequence of this notice, “orders were given for the erection of a

stage eighteen feet square at Bentley, about nine miles from

Colchester.”

On Thursday, September 4, 1792, the men met, according to arrangement,

and at four o’clock the first two combatants, Hooper, the Tinman, and

Bunner of Colchester, mounted the stage. Tom Johnson seconded Hooper,

with Sharp as bottle-holder. Bunner’s second was Williams, and his

bottle-holder Johnson’s old opponent Ryan. The stakes were 50 guineas a

side. Bunner, who was a young fellow of great strength and resolution,

began so vigorously that he bored down Hooper, and in the second round

closing upon him, brought him down heavily. The odds went up on Bunner,

and the Essex men were triumphant. Hooper found it would not do to

trifle with his opponent: he kept out, and displayed his superiority in

the art in great style, punishing his man sharply. In the sixth round,

however, Bunner fell by an overreach, and broke his right arm, thus

giving Hooper an easy conquest.[68]

George Maddox,[69] whose battle with the young Tom Cribb, has preserved

his name and memory, next challenged Hooper. They met for a stake of 50

guineas, at Sydenham Common, Kent, Monday, February 10, 1794. Tom

Johnson once more seconded Hooper; Maddox was attended by Joe Ward and

Bill Gibbons, the renowned of Westminster, as his bottle-holder. George

had proved himself a good man, and great expectations were entertained

of his ability to dispose of Hooper, who was much the lighter man.

Betting was five to four on Maddox. The Duke of Hamilton and a number of

the aristocratic patrons of pugilism were present. For the first three

or four rounds Maddox appeared to have the lead, and his friends were

confident. Hooper, however, met him with undaunted courage, hitting

straight, and putting in his blows with cutting severity. After three

quarters of an hour’s sharp fighting, Maddox fell off, while Hooper

increased in activity, and at the end of fifty-five minutes, Maddox gave

in with much reluctance, and the Tinman was hailed the victor.

So high had Hooper’s fame now risen that a match was made by his backer

in March, 1794, for him to fight the renowned Dan Mendoza on a

twenty-four foot stage, for 50 guineas within a month. Dan, however, was

not to be had at such a bargain. The Israelite preferred forfeiting his

friends’ £20 deposit to risking his reputation on such terms.

That determined boxer, Bill Wood[70] was anxious to try his abilities

with our hero. His friends assisted him with £50, and on Monday, June

22nd, 1795, they met and fought upon a stage erected on Hounslow Heath,

in the dangerous vicinity of the powder mills. At two o’clock the

combatants set-to. The contemporary accounts describe it as “a truly

desperate battle.” After the first few minutes, the odds rose five to

one, ten to one, and twenty to one on Wood. After fighting twenty-five

minutes, during which the punishment was heavy, Hooper levelled Wood

with a stupefying blow under the left ear. From this time Wood, though

he struggled gallantly, never entirely recovered, and the blow being

repeated, at the end of forty-eight minutes[71] Hooper was victorious.

Towards the close of the fight the odds had changed to twenty to one on

the Tinman. “The Duke of Hamilton, Colonel Hamilton, and a distinguished

party of amateurs were present,” says the chronicler of the day.

Hooper had now arrived at the summit of his success by the conquest of

so game and experienced a pugilist as Wood. His time had come to tread

the downward path that leads to the cold shade of poverty, disgrace, and

neglect. Within one year of his conquest of Wood his excesses and riot

began to tell on a constitution shaken by hard living, night-riot, and

debauchery, and Tom Owen,[72] a powerful young fellow, then known as

“the Fighting Oilman,” having been quarrelled with by Hooper, professed

his desire for a fight with “the Bully,” as he was now generally called.

Charley Coant, then a boxer of some note, forming a high opinion of Tom,

introduced him to Mr. John Jackson, and that good judge, approving the

new candidate for the honours of the P. R., obtained friends for “the

Young Oilman,” and a match was made for 100 guineas, which came off at

Harrow on the 14th of November, 1796. Owen proved himself a resolute and

steady fighter, and in the words of the reporter, “constantly kept a

straight guard of such prodigious strength that Hooper could never beat

it down, and very seldom put in a hit. Hooper, in striking a blow,

dislocated his shoulder, and being dreadfully bruised, gave in” after

fifty rounds of hard fighting. (See Life of TOM OWEN, _post_, p. 110).

As we have already said, Hooper was but a shadow of his former self;

luxury and debauchery had spoiled him.[73]

Few men are more obnoxious to the smiles and frowns of fickle fortune

than the pugilist: victory brings him fame, riches, and patrons; his

bruises are unheeded in the smiles of success; and, basking in the

sunshine of prosperity, his life passes pleasantly, till defeat comes,

and reverses the scene. Covered with aches and pains, distressed in mind

and body, assailed by poverty, wretchedness, and misery, friends forsake

him—his fame waxes dim—his character is suspected by the losers; no

longer the “plaything of fashion,” he flies to inebriation for relief,

and a premature death puts a period to his misfortunes. Thus it was with

Hooper: sheltered under the wings of nobility, he became pampered,

insolent, and mischievous. His courage was undoubted, and though his

frame was but small, it contained the heart of a lion; big men struck no

terror to his feelings, and he opposed them with all the hardihood of an

equal competitor, determined to conquer. Lord Barrymore, as already

noted, was fond of larking and practical jokes, and whenever he could

not come through the piece in style, Hooper appeared as his bully—his

name overawed, and many a time saved his patron a deserved thrashing.

One evening his Lordship took Hooper to Vauxhall, “disguised in liquor,”

yet farther disguised in band and cassock, as a clergyman. The visitors

discovered “the bully and his patron,” and after some rough handling,

they were summarily expelled from what Old Simpson, the M. C.,

grandiloquently termed “the Royal Property.” At length his lordship cast

him off, which, as he had cast himself away before, is not surprising.

Hooper soon afterwards became wretched, disease overtook him, repeated

intoxication brought him to the brink of the grave. One evening he was

found insensible on the step of a door in St. Giles’s, and conveyed to

the watch-house; on enquiring who he was, he could but faintly

articulate, “Hoop—Hoop—.” Being recognised as the miserable remnant of

that once powerful pugilistic hero, he was humanely taken to the

workhouse, where he immediately expired!—_Sic transit gloria athletæ!_

[Illustration]

CHAPTER V.

TOM OWEN—1796‒1799 (1820).[74]

Tom Owen, though living only in the memory of the present generation as

a landlord combining liquor and literature, some fancy, more fun, a

certain amount of old-school pugilism and much pretence, deserves a

niche in this period of the History of British Boxing.

True it is the clumsy bespattering of praise with which, in bad English

and worst taste, his name is loaded in “Boxiana,” may induce many of

better judgment to turn from his biography; yet is there enough to

furnish matter worthy the pen of the chronicler of deeds of courage and

of skill.

Tom Owen was a native of Hampshire, being born at Portsea, on the 21st

December, 1768.

Of the apocryphal rigmaroles which disfigure “Boxiana,” we shall not

condescend to take any account; suffice it to say, that after several

provincial encounters with the Smiths, Joneses, Greens, and Browns of

his vicinity, Tom Owen came to London, where he followed the occupation

of an oilman; a calling which the reader will perhaps condescend to

remember was much more followed than now; for, as Byron says, “in those

days we had not got to gas.”

A casual turn up caused an introduction to Mr. Jackson, who, perceiving

the germ of future greatness in Tom, took him in hand, and, fancying his

style, he was matched against the then celebrated Bully Hooper, for 100

guineas.

On the 14th, Nov., 1796, Owen met his formidable antagonist, who, it

must be remembered (with the exception of his draw with Big Ben) was as

yet unconquered. The battle-field was near Harrow. Owen was seconded by

Joe Ward and Jack Bartholomew, Hooper by Symonds and Paddington Jones.

“The contest,” says the reporter, “lasted rather more than an hour,

during which the men fought fifty rounds of hard fighting, but for the

most part of which Owen constantly kept a straight guard of such

prodigious strength, that Hooper could never beat it down, and very

seldom put in a hit. Hooper, in striking a blow, dislocated his

shoulder, and being also dreadfully bruised, gave in. Owen was so little

hurt, that he leisurely put on his clothes and walked away.”

[Illustration:

TOM OWEN, 1820.

_From a Portrait by_ GEORGE SHARPLES.

]

Pierce Egan tells us of a second fight (Hooper not being satisfied) for

100 guineas, at the same place (Harrow), a few weeks afterwards, which

“Owen won in equally good style.” We fail to find it in contemporary

records, though Pierce adds, “the stakeholder had his pocket picked of

the 100 guineas, and Owen never got a single farthing afterwards,” vol.

ii., p. 194.

The fame of Owen now spread, and a match for 25 guineas a-side was made

between Jack Bartholomew and Tom, which took place at Moulsey Hurst,

August 22, 1797. George Maddox and Goff seconded Owen upon this

occasion. It was a desperate battle, and highly spoken of at the time,

for the courage displayed on both sides; but here Tom was forced to

succumb; Bartholomew overfought him, both at close quarters and

out-fighting, and the contest was finished by Owen being hit out of

time.

On September 2, 1799, Tom entered the lists with one Houssa, a Jew, for

10 guineas a-side, on the race-ground at Enfield. Joe Ward was second to

Owen. But here again Owen was so desperately beaten, that, after a

struggle of forty minutes, he was incapable of coming to the scratch,

and the Jew was the conqueror.

Davis, of Deptford, an excavator, weighing fourteen stone, was beaten by

Owen in one hour, at Deptford, in December, 1799.

At a benefit which took place at the Horse-shoe and Hoop, Tower Hill,

Owen and Jack Bartholomew had some words about their fight at Moulsey.

The result was an exchange of blows. Pierce Egan tells us, “the smiles

of victory crowned the exertions of Owen in a quarter of an hour.”

Perhaps so—but old Tom was his own reporter.

At the Surrey Sessions, in January, 1805, Owen was indicted for a riot

and conspiracy, on Putney Common, in aiding and abetting Joe Berks and

Pearce to fight a pitched battle. The jury found Owen guilty, and he was

sentenced to three months’ imprisonment in Horsemonger Lane.

From this period Tom figured as a trainer and second, and his judgment

was generally considered good in all matters pugilistic; he also

flourishes immensely in the benefit-taking line, and was, as the

“Historian” terms him, “fly to every movement on the board.”

We shall decline transferring the trash of the Apocrypha of Boxing

respecting the exploits of Owen, as no traces of them are to be found in

the “canonical books,”—which, we take to be the journals of the time.

Leaving him, therefore, as a blind guide, we proceed to the contest with

Mendoza. This, although a very foolish affair on the part of the Jew, as

the follies of great men, even in pugilism, outweigh in interest the

wiser doings of lesser ones, is our chief reason for giving Owen a

separate chapter in the history of pugilism—despite the immense,

intense, and absurd gaggery of his injudicious friend and biographer.

In 1820, Tom (being no bad judge at match-making) proposed to Daniel

Mendoza a “passage at arms” to settle an old grudge. Dan, like an old

war-horse at the sound of the trumpet, though physically but a shadow of

his former self, met the twelve stone Tom Owen. Thirty-three years had

elapsed since the “Star of the East” had first peeled in the lists, and

fourteen since his last appearance. Although, however, his deeds were,

even to the existing generation of ring-goers, rather matter of

tradition than evidence, the fame of Mendoza made him the favourite at

six and five to four. Owen was known to be a good man, but it was

thought he had not science enough to oppose the accomplished Israelite.

Hence a great number of the oldest amateurs were induced to be present.

It is worthy of note, that Sir Thomas Apreece, Bart., who was Mendoza’s

umpire at Odiham, acted in that capacity on this occasion.

Owen, attended by Cribb and Josh. Hudson, threw up his hat first; and

Mendoza, followed by Randall and Harry Lee, repeated the token of

defiance. Mendoza was loudly cheered, and backed at five to four.

Mendoza was quickly ready, and walked about the ring with a coat thrown

over him. Owen was a considerable time preparing himself, and in making

his shoes right; instead of drawers he fought in a pair of nankeen

breeches. Mendoza’s colours were a blue silk bird’s eye, and tied over

Owen’s.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Mendoza, on stripping, exhibited a fine

manly bust; his eyes sparkled with confidence,

and there was altogether an appearance about

him that seldom characterises an individual of

fifty-five years of age. Owen, on the contrary,

looked thin; and his general appearance was

rather meagre than otherwise. On setting-to,

both the ould ones were extremely cautious, and

a minute elapsed before a hit was made. Owen at

length let fly, but without any effect. Some

exchanges took place, when they closed at the

ropes, and, after an attempt to fib on the part

of Mendoza, which was frustrated by Owen, a

struggle for throw ensued: in going down, Dan

was the undermost.

2.—Mendoza ran in with great alacrity, made

a sort of push forward, and got Owen on the

ropes; the latter went down, and his neck got

scored from them. (Great applause for Mendoza.

While Tom was on the knee of Josh, the latter

said, “Master!”—Owen, smiling, “What says my

boy?”—“Have you brought the pepper castor with

you?—“Yes, my lad, and the mustard and vinegar

cruet too!”)

3.—The Jew behaved very handsomely, and

showed some good fighting; but Owen planted

a tremendous hit on his left cheek, just

under the eye, whence the claret flowed

copiously: Mendoza went down, yet jumped up

gaily. (Randall told Mendoza he should not

have done so. “Let these ould ones alone,”

said Josh; “they know more about fighting

than you or I do.” Even betting, but Owen

for choice. “I say, master,” says Josh, “you

furnished Danny with some sour crout then!”)

4.—Owen now showed the spectators that he was

the younger man. Mendoza was again nobbed, and

the claret profusely running down his cheek.

In going down Owen was undermost. (“When am I

to have the tobacco-stopper, master?” cries

Josh.—“Leave it all to the cook yet!” Owen

smilingly observed.)

5.—Mendoza now showed he was completely gone

by as to any superiority of fighting. Owen,

having nothing to oppose him, “displayed talents

that astonished the ring.” Mendoza received a

dreadful fall.

6.—Owen, in retreating from his antagonist, ran

against the stakes, but the latter again planted

a heavy facer. In struggling, both went down.

7.—Here Tom was the hero of the tale. He nobbed

Mendoza, and got away with all the dexterity of

a youth: it was now only Mendoza by name; his

excellence as a fighter had evaporated, and his

hits were generally short. Owen, in a close at

the ropes, held Mendoza as firm as if the latter

had been screwed in a vice, and pummelled him at

the back of the neck so dreadfully, that Dan at

length fell exhausted.

8.—Mendoza came to the scratch bleeding, and

almost in a state of stupor, from the severity

of the last round. Owen planted such a

tremendous hit on Dan’s face, that he went back,

and slipped down at the corner of the ring. The

Jews were still backing Mendoza with confidence.

9.—Long sparring: Owen convinced the spectators

that he was a perfect master of the art. He hit

Mendoza in the eye, jobbed him also in the face,

and at the end of the ropes held Mendoza by the

arm, and punished him till he went down. (Two to

one on Owen.)

10.—The appearance of Mendoza’s face was much

changed; his left eye was encircled in claret.

Owen got away from his antagonist in good style.

Mendoza was punished all over the ring; Owen

threw his opponent, and fell heavily upon him.

(Three to one. Indeed, it was any odds.)

11.—Owen was determined not to give a chance

away; and he also appeared determined not to

have any more body blows. He accordingly kept at

out-fighting. A short but sharp rally occurred,

when Owen fell; and Mendoza likewise, at about

two yards distance, came heavily down upon his

face on the turf.

12th and last.—Mendoza was quite abroad, and

hit short, and at the ropes was again held by

Owen, and fibbed down. Mendoza said he would not

fight any more, as he could not win it. He was

terribly punished, and defeated in fourteen

minutes and twenty-seven seconds and a quarter;

while, on the contrary, Owen had not a scratch

on his face. The latter was carried out of the

ring by Cribb and Hudson, amidst the cheers of

the spectators.

Mendoza, while being dressed, seemed sensibly affected at his defeat. He

had not the least idea of losing the battle.

Mr. Jackson collected £20 on the ground for Mendoza, who was put into a

coach. Owen soon returned to the ring, decorated in the spoils attendant

upon conquest. Mendoza’s blue trophy was hung round Owen’s neck,

surmounted by the yellow-man of Hooper; now doubly won.

This battle hardly deserves comment, after the observations we have

already made under the memoir of Mendoza; yet it is valuable as a

warning. The merits of the combatants remain, except in the balderdash

of “the historian” of the P. R., just where they stood previous to the

fight.

Tom’s judgment as a second was unquestionable. His coolness and

readiness as second to Turner in his victory over Scroggins, and in the

remarkable fight with Sutton and Painter, may be cited.

Tom was known for many years as a pleasant companion, a good convivial

singer, and the landlord of a house on the ground now occupied by the

basin of St. Katherine’s Docks, whence the hand of improvement compelled

him to migrate. For several years he was well known as the landlord of

the Shipwrights’ Arms at Northfleet, where the fancy of all grades found

him a civil, pleasant, and obliging host. Owen died at Plumstead in 1843

aged 76 years.

CHAPTER VI.

TOM JONES (KNOWN AS “PADDINGTON JONES”).—1786‒1805.

This well-remembered pugilist, whose career forms a link between the

Second and Third Periods of the History of the Ring, well deserves a

chapter, from his numerous and game contests, his attentive civility

during his protracted connexion with fistic affairs, and yet more from

his identification with the renowned Jem Belcher, for whose first

metropolitan competitor he had the honour to be selected. Tom, including

his numerous “outside” or “bye-battles,” is supposed to have fought more

battles than any other pugilist. The Ring in Hyde Park was the frequent

arena of his contests, which in his noviciate were chiefly with roughs

and commoners.

About the year 1766, Paddington gave birth to this hero, from which

place he derived his pugilistic title. Tom commenced boxer when quite a

youth, and, from the intuitive science which he displayed at that early

period, attracted the notice of the veteran Tom Johnson, who pronounced

him to be a promising pugilist. Jones’s weight was ten stone and a half,

his height five feet eight inches, and his frame of much symmetry and

activity.

Tom’s first regular contest was about the year 1786, with one Jack

Holmes, in Harley Fields, near where Cavendish Square stands, for the

important sum of _half-a-crown_, and it appears it was as well-contested

as if £100 had been the stakes; but Jones being a mere novice, and quite

a stripling, and Holmes a full grown man, the latter proved the

conqueror.

A match was made between a one-eyed sailor, a most determined boxer, and

Tom Jones, for 10 guineas a-side, in February, 1786, which was decided

in the Ring, in Hyde Park. The contest proved a desperate one. The

Sailor was considered as ugly a customer as ever stood up for a mill;

but, in the event, Jones was declared victor. This hardy son of Neptune

was not satisfied with the first broadside, and soon afterwards entered

the lists for another 10 guineas, when he was again vanquished; yet,

like a perfect true blue, he was valiant enough to endure a third

engagement, in which he was also beaten. The Sailor displayed great

bottom, and was punished severely before he gave in.

In the course of the twelvemonth, however, smarting under the

recollection of defeat, Tom challenged Jack Holmes to a second trial

(half-minute time), for a guinea and a half, when Jones obtained an easy

conquest. This was on the 19th of December, 1786.

Aldridge, the Life-guardsman, who had been vaunting of his great deeds

of pugilism at Tom Johnson’s house, near Lincoln’s Inn Fields, was told

by Joe Ward that he would produce a boy who should soon take the conceit

out of him: accordingly, a match was made for two guineas against a

watch, and Paddington Jones was brought forward as the man to accept the

challenge. It was to have been decided in the street, in the first

instance, but was removed to Harley Fields. On stripping, the guardsman

smiled with contempt at his boy-like antagonist, and, from his long

arms, had the advantage at the first part of the battle, dealing out

some sharp punishment; but the science and bottom of Tom soon stopped

his career. After a most desperate conflict, which was witnessed by most

of the celebrated pugilists of that day, who were astonished at the

intrepidity displayed by Jones, the “_boy_” succeeded in milling his

opponent in sixty rounds. Joe Ward seconded Jones.

Shortly after the above circumstance, in the same fields, Jones fought

one Jack Blackwell, a lime-burner, for 10 shillings; and, although the

latter showed complete ruffianism in the battle, he was easily disposed

of by Tom. Tom Burley, a companion of Blackwell, thought he could now

vanquish Jones, and had the temerity to enter the ring, immediately on

the fight being over, and challenged him for the like sum. Tom instantly

accepted the cartel. Burley was also a complete ruffian, and tried what

downright force could effect; but Jones so completely foiled his

attacks, and returned blows with so much science and effect, that Burley

was perfectly satisfied. These contests were rendered somewhat

conspicuous from the celebrated Major Hanger (afterwards Lord Coleraine)

and his black servant performing the office of second and bottle-holder

to Jones.[75]

On May 14, 1792, immediately after the fight of Mendoza and Bill Warr,

at Smitham Bottom, near Croydon, upon the same stage, Jones fought Caleb

Baldwin. The battle was for a purse of £20, but a dispute arising

between the parties, although Caleb claimed the victory, it was declared

a drawn battle.

Soon after the above contest, Jones entered the ring in Hyde Park, with

Dick Horton, a baker, for 20 guineas. The latter was considered to have

some pretensions to pugilism; but Jones dealt out his hits so hard and

fast, that the baker was glad to cry enough.

Jones, in company with Pardo Wilson, anxious to witness the fight

between Hooper and Bunner, at Bentley Green (September 4, 1792) walked

down to Colchester, and was extremely stiff from the effects of his

journey. The following day, a man of the name of Abraham Challice,

standing six feet high, and weighing fourteen stone (a perfect terror to

the inhabitants of that part of the country from his great strength),

observing Tom Jones upon the race-ground, and to show his dexterity, out

of mere wantonness, endeavoured to trip up Jones’s heels, and otherwise

insulted him, also threatening to give him a good hiding. Tom,

notwithstanding the great disparity between them, was not to be insulted

with impunity, and, perhaps with more pluck than prudence, instantly

showed fight. Challice laughed at him with the most sovereign contempt,

bidding him get along for “a boy,” or he would kick his breech for his

impudence. The spectators were alarmed at the youthful appearance of

Jones, who weighed but ten stone five pounds, and begged of him to

desist, as the consequences might prove of the most serious nature; but

Tom was not to be deterred, and soon pulled off his clothes. Upon

setting-to, Challice had the advantage from his superior strength, and

kept it for three rounds; but in the fourth, Jones put in a hit under

Challice’s ear, that knocked him down, when Tom Johnson offered to back

Jones for £100. Challice, on standing up, appeared much confused, and

Tom served him out in the same style, and continued punishing him every

round till he could scarcely move, and he soon acknowledged he had never

received such a complete milling before. The farmers and others who

witnessed the contest were so pleased that this insolent fellow, who had

rendered himself so disgusting about that neighbourhood, had received a

good thrashing, immediately made a subscription purse, which soon

amounted to 30 guineas, and presented it to Jones for his bravery.

The next day a countryman, well known in the neighbourhood of Bentley

Green under the name of “Leather Jacket,” mounted the stage, and, with

considerable vaunting, publicly challenged any Londoner to enter the

lists with him. The words had scarcely escaped from his lips, when up

jumped Tom, without any consideration for his hands, which were bruised

from the effects of the severe punishment he had bestowed upon the nob

of Abraham Challice the preceding day, and instantly began to prepare

for action. The countryman seemed thunderstruck with astonishment, and

with faltering speech exclaimed, “Na! na! you be the man that beat Ab.

Challice yesterday—I mean ony one but thee!” and made a hasty retreat

from the stage, amid the laughter and sneers of the spectators at

Leather Jacket’s vain boasting.

Jones beat Keely Lyons, the Jew, at Blackheath, on the 10th of May,

1794, for a purse of 20 guineas. Tom Johnson was second to Jones. It was

a well-contested battle, in which much science and bottom were displayed

on both sides.

In a second attempt on a stage at Hounslow, June 22, 1795, Jones

disposed of the same boxer in nine rounds, occupying sixteen minutes.

Lyons was a courageous pugilist, and a boxer above mediocrity.

In the August of 1795 Jones was at Bristol, the pugilistic nursery, with

Tom Johnson and other celebrities: a match for a purse with Spaniard

Harris took place. After twenty minutes’ fighting, Harris, during a

wrangle, got hold of the purse, and bolted with it, leaving Jones and

Co. “lamenting.”

On the renowned Jem Belcher’s appearance in the metropolis as a

pugilist, Tom Jones was the man selected to have the trial set-to with

him. This came off at Old Oak Common, Wormwood Scrubs, on April 12,

1799.

Belcher was seconded by Bill Warr, and Bill Gibbons acted as his

bottle-holder. Jones had for his attendants, Joe Ward and Dick Hall.

Belcher was, at this period, only nineteen years of age. The odds were

six to four upon Jem. The spectators were much interested upon the

commencement of the battle, from the very high character which had been

promulgated by Bill Warr, as to the astonishing abilities that his pupil

possessed, and the feats which he had achieved at Bristol. The first

round, considerable science was displayed upon both sides—the experience

and skill of Jones were well displayed; and the dexterity and new mode

of fighting, so exclusively Belcher’s own, were soon exhibited. On the

termination of the first round Belcher was knocked down. The advantages

in the second and third rounds were evenly balanced; but in the fourth

and fifth Jones was levelled. In the sixth and seventh rounds Jones

showed off in most excellent style: skill, manliness, and fortitude, no

shifting, nothing shy, hugging out of the question, and hauling not

resorted to: it was a clean fight throughout, stopping and hitting were

the order of the day, and it might be deemed a model for pugilists in

general to follow. Belcher, with all the gaiety and confidence of youth,

now exhibited a new feature as a boxer. The odds had changed five to

four on Jones. The eighth and ninth were spiritedly contested; but, in

the tenth round, Belcher put in some tremendous hits, with the rapidity

of lightning. This immediately altered the appearance of things, Jem was

looked upon as the favourite, and the odds were laid accordingly. Yet

Jones nobly contested for victory for the space of thirty-three minutes,

before he gave in. Jem weighed twelve stone six pounds, and Tom Jones

but ten stone five pounds. It should not escape the memory, that Jones

stood up to Belcher (before that distinguished pugilist lost his eye)

considerably longer than any other man ever did.

In 1798 Jones was matched in London to fight George Nicholls (the

conqueror of Cribb). Mendoza and Johnson took Tom down to Lansdown, near

Bath, for that purpose; but upon the combatants stripping, and just as

they were about commencing the set-to, the following singular

circumstance occurred:—Nicholls cried out “Stop!” and observing that

Jones was above his height, declared he would not fight him, and, _sans

ceremonie_, immediately left the ring, to the great astonishment and

disappointment of the spectators. After some years had elapsed, upon

Nicholls arriving in London, a match was made for 20 guineas, and they

tried their skill at Norwood, in March, 1802. Three rounds were well

contested, and considerable science was displayed; but in the fourth,

Nicholls ran furiously in, and getting his head between Jones’s legs,

and catching fast hold of both his ankles, threw Tom with considerable

violence. This was deemed an infringement upon the rules of pugilism by

the friends of Jones: a considerable interruption was the consequence,

and the fight was at an end. The stakes were demanded on the part of

Jones; but Bill Warr, who seconded Nicholls, would not suffer them to be

given up. Respecting which was the best man, it was impossible to form

anything like a decision. Jones, on his road home, had a turn up with a

man of the name of Carter, who had insulted him about a challenge from

Simpson. Tom, who was not much hurt from the above contest, set-to with

good pluck, and so soon convinced Carter he was in the wrong, that he

sheered off.

Isaac Bittoon, the Jew, had offered himself to Jones’s notice, when Jem

Belcher, who had beaten Jones, generously undertook to find him backers.

Forty guineas were put down, and they met on Wimbledon Common, July 13,

1801. Jem Belcher seconded Jones. It was a severely-contested fight, but

Bittoon was the heavier and stronger man, and although Tom displayed

great science and courage, he was unable to come to time (half-minute)

at the end of twenty-two minutes, being hit senseless.

Simpson, a pupil of Tom Johnson’s, upon whom considerable expectations

had been raised, was matched against Jones for 10 guineas a-side, which

battle was decided on the Green, near Putney, in June 1804. It was

termed a good fight, and Tom proved the conqueror.

On August 6th, 1805, Tom Jones fought another Lyons, known as “the Yokel

Jew,” at Hounslow, for 10 guineas a-side. This was one of the most

terrible conflicts in which Tom had been engaged. Yokel was a desperate

punisher, and Jones suffered severely in the fight; nevertheless Yokel

gave in.

Notwithstanding the numerous lists of battles which have been mentioned,

it does not appear that Paddington Jones ever made pugilism his peculiar

profession, but industriously followed through life his occupation, much

respected by his friends for his civility and good nature. Jones was a

man of mild and civil behaviour, and for a long series of years was well

known as master of the ceremonies at the Fives and Tennis Courts, as a

second and an attendant upon sparring exhibitions.

As a pugilist, Jones is entitled to honourable mention; to a respectable

amount of skill he united game of the first quality. He turned out

several good pupils. His guard was good and his position ready, with his

left arm firm and extended to protect his body from assault, while his

right was on the alert to give the return. Tom was a hard hitter, used

both his hands with equal facility, stood well upon his legs, and met

his man with fortitude.

Notwithstanding the evident disadvantages that Jones had to contend

against in his battle with Jem Belcher—the disparagement of having been

severely punished in numerous battles, and other hurts from skirmishes,

contrasted with Belcher who had scarcely been pinked, and was blooming

from the country—Tom’s conduct was far above mediocrity.

No man appeared oftener in the character of a second than Tom Jones, and

few understood that duty better than himself. In most of Randall’s

battles Tom performed that office.

It is impossible that we can take our leave of Paddington Jones without

characterising him as a brave pugilist, and well deserving to occupy a

niche in the temple of fame as a straightforward, courageous, and

deserving man. Jones died at his birthplace, Paddington, August 22,

1833, at the age of 67.

APPENDIX TO PERIOD II.

BILL WARR, OF BRISTOL—1787‒1792.

William Warr (incorrectly spelt Ward in many chronologies, etc.) was one

of the many boxers of the Bristol nursery. He was expressly brought to

London to lower the pretensions of Tom Johnson, with what success we

have already seen. He was five feet nine inches in height, strongly

made, with symmetrical breast and arms, robust in appearance, extremely

active, and altogether well framed for a pugilist. As a second, Will

Warr figures in numerous fights of his period, and was of acknowledged

judgment.

After his defeat by Johnson, Warr’s next battle was with Wood, the

coachman, December 31, 1788, at Navestock, Essex. It snowed incessantly

during the combat, “yet,” says the report, “the ardour of the combatants

was not chilled, nor even the curiosity of the spectators damped. The

snow, however, did not fail to have its effects upon the battle; for the

boards of the stage being rendered extremely slippery, the pugilists

were unable to keep their feet, and each in his turn, as well in giving

as receiving blows, was brought to the ground. Warr fought in his usual

style, with much clever shifting, and displayed great agility and

science. Considering this Wood’s first essay, and against one of such

experience in the pugilistic art, he showed great courage and

determination. He fought, however, with too much impetuosity, and by

this means exposed himself to the more deliberate defence of his

opponent. For the first twenty minutes the battle was most admirably

contested on both sides. In five minutes after setting-to Warr succeeded

in closing Wood’s right eye, yet he continued the fight for half an hour

with astonishing firmness, until Warr got some heavy hits in succession

on the other eye, when he was forced to yield the victory.”

His two defeats by Mendoza are reported in the memoir of that pugilist

(pp. 76, 77).

On the 5th of May, 1789, as Bill Warr and Watson were going down to

Stilton to be present at the battle between Mendoza and Humphries, he

met with an unfortunate occurrence. A man of the name of Swaine, a

smith, who was an outside passenger of the same coach, having had some

words with Warr about the merits of Mendoza, challenged Warr to fight.

Accordingly, at the Bell Inn, Enfield, they turned out, when Warr struck

him an unlucky blow in the chest: Swaine fell and instantly expired.

Warr was taken into custody, and the following Sessions, at the Old

Bailey, was convicted of manslaughter. The whole tenour of the evidence

went to show that Warr tried everything short of cowardice to avoid the

encounter.

Stanyard, of Birmingham, who had fought a draw with Andrew Gamble, an

Irishman (one of Pierce Egan’s Irish heroes, renowned for being beaten,

despite the most wondrous qualifications[76]), was liberally backed

against Warr for 100 guineas, and they fought at Colnbrook, October 27,

1792. We may observe that “the fight was fixed to take place at Langley

Broom, but was interrupted by the interference of the magistrates, and a

move took place to Colnbrook.” We give, as shall be our custom, a report

instead of an embellished paraphrase:—“A stage having been erected, at

half-past two Stanyard ascended, accompanied by Tom Johnson as his

second, and Butcher as his bottle-holder. Shortly afterwards Warr made

his appearance, with Watson for his second, and Joe Ward as his

bottle-holder. Captain Halliday and Mr. Sharp were chosen umpires. Mr.

Harvey Aston, Lord Say and Sele, Mr. Dashwood, Sir Thomas Apreece,

Colonel Hamilton, Mr. Bedingfield, and other distinguished persons were

present.”

At forty-six minutes to two, the combatants being prepared, set-to.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Warr acted on the defensive; some

minutes were lost in sparring, when Stanyard put

in a body blow, but without much effect; they

then exchanged several blows, and Warr was

knocked down.

2.—Stanyard displayed superiority, and Warr

fell.

3.—Warr gave his adversary a severe blow on the

right cheek, which broke his jaw at the angle.

It was generally allowed to be the severest blow

thrown in.

4.—Notwithstanding this misfortune, Stanyard

stood, and never even complained to his second.

In this round Warr was knocked down.

5.—Warr was again knocked down, and at the

conclusion held up his open hand to protect his

face.

6.—In this round Stanyard displayed most

astonishing strength, for he fairly held Warr

up, struck him most severely, and threw him down

on the stage with astonishing violence.

7 and 8.—Both these rounds Stanyard terminated

by giving his antagonist a knock-down blow.

9.—Stanyard gave Warr a severe blow under the

right eye, and he again fell.

10.—This was the last and best round, being the

only one of any continuance, and during which

much hard fighting was displayed; Warr gave his

opponent four severe blows on his broken jaw,

and it finished by both coming down.

At the conclusion of this round, although they

had only fought thirteen minutes, Stanyard gave

in. His appearance was in his favour, but no one

had any idea of the injury he had sustained.

He was immediately conveyed to Colnbrook, and

medical assistance procured, when it was found

his jawbone was fractured near the articulation.

Warr was in prime condition, and never displayed

greater skill and courage. He challenged Tom

Johnson to fight for a guinea; an empty boast,

as we have elsewhere observed.

Will Warr, miscalculating his skill, sought another trial with the

accomplished Mendoza, who disposed of him in fifteen minutes (see

MENDOZA). Warr became a publican at the One Tun, Jermyn Street, in after

life, and seconded Jem Belcher, Tom Belcher, Henry Pearce (the Game

Chicken), Mendoza, Tom Cribb, and others in important battles. In

December, 1808, we find a benefit advertised at the Fives Court, for

Warr, at which John Gully, Tom Cribb, Dutch Sam, Dogherty, Tom Belcher,

and Richmond, set-to for the veteran. Warr died in March, 1809, and was

buried in St. James’s burial ground, St. Pancras.

WILL WOOD, THE COACHMAN—1788‒1804.

Bill Wood, although his defeats were preponderant, deserves honourable

mention at the hands of the historian of pugilism as one of the bravest

and hardiest of boxers. His opponents were the very best men of their

day. Bill Warr, George the brewer, whom he beat, Hooper the tinman, Jack

Bartholomew (beat), and Isaac Bittoon, were his antagonists. Wood was a

fine straight-limbed man of five feet eleven inches in height, and

twelve stone in weight. He fought well with both hands, and possessed

unquestionable courage. His style was impetuous, and his attack

formidable to all but the most skilful of defensive boxers.

Wood’s _coup d’essai_ was at Navestock, Essex, as “Captain Robinson’s

coachman,” on the last day of the year 1788. Although looked upon as a

novice in the art pugilistic, he tried all the skill of Bill Warr before

he surrendered. (See Life of WARR, APPENDIX, p. 120).

So well had our hero acquitted himself that George the brewer

(Ingleston), “renowned as a stand-up fighter,” who had, as we have seen,

beaten John Jackson, and Pickard (twice), having issued a challenge as

Champion, it was accepted by Wood. The stake was 100 guineas, and on the

13th of February, 1793, at Hornchurch, in Essex, the men met on a stage

twenty-four feet square. Wood was seconded by Joe Ward, while Dan

Mendoza attended upon Ingleston. At one o’clock, the combatants, fully

prepared, mounted the stage, and having shaken hands, set-to

immediately. “In the first round Wood knocked down his antagonist with

great violence. George rose immediately, and with inconsiderate

impetuosity attacked his opponent. Wood, taking advantage of his fury

and want of caution, retreated, and put in a tremendous blow on the

point of the jaw, which broke it: every spectator,” says the report in

“Pancratia,” “heard the crush, and immediately perceived the swelling

consequent on the fracture. The battle was supposed to be at an end, but

George, with unsubdued courage, renewed the attack, and in the rally

dealt Wood a blow upon the head which almost stunned him. The odds now

rose to two to one in favour of George. However, after twenty-five

minutes of severe fighting, in which George received many heavy blows

about the head, he, being almost senseless, gave in.” The reporter adds:

“Wood was much beaten, but every one feared George would pay the forfeit

of his life.”

Wood’s fame now stood so high, that in January, 1794, he was matched

with the renowned Ben Brain (Big Ben) the Champion. Ben was now

approaching his last illness, and a forfeit took place.

Our hero was not allowed to stand without a customer. Hooper was in the

height of his fame, having beaten Wright and Watson, made a draw with

Big Ben, and defeated Bunner and George Maddox. Yet Wood was thought by

many good enough to lower his pride. They met at Hounslow, June 22,

1794, as related in the memoir of Hooper (p. 107); and Wood was beaten,

but not ingloriously.

In the first month of 1797, we find Wood matched with the famous Jack

Bartholomew, who had just beaten Firby (the young Ruffian). See

BARTHOLOMEW, Appendix to Period III. The battle came off between Ealing

and Harrow, on a stage, January 30th, 1797.[77] “At two o’clock the men

set-to; but the amateurs were sadly disappointed. Bartholomew was sadly

out of condition, and not only made no good defence against Wood’s

attacks, but shifted, and struck foul; repeating the offence at the end

of fifteen minutes, the battle was given in favour of Wood. The Duke of

Hamilton and other distinguished ring-patrons were present, and Wood

told his Grace he would fight Bartholomew again in a fortnight for £500,

or when he pleased, if the Duke would back him.”

Wood, who was always a steady and industrious man, now retired for a

while, pursuing the then flourishing avocation of a hackney coachman,

and driving his own horses and lumbering leathern convenience. He often,

however, figures in the interval as second or bottle-holder in the

battles of the day. Isaac Bittoon, the Jew, having beaten Paddington

Jones, and fought a drawn battle with George Maddox, was anxious for a

shy at Wood, now a veteran in the field; the match was long talked

about, but at length arranged for the 16th of July, 1804, for a purse of

50 guineas and some bye bets to be received by the winner. The

magistrates were upon the alert, but the secret of the chosen spot was

well kept, Willesden Green being named as the Campus Martius so late as

the evening before the battle, which took place as early as ten o’clock

on the Monday morning. It would have been well had the same secrecy and

promptitude been practised in many more recent fights, which have come

to grief from the publicity given to their probable whereabouts, and

above all, from the abominable delays at the ring side.

The field at Willesden was early filled, and at three quarters past ten

the combatants entered “a roped-ring.” Wood immediately began to strip,

and appeared to be in robust condition. Bittoon followed in high

spirits, and after the usual ceremony, the men set-to. Wood was defeated

in thirty-six rounds, occupying fifty-six minutes; Wood, in the words of

the contemporary report, “being quite worn out.” (See BITTOON, for the

battle).

This was Wood’s last appearance within the ropes. He was for many years

a well-known character among the Jehus at the West End. In May of the

year 1821, we find under the head of “Some Slight Sketches of Boxers,

who have retired from Public Contests, on account of Age or other

Infirmities,” the following: “Bill Wood, the coachman, once the

formidable opponent of Bill Warr, Bartholomew, George the Brewer, and

Bittoon, enjoys a fine green old age, and frequently takes a peep into

the Fives Court to see the young ’uns exhibit.” Wood died in St.

Pancras, in January, 1839, aged 64.

GEORGE INGLESTON, THE BREWER—1789‒1793.

George Ingleston, known as George the Brewer, was a powerful six-foot

man, of somewhat heavy build, undoubted courage, but, like many big

ones, fought slowly in comparison with lighter and more agile men. He

was, however, “acknowledged to be a tremendous hard hitter,” says

“Pancratia.” “He was first introduced to the notice of the amateurs by

the celebrated Tom Johnson,” says the same authority, “who tried to

cultivate his powers, but did not form any high opinion of his skill.

His guard was low, like his renowned master’s; he never shifted, but

unflinchingly met the coming blow, and trusted rather to a return than

the quick and effective method of a counter hit.”

We shall pass the earlier and unimportant battles of George the Brewer

to come to his most important contest, that with John Jackson, which

came off in presence of a distinguished company, in the yard of the Swan

Inn, at Ingatestone, in Essex, on the 12th of May, 1789. Brain (Big Ben)

seconded Jackson, Tom Tring (the Carlton House porter) attended upon

Ingleston.

On setting-to the betting was even, but the superior skill of Jackson

was evident in the first round, when after some skilful stops and

parries, Jackson at the close of the round brought down the brewer. In

the second and third rounds the skill and activity of Jackson brought

the odds to seven to four in his favour. In this round, owing to a heavy

rain which had fallen in the forenoon, the boards of the stage were

extremely slippery, and in breaking ground Jackson slipped, and fell

with such violence that his ankle was dislocated and the small-bone of

his leg broken. There was no alternative but surrender; although the

report of the day states that Jackson “offered to be fastened down to a

chair (after the fashion of sailors on a chest in their boxing matches),

provided the Brewer would do the like, and thus fight it out.” There was

pluck at any rate in the proposition; but George, who saw the stakes

within grasp, was not so green as to let go “the bird in hand.”

On the 23rd of October, 1789, Ingleston met and defeated Pickard, called

“the Birmingham Champion.” The battle took place on a twenty-four foot

stage, at Banbury, in Oxfordshire. It is described in the report as a

desperate stand-up fight, in which, after thirty-four minutes of

“fierce” rallying, Pickard cried “enough!” and Ingleston was hailed the

victor. This was fought the day after the great battle of Johnson and

Perrins. See _ante_, Life of TOM JOHNSON.

Pickard was not, however, satisfied of his inferiority to George, and

again found friends to back him for 50 guineas against his old opponent.

They met at Shipston-upon-Stour, Staffordshire, September 25, 1791, when

the former decision was re-affirmed, and Pickard cleverly defeated.

Ingleston’s last battle was with Bill Wood, the coachman, at Hornchurch,

for 100 guineas, February 13, 1793, which will be found under the

pugilistic doings of WOOD (p. 122). George Ingleston, on his retirement,

resumed his calling of a brewer, and was for years known as a civil and

industrious man in the neighbourhood of Enfield, where one of his old

patrons, Captain Brailsford, held a brewery of some extent.

BOB WATSON, OF BRISTOL—1788‒1791.

Bristol, for more than half a century renowned for its pugilistic

champions, gave birth to Watson, a well-known man in the ring doings of

the last quarter of the eighteenth century. Watson was related by

marriage to the family of the Belchers, having married the sister of Jem

and Tom Belcher, while his daughter was the wife of the late Jem Burn

(see vol. iii., life of Burn). Watson was another sample of a large

heart in a small body. His height was no more than five feet five

inches, his weight nine stone two pounds, yet by courage and science,

Bob went far to compensate these deficiencies. After many provincial

victories, Watson entered the ring, after the victory of Jackson over

Fewterel (June 9, 1788), at Croydon, in presence of the Prince of Wales

and a distinguished company. His opponent was Elisha Crabbe, an

Israelite, who had won fame by defeating old Stephen Oliver, known as

“Death.” “This,” says the reporter, “was by far the best battle of the

three, and lasted three quarters of an hour. Warr seconded Watson; Ryan

(the opponent of the champion) attended upon Crabbe. Watson, though much

the smaller man, displayed great science and activity, and in the end

proved the conqueror.”

The skill and courage exhibited by Watson on this occasion, led to his

being noticed by Jackson, then in high patronage. He was accordingly

selected to contend with Bill Jones, mentioned under TYNE (p. 128).[78]

The battle came off before the Prince, Colonel Hanger, and other guests

at the Pavilion, and residents at Brighton, August 6th, 1788. The battle

was spirited and scientific for about fifteen minutes, but so much to

the advantage of Watson that Jones fell from weakness, and got down

suspiciously more than once. (It must be remembered that only a month

had elapsed since he was defeated by Tyne). At the end of eighteen

minutes, Watson having hit him down heavily with both hands, Jones

surrendered.

A strong outsider, named Anderson, a tinman, from the “land o’ cakes,”

challenged Watson, and the day was fixed for April 25, 1789; accordingly

the men met at Langley Broom, near Colnbrook, on the Windsor Road.

Watson went in so resolutely that Anderson fell in two minutes, and

nothing could induce him again to face his antagonist. The reporter

adds, “the amateurs complained loudly that Anderson had played

_cross_.”[79] A second fight was got up for a purse between Joe Ward and

Townsend, which Joe won in twenty minutes; Townsend being _said_ to have

broken his arm.

Watson’s next encounter was with the formidable Hooper, by whom he was

defeated, after a long fight of 150 minutes and 100 rounds, at Langley

Broom, February 17, 1790. (See HOOPER, p. 105.)

A townsman of Watson’s, and a brother “kill-bull,” of the name of

Davies, proposed a “passage of arms” to our hero, and despite disparity

of weight and size, Bob accepted the cartel. They met at Coalharbour,

Gloucestershire, January 10, 1791. Watson was the favourite at long

odds; but after the first ten minutes they changed rapidly. Bob’s

science and shifting did not avail against the strength and quickness of

Davis, who was by no means destitute of skill. Though at such a

disadvantage, however, Watson never lost heart, and disputed every inch

of ground with firmness and occasional advantage for three quarters of

an hour, despite the remonstrances of his second, Bill Warr, till he

could no longer stand. His second then gave in for him. Bob’s appearance

upon any stage raised his character even in defeat.

Watson now returned to the regular pursuit of his trade, and was in

business as a master butcher in Bristol for more than forty years from

this period. He still took an interest in matters pugilistic, as we

shall see incidentally in these pages, and often seconded, more

especially in the neighbourhood of Bristol. Watson frequently gave

expositions of the art on the stage of the Bristol theatre and in

London. In 1810 he was engaged at Covent Garden with the younger Warr

(son of Will Warr) and demonstrated the art in a scene in the pantomime.

Warr, in an impetuous onset, knocked out one of Watson’s teeth, who

proposed a combat then and there. This would have been an unrehearsed

effect, and was of course prevented. Bob threw up his engagement, but

was pacified by having another boxer to perform with him. He died in

September, 1837, aged 71 years, generally respected.

TOM TYNE, “THE TAILOR”—1788‒1792.

Among the minor pugilists, Tom Tyne deserves a passing notice. The

vulgar proverb of “nine tailors make a man” found its exception in this

small-sized but large-souled boxer, who always fought “up-hill” against

weight and inches, displaying much science, and in those rough days what

was called too much “shiftiness.” Tyne’s first recorded fight came off

at Croydon on the 1st of July, 1788, for 50 guineas. His opponent was

Bill Jones, a powerful boxer, and who had earned a name by defeating

Dunn, a clumsy and game Irishman, in Bloomsbury Fields, in 1786, besides

other bye-battles. On this occasion Jones was seconded by Joe Ward, and

Tyne by the renowned Tom Johnson. As it is our plan nothing to extenuate

nor set down aught in malice, we shall, as is our practice, where

possible, print the contemporary report.

“Tyne evidently possessed the advantage in science, independent of his

great superiority arising from the shy mode of shifting and dropping.

Jones, on the contrary, stood manfully up to his man, and made many

dexterous efforts, which, however, were frustrated by the illusive and

evasive system of his antagonist, who always fell whenever he received

or put in a blow. Jones had in point of beating the worst of the battle,

but still the best prospect of ultimate success, from his superior

strength and bottom; until by following up a blow too far, he struck his

antagonist unfairly, somewhere about the waistband of the breeches, when

Tyne was immediately declared the conqueror.”

Tom’s next display was in the presence of royalty, and proved most

unfortunate in its result. On August 6th, 1788, the Grand Stand on

Brighton Race-course was crowded with nobility and gentry to witness the

decision of three matches on a stage erected for that purpose. The

Prince of Wales and a large party from the Pavilion were present. The

first combatants were Bill Jones, already mentioned, and Watson, of

Bristol (see WATSON); the second, Joe Ward and Reynolds (see WARD); the

third, between our hero and Earl.

This contest, unhappily for Tom, ended in a fatal accident. Earl was a

powerful rustic, far heavier and taller than Tom, whose height was five

feet seven inches, and weight nine stone seven pounds. Earl from his

appearance was the favourite at odds, and “was becoming triumphant very

fast, when Tyne struck him a sharp left-handed blow on the side of the

head, which drove him against the rail of the stage. He fell insensible,

and immediately expired. The Prince of Wales, greatly to his honour,”

adds the reporter, “immediately settled an annuity on the wife and

family of Earl, and took the determination never to be present at

another pugilistic contest.” We hope the first promise was kept better

than the second, otherwise the prince’s annuity was merely another stone

in the pavement of that place where “good intentions” are said to make

the roadway smooth.

Tom was now matched against a clever boxer, Elisha Crabbe, the Jew, who

had earned some fame by beating “Old Oliver,” as he was termed. The

battle took place in a field adjoining Boston Moor, on Monday, March 24,

1790. We copy the report from the _Daily Advertiser_.

“Tyne had Johnson for his second, and James, the waterman, for his

bottle-holder. Lee seconded the Jew, and Joe Ward held the bottle. At

about half-past two the contending bruisers appeared, amidst at least

2,000 spectators, and on stripping, six to four was betted in favour of

the tailor.”

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—There was some extremely good sparring;

they both closed, and Crabbe fell, but gave

his adversary a severe blow on the nose which

produced great effusion of blood.

8.—The Jew gave his opponent a real knock-down

blow, and fell upon him.

14.—Tyne again fell by his antagonist’s blow.

16.—Tyne received another knock-down blow, but

gave the Jew a most severe cut on the left eye,

and another on the mouth.

18.—Tyne dropped, and it was generally

considered by design; great cry of “foul, foul,”

and the odds sunk five to four on the tailor.

22.—Was the best round during the contest, and

in which science was most admirably displayed by

both combatants; it lasted above a minute, and

afforded some most skilful blows.

32.—Crabbe fell by a severe blow on the eye.

33.—Tyne most adroitly fell, and his antagonist

making a severe blow, flew over him, and falling

on the stage, cut his face dreadfully.

39.—This was the last round; Tyne again fell

by a slight blow, and Crabbe was so exhausted

that he fell on his belly, being utterly

incapable of standing the contest any longer.

In the intermediate rounds there was good

sparring, but no blows of consequence.

“The battle lasted thirty-five minutes. Crabbe sparred the best, but

Tyne never failed to make his blows tell, notwithstanding he frequently

fell himself. The Jew several times attempted to chop, but in this

failed. Johnson on this occasion displayed most excellent qualities as a

second, and the event of the contest depended much on his conduct.”

Tom’s next appearance was in the ring in Hyde Park, on Friday, December

31, 1792. Firby, previously known as “Jack the waiter,” from his being

employed in that capacity, at the London Tavern, though a civil fellow,

had earned the title of “The Young Ruffian,” from his victory over

Symonds, “The Old Ruffian,” in the previous year. Firby made a severe

fight with Tyne, and, despite Tom’s cleverness in shifting and dropping,

managed to force the fighting so cleverly, that he beat him off in

twenty-two minutes.

Tom Tyne has two fights with Mendoza credited to his name in “Fistiana,”

which appear nowhere in “the books.” This was Tyne’s last public

appearance as a principal. He is named once or twice afterwards as a

second. He returned to his trade, and became “_Sartor Resartus_.”

SYMONDS, NICKNAMED “THE RUFFIAN.”—1791‒1795.

The repulsive _sobriquet_ given to this boxer had, we find from

contemporary authority, no relation to his personal appearance, nor to

his ordinary behaviour, but was merely applied in ring slang to his mode

of attacking his opponents in the twenty-four feet square, in defiance

of mathematics called “the ring.” The ugly part of his cognomen

descended to his juvenile conqueror, Firby, the waiter, who was

designated “the Young Ruffian,” and Symonds thereafter was known by the

epithet of “the Old Ruffian.”

Symonds’ first recorded ring fight was with Bill Jackling (called

Ginger, from the colour of his hair), brother to the renowned Tom

Johnson, the champion. This took place at Wrotham in Kent, on January

17, 1791, after his brother had been defeated by Big Ben (see _ante_, p.

68). It was a severe fight for twenty-three minutes, when Symonds was

hit out of time.

His next encounter was at Fenner’s cricket ground, Uxbridge, with

Gowlett, for 10 guineas, on the 22nd June, 1791. The battle was got up

as a sort of compensation for the disappointment of the amateurs who

were about to journey to Stokenchurch, Oxfordshire, to witness the

battle between Dan Mendoza and Bill Warr. The Oxfordshire magistrates,

however, had given notice of their intention to stop the “big” fight,

and it was postponed. (See Life of MENDOZA, _ante_, p. 76.) The men

fought on the turf. The opponent of Symonds, Gowlett, was a big

countrymen of provincial repute. Symonds, who was more practised than

his huge opponent, delivered heavily, and then, _à la_ Bendigo, found

his way cleverly to the ground. In the words of the report, “Symonds

sprung in, struck, and then fell, without being struck in return.” This

is very obscure. However, “Gowlett, being irritated, kicked him as he

lay on the ground. This decided the battle immediately in favour of

Symonds.” We should think so. What follows is curious: “Many bets were

paid; but after a consultation, the amateurs deciding it to be a drawn

battle, the bets were refunded.” Our grandfathers were somewhat at sea

as to betting law. However, as the Duke of Hamilton, Alderman Macauley,

and other “distinguished patrons” were present, we suppose they acted

equitably, according to their view of the case.

A fine young fellow, Jack Firby, a waiter at the London Tavern, met

Symonds for a stake at Wimbledon, on the Ridgway, August 2, 1791, and

defeated him, after a slashing fight of forty-five minutes.

On Saturday, December 4, 1792, Symonds fought a most resolute battle of

two hours with George Maddox at Datchet Sward, Berks, resulting in a

draw. (See MADDOX, _post_, p. 206.)

Symonds’ last appearance in the ring was on the 15th of April, 1795,

when he fought a draw with a Jew, called Ugly Baruk, at Hornchurch; it

lasted half an hour. For some years Symonds was an attendant at the

Fives Court, and elsewhere, and was, like Firby, a good-tempered,

obliging fellow, always ready to lend a hand to a brother pugilist in

distress. Symonds died in 1820.

END OF PERIOD II.

PERIOD III.—1798‒1809.

FROM THE APPEARANCE OF JEM BELCHER TO THE CHAMPIONSHIP OF TOM CRIBB.

CHAPTER I.

JEM BELCHER (CHAMPION)—1798‒1809.

On the roll of fistic heroes to whom Bristol has given birth, the name

of JEM BELCHER may claim precedence. He came of a good fighting stock,

being descended by the mother’s side from the renowned Jem Slack, the

conqueror of Broughton, the former being the grandsire of the subject of

this memoir.

On his first appearance in the London Ring, he was justly considered a

phenomenon in the pugilistic art. Jem’s height was five feet eleven and

a half inches; his weight under twelve stone. Though graceful and finely

proportioned, he had none of those muscular exaggerations in his form

when stripped, and still less when attired, which go, in the artistic as

well as the popular notion, to make up a Hercules. Jem was formed more

after the sculptor’s Apollo than the not-very-accurate classical idea,

derived from bronze and marble, of a gladiator. In horse, as in man,

this antique blunder is laughed at by those who have read and seen

something more than Greek and Latin books or monuments can teach them.

The horses of the Parthenon might do for Pickford’s vans, “a black job,”

or a man in armour in my Lord Mayor’s show (and they would not carry

_him_ well); while Jem Belcher, Henry Pearce, Tom Spring, Jem Ward, or

Tom Sayers, could thrash all your shoulder-tied, muscle-knotted,

chairman-calved Milos that ever didn’t do the impossibles which ancient

poets and fabulists, called historians, have attributed to them in verse

and prose. But this is digression, and we return.

[Illustration:

JAMES BELCHER, OF BRISTOL (CHAMPION OF ENGLAND), 1798‒1809.

]

James Belcher struggled into the battle of life in St. James’s

Churchyard, Bristol, on the 15th of April, 1781. He there, for some

time, followed the occupation of a butcher, and early signalised himself

by feats of pugilism and activity at Lansdown Fair.[80] At twenty years

of age his skill with the gloves was the talk of the town, and he

baffled the cleverest professors of the old school on their visits to

Bristol, which were then neither few nor far between. His method

appeared so peculiarly his own that it looked like intuition, and some

of the “ould ’uns” who were sceptical as to his prowess, would not

believe in it until they had experienced in their own persons the

irresistibility of his attack and the cleverness of his almost

invulnerable and ever-varying defence. Gaiety and intrepidity were

combined in Jem’s style with curious felicity, and the rapidity with

which he “got in” upon his opponent, the skill with which he retreated,

armed at all points, and the masterly manner in which he “got out of

trouble,” to the surprise of his assailant, were truly astonishing—in

two words, Jem Belcher was a “natural fighter,” perfected by the

practice of his art.

The first recorded fight of Belcher was with Britton, a pugilist of some

notoriety, who afterwards contended with Dutch Sam; the contest took

place near Bristol, on the 6th of March, 1798; it was a sharp and severe

contest, in which Belcher, the boy of seventeen, disposed of his

antagonist in thirty-three minutes, Britton being beaten to a

stand-still, to the utter surprise of the spectators.

Our hero now came up to town, where his reputation accompanied him;

being introduced to old Bill Warr, who then kept a house in Covent

Garden, the “ould ’un” had a mind to judge personally of the merits of

the young aspirant for pugilistic fame, and accordingly put on the

gloves with him for a little “breathing” in his (Warr’s) own

dining-room. The veteran, who in his best days was no Belcher, was so

astounded at Jem’s quickness in hitting and recovering guard, that he

puffed out, as he reeled against one of his tables, impelled thither by

a “Belcherian” tip, “That’ll do; this youngster can go in with any man

in the kingdom!” Jem quietly observed, during the discussion after

dinner, “I could have done better, sir, but I was afraid I might hit you

too hard, and that you would be offended.”—“Oh!” cried the undaunted

veteran, “I was never afraid of a crack, my boy, and am not now; we’ll

have a round, and you may do your best.” So saying, they instantly

set-to, when Jem, almost at the request of his host, quietly hit him

down several times, despite of the “ould ’un’s” attempts at stopping or

countering. Warr was fully satisfied of Belcher’s talents; they sat down

sociably, and Bill offered to back the young Bristolian against anything

on the pugilistic list.

Tom Jones, of Paddington, whose career closed the final chapter of the

Second Period, was selected as the trial-horse of the new competitor in

the race for fame and its more substantial rewards. The battle took

place on Wormwood Scrubbs, on the 12th of April, 1799, for 25 guineas

aside. The peculiar features of Belcher’s science were well displayed;

and although Jones contended for victory with desperate determination,

unflinching courage, and no small amount of skill and readiness, he was

doomed to “pale his ineffective fires” before the rising luminary of

Belcher’s fame. Thirty-three minutes of courageous and determined

fighting placed the future champion’s star in the ascendant.

Jack Bartholomew, a pugilist whose victories over the gluttonous Firby

(known as the “Young Ruffian”), Tom Owen, and others, had placed him

high in the estimation of “the fancy,” was now picked out as a customer

very likely to try the mettle of Belcher. Bartholomew was in high favour

among the ring-goers, his weight between twelve and thirteen stone, his

qualifications considerable, and his game of the first order. The stakes

in the first instance were small, being but £20 a-side, owing to the

affair arising out of a longing desire on the part of Bartholomew to try

his skill with the Bristol “Phenomenon,” he himself feeling no

apprehension as to the result. He accordingly challenged Jem for this

sum, offering to “fight him for love,” rather than lose the opportunity

of a “shy.” The mill came off, almost extemporaneously, August 15, 1799,

at George’s Row, on the Uxbridge Road, and was so severely and evenly

contested (Belcher was declared to be out of condition), that neither

could be declared the conqueror. Towards the end of the fight

Bartholomew was so completely exhausted that he fainted away, and could

not come to time; and Jem so much done up, that it was with difficulty

he was got up to the scratch. In fact, both men were out of time.

Bartholomew, in the interval, recovering a little from his weakness,

insisted upon renewing the combat, when the ring was again made; but he

staggered about without command of himself, and appeared literally

stupid. His game was so good, but his state so pitiable, that

Cullington,[81] feeling for his bravery, exclaimed, “For heaven’s sake,

Jem, don’t hit him!” upon which Belcher merely pushed him down; in fact,

he was himself so exhausted as to be unable to make an effectual hit.

The umpires pronounced it a drawn battle; and the stakes, which were

held by Bill Gibbons’s brother, were drawn the same night at

Cullington’s.

As Bartholomew possessed pluck of the first order, it was not to be

supposed the matter would rest here; accordingly the world pugilistic

was soon on the _qui vive_ for another match, which was arranged for 300

guineas. This was fought upon a stage on Finchley Common, on Thursday,

May 15, 1800. Bartholomew was at this time 37 years of age, Belcher just

turned 20.

The combatants mounted the stage at half-past one o’clock, and little

time was lost in preliminaries. Bartholomew had determined that sparring

should avail Belcher but little, and ding-dong rushes were the game he

had resolved on. Belcher, even in the early rounds of the fight,

exhibited the tactics, afterwards conspicuous in some of Cribb’s

battles, of “milling on the retreat;” but Bartholomew would not be

denied, and seconded by his great strength and weight, he got in,

planted upon Belcher, and hit him clean down with such violence, as to

induce his over-sanguine friends to start off an express, per pigeon, to

London, with the intelligence of their man’s victory. They were,

however, premature, for Jem, taught by experience, did not give

Bartholomew a chance of thus stealing a march on him; after pinking

Bartholomew once or twice, he warded off his lunge, and catching him

cleverly, threw him so dreadful a cross-buttock, that he was never

entirely himself again during the fight. The odds now changed. Yet

Bartholomew bravely contended, disputing every round with unyielding

firmness, till the close of the seventeenth round, and the expiration of

twenty minutes, when Belcher floored him with so terrific a body blow

that all was U-P. The contest, considering the shortness of its

duration, was considered the most desperate which had been witnessed for

many years, and the loser was severely punished. It is erroneously

stated in “Boxiana” (p. 129, vol. i.) that Belcher and Bartholomew

fought again; but no date or place is mentioned, nor did any such battle

ever come off. “Immediately after the fight,” says the report,

“Bartholomew was taken into custody on a judge’s warrant, for breaking

the peace before the expiration of his bond. He was brought to town in a

coach, but bailed out immediately.”

Andrew Gamble, the “Irish champion,” was now backed by several

influential amateurs to enter the lists with Belcher. Accordingly a

match was made for 100 guineas, to be decided on Wimbledon Common, on

Monday, December 22, 1800; and on that day vehicles of all descriptions,

and crowds of pedestrians, flocked to witness this combat.

The journals of the day give on many occasions a sort of _Morning Post_

list of “fashionables” on these occasions. On the present we find

enumerated Lord Say and Sele, Colonels Montgomery and Ogle, Captain

Desmond, Squire Mountain, Messrs. Cullington, Lee, Kelly, Aldridge,

etc.; and among the professionals, John Jackson, Paddington Jones, Bill

Gibbons, Caleb Baldwin, etc.

Belcher entered the ring about twelve o’clock, accompanied by his

second, Joe Ward, with Bill Gibbons as his bottle-holder, and Tom Tring

as an assistant. Mendoza was second to Gamble; his bottle-holder, Coady;

and old Elisha Crabbe as deputy. Messrs. Mountain, Lee, and Cullington

were chosen umpires; the latter also was stakeholder.

Notwithstanding Gamble had beat Noah James, the Cheshire champion, a

pugilist who had been successful in seventeen pitched battles, and whose

game was said to be superior to any man in the kingdom, still the bets

from the first making of the match were six to four in favour of

Belcher; and Bill Warr, before the combatants stripped, offered

twenty-five guineas to twenty. On stripping, Gamble appeared much the

heavier man, and his friends and countrymen offered five to four on him;

but that was by no means the opinion of the London cognoscenti. A few

minutes before one the fight commenced.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—After some sparring, Gamble made play,

but was prettily parried by Belcher, who, with

unequalled celerity, planted in return three

severe facers: they soon closed, and Belcher,

being well aware of the superiority of his

opponent’s strength, dropped. (The Paddies, in

their eagerness to support their countryman,

here offered five to four.)

2.—Belcher, full of spirit, advanced towards

Gamble, who retreated. Jem made a feint with his

right hand, and with his left struck Gamble so

severely over the right eye, as not only to

close it immediately, but knock him down with

uncommon violence. (Two to one on Belcher.)

3.—Gamble again retreated, but put in several

severe blows in the body of his antagonist with

some cleverness. Belcher, by a sharp hit, made

the claret fly copiously; but Gamble,

notwithstanding, threw Belcher with considerable

violence, and fell upon him cross-ways. (The

odds rose four to one upon Jem.)

4.—Belcher, full of coolness and

self-possession, showed first-rate science. His

blows were well directed, and severe,

particularly one in the neck, which brought

Gamble down. (Ten to one Belcher was the

winner.)

5th and last round.—Gamble received two such

blows that struck him all of a heap—one in the

mark, that nearly deprived him of breath, and

the other on the side, which instantly swelled

considerably. Gamble fell almost breathless, and

when “time” was called, gave in. It is reported

that not less than £20,000 changed hands on this

occasion. The Irish were full of murmurings at

Gamble’s conduct, who was beaten in five rounds,

and in the short space of nine minutes! Gamble

fought very badly. From his former experience

much was expected, but he appeared utterly

confused at his opponent’s quickness. Belcher

treated Gamble’s knowledge of the art with the

utmost contempt.

It may be worth noticing that the “Pride of Westminster,” in after years

known as Caleb Baldwin, described in the report as a “dealer in greens,”

polished off a big Irishman, named Kelly, in fifteen minutes, twelve

rounds, for a purse of 20 guineas, in the same ring.

While Belcher was witnessing the battle between Bittoon the Jew and Tom

Jones, on Wimbledon Common, on Monday, July 13, 1801, Joe Berks, who was

excited and quarrelsome, made a disturbance in the outer ring,[82] and

offensively called out, “Where’s young Jem Belcher? where’s your

champion?” Jem went up to him and asked him what he wanted; the reply to

which was a blow, cleverly warded off. A fierce set-to followed, for Jem

was _semper paratus_, when Berks displayed so much courage and strength,

that the spectators did not know what to think about the finish of this

impromptu affair. The combat lasted nineteen minutes, and although Berks

was beaten, an opinion became prevalent that had not Belcher applied all

he knew of the science, and Berks fought, as it was termed, “hand over

hand,” there was great probability of Jem’s falling before the resolute

onslaught of the Shropshire man.

Berks having shown so much game under such evident disadvantages, Lord

Camelford determined to back him for a second combat in a more regular

manner, for 100 guineas. He was accordingly put out to nurse; a teacher

appointed to initiate him into the mysteries of the science; and it was

reported of Berks that he was a promising child—took his food regularly,

minded what his master said to him, and, for the short time that he had

taken to study, great improvement was visible. Berks ultimately turned

out one of the most troublesome customers, and the hardest to be

disposed of, that ever entered the lists with Belcher.

On Saturday, September 12, 1801, Belcher met Berks, at the Cock, in Sun

Street, Spitalfields, when Jem accepted his formal challenge for 100

guineas, and seven days after, on the 19th, they met at the same house,

to proceed to the battle-field—a rare instance of promptitude and

eagerness on both sides; but the police having scent of the affair, a

magistrate’s warrant was issued, and the battle postponed to the 12th of

the next month. As there is no trace of these proceedings in “Boxiana,”

and they are amusing as well as curious to the ring-goer, showing the

disappointments and _modus operandi_ of the ring in the olden times, we

reprint the account from a contemporary newspaper; and as a specimen of

what then was thought smart writing in the fashionable world.

“On Monday (12th October, 1801), as had been agreed upon, the long

expected battle between James Belcher and Joseph Bourkes (Joe Berks) was

to have taken place at Enfield, but much to the chagrin of the amateurs

and lovers of the pugilistic art, it was prevented by the interposition

of Mr. Ford, the magistrate of Bow Street, who, having received

information of the intended combat, issued a warrant against Belcher,

and on the Sunday night previous Townsend took him into limbo. Many

circumstances combined to excite a most extraordinary degree of

expectation, and produced a multitudinous attendance on this attractive

occasion. The late ratification of peace had tended to annihilate

fighting;[83] conversation which had been so lively supported by the

race of two famous horses, Sir Solomon and Cock-fighter, had now become

exhausted in the sporting circle; the combatants being of the highest

renown in the science, could not fail to animate every amateur; and, to

add still greater numbers to the assembly, a violent thunder-storm on

the Saturday night had kept the heroes, who on that evening enjoy

themselves, altogether inactive. All the loose cash, all the turbulence

that had been amassed that night, now prompted by curiosity, broke forth

with increased avidity. The ‘fight’ was the very goal of attraction; it

consolidated every vagrant wish, every undecided mind, and every idle

hope.

“This match first became the subject of contemplation from an accidental

skirmish during the fight between Bittoon and Tom Jones, at Wimbledon,

in which, although Berks seemingly had the worst of it, the amateurs

considered it as a matter of surprise; and no previous training having

taken place on either side, much consequence was not attached to the

defeat, nor was it considered decisive of the merits of the rival

heroes. Many knowing ones indeed conceived that Berks got thrashed in

this contest only through his own rashness, and entertaining flattering

hopes of his powers, took him into private nursing. Raw eggs to improve

his wind, and raw beef to make him savage, were the glorious

non-naturals that composed his regimen, and in all his exercises he

topped even expectation’s self. All this was done in the anxious trust

that Belcher would be backed with great odds, as he was thought to be

the favourite with all, excepting those in the secret. They, however,

did not manage with all that address which experience proves so

requisite to gull the world; it soon spread that Berks had been in

training, and had considerably improved in his sparring. Odds then took

a contrary direction, but when the amateurs who con o’er these sublime

subjects began to consider that Belcher, although not in training, had

lived temperately, was in good condition, and full of stiff meat, he

again became the favorite, and on the ground six to four were the

standing odds.

“The hours appointed in the articles for the decision of the contest

were between twelve and two. At about one o’clock Berks appeared on the

stage, stripped, and began to show play for the amusement of his

friends, who did not forget to make the welkin ring with their plaudits;

however, Belcher not ascending the stage as expected, he dressed himself

again, amidst cries of ‘Where is Belcher?’ Berks immediately assumed the

attitude, not of a fighter, but of an orator, and in the following

eloquent manner addressed the multitude:—

“‘Gemmen, I com’d here, d’ye see, to fight Jim Belcher. I’m here, and he

isn’t. I wish he had; for, on the word of a butcher, I’d have cleaved

his calf’s head, and given him such a chop in the kidneys, as would soon

have brought him on his marrow bones.’

“The cry of ‘Where is Belcher?’ still continued, when Gamble, the Irish

bruiser, came forward—‘Where is he? why at Bow-street, to be sure; he

was grabbed on the road.’ This was not the fact, but something near it.

The suspense, however, was not of long duration: two friends of Jemmy’s

arrived with the sad and melancholy tidings of the ‘queer tip’ he had

met with the last night.

“Bill Warr, Gamble, Lee, Jackson, many amateurs, and the usual number of

pickpockets, were present.”

On Wednesday, November 25th, 1801, this oft postponed contest was

brought to a decision. The greatest secrecy was observed, and “it was

only on the Tuesday afternoon that the field of battle was precisely

determined on. A stage was erected at Hurley Bottom, four and a-half

miles from Maidenhead, between the Henley and Reading roads, thirty-two

miles from Hyde Park turnpike.

“At ten minutes after twelve Belcher made his appearance, accompanied by

his second, Joe Ward, and by a Bristol youth, as his bottle-holder, who

was unknown to the London bruisers. He immediately began to strip, and

when prepared, took the precaution of particularly examining the stage,

lest any roughness or nail might do him an eventual injury. Shortly

after Berks appeared, attended by Harry Lee, as his second, and George

Rhodes, his bottle-holder.

“The combatants shook hands, and immediately set to. Bets, seven to four

and two to one on Belcher.”

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Several severe blows were exchanged.

Berks showed in better style than usual. He put

in a well directed hit under his antagonist’s

right eye, who staggered. The men closed, and

both fell.

2, 3, and 4.—During these rounds neither

combatant displayed science, notwithstanding

some good blows were reciprocally given and

received.

5.—Belcher made a feint with his left hand, and

with his right put in so sharp a hit on the

nose of his opponent, that he laid it open, and

brought him down with great violence. (Bets ten

to one offered, but refused.)

6.—Much shy fighting, Berks keeping out at

distance. Belcher at length struck Berks over

the forehead, and cut him again severely; the

blood now issued so freely from his wounds, that

Lee could scarcely find handkerchiefs sufficient

to keep him clean.

7 and 8.—Little done; Belcher propped Berks, who

fell.

9.—Berks being the stronger man, rushed in, got

a hold, and threw his antagonist with great

violence.

13.—This was the best contested round throughout

the battle, and was truly desperate fighting.

16.—At the conclusion of this round Berks was

quite exhausted, and it is but justice to his

gallantry and courage to record that, although

in so dreadful a state, he refused to give in,

and the yielding word was uttered by his second.

REMARKS.—“The battle, which undoubtedly was the

most desperately contested of any since that of

Big Ben and Johnson in the year 1791, lasted

twenty-five minutes; but although it displayed

the height of courage on both sides, it was

by no means so gratifying to the scientific

amateur as many battles of the old school; very

few straight blows were struck, but both the

combatants fought round, and made a hugging

fight of it.

“Berks was much cut and dreadfully bruised in

the body. During the fight he displayed

wonderful activity and bottom, but not an equal

portion of skill. At the conclusion he was

immediately put into a post-chaise, but very

cruelly left there until after the decision of

another battle, and then conveyed to town.

“Belcher appeared not the least hurt, and

declared he never felt a blow during the whole

of the battle; he was very highly elated by

having gained the laurel, and still more perhaps

the stake. He challenged Mendoza, who was

present, and offered to fight him in a month for

300 to 200 guineas. To this bravado, Mendoza,

greatly to his commendation, calmly answered,

that he had given up the pugilistic profession;

that he supported by his exertions, as landlord

of the Lord Nelson, in Whitechapel, a family of

six children. There was only one man he would

fight, which was Jackson; his unhandsome and

unfair conduct in a prior contest having excited

his greatest indignation.” Dan ended a wily

speech by declaring he would fight Jackson for

100 guineas, with a proviso that he should not

avail himself of what he called the “base and

cowardly advantage” of holding the hair of his

antagonist. See MENDOZA, _ante_, p. 79.

Caleb Baldwin, on this occasion also, added a second fight to the day’s

proceedings, his antagonist being Lee, the butcher, whom he beat in

twenty-three minutes.—See Life of CALEB BALDWIN, Appendix to Period IV.

Lord Say and Sele, the Hon. Berkeley Craven, Sir Thomas Apreece, Colonel

Montgomery, Captain Taylor, and other distinguished amateurs, were among

the spectators.

We read in the newspapers of the day that “Lord Radnor, as Lord

Lieutenant of the county of Berks., soon after the fight, issued

warrants for the apprehension of James Belcher and Joseph Berks, as

combatants, and Harry Lee and Joe Ward, the seconds, ‘for unlawfully

assembling and publicly fighting at Hurley, in the county of Berkshire.’

They were taken into custody, and on Friday, January 29th, 1802,

Belcher, Lee, and Ward, appeared at Bow Street, before Mr. Bond, and Mr.

Reed, of Chelsea, with their bail (Mr. Brown, and Mr. Evans, an oyster

merchant in Hungerford Market), where they entered into sureties for

their appearance to answer this charge in the county of Berks.,

themselves in £200, and their bail in £100 each. Poor Berks was most

shamefully deserted and neglected by all his friends, in this hour of

need, and not being able to procure bail, remained ‘in durance vile’ at

the common gaol of Reading.”

The then chief magistrate of Bow-street seems to have been particularly

busy in the proceedings of Belcher, for we find, in the interim between

his bail and surrender, that he stopped even a sparring match. “On

Tuesday, April 6th, 1802, Belcher had announced a display of the art of

self-defence, at a public-house called the Peahen, in Gray’s Inn Lane.

Gamble, Belcher, and several pugilists of fame set-to, and highly

diverted an immense concourse of persons until about ten o’clock, when

Mr. Bond having received information, despatched officers, who very

kindly paid them a visit, and took into custody not only the principals

but the whole of the company, and lodged them in the Compter for the

night.” The paragraph writer then becomes clumsily facetious about the

appropriate transfer of the population of the Peahen to the Poultry

Compter.[84]

In May, 1802, “on the last day of the Quarter Sessions at Newbury,

Belcher, Joe Ward, and Harry Lee, appeared with their bail,” and poor

Berks was brought up from the gaol. Jem’s aristocratic patrons had been

busy, for we read, “Mr. Dundas, the Chairman of the Sessions, addressed

them: he said the prosecution was at the instance of the county, but had

been moved by certiorari into the Court of King’s Bench. He admonished

them to leave off the pugilistic profession, and particularly directed

his observations to Belcher, of whose generally peaceable conduct he had

heard so favourable a report. The Court was very highly pleased at the

respectful manner in which they all surrendered themselves to the laws

of their country; and it was understood, that unless they were again

sufficiently atrocious to violate them, they would not be called upon to

answer for their misconduct.”

At the latter end of this month, May, notwithstanding this advice, the

following paragraph appeared in the _Oracle_: “Belcher and Berks have

been matched at Newmarket by Captain Fletcher and Fletcher Reid, Esq.,

for 200 guineas a-side. Belcher has already set off to Yorkshire, to put

himself in training, accompanied by Joe Ward, and Berks remains in the

neighbourhood of Newmarket for the same purpose. The battle is agreed to

take place within six weeks, but where or when will be kept as much a

secret as possible.”

The best accounts of the disappointments these olden gymnasts met with

in their attempts to decide this contest, may be collected from the

following excerpts:—

BELCHER AND BERKS.

_From the_ YORK HERALD.

“The boxing match made some time since, at Newmarket, to be fought

by the above-named, it was agreed by the parties, should be decided

on Thursday, June 17, between the hours of twelve and two, at the

village of Grewelthorpe, about six miles from Ripon. The above

village is in the West Riding; the division of that part of the

county and the North Riding taking place there. Accordingly, on the

morning of Thursday, a stage was erected at the bottom of a close

adjoining the house of Mr. Pickersgill; the money, amounting to

£1,450 a-side, deposited by the parties, and every necessary

preparation made. In consequence of information having been

previously sent to the magistrates, the Very Reverend the Deans of

Ripon and Middleham, with several of the justices for the North and

West Ridings, attended at Grewelthorpe, and signified their

determination to put a stop to all such outrageous proceedings; but

finding that the business was likely to be proceeded with, and that

a number of people were assembling, they ordered the Riot Act to be

read, which was accordingly done about twelve o’clock, by Mr.

Taylors, the Town Clerk. However, between one and two o’clock,

Belcher, with his second, etc., went upon the stage, and was

followed by Berks, upon which Mr. Trapps went down to inform them,

that if they did not instantly quit the stage, and the

neighbourhood, they and their parties would be apprehended. They

immediately obeyed, and left Grewelthorpe soon after.”

_From the_ MORNING POST.

“It appears that on Thursday, June 17, a stage, on which it was

intended that Belcher and Berks should exhibit a fresh trial of

their skill and strength, was erected in a bye place, about twenty

miles distant from Middleham, in Yorkshire, and so conveniently

situated for the purpose, that no persons present could have been

deprived of a full view of the fight. At one o’clock, Fletcher Reid,

Esq., on the part of Belcher, and Captain Fletcher, on behalf of

Berks, met on the appointed spot, to make good the stake of 1,450

guineas a-side, being the sum for which Belcher and Berks were

matched to fight. The conditions having been fulfilled, Belcher

appeared on the stage at a quarter before two o’clock, attended by

Joe Ward as his second, and Bill Gibbons as his bottle-holder; and

shortly after Berks joined them, with Crabbe as his bottle-holder,

but no second. The two bruisers shook hands, and Berks observed,

‘that it would now be determined which was the best man;’ to which

Belcher replied, ‘he was surprised he did not know that already.’

There were several hundred persons present on the tiptoe of

expectation to see the conflict commence; but the combatants could

not set-to, as Harry Lee had not ascended the stage, who was Berks’

promised second. On his name being called out among the crowd, he

answered to it; but when asked why he did not appear in his place,

he gave no other explanation than that he would have nothing to do

with the fight. This circumstance produced general dissatisfaction,

as it was declared that this determination on the part of Lee could

only have been occasioned by a previous understanding between him

and Berks’ friends, who now began to think of the large sums they

had betted, and the little chance they had of success. No bets could

be procured on the ground, without staking considerable odds. As

Berks refused to accept any other second in the room of Lee, all

hopes of a contest now vanished, and the champions retired from the

stage. Belcher, however, unwilling to disappoint the company,

offered to have a few rounds with Berks for pure ‘love,’ but he

declined, and immediately set off in a post-chaise.”

Mr. Fletcher Reid, who backed Belcher, made him a present of £50 for his

trouble, and £5 to bear his expenses to London. He also made a present

to Ward, his second, and to the bottle-holder, with money to bear their

expenses to town.

In the beginning of July, 1802, the following letter from Berks appeared

in the _Oracle_ and _Daily Advertiser_:—

“_To the Editor of the_ DAILY ADVERTISER.

“SIR,—The wager for which I was to have fought with Belcher, at

Grewelthorpe, in Yorkshire, was 1,450 guineas a-side; Captain

Fletcher betting upon me, and Mr. Fletcher Reid upon Belcher; the

match was to be fought between twelve and two.

“Captain Fletcher was on the stage half an hour before Mr. Fletcher

Reid could make up the sum betted. Belcher did not come upon the

stage until half past one, and then appeared in boots, consequently

not very likely with an intention to fight. Immediately on his

coming on the stage, Captain Fletcher came to me at the house, and

desired me to put on my fighting dress, and be ready immediately,

which I directly did. I was then asked by Fletcher Reid, ‘Where is

your second?’ I answered, ‘Let us fight without seconds, for Harry

Lee has refused to be one, on account of the magistrates.’

“I had wished to fight before the hour named, to prevent the

interposition of the magistrates; for though no man can more respect

their authority, which I would not attempt to resist, I thought it

would be fair enough to get a start of them.

“Mr. Bolton, of York, held the bets, to the amount of 2,900 guineas.

“I had been in training seven weeks at Middleham, and was never in

better condition. I ran and leaped with many people, and always beat

them. I was exceedingly well treated by the people there, and must

say that Captain Fletcher behaved amazingly well, and like a

gentleman to me. I told him it was not for the sake of money, but of

my honour, that I wanted to fight.

“Belcher had not been ten minutes on the stage, when two or three

gentlemen came and told him to get off, for that the magistrates had

issued their warrants.

“Belcher on this was directly going off, when I said, ‘Belcher, stop

and fight at all risks, and we shall see who is the best man.’ I

must say it is not true, as stated in some of the papers, that

Belcher made a reply, ‘that he thought I knew already,’ for he made

no answer, but acted the part of ‘Orator Mum.’

“It appears odd to me that Joe Ward was at Grewelthorpe the day

before, but did not appear the day appointed for the fight at all. I

do not wish to impute anything wrong to him, but think it very

strange.

“The above is a true statement, which nobody will deny, and which

Belcher, if he has a regard for truth, dares not contradict.—I am,

sir, yours, etc.,

“JOSEPH BERKS.”

“_London, July 1._”

On the 19th of August, it being Camberwell Fair, those two disappointed

and hitherto considered equal champions accidentally met, never having

seen each other since their proposed match in Yorkshire. “Belcher first

espied his pugilistic rival entertaining a number of people with the

manner in which he would serve out Belcher the first time he met him;

but this seeming to have happened unexpectedly, their first salute was

at least civil. Belcher, however, could not help expressing his regret

that Berks should boast everywhere of his superior prowess, that he

could beat Belcher with ease, that Belcher was afraid to fight, etc.

Berks did not deny these accusations, and offered to fight him

immediately. They then adjourned to the bowling-green belonging to the

house where they met, and Berks attacked Belcher before he could get his

shirt off. However, when they fairly met, Belcher put in a well-directed

hit, knocked out one of Berks’ front teeth, and following it up with a

blow under the ear, brought him down. Berks not being quite sober, and

Belcher indisposed, their friends agreed that they should meet next day

at Oxendon Street, Leicester Square. This being settled, they

separated.”

August 20.—“This day they met according to agreement, and after some

negotiation respecting the order of proceeding, they went, each in a

separate hackney coach, accompanied by their friends.

“At a little before one o’clock the parties arrived at Tyburn Turnpike,

where they immediately fixed on the first open space, a large field

directly behind St. George’s Chapel, which faces Hyde Park. The combat

having been so suddenly determined on, very few amateurs were present,

excepting Mr. Fletcher Reid and Mr. Crook. There not being time to build

a stage, an extensive ring was immediately formed, and the multitude,

which was immense, placed around it. The first row almost lying, the

second sitting, the third kneeling, and the remainder standing; those

behind thinking themselves well favoured if they now and then got a

peep.

“After walking about for a few minutes they began to strip, and when

prepared, Berks asked Mr. Fletcher Reid ‘Whether it should be a fair

stand-up fight.’—‘Certainly, in every way,’ said Mr. R., and immediately

called Belcher to acquaint him with what Berks had asked, when he said

‘Certainly, I can do no otherwise.’ Berks then requested that the pauses

between each round might be three quarters of a minute, but Belcher’s

friends insisted on the old established interval of half a minute.

“A purse of thirty guineas was subscribed for the winner, and five for

the loser, by the amateurs present. A few minutes after one they entered

the ring; Belcher, accompanied by Joe Ward as his second, and Bill

Gibbons as his bottle-holder; and Berks, by Tom Owen as his second, and

Yokel, the Jew, for his bottle-holder. After the accustomed salutation

they set-to.”

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Berks showed in this round that his

hope of gaining the battle rested upon his

superior strength. He ran in, closed upon

Belcher, and tried to throw him, but failed,

when Belcher dexterously accomplished what his

antagonist was so desirous of doing, and had his

man down on the grass. Some blows were struck,

but no blood drawn.

2.—Berks followed the plan he had commenced

with, ran in, and received a well-aimed blow

from Belcher in the throat, which drew blood.

They closed, and Belcher again threw his

opponent.

3.—Berks once more ran in with great pluck, and

with much adroitness planted a sharp blow on

Belcher’s right cheek bone with his left hand;

he then put in a severe blow between the

shoulder and the breast, which, had it been

lower, would have done execution. While aiming

another blow with his left hand, Belcher

rallied, closed, and a third time brought Berks

down with a hit and a close.

4.—Berks rushed upon his adversary, missed his

blow, and fell. Here some groaned, calling out,

“Berks is at his old tricks,” supposing him to

be shifting, but his subsequent conduct showed

the fallacy of such a charge.

5.—Berks ran in with great force, caught Belcher

by the hams, doubled him up, and threw him in

the style of a cross-buttock; Belcher pitched on

his head with such force it was feared his neck

was broken. A cry of “Foul! foul!” ran round,

but Belcher rose as sprightly as ever, said he

was not hurt, and in answer to the cries of

“Foul,” said “No, never mind.”

6.—This was one of the most severe rounds

that had been fought. Berks ran in as usual:

several severe blows struck on each side.

Belcher tremendously struck Berks on the

side of the head, a second on the neck, and

a third on the throat, all truly severe.

They closed, struggled, changed legs, and

each displayed his utmost skill and strength

in wrestling; at last both fell, neither

being able to claim any advantage.

7.—Berks had lost his gaiety; he seemed less

eager, and his strength evidently began to fail:

when put to the test, he still, however, showed

great spirit. They closed, and Berks was a

fourth time thrown.

8.—Berks during this round fought on the

defensive, but at that he had no chance. Belcher

put in several good blows, and terminated the

round by bringing Berks down the fifth time.

9.—Bets at this time were twenty to one in

favour of Belcher, who did not appear the least

exhausted. While sparring, he was nodding and

talking to his antagonist, at the same time

putting in some most severe and unexpected

blows. Poor Berks was again brought down.

10.—Berks set-to with spirit, and came to close

quarters. Belcher put in some awful hits, and

struck unusually sharp: he cut Berks under the

left eye, then under the right, and thirdly,

planted a most dreadful blow between the throat

and chin, so severe that it lifted Berks off his

feet, and his head came first to the ground.

Belcher fell from the force of his blow, and as

they both lay, the blood gushing up Berks’

throat, he collected it in his mouth, and

squirted it over Belcher. This he did not

relish, and swore he would pay him for it in the

next round. Berks, however, declared he did not

do it intentionally.

11.—Although Berks was evidently beaten, he

still showed fight. Some blows were struck, they

closed, and Belcher threw Berks, at the same

time falling on his own hands, not wishing to

hurt Berks more by falling on him, though the

practice is customary, and considered fair in

fighting.[85]

12.—Berks now showed considerable weakness,

sat longer on the ground, and required greater

assistance from his second than before. This

round ended by Belcher’s throwing him.

13.—Berks again came up; Belcher struck five or

six blows, closed, and again threw him. Berks

was now heard to express a wish to give in,

but his second desiring him to persevere, put

a handkerchief to his mouth, and stopped his

utterance. (This was disgraceful, and opposed to

all rules of the ring.)

14.—Berks showed game, but his strength was

gone; in short, he only stood up to be beat;

every one manifestly saw he had no chance of

success. After a few sharpish blows, Belcher

closed and threw him on the chest, where he

laid for some seconds, and then yielded the

palm. He was several times asked by Joe Ward

if he had given in, and distinctly answered

“Yes.” He could scarcely see or stand, and was

so shockingly cut about the face, that it was

impossible to distinguish a feature. His friends

placed him in a hackney coach, and carried him

to a house in the neighbourhood of Grosvenor

Square.

REMARKS.—Belcher carried no marks of the battle,

excepting the bruise on the cheek bone and his

left shoulder. After the battle was over he

leaped with great agility, and having walked

three times round the field, left it on foot.

His style of fighting in this contest was his

own peculiarly, putting in with astonishing

rapidity his three successive blows, and knowing

Berks’ superiority of strength, avoided closing

whenever he was able. The whole of the bets

depending on the intended Yorkshire battle were

decided by this contest.

Tuesday, August 24th, Mr. Fletcher Reid, the pugilistic amateur, gave a

dinner at the One Tun public-house, in St. James’s Market, to a number

of the professors of boxing. Berks was there, and in the evening Belcher

called in, when Mr. Reid addressed Berks, telling him he must now be

convinced it was impossible for him to beat Belcher, and asked him to

give him his hand, which he immediately consented to do, and the two

champions sat down at the same table, and spent the remainder of the day

in good humour. Berks was astonishingly recovered, and said he felt no

inconvenience now from the fight, but being a little stiff. In the

course of the evening a wager was made between him and Jack Warr, Bill’s

son, to run one hundred yards, for two guineas, which they immediately

decided, and Berks won by five yards.

On Friday, October 8, 1802, James Belcher was carried before his

attentive friend, Nicholas Bond, Esq., and Sir William Parsons, at the

Public Office, Bow Street, being taken into custody on a warrant of Lord

Ellenborough’s, dated the 22nd of July, 1802, in order to give bail for

his appearance next term in the Court of King’s Bench, to answer an

indictment found against him for certain riots and misdemeanours;

alluding to the battle he fought with Berks at Hurley Bottom, in

Berkshire, and which had been removed from the Quarter Sessions to that

Court, where it would have rested, as before understood, had he not

lately fought another battle.

The recognizance was himself in £200, and two sureties in £100 each.

This meddling Midas appears to have been one of those public nuisances

that are occasionally entrusted with in-discretionary power. Belcher had

engaged Sadler’s Wells Theatre for the evening of October 26th, 1802,

for his benefit. But Mr. Bond and his brother magistrates disappointed

hundreds, and robbed Belcher, by “closing the house for the season,”

declaring sparring an “unlawful exhibition!” Such are the fantastic

tricks of men “dressed in a little brief authority.”

John Firby (the Young Ruffian), who at this time, 1803, stood high in

reputation, offered himself, though certainly stale, as a candidate for

“the Bristol youth’s” favors. A purse of 100 guineas was subscribed by

“the dons of Newmarket race-course,” as the prize; and they were to meet

on Tuesday, April 12th, 1803. But the magistrates of Suffolk and

Cambridge getting wind of the meeting, exerted their authority to

prevent it, and on the Monday evening before, sent notices to the men

that a fight would not be permitted. A secret meeting was immediately

held, and it was determined to repair to the nearest spot in the county

of Essex, where they might fight unmolested by the magistrates.

Accordingly, by six o’clock the next morning, every one in the secret

was in bustle, procuring vehicles and horses for their conveyance. “At

seven o’clock Belcher started in a post-chaise, seated between Joe Ward,

his second, and Bill Warr, his bottle-holder. They pursued the London

Road, followed by an immense retinue, until they arrived at Bone Bridge,

where they turned to the left, passed through Linton, instilling awe

into the astonished inhabitants, who could conceive nothing else but

that the French were come. When they had got to the distance of

half-a-mile beyond Linton, and about fifteen from Newmarket, being in

the appointed county, they turned out of the road on to a level piece of

ground, and there resolved to decide the contest. To prevent a

possibility of any interruption it was judged expedient to be as active

as possible. They immediately commenced the formation of a ring, which

was accomplished without much difficulty, there not being many

pedestrians. This being executed, the combatants were called, and

informed that the collection was 100 guineas, but with regard to the

terms on which they contested, they must themselves decide. They

immediately agreed 90 guineas for the winner, and 10 for the loser.

“The combatants without loss of time began to strip, and after the usual

ceremony, at a quarter past nine, began.”

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Every countenance expressed the

greatest anxiety, while each stood on his guard,

in expectation of his opponent’s blow. The

disparity in size was considerable, Firby

standing six feet one, and weighing fifteen

stone; Belcher five feet eleven, and barely

twelve stone. The combatants remained inactive

for some seconds, when Firby put in a blow at

the head, which Belcher avoided, and immediately

returned by two blows left and right, but

without much effect; they closed, and both fell,

Belcher underneath. Many offers to take two to

one that “the Ruffian” would win, but few

betters.

2.—Belcher immediately struck Firby in the

mouth, from which blood flowed copiously, and

following it up by a right-handed blow on the

side, brought his antagonist down. (Odds were

now three to one in favour of Belcher.)

3.—No harm on either side. This round, Firby at

the commencement aimed a blow at his opponent’s

head, which he caught, and gave a returning

blow, which Firby likewise parried with much

dexterity. Belcher again made a blow which was

also stopped; he, however, made a blow, followed

up his opponent fighting half armed, and Firby

fell.

4.—Both combatants rallied, and both put in some

severe blows. They closed, Belcher fell, and

while on his knees Firby struck him. A cry of

“Foul! foul!” resounded from all sides. Belcher

appealed for a decision of the point, but wished

to go on rather than take advantage of such

a circumstance. At this time a parson and a

constable arrived from Linton, and endeavoured

to prevent the further progress of the battle;

but the combatants not paying much attention to

the sacred cloth, or the legal staff, commenced

the

5th round.—Firby, who now had a black eye, and

spit up blood, shifted, and seemed afraid to

approach his antagonist. Belcher facetiously

beckoned to him, when he came up and struck, but

so slowly, that Belcher avoided it by a jerk of

the head, and while he was making a violent hit

at Firby’s side, he fell. Belcher smiled; his

opponent was evidently distressed.

6.—In this round, which undoubtedly was the best

contested throughout the battle, it became

apparent that Belcher’s strength increased,

whilst that of his adversary was much exhausted.

Firby, with much irritability, made some severe

hits at Belcher, which he, however, either

parried or avoided, so that not one of them

told. Belcher smiled and looked about him with

the greatest composure, even in the heat of the

round, and carefully watching, put in a well

directed blow in the stomach, at the same time

closing, he gave his antagonist a cross buttock

with great violence.

7.—Much hard straight-forward fighting on both

sides, but Firby had the worst of it. (Odds ten

to one on Belcher.)

8.—Firby rallied, made a hit, which Belcher

stopped with great adroitness, and immediately

struck Firby over the mouth, cutting his lip

severely; Firby, however, returned it by a sharp

hit, but did not draw blood. (Odds in this round

sunk from ten to five to one.)

9.—At the first onset Belcher put in a severe

blow over his antagonist’s right eye, and

immediately resuming a defensive attitude, very

cheerfully said, “How do you like that, Johnny?”

Firby made a desperate blow, but over-reached

himself, and fell; Belcher smiled, and while he

was down pointed at him with great irony.

11.—Belcher followed his opponent round the

ring, and put in some severe blows, which Firby

stopped, but not effectually; Belcher at length

gave him a knock-down blow, when his friends

insisted he should give in.

The contest lasted twenty minutes, during which

time Firby never had any chance of success. He

had ever been considered a first-rate pugilist,

and consequently the amateurs expected one of

the best displays of science that ever had been

witnessed; but whether Belcher’s name overawed

him, or he really had fallen off in his style of

fighting, he in this contest fell much short of

what was anticipated. Belcher after the battle

had not the mark of a blow perceivable.

Thursday, May 12, 1803.—“Mr. Garrow this day moved for the judgment of

the Court on four defendants, James Belcher, Joseph (but in the

indictment erroneously called Edmund) Burke, Joe Ward, called also

erroneously James, and Henry Lee, who were described to be labourers.

These defendants had allowed judgment to go by default.”

The indictment charged, that they, being persons of evil and malicious

dispositions, and fighters, duellers, rioters, etc., had, on the 25th of

November, in the county of Berks, conspired and combined together, that

James Belcher and Edmund Burke (!) should fight a duel, and that the

other two defendants should be aiding and assisting in the said fight

and duel; and that in pursuance of the said conspiracy, the said James

Belcher and Edmund Burke unlawfully and riotously assembled together,

with fifty others, to the disturbance of the public peace; and that

Belcher and Burke “fought a duel,” and the other two “were present,

aiding and assisting, together with fifty other persons.” Mr. Garrow,

afterwards a brutal Tory attorney-general and truculent judge, earned

his dirty fee by a more than ordinary amount of hireling abuse of

pugilism. Of course he said little of the deadly weapons with which the

prisoners’ “betters” settled their duels. The celebrated Erskine,

afterwards Lord Chancellor, and Mr. Const defended the prisoners, merely

asking the lenity of the Court. Lord Ellenborough finally bound the

prisoners, each in his own recognizance of £400, to come up when called

on for the judgment of the Court; a nominal judgment, upon which the

defendants were discharged.

An unfortunate accident now struck down the skill of this talented

boxer, and clouded his after life in every sense. While playing at

rackets with Mr. Stuart at the Court in Little St. Martin’s Lane, on the

24th of July, 1803, Belcher received a blow from a ball struck by the

marker, of such extraordinary violence as literally to almost knock his

eyeball from its socket. This distressing accident and the heavy

recognizance on which he was bound, had a most depressing effect on

Jem’s spirits and health, and he announced his retirement from the ring.

His friends rallied round him, and placed him in a public-house, the

Jolly Brewers, in Wardour Street, Soho, where he was well supported. But

Jem’s spirit was active, though prudence dictated entire retirement. A

quarrel between a brother of Jem’s (who soon after died) and Hen.

Pearce, the Game Chicken, his fellow townsman and _protegé_, led to this

unfortunate rencontre. The lavish praises too of Pearce’s friends

excited Belcher’s envy: he declared he had taught Pearce all he knew,

and spoke slightingly of “the Chicken’s” ability and skill; but we are

anticipating.

Joe Berks, upon Belcher’s retirement, claimed the championship; but

Pearce of whom we shall soon give the pugilistic career, was invited to

London by Jem, with a promise to procure him patronage and a match with

Berks. These matters will be found hereafter in our Life of PEARCE, who

had in the interim twice beaten Berks, and subsequently, Elias Spray,

Carte, and lastly John Gully, when Belcher rashly challenged “the

Chicken” for 500 guineas, to fight within two months. Pearce appears to

have been much mortified at this challenge, but his position as champion

forbade him to decline it. Mr. Fletcher Reid, Belcher’s firm friend,

staked for Jem, and Captain Halliday posted the 500 for “the Chicken.”

This, the first defeat of the renowned Jem, will be found fully detailed

under the memoir of his conqueror.

Belcher had materially declined in constitution, independently of the

loss of his eye. Among the serious effects of that accident was a

nervous depression and irrepressible irritability, which, according to

the testimony of many who knew him intimately, he tried in vain to

control. Upwards of two years had passed in retirement from active

pursuits, and in the ease and free living of a publican’s calling, when

Belcher came forward, upon Pearce’s claim to the championship, to

dispute his title. He could not be persuaded of the difficulties of

meeting so skilful and formidable a boxer with the loss of an eye; and

when too late he discovered his inferiority. How he did fight was long

remembered by those who witnessed the lamentable but truly heroic and

honourable combat, in which more unaffected courage, manly forbearance

and true humanity were displayed and applauded, than ever entered into

the narrow soul of craven slanderers of pugilism to conceive. Animosity

was merged in honourable emulation, and the struggle for fair and

unimpeachable victory. Belcher fought in his accustomed style, and tried

his usual hits with adroit rapidity; but it was noticed that they were

often out of distance, and that his defective eyesight was painfully

made evident. When this was aggravated by blows over the good eye, his

aim became utterly confused, and he became a victim to his own fatuity.

Nevertheless, poor Jem endeavoured to make up for deficiency of sight

and aim by an astonishing and unequalled display of courage and gaiety;

and though the skill and science on both sides deserved respect, the

spectators could not avoid seeing that Belcher’s guard was no longer

ready, and his rapid antagonist planted on him so severely and

frequently as to excite the regret of his friends that such a combat

should have been provoked, and that the envious infirmity of human

nature should have thus blinded the mental judgment as well as the

bodily sight of so able a champion. Jem’s spirits, however, never

forsook him during the fight; and at its close he declared, “That his

sorrow was more occasioned by the recollection of the severe loss of a

particular friend, who, in fact, had sported everything he possessed

upon his head, and had been one of his most staunch backers and

supporters through life, than as to any particular consideration

respecting himself!” a generous sentiment and well worthy of record.

Notwithstanding the somewhat ill-natured remark of John Gully, “That had

Jem been in possession of _four eyes_, he never could have beaten

Pearce,” it must be remembered that the future M.P. had been thrashed by

Pearce, and had not even seen Belcher in his prime. Fully conceding the

excellence evinced by the Chicken in science, wind, strength, and game,

we may yet be allowed the supposition, that had this contest taken place

when Jem Belcher possessed his eyesight in full perfection, its

termination would, to say the least, have been very doubtful.

Respecting Belcher’s two battles with Cribb, when the circumstances of

the case are duly appreciated; when it is recollected that his spirits

must have been somewhat damped by previous defeat; and that his powers

were known to be on the decay previous to his fight with the Chicken, it

must be allowed that his heroism and science shone resplendently.

In the first fight with Cribb, as may be traced, Jem’s superiority in

tactics was manifest. The former was severely punished; and not until

Belcher had received a most violent hit over his good eye, and sprained

his right hand, did Cribb appear to have an opening for a lead. In the

seventeenth round the odds were two to one on Belcher, and in the

eighteenth five to one, when Cribb was so much beaten, that considerable

doubts were entertained whether he would be able to come again; and even

at the conclusion of the battle Cribb was in a very exhausted state.

Until Belcher lost his distance, from his confused sight, victory

appeared to hover over him.

In the last battle that Belcher fought his courage was principally

displayed, and he by no means proved an easy conquest to Cribb. Since

the loss of his eye, it was the positive wish of his best friends that

he should fight no more, but he was not to be deterred, obstinately

neglected good advice, and would not believe in the decline of his

physical powers. In this last battle, his disadvantages were great. His

opponent had made rapid improvement in science, was in full vigour, and

a glutton that was not to be satisfied in a common way; still Jem gave

specimens of his former skill; but they were rather showy than

effective, for the strength had departed. His hands, too, failed him,

and for several of the latter rounds he endeavoured fruitlessly to

prolong the contest without the _indispensable_ weapons to bring it to a

successful issue. Youth, weight, courage, freshness, and no mean amount

of skill, were too much for the waning stamina and skill of even a

Belcher to bear up against.

At the end of the report of his fight with Firby, a correspondent of the

_Morning Post_ thus sketches Belcher’s qualifications from personal

acquaintance. “Belcher is a dashing, genteel young fellow, extremely

placid in his behaviour, and agreeable in his address. He is without any

remarkable appearance of superior bodily strength, but strips remarkably

well, displaying much muscle. Considered merely as a bruiser, I should

say he was not so much a man of science according to the rules of the

pugilistic art, as that he possessed a style peculiar or rather natural

to himself, capable of baffling all regular science, and what appeared

self-taught or invented, rather than acquired by practice. He was

remarkably quick, springing backwards and forwards with the rapidity of

lightning. You heard his blows, but did not see them. At the conclusion

of a round his antagonist was struck and bleeding; but he threw in his

hits with such adroitness that you could not discern how the damage was

done. His style was perfectly original, and extremely difficult to avoid

or to withstand.” Again, “His style, like that of the great masters in

every line, was truly ‘his own;’ the spectator was struck with its

neatness and elegance—his opponent confused and terrified by its

effects; while his gravity, coolness, and readiness, utterly

disconcerted the fighting men with whom he was often opposed in mimic as

well as actual combat. Add to this, that a braver boxer never pulled off

a shirt, and we need hardly wonder at his eminent success, until an

accident deprived him of one of the most valuable organs of man’s

complex frame.”

In his social hours, Jem was good-natured in the extreme, and modest and

unassuming to a degree almost bordering upon bashfulness. In the

character of a publican, no man entertained a better sense of propriety

and decorum; and the stranger, in casually mixing with the Fancy in his

house, never felt any danger of being offended or molested. It would be

well if as much could be said of all sporting publicans.

After his last defeat by Cribb, much of Belcher’s fine animal spirits

departed. He was depressed and taciturn, and his health much broken by

twenty-eight days’ imprisonment to which, with a fine, he was condemned

for his breach of the peace by that battle. The old story too, for Jem

was not prudent, is again to be told. His worldly circumstances had

suffered with his health, and

“The summer friends

That ever wing the breeze of fair success,

But fly to sunnier spots when winter frowns,”

forgot to take what old Pierce would have called their nightly “perch,”

or “roost,” at Jem’s “lush-crib.” His last illness approached, and, with

at most two of his firmest friends, the once formidable champion

departed this life on Tuesday, July 30, 1811, at the sign of the Coach

and Horses, in Frith Street, Soho, in the thirty-first year of his age,

and, on the following Sunday, was interred in the burial ground of

Marylebone. The concourse of people to witness the funeral was immense;

and a more general sympathy has rarely been witnessed. The proximate

cause of his death was a family complaint, having its origin in an

enlargement of the liver. The following inscription may be yet read upon

his tombstone:—

IN MEMORY OF

JAMES BELCHER,

Late of St. Anne’s Parish, Soho,

Who died

The 30th of July, 1811,

AGED 30.

Universally regretted by all who knew him.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER II.

TOM BELCHER—1804‒1822.[86]

The third of the Belchers, Tom, remains in the memory of a few old ’uns

as, for many years, “mine host of the Castle,” a jolly, rubicund,

pleasant, and generous fellow, and the worthy predecessor of the

departed Tom Spring, in that ancient head quarters of the Fancy, now

also Pythagorised into a feeding-shop, named after Sir Charles

Napier—another fighting hero. Tom came to London in the year 1803, when

his brother Jem was at the zenith of his fame, having beaten every man

with whom he had fought, and attained the position of undisputed

Champion of England. Although Tom’s ring career was not so brilliant as

his elder brother’s, it had a less striking culmination and fall, and

his thirteen battles, with eight victories and a draw (with the

phenomenon Dutch Sam), tell well for Tom’s descent from the Slacks and

Belchers.

Tom Belcher was born at Bristol, in the same house as his brother Jem,

on the 14th of April, 1783. On his earlier years we need not dwell, and

where there is little or no authentic material, we hold nothing in

deeper contempt than the system of “gagging” a parcel of clumsy

apocryphal battles, some of which there is inherent chronological and

circumstantial evidence could never have taken place.

We have said Tom came to town at twenty years of age, and he was soon

matched. His first salaam in the ring (which on this occasion was forty

feet in diameter, instead of the customary twenty or twenty-four feet)

was on the 26th of June, 1804. His opponent on this occasion was of a

noted fighting stock, being Jack Warr, the son of the celebrated Bill

Warr. The prize contested for was 50 guineas, and—hear it, ye who have

in modern times travelled even to Ireland to see no fight—the

battle-ground was no farther off than Tothill Fields, Westminster; the

day, Tuesday, June 26, 1804.

Warr was much the firmer set and stouter man, though the youthful Tom

had the advantage in the reach, and, upon stripping, the odds were a

trifle in favour of Belcher, from the _prestige_ of his family name, and

the predilection of the amateurs for the school from which he came. We

quote the contemporary report.

“On the Monday night the knowing ones determined that the scene of

action should be Tothill Fields, and on the following day they

accordingly met about two o’clock, attended by their friends. A ring was

immediately formed, not exceeding forty feet in diameter, by driving

stakes and attaching to them the reins lent them by the various hackney

coachmen. On stripping, Warr appeared stouter than Belcher, but the

latter was taller and longer in the reach. After the usual ceremonies

they set-to. Odds six to four in favour of Belcher.

“The set-to was in clever style, both displaying excellent science. Warr

put in the first blow and followed it up with a second, both of which

took effect; no return. Had they taken place as aimed their violence

might have settled the battle. Belcher rallied, and some desperate hits

were exchanged. At the conclusion of the round bets became even. From

this to the eighth round both combatants fought desperately. It was a

scene of thorough hard fighting, each endeavouring to make his hits

tell, without once shrinking from the blow of his opponent. Belcher

evidently imitated his brother in his plan of fighting, putting in his

blows with his left hand, straight, and with the rapidity of a dart.

Odds rose in favour of Belcher six to four again, but not from any

advantage he had as yet gained in the battle. Warr stood up manfully,

and never once gave way.

“For the three following rounds Warr put in his blows so forcibly, and

so well directed, that they were almost irresistible, and he undoubtedly

had the advantage. It being considered, however, that Belcher’s bottom

was good, betting did not go lower than par; he, however, at this time

displayed great weakness, and evidently was greatly exhausted.

“Warr supported the superiority to the sixteenth round, and put in

several desperate body blows. Belcher, on the contrary, fought all at

the head, by which plan Warr’s eyes became greatly affected.

“The seventeenth round was most admirably contested. Belcher seemed to

recruit his strength, changed his mode of fighting, and put in

successfully several severe body blows. Warr persevered with undaunted

fire throughout the round; they closed, and both fell.

“On rising, Warr appeared weak; however, the eighteenth round was

another truly severe trial, both combatants being apparently determined

to exert their greatest strength, and bring into action all their

science. Warr stood his ground, and Belcher put in some severe blows

over his eyes, which, already much cut, were entirely closed at the end

of the round.

[Illustration:

TOM BELCHER.

_From a Portrait published in 1810._

]

“Although in this state, Warr obstinately contested another round, in

which he could not fail to be completely worsted. His friends now

interfered, and insisted on his giving in. But he refused; and then

fainting, was immediately carried off the ground almost lifeless, every

one complimenting him by calling him ‘A chip off the old block.’

“The nineteen rounds were fought in thirty-three minutes.”

The son, emulous of the sire, seems at this time to have found favour

with the pugilistic world as with the turf, on an absurd application of

the “like begets like” principle.[87] Accordingly, Bill Ryan, son of

Michael,[88] was selected to lower the pretensions of “Young Tom.” The

“amateurs” might have done worse, as the event proved, for Bill polished

off the youthful Tom in thirty-eight rounds, November 30, 1804, as we

shall notice in the Appendix to this Period. (See RYAN, BILL, p. 229,

_post_.)

It appears that Tom was not only dissatisfied with this defeat, but

considered it a “snatched battle.” On Saturday, April 27, 1805, Pearce

triumphantly beat Carte, the Birmingham bruiser (see PEARCE), at

Shepperton Common, Surrey, in thirty-five minutes. The “fancy” were

unsatisfied, and a subscription purse being collected of 20 guineas,

O’Donnel,[89] “the celebrated Irish hero,” offered himself. Pierce Egan

says, “O’Donnel showed himself entitled to respectful attention; but who

was completely satisfied in fifteen rounds.” The reporter from whom he

copies says, in better English and with more sense, “Tom displayed his

known dexterity, and showed good science; but O’Donnel, who fought well

at the commencement, at the end of the fifteenth round played _a cross,

and gave in_.” We suspect he was tired of the job.

Tom fretted, it appears, after the lost laurel with Bill Ryan, and

challenged him a second time to the lists. They accordingly met for 25

guineas a-side, at Laleham Burway, near Chertsey, Surrey, June 4, 1805.

Belcher was seconded by Tom Blake (Tom Tough), and was backed by Mr.

Fletcher Reid; Bill Ryan was waited on by George Maddox and a “friend.”

The Hon. Berkeley Craven posted his stake, and laid the odds of seven to

four on Ryan. At one o’clock the men stripped, and two to one was

offered on Ryan. We quote the report.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Both men kept at distance; but after

some little sparring Ryan put in the first blow.

Tom parried it extremely well; Ryan bored in and

both fell, Ryan uppermost.

2.—Some good straight blows exchanged; Belcher

struck, Ryan parried, and Belcher fell from the

force of his own blow.

3.—Excellent fighting; as many as ten blows

passed, when Belcher cleanly knocked down his

opponent.

4.—Some sharp blows; Ryan threw Belcher a cross

buttock with great violence.

5.—A tightly contested round; Belcher fell.

6.—No fighting; they closed and both came down.

7.—In this round Ryan displayed to advantage,

but closing he fell.

8.—Very short; Ryan again fell.

9.—Both having received some desperate blows,

now began to be more cautious, sparred a good

deal, and the round was terminated rather

favourably for Ryan.

10.—Some sharp blows quickly plied. Belcher

fell. (Odds were now generally two to one on

Ryan.)

11.—The men instantly closed, and Ryan fell.

12.—In this round Ryan put in some good hits and

brought down his opponent.

13.—Both closed, struggled, and fell, Belcher

uppermost.

14.—Ryan threw in a severe blow, which Belcher

very scientifically stopped; he rallied, and

both fell with great violence. When down,

Belcher patted Ryan’s cheek, and said, laughing,

“Bill, you’re done over.”

15.—No fighting, and the men closed and fell,

Ryan uppermost.

16.—Both showed fight; Ryan down.

17.—Ryan very adroitly threw his opponent, still

Belcher appeared very gay.

18.—Good fighting. Ryan brought down his

opponent again, but not a clear fall.

19.—After some good hits exchanged, Ryan put in

a severe blow in the kidneys, and threw Belcher.

20.—Ryan now appeared distressed in his wind;

but he made a neat hit, but slipped and fell.

21.—Both fought with great resolution, and each

showed courage. Ryan had the superiority in

strength, and got his opponent down again.

22.—Both appeared fatigued; no fighting, they

closed and both fell.

23.—Well contested; Belcher showed good fight,

and his friends began to have a better opinion

of his chance; he hit his man and got away,

Ryan, however, threw him.

24.—Belcher recruited, stood up boldly, and by

an excellent hit, brought down his opponent.

25.—Both very weak, closed, and fell.

26.—No fighting, at least no impression. Ryan

fell.

27.—Both combatants seemed distressed. Belcher

fell.

28.—Belcher at the end of this round fell, and

laughing, fairly pulled his antagonist after

him.

29.—Belcher immediately on setting to, put in a

blow on the head, and Ryan gave in, not without

a supposition of cross play. The fight lasted

fifty minutes.

“Lord Craven, Lord Albemarle, General

Fitzpatrick, Hon. Berkeley Craven, Mr. Fletcher

Reid, Mr. Mellish, Mendoza, Jackson, Bill Warr,

and others were present.”

On February the 8th, 1806, Tom was defeated by “the phenomenon,” Dutch

Sam (Elias Samuels). See DUTCH SAM, Chapter V. of this Period.

In the interval between this and his next contest he disposed of an

aspirant (who took the name of “Jack in the Green”) for a ten pound

note.

His next was a brave but ineffectual attempt to reverse the verdict in

the case of Dutch Sam. Tom, though not _quite_ beaten, fought a draw,

July 20, 1807. This led to the final appeal, on August 21, 1807, when

Tom’s objections to Sam’s superiority were finally disposed of. See

DUTCH SAM.

After these reverses, Dogherty, who had twice beaten Cribb’s younger

brother, George, now challenged Tom, to fight in a month, and the 5th of

April, 1803, was fixed for the tourney (the same day as Dutch Sam and

Cropley’s fight was appointed); but it was interrupted by the Bow Street

“redbreasts,” and postponed until Thursday, the 14th of April, when it

came off near the Rubbing House on Epsom Downs. A roped ring of

twenty-one feet was formed on the turf, and about twelve o’clock the

combatants entered, Belcher accompanied by Mendoza and Clark, Dogherty

by Cropley and Dick Hall. Without loss of time they set-to. Six to four

on Belcher.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—More than a minute elapsed before any

blows were exchanged, both sparring to obtain

the advantage. Belcher stopped his opponent’s

attempts with great neatness; a rally took

place, when they closed, but broke away. Some

trifling hits took place; they again closed, and

Dogherty threw Belcher. (The odds six to four

were unchanged.)

2.—Belcher stopped a terrible left-hander which

Dogherty aimed at his head; the latter rushed

in, but Belcher knocked him off his legs.

3.—Skill and courage by no means deficient on

either side. Dogherty tried to bustle his man,

but Belcher was cool and prepared; he stopped

his plunges, and put in some severe blows on

Dogherty’s face, who, nevertheless, closed the

round by throwing Tom.

4.—The skill of both men was conspicuous in this

round; but Belcher had the best of it. Dogherty

received a tremendous facer in endeavouring to

plant a hit, and Belcher in settled in fine

style. Dogherty convinced the spectators that he

was no novice, by his dexterity in stopping—yet

Tom, following his opponent round the ring,

punished his head most terribly, and brought him

down by a blow under the jaw. (Three to one on

Belcher.)

5.—Belcher, with uncommon dexterity, broke

through Dogherty’s guard, and with his left hand

planted a most dreadful blow in his throat,

which struck Dogherty so completely abroad, that

he repeated the hit three times before Dogherty

could recover himself, when they closed and

fell.

6.—Belcher upon setting-to dropped his opponent

from the first two blows.

7.—Dogherty’s efforts were completely defensive;

he stopped Belcher’s blows with great neatness;

nevertheless, Belcher rallied him down.

8.—Belcher had enough to do in warding off

the well-aimed hits of his adversary, who

now went in impetuously, yet not without

science; in closing, Tom was thrown upon the

ropes by Dogherty, and to all appearance

without difficulty. The betting fell, for

though Dogherty had been hit heavily, he was

strong and dangerous.

9.—Several good blows were exchanged; but

Belcher was not seen to so much advantage in

this round. In closing, Belcher was underneath.

10.—Belcher sparred cautiously and retreated;

when Dogherty, conceiving something might be

gained by following him, put in two good hits.

In closing the round, Dogherty was thrown.

11.—Belcher put in two facers, when both the

combatants fell out of the ring.

12.—Dogherty was again thrown, previously to

which Belcher planted two good hits.

13.—Dogherty, full of pluck, rattled in, but Tom

threw him with considerable force.

14.—Tom, evidently superior in this round,

rendered the bustling of Dogherty unavailing,

and again threw him violently. (Three and four

to one on Belcher.)

15.—The game of Dogherty claimed admiration,

his appearance commiseration—his head was

terrific, and his strength was nearly exhausted;

nevertheless, he still forced the fighting,

but his blows were of no effect, and he fell

beneath the superiority of his opponent.

Belcher’s half-arm hits were as swift as they

were punishing, till Dogherty fell. (Any odds on

Belcher.)

16 and 17.—In both these rounds the exhaustion

of Dogherty was visible, and, to the honour of

Belcher, be it recorded, he disdained taking any

more advantage than was necessary to insure

his contest: as his opponent fell on the ropes

at his mercy, he walked away from him. Such

humanity ought not to be forgotten.

18 and 19.—Dogherty’s spirits were good, but his

stamina was exhausted; his blows did not tell,

although he still stopped with considerable

science. Belcher kept the lead in fine style; in

closing, both men fell.

24.—Up to this round it was evident that Tom

must win; but his game opponent was determined

to try every effort while the least chance

remained of success. Tom put in three desperate

facers, and followed them by so severe a

body-blow, that Dogherty fell quite bent and

exhausted.

25‒33.—Dogherty, still determined, contended for

eight more rounds, but was nothing more than a

mere object of punishment to his opponent, who

continually hit him down with ease. This could

not last long, and in the thirty-third round, at

the end of forty-five minutes’ sharp fighting,

Belcher was declared the conqueror.

“Belcher was so little hurt,” continues the

reporter, “that upon hearing of his adversary’s

surrender, he immediately threw a somersault,

and ran off to the Rubbing House (nearly half a

mile) without stopping to put on his clothes. In

this battle Belcher fought with greater skill

and science, and more after the manner of his

brother, than in any one he had contested. His

distances were measured with exactness—every

hit told. Dogherty’s only chance against such

superior skill and steadiness was his sheer

strength and game; but in this last Belcher

showed himself his equal.”

Bill Richmond, whose memoir will appear hereafter, thrashed a countryman

in the same ring.

On the 25th of October, 1808, a day memorable as that whereon Gregson

was beaten after his desperate battle with Tom Cribb at Moulsey, Tom

Belcher entered the same thirty-feet ring to fight Cropley for a purse

of 50 guineas. At setting-to the odds were seven to four on Belcher.

Cropley was seconded by Tom Jones; Dick Hall acted as his bottle-holder;

and Belcher was waited on by Mendoza and Dutch Sam. The combatants were

looked upon as well matched, and considerable expectation of a fine

display of the art was entertained. During a contest of thirty-four

rounds, which occupied fifty-six minutes—and it is but justice to

observe that a more scientific fight was rarely seen—Cropley proved

himself an excellent boxer, and possessed of undeniable game. But his

attitude was bad; and his defeat was principally attributed to a knack

of bringing his head too forward when putting in his blows. Belcher saw

this advantage, and accepting the present thus made him, punished his

face so dreadfully, that in the latter part of the battle Cropley was no

longer recognizable. Tom’s blows, however, seem to have been rather more

showy than effective, for it was with the utmost difficulty that Cropley

was persuaded to give in, and he was still steady and strong; though,

says the reporter, “all but blind, he even then felt desirous to try

another round.”

One Farnborough, who rested his pretensions upon weight, strength, and

pluck, three good points certainly, had the temerity to fight Tom

Belcher, on Epsom race-ground, in a thirty-feet ring, on February 1,

1809. He proved a mere pretender; and after the first round Belcher

treated him with the utmost _sang froid_. In the course of twenty

minutes he so completely polished him off that Farnborough was glad to

cry “enough,” while Belcher was scarcely touched. This was a small

consolation for the Belchers, for in the same ring on the same day Tom

Cribb beat Jem Belcher, as detailed in the Life of CRIBB.

Silverthorne, a pugilist of some note and success (see Appendix to

Period IV.), was matched for 100 guineas, and a subscription purse of

£50, against Belcher. This battle was decided upon Crawley Heath, near

Copthall, June 6, 1811. Silverthorne was seconded by the veteran Caleb

Baldwin, and his bottle-holder was Bill Gibbons; Belcher was attended by

Mr. John Gully and Tom Jones. Four to one upon Belcher.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Belcher, upon the alert, stopped a

tremendous body blow, and returned two sharp

hits right and left in Silverthorne’s face,

which immediately produced blood; after

disengaging themselves, Belcher pelted away most

effectually, putting in hits as quick as

lightning. It was declared by several old

ring-goers that such a first round was never

before witnessed. Silverthorne went down during

the hitting from the severe effects of Belcher’s

blows.

2.—Silverthorne came to the scratch with

something more than caution in his attitudes; he

began by retreating from his adversary, who hit

him right and left upon the head. Silverthorne,

in planting a hit upon Belcher’s throat, was

stopped; nevertheless he got in a severe body

blow, which Belcher retaliated by hitting him

down.

3.—Silverthorne, who bled profusely, rattled in,

game as a pebble, but without effect—Belcher put

in several severe blows. Silverthorne showed he

was not without science by stopping several

nasty ones; Belcher losing his distance closed,

and was thrown by Silverthorne.

4.—It was now evident that Silverthorne was much

inferior to his opponent, who frustrated all his

attempts with ease and coolness. Silverthorne

endeavoured to plant a severe body blow, which

Tom stopped, when a rally commenced, which

turned out to Belcher’s advantage, for he put in

a terrible blow, then closed, and threw his

opponent a cross-buttock enough to knock the

breath out of him.

5.—Silverthorne came to the scratch anything but

improved in appearance; he received two facers,

and fell in an attempt to get in. (All betters

but no takers.)

6.—Notwithstanding the chance was against him,

Silverthorne showed play, and stopped very

neatly a right-handed blow which was intended

for his head. Belcher, however, got in one on

the body, and Silverthorne fell in attempting to

return the hit.

7.—It was now bellows to mend with Silverthorne,

who was completely exhausted, but still wished

to try another chance—Belcher did as he liked

with him, and finished the contest by a hit in

the throat, which knocked him down. The game

Silverthorne could come no more, and Belcher was

proclaimed the conqueror. Silverthorne was at

once conveyed to a post-chaise, carried to the

nearest inn, and put to bed. Belcher, as on

a former occasion, threw a somersault, then

mounted the box of a patron’s barouche, and

started for town.

“In this battle Belcher had as fine an

opportunity, despite Silverthorne’s experience,

of showing off his superior science, as with the

slow and unwieldy Farnborough. He fought

cautiously, drawing his opponent, when he never

had any difficulty in getting on to him.

Silverthorne was beaten in spirit in the first

round, though he did not give in till nature

deserted him.”

After this triumph Belcher reposed awhile on his laurels; and in the

early part of 1813 he started on a sparring tour through the provinces,

visiting the northern parts of the island. In Liverpool he was

particularly attractive, and numerous pupils attended his school, who,

from their rapid progress in the science, gave proofs of the excellence

of the master under whom they studied. His engagement being completed at

this seaport, and being so near to the “tight boys of the sod,” he

determined, previous to his return to the metropolis, to take a peep at

“the land that gave Paddy his birth.” Tom’s arrival in Ireland, while it

gave pleasure to the patrons of the science, created jealousy in another

professor of boxing, who had been there some time previous, teaching the

natives the advantages of the complete use of their fives, an art never

properly understood or appreciated by Irishmen. Dogherty resented Tom’s

visit as a sort of intrusion on his domain; added to which his scholars

ran after the newly arrived “Sassenach.” This was unendurable. Dogherty

issued a cartel to his former conqueror, and all other preliminaries

being arranged, the rivals met on the Curragh of Kildare, on Friday, the

23rd of April, 1813, for a subscription purse of 100 guineas, and “the

honour of ould Ireland,” as the “historian” expresses it.

The spot where the fight took place, known to this day as “Belcher’s

Valley,” was particularly convenient for spectators, being in a glen on

the Curragh, surrounded by sloping hills, forming a natural

amphitheatre.

Belcher appeared first in the enclosure, dressed in a great coat, but,

whilst it was completing, retired to a barouche, in which he had

arrived. Dogherty now showed himself to the spectators, wrapped up in a

box-coat of no trifling dimensions, and instantly gave his caster a toss

in the air, loudly vociferating, “Ireland for ever.” This sentence,

which came so directly home to the natives of Paddy’s Land, occasioned

an electric expression of approbation from the surrounding multitude,

accompanied by repeated shouts and huzzas. It might spontaneously have

escaped the lips of Dogherty, from a warmth of feeling to his native

soil, but it certainly was not calculated to place Belcher in a

favourable point of view with the assembled multitude. Tom accordingly

again entered the enclosure, seeming to feel (whatever the intention of

it might be toward him) that, if suffered to pass over without notice,

it might operate to his prejudice. After bowing to the spectators, he

solicited a gentleman who had been chosen the umpire to address the

public, that no improper impression might go forth respecting his

character. This the gentleman did, nearly to the following

effect:—“Gentlemen, Mr. Belcher wishes it to be understood that, if any

aspersions have been levelled at him, stating that he has spoken

disrespectfully of the Irish nation, he begs leave to assure you it is

an absolute falsehood; and, as a proof of the truth of his statement, he

is ready at any time to fight those who may dare assert to the

contrary.” This pithy oration was favourably received; the combatants

immediately stripped, and the ceremony of shaking hands having been gone

through, the seconds took their stations. Isle of Wight Hall seconded

Belcher, and Gamble attended upon Dogherty. Belcher, from his well-known

excellence, was the favourite, two to one, yet, notwithstanding this

great odds, there were scarcely any takers. Both the combatants appeared

to possess confidence in themselves. Belcher having beaten Dogherty in

England, felt that superiority which belongs to experience and practical

knowledge. On the other hand, Dogherty was considerably improved, and

for “the honour of Ireland,” and surrounded by his countrymen, felt an

additional stimulus to win, and was determined not to yield the palm so

long as he could struggle for it. With these feelings they set-to

exactly at one o’clock.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—The excellent attitude and neatness of

style exhibited by Belcher, much attracted the

attention of the Irish amateurs. Good science

on both sides, when they both hit together;

Dogherty received a sharp facer, and the blood

issuing from his lip, Belcher exclaimed, “First

blood,” several bets depending upon that event.

Belcher received Dogherty’s return upon the

ear. Some severe hits were exchanged, and, in

closing, both went down, but Belcher undermost.

2.—Both combatants went sharply to work, and

much good fighting was displayed. In closing,

Belcher was thrown, but received no injury from

his fall. Loud shouting occurred, and Dogherty

was so elated with his dexterity, that in the

pride of the moment, he offered 100 to 10, but

it received no attention.

3.—Some excellent sparring opened the round, in

which Dogherty showed that he was much improved

since his former contest at Epsom; it was

followed by the exchange of several severe

blows. Dogherty’s mug was rather pinked, his

temper seemed a little ruffled, and the round

was concluded by his being thrown.

4.—Milling without ceremony was the order of the

day; but the advantage was on the side of

Belcher, from his superior science: he hit much

more rapidly than his opponent, and his

defensive tactics displayed a like superiority;

he punished the face of his opponent terribly,

and finally sent Dogherty down by a one, two,

right and left.

5.—Caution became rather necessary on the part

of Dogherty. Belcher was thrown, but not before

some severe hits had been exchanged.

6.—Belcher punished the nob of his antagonist

throughout this round. They closed and both

down.

7.—The combatants made play, when an opening

appearing, Belcher put in so severe a hit on

Dogherty’s ribs that he reeled down.

8.—The contrast between the styles of the two

pugilists at that early period of the battle was

manifest to all the spectators. Dogherty had

been most terribly punished. His face was

materially altered, one of his eyes being

closed; the claret trickled from his olfactories

and potato trap, and the round was terminated by

Dogherty’s receiving so severe a hit upon the

thorax that he instantly went down. (Belcher a

guinea to a shilling!)

9.—The game of Dogherty deserves peculiar

notice, from the sharp milling he took without

flinching; Belcher serving it out so hard and

fast as to knock him down. In going over him,

Belcher disengaged himself from Dogherty in neat

style.

10.—Belcher full of gaiety showed his leading

superiority by planting several hits;

notwithstanding, in closing, Dogherty threw him.

11.—The combatants were determined to convince

the lookers on there was no trifling between

them; both milling away in every direction. The

left eye of Belcher received an ugly blow, and

Dogherty, still strong, threw him under the

ropes.

12.—Fighting without intermission, and bravery

truly conspicuous on both sides. The round was

terminated by Belcher putting in a tremendous

teaser on Dogherty’s throat, which not only

floored him, but rendered him unable to move for

a few seconds.

13.—Belcher held the advantage by punishing the

face of Dogherty dreadfully, and ended the round

by knocking him down.

14.—No alteration. Dogherty rather groggy, and

Belcher getting second wind; still taking the

lead in milling, and closing the round by

throwing Dogherty, and falling upon him.

15.—The game of the latter was the theme of

every one. He proved himself a perfect trump,

rallying with good spirit, but receiving a

straight hit under the eye, he went down.

16.—On setting-to Dogherty made play, but the

judgment of Belcher foiled him; the latter

putting in several blows in succession, fibbing

him, and ending by throwing his man cleverly.

17.—Dogherty planted some severe body blows;

nevertheless, Belcher closed and threw him.

18.—A smart rally, both men keeping up the game

gaily. Belcher, in endeavouring to throw his

antagonist, went down.

19.—Dogherty sparred with considerable judgment,

to gain time, and put in a sharp blow upon the

body of Belcher, who went down from a slip.

20.—Belcher seemed perfectly at home; as if

he felt convinced how things were going. The

advantage of superior science, enabled him to

serve out Dogherty about the head with such

severity as to occasion the latter to fall at

his feet. (A bet could not be obtained at any

odds.)

21.—Dogherty, still at the scratch, contended

with the utmost bravery to prolong the fight,

but it appeared only to receive additional

punishment. His head and face exhibited a rueful

aspect—he was covered with claret, and in the

event milled to the ground.

22.—To the astonishment of every one present,

the spirit of Dogherty was not broken. He

attempted to put in some good hits upon the body

of Belcher, but the wary guard of Tom stopped

them with ease; in throwing Dogherty, he went

down with him.

23.—Punishment was the lot of Dogherty, and

his face and neck were terribly mauled; but in

closing, he showed his strength by throwing

Tom on his hip.

24.—Manœuvring again resorted to. Dogherty

felt for Belcher’s body; but Tom returned the

favour most liberally on his opponent’s mug.

In closing, Dogherty experienced so severe a

fall, as to remain a short period insensible.

25.—The pluck of Dogherty was not yet taken out

of him, and whilst he entertained the smallest

notion of a chance remaining, he was determined

to stand up, although so dreadfully worsted

every round. A desperate hit from Belcher again

made him measure his length on the ground.

26 and last.—Dogherty, with the most determined

resolution, endeavoured to rise superior to

exhausted nature, and would not cry “enough!”

He made a desperate rally to effect a change

in his favour, evincing that no common caterer

could satisfy his inordinate gluttony. Belcher,

however, hit him almost where he pleased, and

wound up the piece by throwing and falling on

him. Dogherty could not come again; he was

decidedly finished; and some time elapsed before

he could get up. He was bled in both arms upon

the ground, and instantly conveyed home and put

to bed.

This well-contested fight continued thirty-five

minutes, and upon Belcher’s being declared the

conqueror, he threw a somersault, and

immediately got into a barouche and drove off to

Dublin to a dinner provided for him by a party

of gentlemen.

If this distinguished boxer claimed the

admiration of the spectators from the scientific

manner in which he won the battle, and the

superior adroitness he displayed in protecting

himself from scarcely receiving any injury, it

is but justice to observe, that Dan Dogherty

proved himself a milling hero of the first

stamp; and the true courage he displayed ought

not to be forgotten. As a proof that his efforts

made considerable impression, a subscription,

amounting to upwards of £70, was immediately

made for him, the Marquis of Sligo putting down

5 guineas; to this Belcher subscribed a guinea.

Tom continued several months after this battle

in Ireland, exhibiting specimens of his skill,

in company with Hall, with increased reputation

and success. At Cork and Dublin his well-earned

fame produced him numerous respectable scholars,

among whom several persons of rank were

conspicuous.

The advantages of superior science were never

more clearly shown, than in this combat. The

dexterity, ease, and perfect _sang froid_ with

which Belcher defeated Dogherty surprised even

those who were somewhat acquainted with the art,

but, generally speaking, among the mere lookers

on it excited astonishment—to view one man (and

a scientific professor too) hit all to pieces,

his head so transmogrified that few traces of

his former phiz remained, completely doubled

up, and perfectly insensible to his defeat;

while the other combatant was seen retiring from

the contest with barely a scratch, and driving

away from the Curragh with all the gaiety of a

spectator. It was impossible that such a vast

superiority could be passed without remark.

On Belcher’s return to England, he took a benefit at the Fives Court

(May 20, 1814), which was numerously patronised, preparatory to his

commencing tavern keeper, at the Castle, in Holborn, previously in the

occupation of Gregson, afterwards the caravansera of the respected Tom

Spring; and here we must make room for a slight anecdote recorded by

Pierce Egan.

“Tom, in company with Shelton, about a week after he had defeated

Dogherty, upon coming down Highgate Hill, in a chaise, was challenged to

have a trotting match, by a couple of fellows in a gig. Belcher

endeavoured to give them the go-by, but they kept continually crossing

him. At length, one of those heroes, determined upon kicking up a row,

jumped out of his chaise, and without further ceremony, seized Tom by

the leg, in order to pull him out to fight, threatening, at the same

time, to mill both Belcher and Shelton.

“‘Let go,’ said Tom, ‘and as soon as I get upon the ground, we will have

a fair trial, depend upon it.’—One of Belcher’s fingers, at this period,

was in a poultice, and his hand so sore that he could scarcely touch

anything with it; however, this did not prevent the turn up from taking

place. The cove’s nob was metamorphosed in a twinkling, and, by way of a

finisher, he received a blow that sent him rolling down the hill, to the

no small diversion of Shelton and Tom. The latter now mounted his gig

with all the _sang froid_ possible, good-naturedly advising this would

be fighting man never to threaten, in future, beating two persons at

once. Upon the blade’s stopping at the nearest inn to clean his face

from the claret it was deluged with, he learnt, to his great surprise,

he had been engaged with the celebrated Tom Belcher.”

“Belcher, whose desire for punishing his opponents always ceased on

quitting the prize-ring, was attacked one evening, in June, 1817, upon

his entering a genteel parlour in the vicinity of Holborn, in a most

unhandsome manner, by Jack Firby (a fifteen stone man, and six feet

high, but better known by the appellation of the Young Ruffian, and from

his defeat by Jem Belcher). In spite of all his ruffianism and knowledge

of boxing, his nob was instantly placed in chancery—his peepers were

taken measure of for a suit of mourning—and his mug exhibited all the

high vermilion touches of colouring, without the aid of a painter. In a

few minutes he was so completely satisfied, from the celerity of his

expert opponent, as scarcely to be able to retire, covered with shame

and confusion for his insolence. Tom politely expressed himself sorry

for the trifling interruption the company had experienced, without

receiving the slightest scratch from his overgrown bully.”

In conclusion, we may take a glance at Belcher as the “retired

pugilist,” a character which, in our own time, we have seen a

sufficiency of examples to respect, despite the libels and lies of

“Craven” and other calumniators.

Not to cite bygone landlords of “The Castle,” in themselves a tower of

strength, we may mention that one pugilist (Mr. John Gully) whose memoir

will appear in an early chapter, has risen to senatorial honours;

another (Langan, the antagonist of Spring), received a piece of plate

(on his retirement from business with a handsome fortune), as a

testimonial of the high respect of his neighbours and acquaintance in

the town of Liverpool; while the best conducted sporting houses, and

those which least frequently figure before magistrates, are—we

fearlessly assert it—those kept by ex-pugilists of the higher caste.

_Teste_ Belcher’s, Spring’s, Jem Burn’s, Owen Swift’s, in London, and

many sporting houses in the provinces. There are exceptions, of course,

but if the slanderers of pugilists and fair pugilism will insist on

descending to personal or individual libel, to bolster up their cowardly

onslaughts on this manly art, we pledge ourselves for every pugilist of

note, whose name they produce as having come under the lash of the law

for any dishonourable offence, to pick out a parson, a magistrate, or a

doctor to match him; and if the highest criminality be the test of class

profligacy and brutality, we will go higher and find them Quakers,

military officers, aye, even bishops, guilty of capital felony. Truly it

is enough to make one’s blood boil to read such canting drivel, such

impotent spleen vented on bravery and courageous endurance. For

ourselves, some acquaintance with the world has taught us that we had

rather trust to the honour and generosity of a soldier than a priest, or

a pugilist than a professing puritan. But to return to Belcher.

For several years Tom was a frequent exhibitor at the Tennis Court,

where no boxer more decisively established the superiority of art over

strength. The following instance may tend, in some degree, to illustrate

the above opinion. Ikey Pig, the antagonist of Cribb, who possessed a

smattering of the science, was not only knocked about like a child, but

ultimately hit clean off the stage. Shaw, the life-guardsman, a Hercules

in appearance, a man of undeniable courage, and with strength to match

his mighty heart, was dead-beat with the gloves by Tom; although this

son of Mars, but a day or two before, in a bout with Captain Barclay,

had put the captain’s upper works to much confusion, and made his teeth

chatter again. Gully, whose knowledge of boxing was far above

mediocrity, appeared considerably inferior in his sets-to with Tom.

Molineaux, too, when in his prime, was milled in all directions over the

stage, and ultimately floored by Belcher. During the time Tom was in

training at Norwich to fight with Farnborough, in an exhibition of

sparring at the above place, he levelled the Champion Cribb, to the no

small surprise of the spectators. The memorable disposal of Shock Jem (a

lad of most determined spirit, and who had made the art of self-defence

his study, under the tuition of the scientific George Head), was so

complete and satisfactory upon the point in question by Belcher, as to

need no further comment. Shock was “hit to pieces.” In competition with

Cribb or any of the “big ones,” Tom’s excellence as a sparrer was never

in the slightest degree doubtful; and of this a marked demonstration

took place on the occasion of Cribb’s benefit, May 31, 1814. The massive

bulky appearance of the champion standing over the compact elegant form

of Belcher, reminded the spectator not inaptly of the difference between

a small frigate contending with a first-rate man-of-war; and that

however the former might, from its compact size and high state of

discipline, perform its movements with greater celerity, and even create

considerable annoyance by superiority of tactics, yet ultimately, in a

decisive engagement, where there was no room for manœuvring, it must

strike to heavier metal. So with these combatants. The ponderosity of

Cribb, when in close quarters with his opponent, or he bored in upon

him, was manifest; but when at arm’s length, and while there remained

room for a display of adroitness and skill, Belcher appeared the greater

man. The exclamations, which made the court resound again, with “well

done, little Tom,” decided this point. Belcher put in some neat touches

upon the nob of the Champion, on his resolutely boring in, and stopped,

in several instances, the well-meant heavy blows of Cribb in the return,

with considerable dexterity and judgment. True, when the Champion did

get in, he drove Belcher to the corner of the stage, and the strength

and resolution of Cribb prevailed.

In concluding our remarks on Belcher’s sparring, the following

circumstance is worthy of note. It occurred on the 26th of February,

1817, at the benefit of Cribb. Upon Belcher ascending the stage with H.

Lancaster, they were interrupted from all parts of the court, with the

cry of “Scroggins.” Mr. Jackson also requested it, for the satisfaction

of several amateurs of rank present. Upon this, that hardy little hero

appeared, and Lancaster retired. The spectators were uncommonly anxious

to witness this set-to, which might be denominated first-rate science

against the most determined ruffianism. Scroggins, immediately on

shaking hands with his opponent, rushed at him with all the impetuosity

of an English bull-dog, and, for three rounds, it was a downright mill

with the gloves. Belcher, from the fury of his antagonist, was driven

more than once against the rails, and from want of room his science

seemed somewhat at a discount. In the fourth, however, Tom began to feel

his way with more certainty, faced his opponent sharply with his

one-two, on his boring in, and had the best of the round, when Scroggins

bowed and took off the gloves; and, although loudly and repeatedly

solicited by the spectators to have another round, and particularly by

Belcher, he immediately quitted the stage. A slight tint of the claret

appeared on both their mugs, but was first visible from the mouth of

Scroggins.

This little episode, with a man of Scroggins’s character, might

reasonably be expected to result in something like a trial without the

mufflers, and so it eventually proved. For on the 10th April, 1822, a

sporting dinner having taken place at the Castle, Scroggins, who was

bacchi plenis, got into a “skrimmage” with Belcher. The little hero

would not be denied, and Tom feeling his character for courage touched,

cast aside the counsel of discretion, and a mill took place. Twenty

minutes ruffianing, boring in, and hard fighting on one side, and

scientific administration of punishment on the other, settled the

question, and Scroggins was forced to give in. This was a gratuitous and

somewhat ill-advised exhibition on the part of Belcher, who needed no

such triumph, yet it showed the spirit of the “old war-horse ready for

the fray,” was still within him.

Tom Belcher was in height about five feet nine inches, weighing nearly

eleven stone. His appearance was gentlemanly, and his manners and

deportment of the most mild and inoffensive nature, well calculated to

prepossess the stranger in his favour; who also found in his company the

perfection of the pugilist, unmingled with the coarseness which the

ignorant and the prejudiced are too apt to associate with their ideal of

every brave boxer.

Belcher died at Bristol on the 9th of December, 1854, aged 71 years,

universally respected.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER III.

HEN. (OR HENRY) PEARCE, “THE GAME CHICKEN” (CHAMPION)—1803‒1805.

Brilliant as a meteor Hen. Pearce shot across the pugilistic horizon, as

quickly to fall extinguished. When Jem Belcher had reached the zenith of

his fame, he cast his eyes toward Bristol for a successor, and the early

reputation of Pearce pointed him out as a likely holder of the belt of

championship on behalf of his own native city.

We shall not here dilate on the fistic capabilities of Pearce, convinced

that a simple record of his deeds will far outweigh pompous panegyric

and fulsome laudation. Pearce was another among the many scientific sons

of boxing Bristol, and among the many ring recruits which that ancient

city furnished to the metropolitan arena must ever hold a distinguished

place.

The year of Pearce’s birth was 1777, and after serving his

apprenticeship duly to the age of twenty-one, to a tradesman in Bristol,

some of the cognoscenti were attracted by his remarkable skill in

sparring, and in boxing matches, for which that city and its rival,

Bath, were then famous.

After Jem Belcher’s accident, in July, 1803, the champion made a

flattering overture to the young Bristolian[90] to come to London.

Berks, as we have already observed, now asserted his title to the

championship, and Jem soon found Pearce an introduction to that

bumptious personage, who was as much a bully as a bruiser, at the

well-known rendezvous in St. Martin’s Street, Leicester-square. Belcher,

as might be expected, after himself testing Pearce’s qualifications,

readily backed his townsman, and their first serious rencontre is thus

told in “Pancratia,” pp. 182 et seq.:—

“Thursday, August 11, 1803, was a great day out with the sporting

classes of the metropolis, and ‘the Chicken’ was there (at Shooter’s

Hill) with other visitors. Joe Berks also was present. On the road home

these already talked-of rivals for the championship eyed each other with

minute attention, and doubtless with some feelings of envy. In the

course of the evening they met again at the Fives Court, St. Martin’s

Lane, and stories were industriously circulated of the utter contempt

which each had formed for the other’s pugilistic powers. In the course

of the evening Pearce having retired, the gluttonous butcher became

offensively insolent towards Pearce’s friends, boasting his capability

of making it an affair of a few minutes, with such a thread paper. The

challenge was communicated to the Chicken, who rose with alacrity from

his bed (he then lodged in Wardour-street, Soho), and everything was

quickly got ready. A well-lighted room was selected, and notice sent

round to some leading patrons, that a trial of skill was to take place

between the new Bristol youth, and the celebrated glutton Berks; numbers

soon assembled, and between the hours of eleven and twelve the battle

commenced. Berks’ inferiority was soon manifest. His slow and round

method of fighting failed in doing any execution when opposed to the

straight rapid hits of his active adversary, and his pluck only enabled

him to receive uncommon punishment. The Chicken lost no time in

displaying the graces of the science, yet put in his blows so sharply

that Berks soon exhibited signs of weakness. During a desperate contest

of twenty minutes, in which fifteen rounds of tremendous milling took

place, Berks evinced great courage, and endeavoured in the latter round

to fight defensively, and parry the blows of the Chicken, but the latter

followed him up so straight-forward, that it was impossible for Berks to

resist the consequences, and he was twice floored by the Chicken, so

decidedly that he lay stupefied. The two blows were allowed by all

present, to have been the most tremendously effective they had ever

witnessed. Berks was dreadfully milled, yet had the candour to

acknowledge that he had never before met with such a rapid antagonist.”

It should be observed that the cause of this unusual mode of settling an